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Derby Line Marriage Ch. 01

By: jtuf



Patrick gazed at his beautiful, naked wife as she spread her legs for him. Kneeling by her side on the bed, he caressed her slim waist. His hands brushed up her side tenderly. Patrick bent down to kiss Francis's swollen, dark nipples. By this time next year, they would be flowing with milk. She moaned at the feel of his tongue against her left areolas. Oh how he loved igniting her desire until she begged for his member. "S'il vous plait, mon amour, j'ai besoin de vous," she sighed breathlessly. Patrick grinned. Ever the Quebecois, she would slide into French during moments of arousal. Francis reached out to grasp her husband's fiery red pubic hair. Her long lavender nails grazed his pale Celtic skin. A soft, guttural growl emerged from Patrick's throat as her fingers slid down to his hairless scrotum. "Donnez-moi votre sperme," she pleaded.

"All in good time, babe," he replied. "First I want to make your cunt drip." Patrick kissed his way to his wife's familiar vulva. His skilled tongue work reflected over two years of practice in their marital bed. Gone were the nervous nights following their wedding when he was unsure of how to please his first and only lover. By now, he confidently played with her folds and teased her bud. It was a talent he took pride in, on par with his work at Concordia U. Years spent building a strong marriage and successful career were finally paying off. They were ready to conceive and move out to the suburbs of Montreal with the white picket fence and all.

Francis's hand on the back of Patrick's head awoke him from his drifting thoughts. She firmly pulled him into her womanhood. She screamed, "Fort!" Patrick happily obliged by pressing his tongue hard against her clitoris. It protruded ridged against him. Her coarse bush prickled his shaved cheeks. Her delicate fingers tussled his rusty locks. Sealing his lips around Francis's labia minora, Patrick sucked gently. His thumb traveled to her peritoneum. He was rewarded with spasms as an orgasm sent juices flowing into his mouth. Patrick savored the taste of his wife's nectar, knowing that he had mastered her most sensitive spots.

Cocky, Patrick kneeled upright and jerked his 10 inch rod. "I guess you're moist enough now. Tell me sweetly, how do you want to take it? Should I give it to you missionary style, like on our wedding night?"

Francis cupped her husband's balls. "No. Back then we were making love. Tonight, you are breeding me, stud. I want to take it like a bitch. Fuck me doggie style. Fill me with your hot seed." Francis presented herself before him on all fours. Her voluptuous rump swayed temptingly. Patrick kneeled behind her. He rubbed his fuck stick along the crack of her tight ass, an ass he had yet to enter in all those months of marriage. He guided his tool down to her engorged pussy lips. His tapered cockhead teased them. Patrick suck in air as he felt his wife's moister against his bare cock for the first time. It was so much better than fucking with a rubber on. Finally, he could touch skin against skin. Lust built up inside him. He had to discover what her wet vaginal wall felt like.

Patrick grunted with a deep baritone voice as he thrust forward. His wife's silken canal enveloped his naked manhood. He started with a slow mechanical rhythm. With eyes closed, he savored the sensation of her steaming fluids. His fleshy tool explored her neither region with new sensitivity. Patrick opened his eyes to look down at his wife's alabaster back. Her straight, black hair draped across her curving form, the long strands reaching all the way to her bum. He grasped her shoulders firmly and picked up the pace. Cock pounding pussy. Man fucking woman. Stud breeding bitch. This is how marital relations were supposed to be. 

Francis started grinding her bottom against Patrick. "Deeper," she whispered. Patrick pushed father in, giving her a few more inches of his manly endowment. He bent down and licked her left earlobe. His right arm slid across her breastbone to hold her tight. His left hand fondled her ample globe. Deeper, he plunged. She squealed as his 10 inch penis passed her cervix and entered her womb. Buried to the hilt, Patrick pressed his curly pubs against her smooth, feminine derriere. His taunt abs lay along her soft back. His left arm moved down to encircle her fertile midriff. Francis arched her neck for Patrick to devour, and devour he did. With tender love bites, he marked her throat. 

Growling loudly, he slid out a few inches. A moment's pause gave Francis time to adjust to the sensations deep inside her. Though another man had broken her seal in college, Patrick was by no means second in her mind. Her husband reached so much farther than that other, banishing him to a distant part of her memory. Patrick pushed forward into her womb again. Yes, only Patrick had the reach to enter her womb, and now, only Patrick had known the feel of her pussy against an exposed cock. Soon, Patrick would be the first one to release his seed into her passage.

"Cum for me, stud," she cried. "Give me your thick load. Breed me. I want your swimmers rushing through my womb. I want to be pregnant with your offspring, to carrying it tenderly for nine months. Oh, STUD. Shoot that jizz!"

Egged on by his wife, Patrick drove into her furiously. Pounding into her, Patrick spoke back huskily, "Yeah, bitch. Open your womb to my cock. Feel it piercing you. Take it. Take it hard. Squeeze my long shaft with your aching pussy. Push me over the edge. Make me explode." Patrick release his embrace so he could clasp her bosom and pinch her pointy tits.

"Yes! Give it to me rough. Fuck me like an animal. You've got me going like a bitch in heat. Now do the rest. Make me your bitch, you stud. Explode in me. Empty your balls deep inside my being. Launch your sperm in the middle of my womb. Oooo. You reach ssooo DEEP! Liberais votre sperme dans mon uterus expose!"

Patrick clamped his teeth against his wife's ivory shoulder. Palming her breasts roughly, he impaled her womb with his cock. His lower abs pressed hard against her bottom. His balls began to lurch. Hot man juice coursed through his tubes and up his ejaculating staff. At long last his semen drifted free in her belly. Panting, he unhinged his jaw and kissed the bite mark.

Francis turned her head to kiss his cheek. Then their lips met. Patrick darted his tongue along his wife's full lips. Her mouth opened to him, longing to have yet another part of him inside of her. He possessively swept his tongue along the inside of her cheeks. His hands edged down to her belly, the fingers flared wide. Beneath those fingers, he felt the heat of his wife, his bitch, his womb.

Derby Line Marriage Ch. 02



Francis stroked Patrick's hand as he pushed the shopping cart by her side. With prices so much lower across the bridge, it made sense to pick up some items on their house hunting trip. Francis picked up a box of extra large condoms and put them in the cart with a wink. "Thanks for the complement," Patrick responded, "but we won't be needing those until after you deliver." Patrick sighed to himself. -When we started trying in May it seemed so simple, - Patrick thought. - Three months later, it feels more like a chore. - He put the condoms back and selected a home pregnancy test to purchase. "Any word from Dr. Herven?"

"No. Don't worry about it, honey. Sam said that stress just makes it more difficult." Francis rubbed her husband's forearm affectionately. "Dr. Herven said your sperm count is high. It's just a matter of time." Patrick blushed a bit. Despite the doctor's assurance, he still felt responsible for their difficulty.

Patrick held their purchases in his lap as Francis drove them to the house viewing. They could probably have found a store closer to the open house, but he wanted an excuse to drive along route 138. Francis may have been made for downtown, but Patrick loved to gaze at bucolic views. That was also his excuse for asking Francis to drive on this outing. For some reason, Patrick was starting to prefer the passenger seat as of late.

Row upon row of opulent homes greeted them as they entered Kahnawake, Quebec. From the phone description, Patrick had thought the advertised home was too posh for them. Now he realized that it would stand out as less than average in this neighborhood. "Francis, do you think it's prudent to buy a house in this area on a University salary?"

"No, but it's fine for us when you add a lawyer's salary to that. The case load at the Montreal Universal Freedom Foundation is ballooning. I switch from desk work to handling trials next month. There's a pay increase to go along with the extra responsibility. Don't worry, babe. I'll take good care of you." Francis palmed Patrick's crotch to emphasize the point. Patrick looked at the boxes next to Francis's busy hand. Ginkgo tea, mucuna seeds, lavender oils, he hoped they worked. Francis increased the pressure of her hand, knocking the bag off Patrick's lap and spilling its contents onto the car floor. Patrick glued his eye to the scenes out the window to keep his erection in control. He hadn't cum in 10 days, and he did not want to spot his shorts.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the house viewing. Francis stepped out of the car and marched to the front door, her navy blue sundress sweeping along the cobblestone path. Patrick lingered in the car to hide the pregnancy test and aphrodisiacs in his cargo shorts pockets. There was no sense letting the neighbors let on before they even moved in. He hurried to join his wife on the porch. Francis rang the doorbell, then straightened out Patrick's T shirt while they waited for the door to open. 

The realtor greeted them warmly. "Ah, punctual, just like Sam said you would be. How is Sam by the way?" she asked as she ushered them in to the spacious foyer.

"He's doing well," Patrick replied. "He is up for tenure this year, and the botany department added 'First Nation Domesticated Herbs' to his course load."

"That Sam Shatz is a wiz at natural remedies. You know, he gave me a concoction of leaves that cured my hay fever in no time. I apologize that the house isn't quite ready. The gardener arrived late today. In fact, I have to step out to talk to him now. Stay right there. I won't be a moment."

Francis turned to Patrick once they were alone. "Dear, adjust yourself. I can see the effects of our fun in the car."

Patrick looked down at his shorts. "No, that's not me. That's a bottle in my pocket." He produced the guilty container. "I didn't think it was wise to leave it in plain view."

The realtor returned. "Oh, is that for me? How thoughtful," she declared as she reached for the bottle of lavender oil. 

Francis quickly intervened, "Actually it's mine. Sam recommended it to help me with ... to help me with my dry skin." She spread the oil over her bare arms to demonstrate.

"My," said the realtor as she whiffed the lavender scent, "that is heavenly. Um, right. Let's start with the foyer. As you can see, it lets in plenty of natural sunlight and has a high ceiling to accommodate the largest Christmas tree you can find. That grand staircase leads to the second floor. We'll go up there to view the bedrooms later. First I want to show you the ground floor traffic flow. Follow me through the dining room. These sliding oak doors tuck away into the walls so you can combine the dining and living rooms to host a large dinner party. Off the living room, we have a professional grade kitchen. Then the servant's stairway and finally walking through the parlor brings us back to that wonderful foyer. So," she asked, inhaling deeply and looking at Patrick, "shall I take you to the bedroom?"

Patrick gulped. He had noticed Francis flirting with him during the tour, but had chalked it up to their 10 days of abstaining from sex. They were practicing a reverse of the rhythm method to maximize their chances of conceiving. It consisted of 12 days of abstinence during Francis's infertile period to help Patrick recharge, followed by 16 days of intercourse during her fertile period. It was normal for Francis to get frisky by day 10 or 11, but what was getting the realtor so worked up? Patrick shrugged. - It must be something in the air.-

The sound of a chain saw outside rescued Patrick from his predicament. The realtor rolled her eyes. "I told him to work on the path today, not the pruning. Running gas powered tools isn't legal on Sundays. I better yell at the gardener before someone calls the cops on us. Feel free to get acquainted with the master suite until I finish with him." Her hips swayed just a bit too much as she walked out the front door.

Francis took Patrick's hand. "Well, my lord, would you like to see your chambers in your new castle?"

"Sure, my dear."

Francis led her husband up the grand staircase and into the master suite. He was stunned by its size. The double doors opened to a sitting area with a fireplace on the side wall. An arched entrance connected the sitting area to the sleeping area where a spacious closet separated his and her dormers, each one furnished with a king size bed. The left dormer had a bed with pink satin sheets and a white pine headboard. The one on the right had a mahogany headboard and tiger print sheets on the mattress. Patrick walked right to feel the tiger print sheets. - Hmm, this feels like that new bamboo fabric I've heard about. I bet it's organic too.-

Francis stepped close behind him to clasp his upper arm. Her breasts pressed against his back. "Just think stud. This is where you'll breed me for 16 straight days." His wife's heavy breath flowed warmly across his neck. "My clit is hard just thinking about it." She wrapped her other arm along his stomach and pressed her neither region against him from behind. "I want your seed in me sooo, bad."

Patrick grinned nervously and looked out the window to refocus his attention. The realtor was yelling at the gardener, poking his muscular chest with her finger to emphasize her displeasure. - Poor fellow, he probably just didn't know about the blue laws. That woman must be very upset, judging by how hard she is breathing.- The gardener meekly tried to brush her arm away, but his boss just switched to grabbing his forearm and glaring up at him.

Francis slipped a hand under her husband's shirt to trace the lines of his six-pack. "Mmm, your morning runs are paying off. I love your trim body." Francis's hand roamed upwards to feel the tuff of red curly hair in the center of his toned chest.

Patrick gazed through the glass at the realtor's perky breasts down below. She seemed to lift them up for display. The gardener appeared to notice as well. Sweat dripped down his sun tanned skin as he freed himself from the realtor's grip.

Francis held her man firmly in her arms and kissed the back of his pale neck. Her hand travelled from his abs down to his crotch. She cupped her mate's ready balls.

Patrick bit his tongue to fight the erection. Looking outside, he saw the gardener biting the realtor's neck. She was enthusiastically removing his flannel shirt to reveal a bronze back.

"I can't wait until Tuesday. Fuck me now," Francis demanded.

"I would love to, Francis, but I've got to store up my swimmers for your fertile days."

"So? Don't cum." Francis ginned wickedly as she stepped in front of her husband. Slowly, she stripped off her sun dress and ran her hands along the side of her athletic body. Patrick tried not to watch her teasing her nipples over the bra. He began to grow as she unhooked the clasp to free those globes. Determined to wait the remaining two days, Patrick stepped back. Francis stepped forward and pressed his hand against her cotton panties. "Feel how wet I am. I want you now." Patrick fingered his wife's swollen pussy lips through the fabric. Francis extended her neck and purred. 

Patrick regained control of himself enough to retreat to the left dormer. He looked out its window hoping the realtor's return would save him. Down below, the gardener stood fully naked save for a pink lacy thong hanging around his neck. The realtor was hiking up her skirt under the shade of a cedar. The chiseled laborer smiled lustfully at the now tamed boss beneath him. He kneeled between his lover's welcoming legs to mount his catch.

Francis laid sprawled on the pink sheets, finder fucking her vagina. "Common Patrick, spread these pussy lips with your tool."

"Honey, there's no way I can fuck you and not jizz. I'll just have to watch and make up for it Tuesday."

Francis rose from the bed. "That's not the answer I was looking for." She swooped up the white faux fur rug from the foot of the bed and draped it over the hope chest against the wall. Then she grabbed her husband's belt and unbuckled it. Ignoring his protests, Francis opened his fly to fish out his dick. Patrick was sporting a semi from the tension. With a single tug, she had him stripped from the waist down. Then, she grasped his balls. "You keep these in check. Let me take care of the rest." Francis moved her fingertips over her man's foreskin. Her talented tickling made the cockhead emerge from its hiding place.

Patrick was dumbfounded by his situation. Passively, he let Francis sit him down on the hope chest. The faux fur brushed against this smooth scrotum. Her steaming cunt surrounded his naked cock. As it rode his frozen pink pole, he tried to focus on niche hyper-volumes to keep from climaxing. On the other side of the bay windows, he could still see the gardener pounding pussy. The realtor was thrashing in delight from that dark cock and bouncing balls. Without warning, the gardener pulled out and cock slapped the realtor in the face. She obediently devoured the tool and cleaned it before opening her mouth for a treat. Standing above her, the gardener let loose a thick rope of cream. The first shot landed on the realtor's tongue. The second splattered on her cheek and neck. The final two squirts spotted her blouse. While she gazed up dreamily, the poised stud collected his clothes and strolled away naked. Francis's hand on Patrick's head interrupted his voyeurism. "I'm close. You know the drill honey. Suck me into an orgasm."

Francis jumped off Patrick and onto the bed. Patrick bent down between her legs to lick her honey pot. His wife's pussy lips were much more sensitive than her canal and were the key to giving her orgasms. He sucked hard on her swollen labia while she smothered him with her thighs. His slick dick felt chilly as it protruded unspent in mid air. Francis's firm legs pressed hard against either side of his head, making breathing difficult. Finally, she screamed in ecstasy. Copious cum flowed out of her womanhood and into his mouth. Patrick looked on blankly as Francis got up and donned her garments. Footsteps on the staircase broke his daze. Embarrassed, he tucked his packaged back into his underwear and shorts.

The realtor entered the room. "Oh good, you've familiarized yourselves with the master suite. Well, I guess that wraps up the tour. Francis, you simply must tell me where to get some of that lavender oil. The scent is incredible."



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 03



Patrick grunted as his 10 inch cock passed his wife's cervix. It was 12 days since he was last allowed to ejaculate, and now he was pounding her pussy with a vengeance. Francis hooked her legs around his. Beginning her fertile days with the missionary position had become a bit of a tradition over the summer. So was following the act with breakfast in bed. Francis gazed at the breaking dawn through the window of their humble one bedroom apartment. Patrick quickened his thrusting and leered at his wife's bouncing bosom. Hungrily he bent down to suck on her dark nipples. She stroked his hair tenderly, wondering what it would be like for milk to flow from those breasts. The sensation of Patrick's cock throbbing in her womb told her that he was filling it with his seed. She hoped that this month's round of effort would bear fruit.

Patrick kissed his way to the center of Francis's breasts, and then started to proceed downward. Francis patted him on the shoulder. "That's OK, honey. You have all day to please me. Right now, I'm looking forward to those eggs and pancakes." The dutiful husband, Patrick donned his robe and headed for the kitchen. Francis sighed. Her hand continued where his mouth had left off. Her fingers slid downward to spread through her course pubic hair. The index and pointer teased her pigmented labia. Her middle finger sampled her moist vaginal canal. Globs of her husband's cream glided out onto her palm, a remnant of his presence even after he had left.

Francis pressed her jizz covered palm against her vulva and rubbed her husband's man juice onto her clitoris. The firm nub sent a wave of pleasure through her as a reward. Francis parted her thighs and closed her eyes to concentrate on the feeling. Her middle finger replaced her palm on her clit. She made circles around the lubricated button. A padded fingertip pushed aside the hood to access her bald man in the boat. Rapid shallow breaths heaved her chest as she buzzed her clit with abandon. Hot and wet, Francis was ready to dive further.

Her index finger and pointer crept along Francis's outer pussy lips while her middle finger teased her inner folds. Several languorous strokes brought soft whines from her mouth. She clamped her mouth shut to keep the low whimpers below the din of Patrick's cooking. The sound of a spatula transferring eggs to plates warned her that time was short. Cautiously, she sent three fingers between her beefy curtains to prepare her canal. Her pinky joined the endeavor once her womanhood was loosened up. Rocking her fingers back and forth, she braced herself for the final step. Bit by bit her thumb entered her steaming cunt, followed by her wrist. Francis held her breath, overwhelmed by the tingling delight emanating from her twat. Quickly, she removed her fist and gave a fugitive glance out the bedroom door. "Honey, we have some lemons in the bottom bin of the fridge. Could you please make me some fresh squeezed lemon aid to go with breakfast."

Francis moved her fingers against her sensitive inner labia, determined to make those extra few minutes count. Pinching the folds between her thumb and pointer, she rubbed them against each other. Her hips bucked up against her hand. Her fleshy palm rested against her tired clit. A familiar sensation started to build inside her. Francis bit her lip to keep from moaning as her vaginal muscles contracted. Rivulets of her cum mixed with Patrick's streamed out of her nest. Relaxing in the warm afterglow, Francis stared up at the bouquet of flowers drying upside down above the headboard. Footsteps in the hallway interrupted her daze. 

Patrick entered the bedroom with a tray of breakfast. He placed it on Francis's lap and sat on the bed by her feet. "Thanks for the great fuck this morning. After breakfast it's your turn, I promise."

"I have faith in you, dear," Francis replied as she sipped from her drink.

Patrick smiled. "How is the lemon aid?"

"Orgasmic," Francis grinned.

"Good." Patrick patted his wife's calf. "We better make the most of today. Classes start September 8th, and there is no way I can skip teaching a lab section." Cutting a pancake with the side of his fork, he delved in.

"I know. It's great having you available during breaks, but I wish you could take a vacation day once in a while like a normal person." Francis wrapped a spoonful of egg in a pancake and lifted it to her mouth.

"Well, that's the trade off in academia, flexibility during the breaks and an iron clad schedule the rest of the year. The department head will spit nails if I take a sick day without being my death bed."

"Mm, that reminds me, when is your next doctor's appointment with Dr. Herven?"

Patrick looked down frowning. "He wants me there September 17th, but I don't think I can take off from work. I wish his clinic had hours on the weekend. As the saying goes, you get what you pay for. Maybe we should just forget about conceiving until next summer."

"No, I'm already 28. If we put this off for another year, we'll have to start worrying about my fertility as well. Why don't you make an appointment for Thanksgiving break at a clinic in New York City. This is worth jumping the boarder and paying out of pocket."

"My parents are expecting us in Sherbrooke for Thanksgiving. If we bail on them, we have to promise them Christmas."

"I think I can swing that with my folks. Grandmama will be happy to see me on Thanksgiving without, as she says it, l'envahisseur Anglais. She still hasn't forgiven you for the Seven Years' War."

"It's a deal. Now spread your legs," he commanded as he disrobed. "L'envahisseur Anglais wants to inspect his conquest." 

Francis put the dishes aside and leaned back with her thighs parted. Patrick pressed his palm against her womanhood. Slowly, he glided his fingers along her full pussy lips. He bent down to inhale the musky scent of her jizz filled twat. Then, he nibbled lightly on her love button. The clit began to grow from his talented tongue lashings. Encouraged, he pushed two fingers up her cunt.

Francis stretched up her hands to fondle the bouquet above her. Every month she received seasonal flowers to celebrate her ovulation. Her index finger traced the edge of an inverted gardenia. She gasped at the feel of a tongue lifting the hood of her clit. Her digit lingered along the smooth gardenia petals before sliding between them. Francis fingered the fragile style, brushing the stigma along the way. She relaxed under her husband's care as he explored her tunnel. Content, she purred.

Patrick sent a third finger to search out his wife's G spot. He grazed his teeth along her outer labia, and then licked at the redness. His tongue pressed between those folds to tease her inner lips. The moist cavern before him shook in delight as cum flowed into his mouth. Nibbling his way up his woman, Patrick positioned his cock above the steaming honey pot. He slapped her clit with it a couple of times before gliding his scepter into her welcoming hole. Looking down tenderly, he plowed her fertile furrows. His pelvis crushed her vulva with each forceful thrust. Grinding hard against her, he released his seed into her waiting womb.

Francis closed her legs to hold onto his baby makers after Patrick pulled out. He laid by her side with an arm around her waist. "I always make good on my promises," he told her.

"That you do. I'm such a lucky wife. Every month, you give me a bounty of flowers and fucking. When we get that new house we should plant those gardenias in the back."

"Not that species. It's an African shrub. Non-native ornamental plants wreck havoc on the local ecosystem."

"Mmm, maybe we can keep it in a pot inside. I love the feel of it."

"Sure. As long as we keep it indoors the neighborhood is safe." 

"Great." She pecked her husband's cheek. Patrick placed his hands behind his head and let his wife do the work. Francis licked her way down his taunt torso. She sucked on his foreskin. His rod began to grow again. She jacked his shaft.

"Suck it."

Ignoring the request, Francis licked her husband's tool and teased his piss hole. Then she straddled his waist and guided his manhood into her. Plunging down, she rode her man. "Common and give me another dose of your sperm."

Patrick groped her breasts and thrust upward. His pace quickened to a crescendo. His wife's hands rested over his. Her warm folds enveloped his penis. Her familiar womb opened for his 10 inch cock. Vaginal juices from another orgasm streamed down his balls. With a growl he released his own juices into her belly. Lovingly, he looked up at his wife's beautiful face. Francis gazed straight ahead, admiring the African gardenia. 



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 04



Francis hugged Patrick from behind as he stirred the oatmeal. Then she spun around to show off her pants suit. "How do I look? I have to take depositions today and I want the opposing council to know I mean business."

Patrick turned his head to evaluate his wife's attire. "Your outfit is positively unisex. At least take your hair out of that bun."

"It's the style," Francis shrugged. She set the bowls out on the table and sat in her spot by the door to the fire escape. Patrick dished the oatmeal out from the pot and went to wash it in the sink. "Honey, that can wait for later. I have to be at work early today. Hurry up and eat with me." Patrick sat down and poked at his breakfast. Francis devoured hers. 

After Francis had left, Patrick closed the living room curtains. It was a relief to be alone. He thought back to his Tuesday off. Was a blowjob that much to ask for? The clock told him he had an hour to spare before he had to walk to the lab. Opening his browser, he googled "blowjob". A few clicks later he was watching a video of a woman kneeling before two well endowed actors. His right palm pressed on the crotch of his pants. His fingers of his left hand slipped under his shirt to spread across his six-pack. He squeezed his balls through the pants fabric, causing his cock to rise. His left fingers were there to greet his cockhead once it emerged from his waistband. Patrick inserted his pointer into his foreskin to tease his piss hole. The flap of skin retracted as his member reached its full 10 inches. 

Soon, his shirt and pants were on the floor. Patrick spat onto his fingers and spread the slick saliva onto the front of his dick just below the cockhead. Tracing the sensitive nerve running down the pole, he imagined the feel of his wife's tongue. Intense delight flowed through his body as he continued to stimulate that pleasure point. Patrick tucked the waistband of his boxers under his nuts so that his entire package was available for playing. He rubbed his cock with his palm while kneading his balls with his fingertips. One hand glided down to cup his stones while the other moved to the computer keyboard.

A bit more searching brought up pictures of a woman sucking on a man's swingers. Patrick grabbed the hand lotion on his desk and drizzled a generous portion onto his sac. He gripped his lubed cum factories, squeezed, and tugged. Another squirt of lotion went to his dick. He spread it with his other hand. Picturing it in his wife's willing mouth, he wrapped his digits around the shaft. He pumped that rod hard while pulling more forcefully on his cods. A familiar tingling started in his cream-crackers. Patrick released his package. Breathing like a Lamaze instructor, he rested his palms on his thighs. Slowly, the urge to cum subsided. He knew he had to save his load for Francis's nightly dose.

Patrick tucked his shrinking manhood back into his boxers. In short order, he was dressed and walking to work. A large collection of samples to sequence awaited him at the Centre for Structural and Functional Genomics. It was time to make up for taking Tuesday off. Patrick sighed. His passion was hydroponics, but the funding was in genomics. A friend interrupted his silent lament.

"Good morning Romeo. How is the misses?" It was Dr. Sam Shatz, a visiting professor from the States. "Are your efforts bearing fruit?"

"Not yet. Honestly, if she doesn't conceive by December, I might give up and let you have a go," Patrick offered.

Sam looked him directly in the eye. "I'm happily married. Besides, I will probably be back in India next semester to investigate the Nothapodytes nimmoniana again."

"I was only joking."

"Of course you were. I just wanted to make things clear. Anyway, there is a Montreal International Jazz Festival performance tonight. Let's go to it."

"Francis is expecting me home this evening for, well, you know."

"Take it from someone who has been married 8 years. Sometimes a man needs a night out with the guys."

"Well..."

"Good. The show starts at 8 pm. Let's meet in the cafeteria at 6:30 pm for diner and then take a cab there together."

Patrick passed the rest of the day mechanically mixing reagents and loading PCR machines. Lunch was a tuna fish sandwich eaten at his desk. By evening he was staring at spreadsheets of data, numb and exhausted. A knock on the door jarred him.

"Patrick, it's 7:15. I gave up and ate without you. Two friends are waiting by the vending machine. Are you coming or not?"

Patrick looked up at Sam. "I'm sorry. I lost track of time." He closed out the statistics program. "Let me just email Francis to tell her I'll be home late."

"OK." Sam looked out the window. "The weather is holding out. It should be a great performance."

"I hope so." Patrick gathered his things. "Common. Let's go."

The cab ride was a bit crowded with one guy in the front and three squished in the back. As the driver made a right onto rue Jeanne-Mance, Patrick could see a bunch of concert goers emerging from the metro. Their hemp backpacks and denim jeans brought him back to a less stressful time. He tried to push the burdens of marriage and fertility troubles aside so he could enjoy the night.

Inside the venue, Sam spread out the blanket. Patrick excused himself to find a food vender. On the line to the hotdog cart, he noticed the same group of college students he had saw before. They approached a muscular black man who was working on the electronic equipment backstage. The man must have said something rude, because the students left in a huff. A white man with a full beard came backstage to tape down the wires. The black technician looked up from his control board to watch the new arrival.

Patrick noticed the muscular stud grin as the stage hand bent over to apply the tape. The dark hunk sauntered up to the bearded stagehand and said something. The stagehand seemed confused by the technician's words. The technician grabbed himself in the crotch and spoke some more. This time, the stage hand looked down shyly. Then he turned and wiggled his bottom at the technician. Encouraged, the technician wrapped his arms around the stagehand's waist to pull that bubble butt up close to him. The stagehand arched his neck and pointed to the lighting booth above the crowd. The two men climbed up the ladder to the booth together.

From his viewpoint, Patrick could only see the black man's torso and head through the window. The stud's massive muscles rippled with motion. Wow. His pecs are bigger than the breasts of some women I know,  thought Patrick. He watched in wonder through the booth window as the technician thrust forward forcefully. He saw a bulging arm swing down to slap the hidden bottom. The confidant top snarled while breeding the willing prey. Patrick lost track of his surroundings, mesmerized by the endless pounding.

"Sir. Hey, Sir," the food cart vendor snapped at Patrick. "What type of hot dog do you want?" 



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 05



A group of young tourists wandered backstage at the Montreal International Jazz Festival performance. The technician rolled his eyes when he saw them. From the look of their designer jeans and hand stitched hemp backpacks, they were Ivy League brats. Benjamin was busy editing the clips from that morning's interview with the performers. He did not have time for self important canvassers. 

The leader of the group took a pamphlet from his bag and offered it to Benjamin. "We have a website. The address is on the back," he boasted.

Benjamin glanced at the political material. The title read, "Unite Against Western Oppression". He cocked an eye and looked at the man who was a decade his junior. "Parlez vous francais, s'il vous plait."

The college students stuttered, "Unite, join, unity, fight, uh, resistance -"

Benjamin cut him short. "Don't worry, I know English. What made you think I want to take down the West? I'm a Westerner."

"But you're African-American."

"I'm American-American. My parents moved to New York City in the 70's shortly after Jean-Claude took control of their country. You have no idea what oppression is like."

"Africa is only unstable because of European colonialism."

"Try again."

"What?" By now the college student was looking very uncomfortable.

"My parents were born in Haiti." Benjamin smirked, "What school do you go to anyway?"

"Columbia."

"No wonder. Go make yourself useful by reading up on their expansion plan. I have work to do. Oh, and next time you go politicking outside the US, you might want to bother learning the local language."

Benjamin went back to editing his video. Once he had it perfected, he started the processing. Looking up from his laptop, he noticed a stagehand taping the wires to the stage floor. Nice ass, he thought to himself. Benjamin stretched and rubbed his muscular arms. Yeah, I could tap that. When the stagehand turned around, Benjamin admired his trim black beard, smooth white skin, and slender torso. If he's not a bottom now, he will be by the end of the night.

He swaggered up to the stagehand, who glanced over Benjamin's body builder physic. "Hey babe, do you want some cock."

"Pardonnez-moi. Je ne parle pas anglais," the Montreal native replied.

Damn, I should of followed my own advice and learned a bit more French before coming here. Undeterred, Benjamin grabbed his crotch and offered, "Pour vous. Bien?"

A lopsided grin formed on the stagehand's face. He turned away, shook his hips, and looked back at Benjamin. "Pour vous. Good?"

"Oui! Very good." Benjamin clasped the man's hips to pull him closer. Then he explored the man's stomach with his hands. The bearded fellow leaned his head back against Benjamin's broad shoulders. He pointed up to the lighting booth, and Benjamin understood the gesture. The two men climbed up the ladder to the booth where they could be alone together.

Once inside the booth, the stagehand wrapped his arms around Benjamin's neck. He parted his legs to allow Benjamin to press a thigh between them. Benjamin cupped his ass cheek and kneaded the glutes. The stagehand melted from the feeling of those strong hands. He tossed Benjamin's shirt onto the floor. His tongue traced the outline of Benjamin's chiseled chest. He moaned as Benjamin's thick finger slipped into his clothes and between his cheeks. "I want you naked," Benjamin whispered hoarsely. 

The francophone looked up at Benjamin with his hands out to gesture confusion. Benjamin untucked the man's shirt while asking, "Bien?"

"Oui. Good," the man replied as the shirt flew across the room.

Next Benjamin unbuckled his babe's belt. "Bien?" he asked again.

"Oui," the man agreed as he stripped off the pants. Underwear, shoes and socks soon followed.

"Dance," Benjamin commanded. Again the stagehand gestured confusion. Benjamin searched his mind for the French translation. "Danse?" The stagehand hugged Benjamin and starts to rock back and forth. Benjamin sighed in frustration. "Vous dansez!" The stage hand grinned and stepped away from Benjamin. Facing the New York City stud, he stretched his hand up over his head and looked to the side. His hips undulated for Benjamin's viewing pleasure.

"Cul," Benjamin barked. The Montreal native obediently presented his ass and wiggled it. Benjamin pulled his thick black cock out of his fly. It pointed lewdly toward the swaying white ass. He spat on his bitch's hole. A meaty finger worked the natural lube into the tight ass. Two more fingers followed to prepare it for his rod. He pushed down on the stagehand's shoulder blades with his hands to bend the man over. Then he teased the back door with his purple helmet. 

The willing bottom winced upon entry. Benjamin slid in slowly, knowing how difficult it is to take such a fat circumcised tool. He stopped halfway to give his babe time to adjust to his girth. Then he pulled out almost all of the way. The next thrust went in 6 inches. Again, Benjamin held it there for half a minute before pulling out most of the shaft. The third try brought him balls deep into the hot hole. The denim of his blue jeans pressed against the naked white skin of the other man. Benjamin rubbed the stagehand's back and tenderly rode his ass. Moans of delight encouraged him to pick up the pace. He built up to full throttle. The stagehand grinded his bum against Benjamin's pelvis. A string of French curse words filled the air. Benjamin laughed to himself, "Yeah, you like that, don't you, mon chiot?" 

"Oui," the man squealed weakly. "Je suis votre chiot."

"Ce qui?"

"Je suis votre chiot," the man whined more loudly.

Benjamin smacked the stagehand's ass. "Ce qui?"

"Je suis votre chiot!" he screams as the bull cock pounded him like a jack hammer.

"That's right," Benjamin snarled. "You are my little bitch. Ce qui vous desirez?"

"Vous."

"Bien."

"Je desire que vous et votre sperme," the stagehand pleaded.

"My spreme? Well I think I can deliver that." Benjamin pounded that man hole mercilessly. The sensation of a massive knob against his prostate pushed the stagehand over the edge. Jizz shot from his dick onto the floor. Benjamin kept on thrusting. The stage hand reached back to brush Benjamin's six pack. Without warning the bull deposited a think load right up his bitch's tail.

Benjamin glanced out the window of the lighting booth and noticed an Irish looking man next to a hot dog stand staring up at him. The hot dog vender snapped at the stunned fellow. Hmm, thought Benjamin, Good thing I have plenty to share. 



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 06



Francis fingered the scrollwork above the fireplace in her grandmother's stately Victorian home. She placed her wine glass on the mantle and sat down by the dying fire. Scattered flames flickered from the warm embers. Holidays at her grandmother's house were always dull. This year, her husband's absence made the time pass even more slowly. She hoped that his trip to a New York City fertility clinic would be worth the separation. Footsteps announced company.

"My, you look pensive," said a strapping young man as he sat down besides her.

"Hey Van. I was just wondering when I would get pregnant. It is difficult enough thinking about it at home. Here, I have to put up with grandma's questions on top of everything."

"Yeah, knowing grandma, she'll probably blame it on Patrick and say you should have married a Quebecois instead," Van responded. He placed a comforting hand on his cousin's shoulder.

Francis placed her hand over his and brightened. "At least you brought a friend home for Thanksgiving. That will divert from of her vitriol from me."

"Oh, that old bird has plenty of spite to go around. Come on. They are setting the table for diner."

They entered the formal dining room to see 16 place settings laid out on the cherry wood table. Delicate curved chairs, 7 per side, were tucked under the table. Uneasy guests stood by them, waiting to hear where they should sit. An elderly matron sat at the head of the table in a sturdy armchair. The chair's twin at the other end of the table remained empty. The unnecessary place setting in front of it added a chilly shadow to the room.

The matron patted the seat to her right. "Phillip, you were grandpa's favorite when he was alive. Have a seat next to me." The middle aged man hastily sat in his place. Relative by relative, the family matriarch assigned a seat for each guest. Soon, only three remained standing. "Francis, make yourself comfortable over there. It's a shame Patrick could not make it. I suppose family is not that important to Anglos." Francis bit her tongue as she sat down three seats to the woman's left. Her grandmother pointed to the next seat in line. "Van, that spot is yours."

Van joined he others at the table. His jaw hurt a bit from gritting his teeth. Half a minute of awkward silence hung over the proceedings. Van coughed loudly. 

"Oh," said the matron as if she just noticed the lone standing guest. "Your classmate from college can sit next to me on my left."

"My friend's name is Bo," Van responded. Bo quietly assumed his position at the table.

The salad course could have been a meal on its own. Multiple types of rolls were piled high in each bread basket. The din of polite conversation mixed with the clang of silverware on china.

"Bo here is from Sweden," Van said to his companion. "He is double majoring in finance and English. He's a wiz at both."

"Thanks," Bo replied. "I hope to work in New York or London after I graduate in May."

"English is too guttural," the matriarch declared. "French is a much sweeter language. That's why I made sure all of you studied it." She turned to Van. "Donnez-moi le pain."

Van methodically selected a roll, buttered it, and placed it on his plate. Then he asked Bo, "Would you like some more bread?"

His grandmother rose from her seat. The room hushed as she walked up to Van. She smacked him on the back of the head and took a roll from the basket. Van stormed out of the room. Francis hurried after him.

The two cousins conversed in the kitchen. "Don't fume about it, Van. That's what she thrives on. It is just one holiday. Next year, Bo will be in the UK or America. He will never have to see grandma again."

"Actually, I was hoping he would be here for more holidays," Van explained to Francis.

"Why?"

Van looked down. "Bo isn't just my friend." He opened the refrigerator for a beer. "He is my boyfriend."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Van took a gulp of beer from the can. "You're the first relative I told."

"Don't worry. I'll let you be the one to tell everyone else," Francis assured him. Her hand rested on his arm. They both turned when Bo entered the room.

"Let's go for a swim," Van suggested. "I don't have the appetite for any more dinner."

Van, Bo, and Francis walked to the glass and steel structure at the far end of the estate with their swimsuits in hand. Inside, they found a heated swimming pool. The men caught Francis up on the history of their relationship as the three sat by the pool. When they were ready to swim, Van and Bo went into the bathroom to change. Then it was Francis's turn. She took a minute to admire herself in the mirrored wall above the bathroom sink. At the age of 28, she was still shapely. She had experienced enough to give her sexual confidence, but not enough to dull her desires. The two college students were already splashing each other with water when she approached the pool.

Francis jumped into the fray. Bo laughed while she dunked her younger cousin. "Why Van, you never told me Francis was so athletic," he chided. Van struggled to get his head above water, but Francis held him tight. Every so often, she turned to allow him a gasp of air. "Go easy on him," Bo chuckled, "I don't want him too tired tonight. Well, at least not at the start of the night."

Francis released her cousin. "Spare me the details. I still remember driving him to Vancouver for his first year of college. I can't believe he's already a junior. How will you two manage a long distance relationship next year?"

"I applied to study abroad," Van said. "I'll attend a college close to where ever Bo finds work." 

"Wow. This is serious then," Francis exclaimed.

"You bet," said Bo as he tussled Van's hair. "This fellow is going to bunk with me for a year, and if it all works out ..."

Van placed his hand on Bo's chest. "Don't jump ahead too much. We'll see how the next couple of years go." Then he turned to Francis. "This hopeless romantic was looking for rings a month after our first date."

Bo shrugged. "What can I say? I'm the traditional type." 

The group frolicked for a while until Van decided that he better return to the mansion and make peace with his grandmother. Bo relaxed in the jacuzzi near the pool. Francis went into the bathroom to rinse the chlorine out of her hair. When she tugged the shower curtain open, the curtain rod fell to the floor. A close inspection showed that the bracket for it was broken. Francis glanced at the bathroom door. If Bo was straight, she would have definitely closed it, but since he wasn't, she felt comfortable leaving it ajar.

Francis slowly removed her bathing suit. The water hissed out of the showerhead as she turned the faucet handles. She held her hand under the streaming water until the temperature stabilized. Stepping into the water, she felt the warm droplets beat against her skin. Through the mirror above the sink, she could see Bo gazing ahead. Francis licked her lips unconsciously. She loved her husband, but she saw no harm in looking. She admired Bo's cold Nordic features. Francis lathered her waist length hair with shampoo. She closed her eyes and rinsed it out. When she reopened her eyes, Bo was sitting on the edge of the Jacuzzi with a towel wrapped around his swim shorts.

Francis cleaned her face and neck. She rubbed soap along her slender arms. Through the mirror, she looked at Bo's torso. It was thicker than her husband's and had noticeably more hair. She proceeded to wash her own smooth breasts. In the two years since her marriage, this was the closest she had ever come to being naked in front of another man. Her nipples tightened at the thought. She spread soap over them. Francis let the warm water rinse off the soap. She moaned quietly from the sensation.

As she soaped up her stomach, Francis pictured Bo sitting on the bathroom sink and watching her. She rotated her hips slightly and pulled back her shoulders. Her hand glided from one hip to the other. Her fingers returned to clean out her belly button. Then they slid downward. She applied a bit of shampoo to her bush. Lathering her pubic hair was a great excuse to massage the region. The bottle said to rinse and repeat. She followed the instruction enthusiastically. She wondered what Bo would think if he had a close look at her pussy. She figured he was probably interested in other things.

Francis turned so that her back faced the mirror. With a washcloth, she cleaned between her shoulder blades. Then she applied soap to the small of her back. Her hour glass figure swayed as she imagined Bo's hands in place of hers. Her fingers spread across her derriere. Lubricated by the soap, she explored her backside. Her hand rested between her ass cheeks. Penetration there was out of the question. She had never taken anything up there, and she had no intention to start. Still, she liked the prospect of teasing a man with her curvy bottom. After all, a woman's ass looked much like a man's.

Francis placed her hands on the shower wall for support. She stuck out her bum and wiggled it gently. She wondered what Bo's cock would feel like if he smacked it against her cheeks. She imagined him standing behind her, eager for a tight ass. She grinned at the thought of how she would tease him mercilessly with her crack and then back off just before he was ready to enter. Francis's left hand wandered down to her crotch. She planned how she would take control of the situation by grabbing Bo's rod and guiding it to her snatch. Her fingers parted her pussy lips. She wished it was Bo's cockhead instead.

As her fingers entered her vaginal folds, Francis wondered how Bo would respond to the first sensation of wet pussy against his dick. She flattered herself into thinking how the experience would bring out a new side in him. She imagined him loving the feel of her womanhood and pounding her cunt with unrestrained lust. Francis thrust herself onto her hand and paused. Twitching in her pussy accompanied a trickle of cum. The shower water wasted away the fluids from her legs. Francis turned again to face the mirror. She sighed deeply and looked at the reflection of Bo's handsome face.

Later that evening, Francis bumped into Van in the hallway. "I'm glad you and Bo are dating. He is a great guy," she told him.

"Thanks. I'm very happy with him."

"Does his family know he is gay?" she asked. 

"Half his relatives know we are dating. The other half don't. Oh, and he's not gay. He's bi."



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 07



Benjamin sat by the Starbucks window sipping his tea and gazing at his laptop screen. Representative Flake's slide show was on the Washington Post website, and Benjamin was enjoying the natural beauty. There was something particularly sexy about a man who could catch his own food. It screamed independence and self sufficiency. There would be none of the obligatory cuddling and cooing during a night with that stud. Just cock to ass until the job was done.

Benjamin's eyes shifted to the folks leaning against the Carmen building. The group contrasted greatly with Benjamin's ideals. Cloistered in an Ivy League citadel, they enjoyed an extended adolescence at their parents' expense. Benjamin recalled his own years as a commuter student at Fordham. Life was much different for the other half of America.

A cute redhead paused from walking to check his map. Something about the man seemed familiar to Benjamin. The man lowed the map, revealing a broad freckled face. Benjamin shut down his computer. Ah, it's the guy from the hot dog stand in Montreal. He looks too old to be a Columbia student. Grad student, maybe. He could be a local. Benjamin packed his bags and walked down Broadway after the man.

"Excuse me, Sir. I saw you looking at the map. Do you need directions?"

"Thanks. I'm looking for the 9 train. I'm not from around here. Tuesday night I head back to Montreal."

Benjamin could hardly contain his grin. "The subway station for the 9 is right there. Hey, let me show you around tonight. I've lived in Manhattan my whole life. It's been 34 years now. I can take you to this great Jazz club I know."

"Wow. Yeah. That would be great. My name's Patrick, by the way."

"Benjamin here." They shook hands. "Let me have your number. I've got a meeting this afternoon, but I'll call you as soon as it's done."

Patrick gave Benjamin his mobile phone number. As the two parted, Patrick's phone rang. He answered it. "Hello? Oh, hey honey. How are you holding up without me? I miss you too. OK. Love you. Bye."

Benjamin crumpled up the paper with the phone number and put it in his back pocket. "Was that your girlfriend?"

"Actually, that was my wife. Why?"

"Forget about tonight," Benjamin told him. "I don't fuck married guys." Patrick watched in shock as Benjamin walked away.

Latter that night, Benjamin was at a leather club in the Village. A man in a chest harness and leather pants approached him. "Hi there, do you like tight ass?"

"Sure. Who doesn't?"

"Well, my sub for one. He's more into cock. He sucks mine like a pro, always hungry, always respectful. Sometimes I let him suck other cocks as a treat. He kind of fancies you. Would you like to breed his throat? Maybe you could tap his ass too."

Benjamin pursed his lips and ran his tongue along his teeth. "That sounds appealing."

"They his holes are yours for the night on one condition. I get to flip you."

Benjamin chuckled. "Tanstaafl, huh? Look, I'm not about to seal a deal without first seeing what I'm getting. Let's rent a room to continue our negotiations in. I just got paid for a gig. I'll spring for the hotel."

In the hotel room, the man presented his sub. "He is a fine specimen, isn't he?"

Benjamin nodded in agreement.

"Turn around. Show the man the ass he'll push open. Wiggle it for him. Yeah, that's a good bitch." The man playfully slapped the sub's bum. Then he addressed Benjamin, "You're looking at the tightest ass South of 14th Street. It's yours if you want. All you have to do is bend over for me."

The left corner of Benjamin's lips rose mischievously. His palm pressed against the dom's crotch. "So far, I've only seen half of what I'm getting. I want to see the entire package." Benjamin unbuttoned the dom's pants. Then he folded his arms across his chest.

The dom proudly peeled off his pants. A pair of boxers soon joined them on the floor. He placed his hands on his hips and showed off his manhood. "This will be pounding your hole all night long."

Benjamin lifted the man's balls and let them fall. "Respectable." He encircled the man's shaft with a thumb and a finger to check its girth. "I think you're right. I think your sub does have a tight ass." Benjamin laid on the bed facing up. He placed his hands behind his head. "OK. Now it's your turn to see what I have to offer."

The dom approached Benjamin. He slid a hand under the small of Benjamin's back. Then he moved that hand downwards. His fingertips poked under the waistband to feel the top of Benjamin's muscular glutes. He tried to slide his hand farther to explore the crack, but Benjamin wouldn't budge. After half a minute, he changed directions and moved to Benjamin's abs. The six pack felt warm to the touch. The dom started breathing more heavily. A treasure trail led his fingers into Benjamin's boxers and the coarse curly pubic beneath.

Benjamin stroked the dom's back. "Go ahead. Strip me." The dom removed Benjamin's clothes. His eyes fixated on Benjamin's impressive basket. Benjamin chuckled some more. "You may touch it." The dom timidly caressed the dick he lusted after. It responded to the motion. Soon it was at its full 7 inches. A bulging diagonal vein ran down the shaft. The rod's 2" diameter made the dom nervous and intrigued. "See something you like?" The dom nodded in agreement. "Ok. We can change the deal. You give me your sub for the night, and in exchange, I give you my cock." The dom hesitated. "Well, bitch. Is it a deal or not?"

"OK," he responded in a horse whisper.

Benjamin stood up. He fished his wallet from his pants pocket and removed a $20 bill. He gave it to the sub. "Go to the bar in the hotel lobby and enjoy yourself for an hour or two." With the sub gone, Benjamin directed the dom. "Assume the position." The dom got into the doggy style pose on the bed. "Lower," Benjamin told him. The dom placed his forearms flat on the bed in front of him and touched his forehead to the sheets. Benjamin walked up to him. He rested his hand on the dom's backside. "Lower," he commanded. The dom pressed his legs and stomach against the bed. His thighs were parted in anticipation. Benjamin shoved a finger into his back door. "Good, bitch."

The dom whimpered quietly. "Give it to me. Please." He lifted his hips to take more of Benjamin's finger into his hungry ass. Benjamin just stood there frozen. "Please, Sir, give me that thick cock of yours." Benjamin wiggled his finger more. "Oh. Yes." Benjamin worked another digit into the hole. "More," the man begged. Benjamin added a third finger. He spit into the dom's crack to lube it. He loosened the fuck hole until he thought it could fit his dick.

Benjamin climbed on top of the dom. He inserted his purple helmet into the man's rear. "Man, you're tight. When was the last time you took cock?"

"About 3 years ago."

"Sweet." Benjamin gave the man another inch. "How about ass? When was the last time you fucked ass?"

"Sunday. I breed my sub a few times a week."

Benjamin went a bit deeper. "Often do you get to tap a new ass?"

"A few times a month."

Benjamin shoved in balls deep. "Tell me about it. Tell me how you fuck all the bottoms."

The dom moaned as he felt Benjamin against his prostate. "Well, the last time was with a fem guy I met when I went dancing alone. He was slim, kind of twinkish. I had him host. His bedroom was a bit frilly. It had a four post bed with lace on the pillow cases."

By now, Benjamin was ramming the man hard. He leaned down to growl in the dom's ear. "I don't need to know the decor. Just skip to the fucking."

"Right. Sorry. I spread him out missionary position and gave him my cock. He squealed when I got it in. After a bit of sawing, he was begging for my cum."

Benjamin pulled out and jerked himself. "On your back." The dom complied. "Legs apart." The dom separated his legs. Benjamin reinserted his dick. He put the man's ankles against his shoulders. "Who's the bitch now?" Benjamin resumed fucking.

"I am," the dom replied weakly.

"Who?"

"I am," he said more loudly.

"You are what?"

"I'm the bitch."

"Yeah, that's right. But you're not my bitch yet. Do you want to be my bitch?"

"Yes. I want to be your bitch. I want to be your cum rag. Fuck me. Please fuck me hard. Breed me. Make me yours. Keep me as your own personal fuck toy. Just call anytime and I'll be ready for your thick, hard cock."

Benjamin slammed in deep, breeding the dom with shot after shot of cum. He pulled out. "Too bad I'm not looking for an LTR." He wiped his cock clean with his boxers. Then he threw them onto the dom's face. "Here's something to remember me by." Benjamin dressed himself. As he left the room he looked at his date. "Your sub should be back soon. He can take care of your nut."

When he reached his apartment, Benjamin emptied his jeans pockets. The back pocket had a receipt from the Starbucks, a spent metro card, and a scrap of paper with a phone number on it. Benjamin threw out the first two items. He sat on his bed staring at the phone number. Recalling Patrick made his cock stir. He put the phone number in his filing cabinet, turned out the light, and went to sleep.



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 08



Patrick walked down Broadway along the Columbia University campus. The physical at Columbia Presbyterian was relatively painless. The hospital staff was very professional considering that they were examining his genitalia. When he handed over his sperm sample, the nurse took it casually like it was just a glass of milk. Patrick certainly would not be so nonchalant about bodily functions. He preferred plants. They were much cleaner. Hopefully, the exam would be worth it, and doctors would find out what was wrong with him. His wife, Francis, had already gotten a clean bill of health from her exams, so Patrick must be the reason they hadn't conceived yet.

Patrick was making the most of his trip to New York City. After the exam, he headed down to Columbia University Environmental Health Sciences department to discuss vertical farming with one of the professors. Now he was off to see the High Line downtown. Patrick stopped in front of the university book store to check his subway map. It looked as if the 9 train would take him directly to the park. Unfortunately, he couldn't figure out where the entrance to the 9 line was. Frustrated, Patrick lowered the map.

A tall, muscular, black man approached Patrick. "Excuse me, Sir. I saw you looking at the map. Do you need directions?" the man offered. 

"Thanks. I'm looking for the 9 train. I'm not from around here. Tuesday night I head back to Montreal." Patrick replied.

The other man's face lit up. "The subway station for the 9 is right there. Hey, let me show you around tonight. I've lived in Manhattan my whole life. It's been 34 years now. I can take you to this great Jazz club I know."

Patrick was pleasantly surprised by the man's friendliness. "Wow. Yeah. That would be great. My name's Patrick, by the way."

"Benjamin here." They shook hands. "Let me have your number. I've got a meeting this afternoon, but I'll call you as soon as it's done."

Patrick gave Benjamin his mobile phone number. As the two parted, Patrick's phone rang. He answered it. "Hello? Oh, hey honey. How are you holding up without me? I miss you too. OK. Love you. Bye."

Benjamin seemed annoyed by the interruption. "Was that your girlfriend?" he asked.

"Actually, that was my wife. Why?"

"Forget about tonight," Benjamin told Patrick. "I don't fuck married guys."

Patrick stood there in stunned silence as Benjamin walked away. Who said anything about fucking? I'm straight. A bit unnerved from the encounter, Patrick descended into the subway station. The subway trip passed quickly. Soon he was at the 14th Street entrance to the High Line. Patrick walked through the elevated park and admired the greenery. The city had done a great job turning those abandoned tracks into a lush landscape. The trees and shrubs calmed his nerves.

Patrick climbed down the stairs at 20th Street to the side walk and meandered his way northward. His wandering brought him to Chelsea Park where he sat down on a bench. A pair of women pushing a baby stroller passed Patrick. One woman had long blond hair, blue eyes and pale skin. The other had short cropped black hair, green eyes and an olive, Middle Eastern completion. The pair stopped several feet from Patrick to hug each other. The blond nuzzled her face in the crook of her companion's neck. The olive skinned beauty stroked her partner's long hair. She kissed the light strands, and then made a trail of loving pecks to her ear. She whispered something that made the fair skinned belle shudder. Their lips met for a tender kiss. In short order, tender gave way to lusty. Their bodies pressed hard against each other. Their mouths opened for a passionate tongue duel.

Patrick's own mouth opened, but in surprise rather than lust. The black haired woman noticed his gawking. "Hey bud," she called, "you have a problem with lesbians?"

"Um, no," Patrick tried to assured then. "In fact, I like lesbians very much."

"Yeah," giggled the blond. "I can tell how much you like us by the tent you're sporting."

Patrick blushed as his hand unconsciously tried to cover the bulge in his pants. He attempted to change the subject. "Is that your niece or nephew?"

The black haired lady answered, "He's my son. We had him through artificial insemination." Then she patted her partner's stomach. "She's in her first trimester."

"Congratulations," Patrick said.

"Thanks," the blond responded. "A word of advice, try not to stare. You're in Chelsea. The LGBT community is large here. We're friendly, but we don't like voyeurs."

"Actually," her partner corrected with a laugh, "A few of us do like voyeurs, but they have their own clubs for that." She kissed her girlfriend on the cheek. "Common honey, we're going to be late." Then she turned to Patrick with a wink. "Take care now. Hope you enjoyed the show."

"You too. Bye."

After that display, Patrick's mouth was dry. He looked for a bar so he could order a pint. The establishment he settled on had a formal mood. Cedar panels lined the walls and tan leather covered the furniture. Patrick sat in a large chair in the corner of the bar. The server took his order for ale without making pleasantries. Patrick was alone in his thoughts. Artificial insemination, I hadn't thought about that. It's an option. We could find a donor who looks like me so the neighbors don't wonder. I'll have to research it some when I get back to Montreal. Patrick's gaze glided over to a young man who was sitting at the bar. He wondered if the average sperm donor was like that man. Patrick considered the gentleman's broad shoulders and brawny arms. He compared them to his own fit, but slim frame. Running keeps me is shape, but maybe I should lift some too. I wonder how much he can bench press. Patrick admired how the man's shirt stretched over his solid pectoral muscles. Surely the man had ample testosterone. He probably had plenty of sperm to spare. Patrick's penis began to stir as he thought of the stranger's sperm swimming to his wife's womb.

The hunk left his seat to approach Patrick. "Hey there. I'm Mike. How about I buy you a drink? Maybe we could go to my place for a little man on man fun," he offered Patrick.

Patrick became a bit flustered. "Sorry. I'm not gay."

"Oh. My bad. I guess my gaydar is off today. I could have sworn you were checking me out." The man leaned over to whisper into Patrick's ear. His breath was hot and moist. "Stop lying to yourself. Embrace it. You will be so much happier once you do." The man walked out of the bar, leaving Patrick alone with his thoughts.



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 09



Patrick was glad to be back home in Montreal. He sat at his computer trying to make sense of the events on his trip to New York City. Googling "Chelsea" brought descriptions of the neighborhood. It was a hotbed of LGBT activity. So that's what those lesbians were warning me about. Patrick opened the website of the Chelsea Art Museum. It featured a collection of nude paintings. The first had a Rubenesque lady reclining nude on a couch. Patrick's dick began to awaken. The second piece contained two slender women splashing each other in a pool. Their perky breasts dripped with drops of water. The third painting featured a standing woman in a leather corset. Before her knelt a nude woman with her tongue on her companion's clitoris. This image brought Patrick's timber to full mast. 

The next exhibit on the website was entitled, "Brazilian Bodies". It started with a photograph of a toned, smooth Brazilian man. The stud's dark dick contrasted with his light tan skin, drawing Patrick's eyes to it. Patrick's breathing became more labored. The next photo showed a muscular man who was as fair skinned as Patrick. The model's foreskin covered his flaccid penis. Patrick slid his hands into his pants to rub the crown of his own cut cock. He wondered what it would be like to feel the other man's turtle neck. The last beauty was a lithe black man riding a horse. Patrick felt his shaft. It was still rigid despite the change from female models to male models.

Patrick had always sought women in the past. Responding to a man's body was new to him. Perhaps the encounters he had experienced in New York had stirred something new. His thoughts went back to the young man who approached him in the bar. The man had told him to embrace his desires. Patrick closed his eyes, and his imagination drifted from the young man to Benjamin. Benjamin had told Patrick in no uncertain terms that he did not fuck married men. Patrick had no intention of cheating on his wife either. Day dreams, on the other hand, were another matter. Patrick pictured the virile American lying on his stomach in Patrick's bed. He imagined his cock sliding between the stranger's ass cheeks. Patrick googled "gay ass" to bring up porn images. He browsed pics of young bubble butts and firm muscular buns. His cock began to soften as his lust waned. Ah well. I guess I'm not gay after all. Men's asses don't really appeal to me.

It was just as well. Francis, Patrick's wife, would start her fertile days tomorrow. Patrick had to save his sperm for her. They were trying to conceive. Every month, Patrick fucked his wife like a rabbit during her 18 fertile days. During her infertile days (the 5 days of her period plus 7 days after that) they refrained from all sex. Patrick was forbidden to orgasm. No sex, no foreplay, no masturbation. He had to keep his sperm for breeding. When they first started the routine half a year ago, it was difficult. By now, Patrick was accustomed to the restrictions. He might fondle himself now and then, but he always stopped well short of cumming. His semen was reserved for his wife's womb. Patrick felt that the frustration of days without release would be worth it. He longed to start a family with Francis. They had expected to conceive in the first month or two. When Francis failed to get pregnant, they sought medical advice. The doctors cleared Francis of any fertility problems. Patrick's check up was next. He had gone to Columbia Presbyterian in New York City to get the best medical care possible. He and Francis were still waiting to hear from them about the test results.

Patrick went to clear his head with a cold shower. The water flowed over his bare body. He looked down at his legs. Regular marathon training kept them trim. He flexed his midsection and admired how his six-pack moved. Then he rubbed his arms with a soapy hand. They were solid but thin. Running was great for developing his gluteus, hamstrings, and core muscles, but it did nothing for his upper body. Patrick's mind wandered back to the image of Benjamin's body. He imagined what it would be like to have Benjamin's massive biceps. He spread soap around his flat chest. His fingers went through the small tuff of curly red hair in the center of his otherwise smooth torso. Patrick wondered how it would feel to posses Benjamin's bulky pecks. His slick finger tips traced the base of his chest, pausing briefly on each of his small, pink nips. Patrick was happy with his body. His wife found it pleasing, and that was enough for him. Still, he dreamed of what it would be like to have Benjamin's impressive muscles, how it would feel to walk onto a room and turn every woman's head. His manhood began to rise at the prospect of having a dozen females admire his physique. Patrick quickly chastised himself and shut down that train of thought. He finished his shower, dried off and walked to the living room wearing only a towel.

The phone in the living room rang. Patrick picked up the cordless hand set. "Hello."

"Hello. This is Columbia Presbyterian. Is Patrick O'Connell there?"

"Speaking."

"Mr. O'Connell, we have the test results from your vist."

"OK."

"It seems as though there is a chromosomal defect in your sperm. They are unable to fertilize an egg. Even ICSI would not help. I am sorry for the bad news."

"I see," said Patrick very disappointed. "Thanks. Bye."

Patrick returned the hand set to its cradle and sat on the couch. He looked down at his body, a body which had never failed him before, a body which he now knew was defective. He opened his towel to look at his genitals. He felt betrayed by them. He cupped his testicles. All I want is sperm that works. Other men have that. Why not me? Patrick squeezed his balls. His dick started to grow. Patrick grabbed it angrily with his other hand. Waiting for tomorrow to orgasm seemed pointless now. After half a year of denying himself, it was good to take matters into his own hands again. Patrick gently pulled his nuts downward with one hand while his other hand brushed over the front of his dick. He spit on his tool to lube it up. Slowly, he spread the spit along the sensitive nerve that ran along the length of his shaft. He spit again. His fingers were a blur along his rod. They got every part of it slick. Patrick began to jerk with determination. He closed his eyes. He wanted to leave his problem behind. He wanted to leave his broken body. Once again Patrick imagined he was Benjamin. He pretended he was a strong, fertile buck. He dreamed that is was Benjamin's cock and balls in his hands. In his fantasy, his wife's pussy replaced his hands. She would place her hands on broad shoulders for balance as she rode a thick, powerful cock. Francis would gaze at his bulging arms and brawny chest with lust. Patrick felt a churning in his cum factories. For the first time in months, he did not stop masturbating at this point. Instead, he jerked himself more violently. His cock twitched as a heavy load traveled from his nuts to his piss hole. The jizz splattered onto his six-pack. Patrick told himself he was Benjamin filling Francis's pussy with fertile swimmers. A warm post orgasm relief spread over Patrick as he toweled up the mess.

Patrick was fully dressed by the time Francis came home. "Hey honey. How was work?" he asked as he gave Francis a peck on the cheek.

"Rough. Some folks in Bountiful stopped by our Vancouver office. They want to hire us on retainer. I had to spend an extra 2 hours at the office researching their situation and the relevant statutes. How was your day?"

"Well, work went well, but," Patrick paused. He looked down grimly. "I got some bad news on the phone today."

Francis placed a concerned hand on her husband's arm. "What is it?"

"Columbian Presbyterian called. My tests results are in. My sperm is defective."

"Oh." Francis cried as she wrapped her arms around Patrick. "I'm sorry."

Patrick hugged his wife back. He kissed her gently on the forehead.

"Perhaps there is as silver lining to this," Francis said as she looked up at Patrick. "Now we can loosen up a bit. We don't have to wait until tomorrow." Francis rested her palm over Patrick's crotch. "There is something new I've wanted to try." Francis deftly opened Patrick's fly. She knelt in front of him. Her lips pressed against Patrick's briefs and sucked in air. Patrick gasped in surprise. Francis pulled down her husband's pants and underwear. Her tongue started at the base of his cock and glided up the turgid shaft. She tugged down on the foreskin to reveal Patrick's cockhead. Francis kissed the mushroom tenderly. She guided it into her mouth. Patrick sighed as his wife sucked him for the first time. He watched her take 5 inches into her mouth. Another 5 inches remained exposed. Francis gagged slightly as Patrick's cockhead pressed against the entrance to her throat. She bobbed up and down on as much as she could while jerking the rest with her hands. Soon Patrick was moaning in ecstasy. Francis pulled up until only 2 inches remained in her mouth. She flicked her tongue rapidly just below the cockhead. This pushed Patrick over the edge. He shot ropes of semen into her mouth. A novice at cock sucking, Francis let a few streams dribble down her chin. It was no problem. She was sure she would get better with practice, and she intended to get much practice from now on. 



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 10



Benjamin carefully stepped towards the back of a rented canoe while Isabella sat on the bow to keep it steady. On the other side of the breakwater and a little bit upstream of the canoe, he could see Lock 7. The water cascaded violently over the dam and down the 27 foot drop. Once Benjamin was seated in the stern, Isabella stood up. The shift in weight elevated the bow, making it easy for Isabella push the canoe out into the water. She hopped in. A few rapid draw strokes from her paddle oriented the craft in the correct direction.

"Just stick to J strokes. Let me do the steering," Isabella told Benjamin.

"If you plan on steering, why aren't you in the back?" Benjamin questioned.

"Because you're heavier. The heavier paddler goes in the stern."

Benjamin eyed his pudgy companion. "I'm heavier than you?" A glare from Isabella made him retract the challenge. "Ok. Fine. I'm heavier. I'll just keep paddling, and you call the shots." Benjamin looked at the fields and groves to either side of the canal. He listened to the natural quiet, the dull, boring quiet. "Remind me again why we're on this boat trip."

"Chris wanted to canoe while we were up here. He has a huge contact list, and I want to keep him happy. He's bringing 4 dozen people to the rally tomorrow."

"The depressing thing is you mean 'contact list' literally. What does the guy see in this? It's just a bunch of undeveloped real estate."

"He's an environmentalist. He likes anything natural."

"We're on the Erie Canal. He does realize that it's a man made waterway, doesn't he?"

"He sees it as natural," Isabella replied.

"So he's an idiot."

"He's not an idiot. He's very sympathetic to LGBT causes. Every time we're trying to get something passed in Albany, I can count on him and his network to draw in support."

Benjamin looked back at Chris launching his kayak behind them. "Ok. So, he's a useful idiot. I could live with that."

"New topic please," Isabella requested in a sing song voice. "Blake and Mark will be at the rally. I promised them you would fuck them if they showed up. Keep your calendar clear for tonight."

"You mean you pimped me out for political support."

"Of course. If I pimped you out for cash, we would both end up in jail. Besides, what's the point of you having a big cock if you can't get things with it?"

"You only want me for my cock?"

"Well, if you had friends, I would be using you for your friends. Since you don't, I just use your cock."

"Hey, I have friend."

"Name someone you've talked to in the past year who you didn't need for business or sex."

Benjamin thought silently for half a minute. "There's you."

"Hmm. I'm 12 years younger than you and fresh out of college. I'm more of a protégé than a friend. It's even a bit early to call me that. We just met 1 week ago when you picked me up at the airport."

"We chatted online most of your senior year at UCLA."

"A middle aged man who's only friend is a college kid he met online. Yeah, that's healthy."

"It's not like I was trolling the chat sites. You responded to my ad for a website editor," Benjamin retorted.

"Boy was that a mistake. No offense, but I'm happier on Madison Avenue than with the geeks."

"Sure, sell your soul."

"It's a steady pay check, and it gives me the weekends for activism. Anyway, aren't you the one who says that any honest work is good work."

"You're right. I misspoke. I was just a bit sore at you."

"Sorry. I didn't realize I hit a soft spot. Mingle some at the rally. There'll be good folk there." The canoe rocked a bit. "Heads up. Rapids."

The pair devoted their full attention to dodging the rocks beneath the water. Benjamin's muscular arms delivered powerful strokes, but his ineptitude reduced their effectiveness. Isabella was forced to paddle with all her might to steer the canoe from the bow. Both were grateful when they reached calm waters. Behind them, Chris adeptly glided between the crags. Shortly after the rapids, the trio passed under a truss bridge. Around the bend from that, there was a pier where they docked the boats. The group broke into their packed lunches on the pier.

"Isn't this river great?" Chris asked over this avocado and cashew nut sandwich.

"Personally, I prefer to see more buildings," Benjamin admitted.

"No, we can't build here. Watersheds are very fragile. You can't build on a watershed. Take the New Jersey Pine Barrens for example. The cedars there are very sensitive to changes in the water table. They once tried to build a road in the Pine Barrens. They thought they knew what they were doing. They even added a tunnel under the road so the water could flow underneath it. Only, they forgot about the beavers. Beavers came and dammed up the tunnel. They tried tearing the dam out, but the beavers built another one. Every time they tore one dam up, the beavers just replaced it. Eventually, they gave up. The dam blocked the water. The water flooded the area. All the cedars died. That is why we can never build a road in the Pine Barrens."

"Sure we can," Benjamin countered. "All we have to do is shoot the beavers. You like eating beaver, don't you Isabella?"

"He's joking," Isabella assured Chris. Benjamin declined to correct her. The rest of the afternoon was awkward. The group arrived back in their hotel in Albany, NY near dinner time. Chris parted with a promise to be at the rally tomorrow along with is contacts. Isabella and Benjamin had dinner from room service in their hotel suite. After the meal, they sat on their respective twin beds.

"You look glum," Benjamin observed.

"I'm worried about Monday. We will have plenty of people at the rally on Sunday, but the crowd for dinner Monday with the state legislatures looks sparse. Do you have any lovers who can come on short notice?"

"All my lovers will be on the beach showing off their torsos on Memorial Day."

"Can I at least call them and see if they are free?"

Benjamin looked up at the ceiling with a grimace. "Sure. I brought my contact folder, like you asked. It's in the side pouch of my suitcase."

Isabella dug the folder out from the suitcase. Benjamin looked out the window while she proceeded to call his lovers one by one to ask if they could make it to a political diner on Memorial Day. Two dozen calls later, she paused. "514? I don't recognize that area code. Where is it?"

"I don't know. What's the guy's name?"

"Patrick."

"Patrick, I met him last fall in Manhattan. Don't call him. We didn't hook up."

"Someone actually turned you down? What is he, straight?"

"I turned him down."

"But you kept his number. Why?"

"Look, just skip him. He's not going to come. I told him he was unfuckable."

"You didn't answer my question. Ben, I know you. I know when you're hiding a feeling."

Benjamin pronounced each word distinctly. "I don't want to fuck him."

"Ok. So you don't want to fuck him. Do you want to make love to him?" Isabella asked. Benjamin stood up and stared out the window silently. Behind him, Isabella dialed Patrick's mobile phone. "Hello," she said when the voice mail picked up. "This is Isabella, Benjamin's friend. I called to clear up a misunderstanding. You most definitely are fuckable."

"No." Benjamin whispered as he reached for the Isabella's mobile phone.

Isabella held him off while she finished the message. "Benjamin has been dreaming of you ever since he met you in New York City last fall. In fact, he wants to make love to you all night long with his big, black cock. Just be at the Albany Yacht Club for diner this Monday at 4 pm. Benjamin will provide the chocolate desert afterward."

Benjamin's shoulders slumped as Isabella closed her phone. "I'm going to kill you."

"Get in line."

"I'm taking a shower." Benjamin walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

"Good," Isabella shouted through the door. "Blake and Mark will be here soon. I want you to be clean for them. I've got a reputation for keeping a good stable, and I don't want you to ruin it."

By the time Benjamin stepped out of the bathroom, Isabella was gone. Two men laid on one of the beds in each other's arms. Benjamin stood in his towel at the foot of the bed looking at the couple.

"I'm Blake," said the redhead.

"I'm Mark," said the black haired man. "You must be Benjamin. Isabella let us in."

"Well, thanks for joining the effort. I guess it's time for me to pay your fee." Benjamin opened up his towel. Mark smiled broadly. Blake looked shyly at his partner. "What's your pleasure," Benjamin asked.

"Come lay with us," Mark instructed. Benjamin laid naked between the two clothed men. Mark looked at his partner. "Do you like him, my dear?"

"Yes, Mark. He is fine," Blake replied.

"Good. Kiss his body. Enjoy it," Mark offered.

Blake kissed Benjamin on the neck. He rubbed Benjamin's six-pack. Benjamin closed his eyes. Blake's fingers slipped through Benjamin's pubic hair. His fingertips probed the base of Benjamin's root. There was no response. Benjamin just wasn't in the mood. Undeterred, Blake kissed his way across Benjamin's broad pectorals. He licked down Benjamin's abs to his heavy tool. He took Benjamin's dick into his mouth. Benjamin opened his eyes to look down at Blake. The sight of the redhead on his crotch appealed to him. His thoughts drifted to Patrick's red locks. His cock began to expand. Blake sucked harder in response.

Mark disrobed while he watched the scene. Then he rested his head on Benjamin's chest and looked down at this lover sucking the ebony stud. Benjamin draped his arm along Mark's body. Blake began to bob up and down on Benjamin's rod. Mark traced the lines of Benjamin's six-pack. Benjamin kneaded Mark's ass cheek with one hand. His other hand rested on the back of Blake's head to set the pace of the blow job. Blake clamped his lips down on Benjamin's shaft and let him take control of the rhythm. Mark moaned as Benjamin's index finger found his crack. The meaty digit pressed against his bung hole, making the moans grow louder. Soon it was buried two knuckles deep. Benjamin pulled Blake off his cock. "Ride me," he told Mark.

Mark positioned himself over Benjamin cowboy style. Blake moved his mouth down to Benjamin's nut sac. He guided Benjamin's spit lubed cock into Mark's man hole. Mark took a minute to adjust to Benjamin's girth. Then he slowly pushed himself down. The hard pole spread Mark open as it disappeared into his canal. Blake sucked gently on one plumb and then the other. Benjamin smiled up at Mark. Mark gave a wicked grin back. He bounded up and down on Benjamin's sword. Benjamin grasped Mark's dick, letting it slide in and out of his grip as Mark moved his body.

Blake moved to the side of the fucking pair to get a better view. He removed his clothes. Benjamin fondled the man's package with his free hand. Mark's hand joined Benjamin's on his lover. Benjamin thrust into Mark. Mark slowed his pace, letting Benjamin do the work. Benjamin long dicked Mark with quick deliberate motions. Blake kissed Mark deeply. Mark could taste Benjamin's masculine flavor in his partner's tongue. Benjamin placed both hands on Mark's waist to hold the man still. "Suck him, Blake," Benjamin commanded.

Blake placed his lips around Mark's mushroom. Mark rubbed Blake's back. He relished the feeling of being pleasured at each end. Benjamin pushed harder, forcing Mark deeper into Blake's mouth. The combination of Blake's sucking and Benjamin's fucking tipped Mark over the edge. Ropes of Mark's semen flooded Blake's mouth. Mark's anus contracted on Benjamin's rod in an orgasmic wave. Benjamin responded by sending his own cum deep into Mark's back door.

Mark climbed off Benjamin and stood next to the bed with his ass near Blake's face. Blake dived in to taste Benjamin's sperm. Blake's butt waved in the air as he rimmed Mark. Benjamin kneeled behind the man, resting his spear in Blake's crevice. Globs of Benjamin's jizz dripped from Mark's tunnel onto Blake's tongue. Benjamin pushed his obelisk into Blake's hungry hole. Blake pushed back, eager for the rock. Benjamin fucked Blake with the same enthusiasm he had for Mark. The pressure on his prostate made Blake spill his hot seed onto the sheets below. After a few minutes of rough pounding, Benjamin was ready to breed. He slowed down and shot twice into Blake's ass. Then he pulled out and sprayed three more shots onto Blake's back. His swimmers were now making their way down Blake's throat and up his bowels.

"Well gentlemen, I hope that evens up the account," Benjamin said.

The other two nodded their agreement before getting dressed and leaving the room.



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 11



It was Saturday afternoon near the end of May. Francis was preparing for a night out with her husband, Patrick, and their friends, the Smiths. As she undressed in the master bathroom, she considered her body in the mirror above the sink. She cupped her ample bosom, imagining what they would be like full of milk. She pressed her hand against her stomach and pictured it swollen with pregnancy. Patrick and her had been trying to conceive for a year now with no luck. The doctors said that a chromosomal defect prevented Patrick from impregnating her. Patrick suggested artificial insemination, but that just didn't seem fair. How could she carry a child that was not his? Adoption seemed like a better option, but Francis did long to feel new life kicking inside her. They had kept putting off a decision. At 29 years of age, Francis did not have much time left for indecisiveness. Francis jumped into the shower. The warm water washed away her concerns.

Francis was lost in her shower when a knock on the bathroom door brought her back to reality. It was Patrick. "Baby," he shouted, "we are going to be late. I still need to shower."

"OK," responded Francis as she dried off. "Did you hear from the Smiths yet?"

"No. I'm expecting Richard to call my mobile with the location of the restaurant." Patrick entered the bathroom already naked.

Francis gave him a peck on the cheek on her way out of the bathroom. She selected a velvet black evening gown from the bedroom closet. While she struggled with the zipper in the back of the dress, she heard Patrick's mobile phone ring on his dresser. She tried to hurry, but the zipper was stuck. By the time she got it loose, the ringing had stopped. Frustrated, Francis listened to the voice mail on her husband's phone.

The female voice in the message shocked her. "Hello," it said. "This is Isabella, Benjamin's friend. I called to clear up a misunderstanding. You most definitely are fuckable. Benjamin has been dreaming of you ever since he met you in New York City last fall. In fact, he wants to make love to you all night long with his big, Black cock. Just be at the Albany Yacht Club for diner this Monday at 4 pm. Benjamin will provide the chocolate desert afterward."

Francis felt numb. The sound of the shower from the bathroom stopped, telling her that she did not have much time alone. Francis hastily wrote down the caller's number from the mobile phone screen. Then she deleted both the voice mail and any trace of the call from the call history. Francis pasted a calm smile on her face in time to greet Patrick when he emerged from the bathroom. She looked at him nervously as he dressed in a dress shirt and slacks.

Another ring from Patrick's mobile broke the tension. Francis picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hey there. It's Richard," her friend said from the other end. "We've settled on an Ethiopian restaurant in the city." Francis mechanically wrote down the address and directions that Richard gave her. After saying goodbye to Richard, she turned to her husband. "Patrick, could you clean out the car while I check the map on the web? I want to make sure I have the directions straight."

"Sure," agreed Patrick, oblivious to her distress.

While Patrick was in the garage, Francis got on his computer. She searched the history on his web browser. The URLs brought her to pictures of naked men and gay couples. Francis fought back tears. In their three years of marriage, Patrick had never shown any hit of being gay. She wondered how this could possibly happen. Determined to brave this trial, she went to join Patrick in the garage. Soon, they were on their way to diner.

Richard and Ann were waiting for them at the entrance to the restaurant. Inside, the aroma of exotic spices welcomed them. Woven baskets and wooden carvings accented the orange walls. The foursome got a table near the window. Richard ordered a platter for the group to share. Then he turned to Francis. "Ann tells me that you're going to start helping out at the LGBT center."

"Yes," replied Francis. "MUFF is sending me there to help couples navigate the same-sex marriage laws. C-38 may be the law of the land, but the news hasn't trickled down to everyone. Some of the couples still face discrimination when they tell others that they are married."

Ann spoke out, "I didn't realize folks around here could be that backwards. What type of problems do they face?"

"Sometimes it's a hospital that won't let a homosexual make medical decisions for his incapacitated spouse. Other times it's funeral parlor that refuses to release the remains to a widow. The prejudice usually shows up at the worst possible times," Francis explained.

Patrick placed his hand on Francis's arm. "That's my honey, always there for those in need."

Francis removed her husband's hand. "Thanks," she said dryly.

Over dinner, Ann and Patrick engaged in shop talk from their genetics lab. Richard tried to engage Francis in a political debate, but she was to distracted to give more than a few brief replies to his questions. At a lull in the conversation, Francis announced that she needed the lady's room. Her look to Ann signaled that she wanted her friend there with her.

"Me too," Ann said. "I need to freshen up my lipstick."

Once the ladies were in front of the bathroom sinks, Francis asked her companion for advice, "Ann, what do you do when you think that Richard is hiding something from you?"

"Well, my sister told me that men are most honest in bed. When I need to get information from Richard, I wow him in the bedroom. I give him exactly what he wants. Then I ask away," Ann revealed.

"Exactly what he wants? Hmm. I think I know what Patrick wants. I just have to figure out how to give it to him."

"Use your imagination. I'm sure you will come up with something."

By the time the women returned to the table, their husbands had already paid the check. The couples said their goodbyes and drove home in their respective cars. As Francis drove over the Lawrence River, she broached a new topic with Patrick. "Ann is a very attractive woman."

"I suppose," Patrick shrugged.

"If I leaned that way, I would probably enjoy spending a night with her." Francis' s comment did not get any response from Patrick. She tried a different angle. "Have you ever thought of Richard in that way?"

"Um, no. I can't say that I have."

"There is nothing wrong with being bisexual ... or gay for that matter."

"I know. I just don't like Richard in that way."

"Yes," Francis angrily conceeded. "He is a bit pale." Several minutes of silence passed before Francis decided to try again. "Dear, I think I am ready to try anal tonight."

Patrick's eyes lit up. He palmed his wife's derriere. "Are you sure? I hear it can hurt, and I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Do you really want to try my cock in your ass?"

"Oh," huffed Francis, "I am definitely ready to try anal tonight."

Upon arriving at the house, Francis told Patrick to wait upstairs in the bedroom for her. Then she placed a scarf from the coat closet into her purse. A few feet of rope was next. In the kitchen, Francis found a bottle of olive oil. She grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl. Hubby, you are about to get the anal you deserve.

Patrick was leaning against the mahogany headboard of his bed when Francis entered his dormer. The tiger print sheets made of bamboo fibers felt good against his naked skin. Francis kicked off her high heels and dropped her purse on the floor. She slinked next to Patrick. His hands enjoyed her velvet dress. Her hands brushed his furry pubes. Patrick's fingers found the zipper of Francis's gown. He lowered it to expose her back. Francis shrugged off the shoulder straps so her husband could disrobe her. Patrick's index finger explored the crack of Francis's ass. She responded with a devilish grin.

Francis gently moved Patrick's arm back to his side. "Anal sex is a delicate operation. I want to take my time and remain in control."

"Sure, babe. You can set the pace."

"Mmm. Thanks, but I was think of a bit more than that." Francis took the rope out of her purse. "Do you mind?"

"Ah, I guess it is ok," Patrick agreed.

"Good. Then hold your hands over your head near the bedpost." Once Patrick obeyed the instruction, Francis secured his wrists to the post. Then she took the scarf out of her purse. "Is this alright?"

Patrick's cock flagged a bit, but he wanted to please his wife. "Ok. I'm willing to try it for you. After all, you're willing to give up your anal virginity."

Francis blindfolded her husband with the scarf. "Trust me. You will love this." She sucked softly on his member until it was back to full staff. The olive oil came next. Francis drizzled it generously onto his 10 inch uncut cock. Patrick gasped as she rubbed it onto his skin. A slow, sensuous hand job followed. Over the course of half an hour, Francis's hands on the long rod brought Patrick to several hills of pleasure without ever pushing him over the crest.

"Please," Patrick begged, "start the anal."

"All in good time. Your balls are next. Then we start the ass play." Francis poured olive oil onto her palm, then cupped his nut sack. The oil felt cool on Patrick's scrotum. She tugged and rubbed on his plumbs ever so carefully. Every so often, she took a break to massage Patrick's pubic area. Her fingers would creep up the base of his cock many times, but never quite reach the shaft.

Patrick grew frustrated by the neglect toward his tool. "Babe, you are driving me up the wall. I need ass now."

"Are you sure you want ass?"

"Yes!"

"OK. You asked for it."

Francis's fingers were well lubed by the olive oil. She had no difficulty shoving two of them up Patrick's back door. His virgin rosebud clung tightly to them. At the same time, she sucked hard on his cockhead. Patrick felt confused and aroused at the same time. He did not protest this new sensation. Francis glided her lips halfway down his root while she squeezed a third finger up his bum. Patrick's asshole stretched uncomfortably around his wife's digits. He melted from the feeling of her tongue around his mushroom. Soon he was relaxed enough to accept a fourth finger into his brown eye. Francis finger fucked her husband's man cunt until it was loose enough for something wider.

Francis took the banana from her purse and inched it into Patrick's newly inaugurated boy pussy. When it was a third of the way in, she removed the scarf from Patrick's eyes to let him see. "Do you like getting fucked up the ass?" she asked her man.

"Oooou, yes. It feels incredible."

"You like spreading your legs wide for a good ass fucking?"

"Hell, yeah, baby. I could do this anytime."

"Good," Francis said as she quickened the pace of the anal plowing. The thrusts reached deep enough to press against Patrick's newly discovered prostate. An intriguing tingle ran from his prostate up his penis to his piss hole. Patrick rolled his eyes in delight.

"I'm close, babe."

"Great. Cum for me, honey. Feel what it's like to get an orgasm from a cock in your hole." Those words pushed Patrick over the edge. He shot his jizz across his rippled stomach. Francis licked his abs cleaned. Then she untied Patrick and nuzzled by his side. She looked up to him. "Sweetheart, do you ever think about having sex with someone else?"

Patrick looked her straight in the eye. "I promise you. You are the only woman for me."

Francis turned over to hid the dismay on her face. The only woman, but you are fooling around with other men. Patrick spooned her unaware of the metal accusation. "Patrick," his wife said, "I think I should go for artificial insemination."



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 12



Francis woke before dawn on Monday morning. Patrick was still sound asleep by her side. She was careful not to wake him as she got ready for her day. She had been putting in long hours ever since she got promoted at MUFF. Patrick would not be surprised at all to find her gone by the time he gets up. Francis called her employer from her mobile phone. "Hi. It's Francis. I need to take a sick day today. I'm interviewing a sperm donor. Yes, that's right. We decided to go with a donor. Don't worry. I'll be in tomorrow. We can talk about maternity leave then." Patrick was still dreaming sweetly when she pulled down the driveway.

The sun rose to Francis's left while she drove down highway 15. Her mind was on automatic. Francis was set on her plan the night before, but her resolve started to fade the closer she got to the border. Nervousness ate at her stomach. A line of cars waited at the border crossing. Francis took her place at the end of the line. The wait was much longer than it used to be a decade ago. Security was up for all international traveling. Francis missed the old days.

Finally, it was her turn at the security booth. The border agent asked her routine questions. "Name please," he asked.

"Francis O'Connell."

"How long will you be in America."

"Just for today."

"What is the purpose of your visit?"

Francis paused. She couldn't think of a polite way to explain that she wanted her womb packed with virile Yankee sperm. She gave a less descript answer instead. "I'm traveling for pleasure."

The border agent noticed her hesitation. He also cued in on her anxiety. "Please open the trunk, Madam."

Francis froze. The lawyer in her wanted to ask what probable cause he had to search her car. The pragmatist in her realized that she would have a difficult time explaining to Patrick from a police station why she went to America instead of to work that day. She pressed the button to open her car trunk. The border agent looked through the travel bag that Francis had placed in the trunk the night before. He emptied the contents onto the hood of the car. A red negligee, a black silk robe, lubricant, a feather duster, each item made Francis's cheeks turn a bit redder.

The border agent turned to Francis. "This all looks legal so far. Do you have any drugs or weapons?"

"No, Sir."

"Alright," he said as he repacked the bag and returned it to the trunk. "Have fun in America."

Surviving the ordeal at the border crossing gave Francis new courage. Driving along Interstate-87, she started rationalizing her reservations away. Artificial insemination was Patrick's idea. It's not as if he's getting cuckolded. Besides, Patrick was the first to wander. If he goes after a strange man's cock, why can't I? What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. 

Francis arrived at Albany Yacht Club at around 10 am. She had 6 hours to kill before meeting her husband's lover. Her first move was to tour the club. She wanted to know the territory before confronting her adversaries. Then she went to the lady's room to replace her bra and panties with the red negligee. She put the lube in her purse, but kept the robe and feather duster in the car. With the preliminary preparations out to the way, Francis sat down for lunch in the club's restaurant. A muscular Black man and a plump White woman sat at a table near her.

"Great news," the woman told her companion. "Kristin Davis will be at the dinner."

"Who is she?" the man asked.

"She's running for Governor of New York this year. She wants to legalize same-sex marriage. I like her for that, but you'll love her for the rest of her platform. She plans on legalizing marijuana and prostitution," the lady explained.

"She sounds good to me. You know, if she wins, you can start charging cash for me," the man observed.

"Ben, I could make a fortune as your pimp, but I would rather rack in the political favors," the woman responded.

Ben? Francis recognized the name. She fished a scrap of paper from her purse. The phone number from the call history on her husband's mobile phone was written on it. Francis blocked her caller ID and dialed the number. The plump woman's mobile phone rang. Francis hung up immediately.

"Who is it, Isabella?" Benjamin asked his friend.

"I don't know," Isabella replied. The pair ordered their lunch.

Francis cut into her stake as she planned her revenge. She took a picture of Benjamin with her phone camera. Then she flipped her phone over to type an email to Patrick. "I'm taking a lunch break, darling," she wrote. "I've found a sperm donor to get me pregnant. Take a look at his picture." Francis attached the picture of Benjamin and sent the email. She smiled smugly through lunch at the thought of Patrick's reaction to that email. The crème brulee that followed tasted extra sweet. 

After lunch, Francis discretely followed Isabella and Benjamin. She noticed a definite friendship between the two, but a complete lack of sexual attraction. Francis attributed their platonic state to Isabella's corpulence. She felt sure that the way was clear for her own fit figure to slide beneath Benjamin. Her skin became clammy at the thought of Benjamin's bulky body on top of her.

At a quarter past three, the wandering duo made their way into the ballroom of the yacht club with Francis stalking from a safe distance. Set tables filled the room. A banner reading, "Marriage Equality" hung over a podium. Pamphlets on each plate explained the rational behind legalizing same-sex marriage. It began to dawn on Francis that Isabella was planning a political dinner, not a romantic evening. Francis put one of the pamphlets into her purse.

Two gentlemen entered the room holding hands. Isabella pointed at them as she spoke to Benjamin, "Blake and Mark are here. Go talk to them. Mark told me he wanted to see you again very much."

"See," huffed Benjamin, "and you told me I can't make friends." Benjamin walked up to the gay couple. "Hey guys. Good to see you again. Isabella said you wanted to meet with me."

"Yes. I did," Mark agreed. "I'm hoping to hire you."

Benjamin replied through gritted teeth. "Wonderful. I'm always looking for more work."

"Good," Mark said. "I own a porn company --"

"Hold on," Benjamin interrupted. "I may have fucked the two of you the other night, but I'm not about to do stuff like that on camera."

"That's ok," Mark assured Benjamin. "We're not really looking for DILF actors at the moment. I want to hire you to work on our website. Isabella said you're a webmaster."

Crestfallen, Benjamin presented his business card. "Yes. Call me during the week with details on what you need."

Mark gave his own business card. "Sure thing."

Francis took advantage of Isabella's temporary isolation to challenge the woman. "Hello. My name is Francis. I'm here for Benjamin."

Isabella looked her over. "You're here for Benjamin?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yes. I plan to get some of his big Black cock tonight. Why does that surprise you?" Francis asked.

"You don't look like his type. Are you a tranny?" Isabella put her hands on her hips.

"No. I'm all woman," Francis assured her.

"Honey, you have a better chance of getting into my pants than of getting into his, and with your attitude even that chance is slim," Isabella informed Francis before walking off to join her friend.

A buzz from Francis's purse kept her from following Isabella. It was an email from Patrick. Francis viewed it on her mobile phone screen. "He looks good. Do you want to make the arrangements, or should I," it read. Francis could not believe Patrick's nonchalant response. She sat at a table to compose herself. Then she glanced over the centerpiece to spy on Isabella and Benjamin.

Benjamin was arguing with a woman near the podium. "Marriage is a contract. The First Amendment Freedom of Assemble gives us the right to make what ever contracts we want. Banning same-sex marriage is a gross violation of our constitutional rights," Benjamin insisted.

"We can't allow people to make up whatever type of marriages they want," replied the woman. "If we allow gay marriage, what's next, polygamy?"

Isabella joined the fight with a raised voice. "What's wrong with polygamy? Many cultures allow multiple spouses. How can you be so jingoistic as to impose your Western norms on the entire state, you bigot!" The woman slunk away rather than face the accusation. Isabella looked up at Benjamin. "What would you do without me to win your debates for you?"

Benjamin sighed. "I prefer reason over rhetoric."

"That is why you will never get anywhere in politics." Isabella poked her buddy in the abs. "I see Patrick never arrived."

Benjamin brushed her finger away. "It's just as well. I wish you didn't call him."

Isabella lightly punched Benjamin on the shoulder. "You should be the one to call him, you dork. You are pining for him."

"It doesn't matter how much I pine. I'm not calling him. He's married," Benjamin confessed.

"Oh. I didn't know." Isabella asked, "If he's married, why did he date you?"

"We didn't date. He was in the city. I offered to show him around before I knew he was married. When his wife called him, I told him to forget it. We only talked for a couple of minutes. It was enough to make me breathless, but he probably doesn't even remember me," Benjamin said.

"Oh dear," Isabella and Francis whispered together.



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 13



Benjamin sat across the table from his father in a Harlem diner. They were eating their weekly Sunday lunch. As usual, Benjamin did his best to parley his father's question. He normally kept his cool until the desserts, but this week, Benjamin's frustration started early.

"Your mother and I are getting old. When are you going to give us grandchildren?" his father asked.

"I keep trying, Pops. I breed 2 or 3 men each week, but none of them get pregnant," Benjamin replied.

"Stop using that as an excuse. Fine. You're gay, but do you have to be so reckless? Every weekend you sleep with a new set of strangers. Every Sunday you sleep through services, because you were out late with debauchery the night before. You can barely get yourself out of bed in time for lunch. It's about time you reformed your ways."

"I don't need a sermon."

"If you won't listen to me, then listen to those health centers you guys have. Get one of their pamphlets on risk reduction. They say the same thing I do. Use protection, get tested, limit the number of partners you have. You act as it there's a contest to get as many notches on your headboard as possible. At the rate you're going, I'll be the one to burry you."

"I guess I'm not the type of guy to settle down."

"No man wants to settle down by nature. We were made with wandering eyes, but most men realize their responsibility. At a certain age a man is support to build a home and raise a family. You are too old to be a playboy. Find a nice man, move to Connecticut, get married, and start a family. You can adopt or find a surrogate. There are options. I only want what is best for you."

Benjamin smirked, "That, and grandkids." The father and some finished their omelets and moved on the to the pie.

Benjamin walked back to his office. Even though it was the weekend, he had to check up on some projects. He paused a bit at the front door to consider the sign he had placed on it over a year ago. The sign read "Stop Eminent Domain Abuse". The sign seemed a bit pointless in light of the recent New York State Supreme Court ruling. The judges sided with Columbia University. The expansion plan was a done deal. Soon, Benjamin's office and the other builds in the neighborhood would be knocked now to make more room for Ivy League professors and students to play in. Benjamin left the sign up and entered his office. He hated to admit defeat.

A flag at the bottom of Benjamin's computer screen told him that an email was waiting for him. It was from Isabella. It read:

Hey Benjamin. I got an email from some lady who wants to help us with the marriage equality campaign. I'm forwarding it to you. My plate is a little full. Could you be the liaison to her group?

**********

Hello. My name is Francis O'Connell. I saw you and Benjamin at the Memorial Day dinner to support same-sex marriage. Your contact information was on the pamphlet there. I'm a lawyer with the Montreal Universal Freedom Foundation. MUFF is a nonprofit that ensures equal rights for all. We would be glad to help you if there is anything we can do for you.

Sincerely,

Francis O'Connell

**********

Benjamin wrote to Isabella, telling her he would take care of it. Then he wrote to Francis:

Hi Francis. Isabella assigned me as the liaison to MUFF. We appreciate your help on the marriage equality campaign. We tried going through the courts and through the legislature with no success so far. Frankly, the NYS Supreme Court is a bit totalitarian for my tastes. They just gave Columbia University the green light to bulldoze my neighborhood.

Yours in Liberty,

Benjamin Cadet

**********

With the politics out of the way, Benjamin got down to work. Mark had hired him to redesign a porn website. The site featured clips from several different porn genres. There were sections on the site for adultery, BDSM, gay, group, interracial, lesbian, May-December relations, solos, and virgins. Each clip could only belong to one section. Benjamin found the classification scheme inadequate. It made it impossible for someone who liked interracial gay porn or BDSM lesbian movies to find them all in one click. He edited the code so that clips could belong to multiple categories at the same time. Then he added another layer of classification. A porn movie, like any art piece, is difficult to pin down with just a few descriptive words. There are too many subtle details that don't lend themselves to key words. However, some people share similar tastes. When a viewer likes the same movie as another person, that viewer will probably like the person's other favorite movies. Benjamin added a tracking agent that would take note each time a viewer gave a movie a high vote. It would then look at the voting record of other people who also liked that movie to suggest more clips the viewer might like.

Another flag at the bottom of Benjamin's screen told him that an email just arrived. It read:

Glad to hear from you, Benjamin. I'll start working on your case this week. My background is Canadian law. I only know the basics of USA law. Please catch me up on the arguments you've used so far to press for same-sex marriage.

Sorry to hear about your neighborhood being destroyed. There is not much hope if the State Supreme Court already sided against you. Perhaps some negative publicity would help Columbia change its mind. I'll run it by a colleague who handles protests and community organizing tomorrow.

By the way, I noticed that your last name is French. I'm Quebecois. My last name is from my husband. He is mostly Irish with a bit of Scandinavian mixed in. Where are you from?

Sincerely

Francis O'Connell

**********

Benjamin replied:

Thank you for your prompt response. Most of the arguments for same-sex marriage assume that homosexuality is immutable and that discrimination against homosexuals violates the 14th Amendment. I'm uncomfortable with this line of argument for a couple of reasons. First, claiming that homosexuality is inborn echoes the assertions of doctors who labeled homosexuals as mentally ill half a century ago. Second, it is not quite true. Technically I could settle down with a woman. I just would be miserable in that marriage. Finally, this argument leaves out bisexuals. Bisexuals can be happy with an opposite-sex relationship or a same-sex relationship. Doesn't the bisexual man have the right to take a groom if his soul mate happens to be a man? Perhaps you could argue for legalizing same-sex marriage by citing the right to privacy. This right is the basis for striking down abortion bans and sodomy prohibitions. However, the USA Constitution does not explicitly mention any right to privacy. An argument built on this foundation might not be stable enough to last the decades. I prefer to think of marriage as a contract. Any two people should be able to create what ever type of marriage they want. Perhaps you can brush up on US contract law.

Your concern about my soon to be demolished block is touching. Thanks for consulting your colleague, although I am not optimistic.

As for your last question. I was born and raised in New York City, USA.

Yours in Liberty

Ben

**********

The sky was getting dark. The July 4th fireworks would begin soon. Benjamin took his folding chair and some cold, leftover pizza to the roof so he could enjoy the show. As the brocades, comets, and chrysanthemums light up the sky, Benjamin pondered American freedoms. If he lived 80 years ago, he could be banned from working for or studying at most colleges, because he was black. If he lived 50 years ago, he could be arrested or hospitalized for having sex with other men. Today, he did not face any of those problems. Instead, he faced the prospect of seeing his office destroyed for reasons that had nothing to do with his race or sexuality. Benjamin wasn't sure if he was gaining rights over time or just trading them.



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 14



Benjamin passed by the film set on his way to Mark's office. The crew was attaching leather straps to the bedposts of a king sized bed. To the side, an actor was getting a temporary tattoo on his buttocks from a makeup artist. Benjamin knocked on the door to Mark's office.

"Come in," Mark called out.

Benjamin entered the office and handed Mark his time sheet. "Here are my hours. Remember, I need next week off for my trip to Montreal."

"That's fine. We're off for Labor Day anyway. I think we can manage without you during the rest of the week as well."

"Good. Is it OK for me hang up some things in my cubical? Mostly, pictures and a message board."

"Sure. Just don't make any permanent holes in the walls." Mark gave Benjamin a sympathetic look. "Did Columbia University give you a schedule for their demolition?"

"Not yet."

"Well, have a good trip."

"Thanks. Enjoy your day at the beach."

Benjamin took the 32 bus from Queens to Times Square where he could catch the subway up to Harlem. Looking out the bus window, he considered how the neighborhood had changed. It used to be a Mecca for the porn industry. He remembered when sex shops had dotted every block. Now, those shops were few and far between. New zoning ordinances had played a big part in that change. Benjamin didn't realize back then that the Disneyfication of New York City's red light district would be the first step in a complete transformation of the entire city. Columbia University's expansion plan only continued the trend. First they went after the sex shops ... 

Benjamin went below ground in the Theater District. The 1 and 9 took him uptown. He exited the subway one station early so that he could post more fliers as he walked the rest of the route. The guys at the Montreal Universal Freedom Foundation gave him much advice about stopping Columbia University's eminent domain abuse. Benjamin felt like David going after Goliath, but he had to at least try. 

Benjamin kicked off his shoes the moment he entered his townhome. He was tired after a long day of web programming for Mark, but he still had to put in an hour of studying. Back in his college days, juggling a full course load with a job seemed easier. A decade latter, studying just an hour each day after work took significant willpower. Benjamin woke up his computer and plugged in his microphone. He started the language learning software. "Bonjour," it prompted.

"Bonjour," he replied into the microphone. An hour of drilling brought Benjamin a little bit closer to fluency. Last year, he had been unable to communicate with a Quebecois man. This time, he intended to be prepared. Besides, he was meeting someone much more important then a one night fling, someone who cared about him as a person. It was nice to have a friend who emailed him regularly and was involved in the non-sexual parts of his life. Always the lone wolf, Benjamin was not accustomed to that type of a relationship. He was beginning feel what people meant by "Platonic Love".

His ringing mobile phone snapped Benjamin out of his daydreaming. He looked at the caller ID on his phone screen and answered the call. "Hey Francis. I was just thinking about you."

"Hello, Benjamin. I wanted to set the plans for next week. Are you sure you don't want to stay at my house?"

"I'm certain. Maybe I'll accept your offer the next time I visit, but I would be more comfortable at a hotel for my first trip."

"No problem. Did you check the train schedule?"

"Yes. I'll get on the train around 8 am and arrive in Montreal a bit after 7 pm."

"I'll be there to pick you up. I know a great restaurant where we can have supper."

"Diner is on me," Benjamin offered.

"But you are traveling. I'll take care of the food."

"Francis, you and your coworkers at MUFF have put in so many hours helping me fight Columbia. I want to repay you."

"Let me buy the supper. There is another way that you can repay me."

"TANSTAAFL?"

"What?" Francis asked.

"Never mind. It's just an expression. So, what favor do you need?"

"It's a bit personal. I'll tell you when you're here."

"That sounds a bit ominous. If I didn't know you better, I would be worried. Anyway, I've got to start cooking tonight's dinner."

"Me too. Take care. I'm looking forward to seeing you in person for the first time."

"Right back at you. Bye." Benjamin pondered about Francis's request as he hung up the phone.



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 15



Isabella reclined on a plush white couch donned in a leather vest and denim jeans. Hanna sat in a wooden chair across from the couch with a canvas and easel before her. Hebrew letters on canvas were arranged to suggest the outline of Isabella's face and the strands of her hair. Hanna pressed her quill near the center of the face to make the top of a bet. A curved stroke to the right made the side of that letter. A final horizon line finished the consonant. From a short distance, it resembled an eye. Hanna glanced out the window of her Lower East Side studio apartment. "I think that's all for this sitting. The sun is getting low in the sky."

"The artist requires natural light?" Isabella asked.

"The artist has to get to Maariv," Hanna replied.

Isabella got up to look at the calligraphy. "Why do you insist that I wear this costume when you're only drawing my face?"

Hanna explained, "Clothing makes you feel a certain way. When you feel a certain way, you express a certain emotion. Wearing those clothes puts a fierce expression on your face."

"I guess." The pair walked into the hallway together. Isabella turned to Hanna as they waited for the elevator. "So, what do those words on the canvas mean?"

"It's a passage from the Tanach. It's about Deborah criticizing the generals."

"Oh, was she a pacifist?"

"Not exactly," Hanna said as they entered elevator. It took a while for Hanna to gather the courage to ask her question. "Isabella, do you know a good Spanish bookstore in the area?"

Isabella was pleasantly surprised. "Ms. Turo, are you searching for your Sephardic roots?"

Hanna corrected her. "The book is for a friend."

Isabella sighed. "I suppose it was too much to hope for."

Hanna practically ran off after getting the address of the bookstore and saying goodbye to Isabella. She had a stop to make on the way to Maariv, and this was one night when she did not want to be late for services. Hanna waited impatiently as the store clerk found her a book of Spanish love poems. Then she took a cab across Manhattan to Beit Simchat Torah. Her companion was waiting for her on the steps to the synagogue. Hanna waved to her. "Holla, Jovita"

Jovita smiled at her date. "Holla, Hanna. You took a cab?"

"I was running late." Hanna kept her surprise in her purse. She gestured at the large shawl that Jovita had wrapped tightly around her shoulders and bosom. "It's August. Aren't you hot in that?"

"I wanted to dress ... appropriately."

Hanna gave Jovita a peck on the cheek. "You are the best." She led Jovita into the synagogue. The couple found seats just before the call to prayer began the evening services. Hanna handed Jovita a prayer book and guided her through the parts of the service.

Jovita tried to follow along, but it wasn't easy with the prayers all in Hebrew. Every so often she would silently glance over at Hanna's book to see what page she should be on. At one point, everyone sat. At another point, everyone stood. Jovita felt like the only one in the room who didn't know what to expect next. She was a bit relieved when the ordeal ended. Jovita turned to Hanna. "Thanks for inviting me. It was ... interesting."

Hanna returned their prayer books to the bookshelf. "I'm glad you could join me tonight." Hanna seemed anxious to leave. "Should we walk a bit outside?"

"Sure." Soon the two were walking down Broadway. Jovita placed her arm around Hanna's waist. Hanna returned the gesture. "I wonder what the Rosh Hashanna services will be like."

Hanna paused a bit. "Well, they're longer." She reached into her purse for the book of poems. She presented it to Jovita. "Para usted."

"Thanks," Jovita replied. She translated a few verses of a poem for Hanna. "The summer storm is sweet but short. The roaring waves will never stay. But you, my love, are the gentle stream. Quiet, but ever there."

"Me, quiet?" Hanna objected.

"Of course not. I think it suites me, though."

"You know, there's a subtle strength in your quietness. Drops of water can carve stone with enough time."

Jovita hugged Hanna tightly. "I hope so." She felt Hanna's fingers go through her hair. "Hanna, what are your plans for the High Holidays?"

"I'm going out to Teaneck to spend them with my parents."

Jovita chose her words carefully. "Do they have a big house."

Hanna shrugged. "It's average for that town."

Jovita released her hug and fingered Hanna's shoulder blade. "I bet they have a pullout couch."

"Yeah. It's a pullout." Hanna put Jovita's hands in hers. "Have you heard anything about the rally at the UN?"

Jovita crinkled her nose. "Not yet." Jovita and Hanna walked silently for a bit. "Hanna, I'm curious to know what your mom is like."

"There's not much to say."

"I mean, I want to meet her."

Hanna bit her lower lip. "It's a little early for that."

Jovita stepped back from her girlfriend. "We've been dating for 4 months."

"Jovita --"

"You said your family knows you're a lesbian." Jovita pulled her shawl open.

"They do."

"So what is it? Am I not good enough to meet your family? Do I embarrass you?"

"No. You're an amazing woman."

Jovita threw her shawl onto the ground. "Then why do you hide me?"

The fighting girlfriends faced each other in anxious silence. Hanna tried not to stare at the crucifix on Jovita's now exposed bosom.

bet = ב 



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 16



"TANSTAAFL"

"What?" Francis asked into the phone. Despite being fluently bilingual, she had never heard of the word that Benjamin had just used. It must have been and Americanism. 

"Never mind. It's just an expression. So, what favor do you need?" Benjamin replied.

Francis hesitated. She was not quite ready to spring her request. "It's a bit personal. I'll tell you when you're here."

"That sounds a bit ominous. If I didn't know you better, I would be worried. Anyway I've got to start cooking tonight's dinner."

"Me too. Take care. I'm looking forward to seeing you in person for the first time."

"Right back at you. Bye," Benjamin said. 

As the screen to her mobile dimmed, Francis felt suddenly alone. It was a feeling that she had more and more often during the summer. Whether she was closing a chat session or hanging up her phone, Francis felt a sense of lost whenever her contact with Benjamin ended. It reminded her of when Patrick was courting her before their marriage. Francis mentally chided herself. Don't be silly. It's a simple medical procedure. You can't commit adultery through sperm donations. Besides, Patrick is the one who insisted that they use donor sperm after the test results showed that he was infertile.

Francis brought some seaweed to the kitchen sink so that she could wash it for a new recipe she wanted to experiment with. She threw it into a pot of water and turned on the flame. As the water slowly boiled, Francis grated cheddar cheese in the food processor, the food processor that Patrick's mother had given her at the bridal shower. Yes, a sperm donor was Patrick's idea, but we could have easily gone to a sperm bank. I'm the one who suggested we find a donor ourselves. I'm the who spent months convincing Patrick of the idea. I'm the one who built a relationship with Benjamin so that he would agree. Be honest. I wanted Benjamin's sperm in me the minute I heard his voice on Patrick's voice mail. I wanted to be pregnant from Benjamin's seed the day I saw his face. The hiss of water boiling over the edge of the pot broke Francis's train of thoughts. She lowered the flame to a simmer. The seaweed needed the better part of an hour to become palatable, which gave Francis plenty of time to unwind.

Francis went into the living room to turn on the stereo. It was nice to live in such a large home. Her promotions at MUFF made it possible. The living room alone was slightly larger than the studio apartment she had back school. It was much larger than the room Patrick had on campus when he was working on his PhD. It's a good thing I finished my grad program. We could never afford this lifestyle on Patrick's salary. I'll never understand why he settled for a Masters. 

Francis reclined on the couch. She closed her eyes. Patrick isn't the man I first met. It's not just that his career is going no where. He's even become less of a man in bed. I gave him some slack when we first realized there was a fertility problem, but it's been over a year now. He does his husbandly duty by fucking me when I ask, but I miss having a man in bed with me. Things spiraled out of control last May, when I tied him up. I thought he might like that banana in his bum. I didn't expect him to like it that much.

Francis rested her hand in her lap. A woman needs to feel like a woman. When she calls her husband on her lunch break to say that she wants a cock that night, she doesn't expect him to come home with a strap-on for her to wear. Is it any wonder that I have feelings for Benjamin? Sure, Benjamin is gay, but he's 10 times the man Patrick has become. He's strong, and fierce, and won't take crap from anyone. Patrick is ... sweet. That's great when I need the garbage taken out. It's not so endearing in the bedroom. What woman wouldn't want a gay top over a straight bottom?

Francis nervously bit her finger nails. They used to be long and polished. Now they were trimmed short so that they wouldn't be uncomfortable in Patrick's bung hole. Francis threw out her nail polishes a couple month ago. Painting short nails seemed rather pointless. I can't be unfaithful to Patrick. I can't go behind his back.

The front door opened. It was Patrick home from work. "You're home early," Francis remarked.

Patrick explained, "Debugging that algorithm took less time than I expected. The computer's crunching the data. It will have results in by the time I get back to work on Tuesday."

Francis could feel her back muscles clench. She look at the grandfather clock. "The seaweed needs to simmer for another 5 minutes. Then I have to bake the quiche for half an hour."

"I'm not hungry yet anyway. How's your case going?"

"Not well. I will have to go to the office on Monday to work on it and meet you at the Jazz festival when I'm done," Francis said as she averted Patrick's gaze.

Patrick kissed Francis on the cheek. "You go upstairs and work on that brief. I'll finish dinner."

Francis didn't even bother to argue. She went to the home office to watch an episode of Tash ma Tash online. After it was over, she came back downstairs. Patrick had dinner on the table waiting for her.

"Bon appetit. Seaweed quiche," Patrick announced as Francis sat down at the head of the table. "Is everything prepared for next week?"

"Almost." Francis poked at the quiche with her fork. "I was on the phone with Benjamin today."

"How is he doing?"

"He's fine. He's visiting Montreal. He wants to go to the jazz festival on Monday and then stay the week."

"I'll set up the guest room for him."

"No. He prefers a hotel." Francis took a bite of the quiche. The recipe needed more spice. "I think Benjamin might be a good sperm donor for us. I plan on asking him if that is alright with you."

"He seems like a nice enough man from the way you describe him. The two of you really connected this summer. If you want him as the donor, I trust you."

Francis ground some black pepper onto her meal. "So you don't mind him getting me pregnant? You wouldn't consider it adultery?"

Patrick put down his utensils and gave Francis a tender look. "Absolutely not. It's a medical procedure. That's all. I tried to get you pregnant, but I can't. Let him give you a baby."

Francis sighed in relief. The meal dragged on. Afterwards, Francis and Patrick watched the evening news. There was a test case making its way to the Canadian Supreme Court. Francis turned off the TV. She heard enough about court cases at work. She turned to Patrick. "What are you in the mood for tonight?"

"I thought we might go to bed early."

Francis grimaced. "I'm not tired."

Patrick had a devilish glint in his eye. "Neither am I." Patrick practically frolicked upstairs to the bedroom. Francis plodded after him. Patrick was already naked and in Francis's bed by the time she entered the master bedroom. He was lying on his back with his hands behind his head. An anticipatory grin was on his face.

Francis disrobed unenthusiastically. She tweaked her nipples to make them erect and presentable. Then she turned to face Patrick. "Do you feel like some hard fucking tonight?"

"Of course, my dear."

Francis stood by the side o f the bed near Patrick's head. She planted her foot on the bed next to his shoulder. Furiously, she played with her womanhood to get her juices flowing. Her clitoris and pussy lips swelled as fluid dripped from her cunt. Patrick reached out his right hand to grab ... the leather strap that was still tied to the bedpost from their last session. Francis rolled her eyes. She fastened his wrist to the bedpost with the leather. Then she secured his left hand to the other bedpost. Patrick's slender dick jumped from the excitement of having his wrists restrained. He spread his legs wide.

Francis straddled his mouth as she faced the foot of the bed. "Lick me, dog," she ordered. Patrick eagerly obeyed. Her hand brushed up his thigh to his crotch. He lifted his legs up to expose his rosebud. Francis ignored the invitation. She cupped his basket. Over a year of trying and I'm still not pregnant. She squeezed slightly on his plums.

Patrick's member became raging hard in response. He humped the air above him. "Please fuck me," he begged.

Francis squeezed harder on her husband's useless stones. "Just suck me, bitch! I'll tell you when I'm ready to tear up your mancunt." The dirty talking had been Patrick's idea a couple of months ago. Francis was reluctant at first, but as her impatience over his infertility grew, she became more comfortable with the language. The ball torture was her own addition. True to form, Patrick enjoyed it. He's become a cuck in all but fact. I might as well take that last step. Besides, I would be nice to be with a real man and take some virile sperm for a change. Hell, Patrick is so whipped at this point, Benjamin could probably get him pregnant.Francis released Patrick's boys and slapped his organ before dismounting.

Patrick breathed heavily in anticipation. "Francis, please put the blindfold on too."

Francis donned the harness for the strapon. It completely covered her womanhood. Next she attacked the artificial penis. It was a thick black phallus. Patrick had bought the entire set as a surprise one day. Finally, Francis tied the blindfold around her husband's head. She lubed up his now well worn ass. The black latex cock easily slipped into his loose entrance. Francis paused once the head was inside. "Tell me what you want."

"Your cock," Patrick responded.

Francis gave him another centimeter. "What was that?"

"I want your cock, Sir. I want your big beautiful cock."

Francis plunged in to the hilt. She kept it deep inside. Slow, circular grinding motions massaged the cockhead against Patrick's prostate. They also pushed Francis's mound against the harness so that her clit felt a little bit of pressure. Francis hissed into Patrick's ear, "You love that big black cock, don't you?"

Patrick moaned in agreement.

"You want a real one in you?"

"Oh yeah," Patrick smiled.

Francis licked Patrick's earlobe. "I want one in me too. I'm tired of your pathetic dicklet. I want a real man with a hard rod fucking me. I want him to breed me with his fertile swimmers. I want Benjamin to fuck me senseless day after day until I'm carrying his baby. Is that what you want?"

Patrick was too lost in ecstasy to notice the details. "YES!!!" he shouted as he spilled his seed onto his stomach.

Francis pulled out and ran into the master bathroom. She slammed the door shut. Francis dabbed her eyes with a tissue. Tears fell down her cheek. She washed her face with cold water. The chill pushed away her shock. She mechanically washed the black latex cock clean.

Francis started into the eyes of her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Well. That's it. I have Patrick's permission to take Benjamin's cock. No labs, no doctors, just good old fashion fucking. Benjamin will breed me directly from his monster cock. Francis sniffed the fake phallus to see if it was clean. She paused. I wonder what Benjamin's cock tastes like.  Francis hesitantly flicked her tongue across the tip of the dildo's head. Hmmm. Licking the rod that just plowed my husband. Will I let Benjamin fuck the wimp, or keep his thick pole all to myself? Francis greedily devoured the dark dick. Her lips stretched around its girth. The knob pressed against the entrance to her throat. Francis pulled back. This was the point where she always stopped with her husband. She had no desire the gag on that sissy's thin dicklet. Determined, Francis pushed the black phallus in for another try. The thick toy blocked the opening of her throat. Francis's visceral gag reflex tried to expel the foreign object. She suppressed the instinct. Steadfastly, she forced the rubber in a bit more. The lack of air made her feel faint. Francis withdrew the invading latex. She panted until the dizziness faded.

Breathing through her nose, Francis pondered the glistening black member. Her saliva streamed down the geometric shaft. What does Benjamin's dick look like? Is it smooth or does it have a few hairs climbing the shaft? Does it curve up? Do thick veins bulge from the side? By the end of the holiday, I'll finally know. Francis brought the cockhead to her lips for another round. The slick pole slid easily into her mouth. The tip paused at the back of her mouth. Francis pushed a bit harder. The dark phallus forced its way into her throat. Her eyes widened at the realization that she was deep throating for the first time in her life. The mammoth dick broke through her virgin throat. Beneath the harness, her womanhood moistened. Francis arched her neck to accommodate the full length of the cock. Thrust after thrust it entered territory that her husband had never reached. Francis's pussy muscles clenched in a surprise orgasm. Cum leaked out of the harness to drip down her legs.

Francis removed the dark cock. So that is what it is like to take a BBC. She took off the harness. Her naked cunt was soaked. She felt her engorged clitoris. A shiver danced across her back. What will it feel like to have Benjamin's BBC gliding through my other lips? Will Benjamin even want to feel my cunt? He is gay after all. He is probably more interested in the other side. Francis turned around to so her buttocks reflected in the mirror. Looking over her shoulder, she considered her round cheeks. They're not half bad. Surely they're as attractive as any man's. Patrick certainly showed interest in them when we first got married. Francis snuck a finger down the crack of her ass. It's a good thing I always declines his requests. Now my anal cherry is intact for Benjamin. Her finger pushed through the rosebud. Oh. That hurts. I need lube. Francis found a tube of lubricant in the medicine cabinet. She coated her finger generously. The second attempt went much more smoothly. Soon a second finger joined the first, and then a third. Three combined fingers worked her backdoor. The sensation was new, but pleasant. Francis could not understand why, but the assault on her ass was keeping her snatch moist. She wanted more. She wanted the BBC up her ass.

Francis sat on the rim of the bathtub. It was cold and uncomfortable. She scanned the room for a better place to settle, but there was none available. The bathroom was not designed for sex. She peaked out the bathroom door. Patrick had crawled into his bed and fallen asleep in her absence. Francis's own bed was unoccupied. Francis smiled mischievously. Leaving the harness on the bathroom floor, she tiptoed to her bed with the big back cock in her hand. Under the frilly linens, Francis surrendered her anal virginity to the latex toy. 



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 17



Benjamin took a cab to Dag Hammarskjold Plaza. His father was waiting for him at a table with two breakfast sandwiches. Benjamin paid the cabbie. "Keep the change," he said to the man as he ran towards his father. "Hey Pops" he greeted his dad. "Thanks for meeting me early today."

"Early? You're late. You said 7 am."

Benjamin shrugged. "Sorry. You know how I am in the morning."

"It's not how you are in the morning. It's how you are at night. If you party all night, you won't be any good in the morning. Where did you go this weekend."

"No where," Benjamin shot back. "Lay off me Pops. I didn't go to any clubs this weekend. I spent all day Saturday packing and repacking, then an hour this morning doing the same. I couldn't decide what to wear on this trip. Francis means a lot to me. I want to make a good impression."

The senior Mr. Cadet almost burst out laughing from his son's defense. "You are dressing to please someone else? What happened to the man who didn't give a care about what the World thinks?" Mr. Cadet handed a breakfast sandwich to his boy.

Benjamin unwrapped the meal. "Not much. I still don't care what 7 billion think of me. Francis is just 1 person. I care what she thinks of me. She's the real deal. She's honest and kind. She helped me for months with my fight against Columbia University. She's just a pure hearted woman."

Mr. Cadet swallowed the food in his mouth. "Good. Maybe she will have a positive influence on you. When is your train?"

"It leaves Grand Central in 32 minutes. I bought the ticket yesterday afternoon." Benjamin shoved his breakfast into his mouth.

"Then why are we eating in a park instead of the train station or a restaurant?"

Benjamin spoke with a mouth full of egg. "I like the view."

Mr. Cadet jerked his thumb at the UN headquarters across the street. "You mean the Hall of Emperors?"

Benjamin pointed to the people tabling at the west end of the plaza. "No Pops. I mean the Rebel Alliance." He gulped down the last of the breakfast and brushed the crumbs off his shirt.

Mr. Cadet grinned. "That's my son. Go. You've got a woman to meet."

"Pops, we're just friends."

"Even better."

Benjamin jogged pass the canvassers on his way to Grand Central Station. "Good luck," he shouted to them over his shoulder. Grand Central was relatively quiet on Sunday mornings. Benjamin looked at the clock. It read 7:39. He had 21 minutes until his train left. He browsed in one of the upscale boutiques, the type of store that he would never step foot in a year ago. The display of chocolates drew his attention. He pondered it for several minutes. Then he called on his cell phone.

Isabella picked up on the other end. "Hello."

"Truffles or liquor?"

"What's that, Benjamin?"

"Should I buy truffles or liquor?"

"OK. Who is he?"

"Who is who?"

"Whoever you slept with last night. He must have been amazing if you're buying him chocolates the next day."

"They're for Francis. Francis is a she."

"Oh. You're dating a tranny?"

"Francis isn't a tranny. She's a woman."

"OK. Post op or pre op?"

"Francis was born female. Francis is a straight woman who happens to be my new friend."

"Francis is just your friend?"

"Yes."

"And you're buying her chocolates?"

"What?" Benjamin got defensive. "You've never bought a candy bar for your friend?"

"Truffles and liquors are not candy bars."

"Francis is just a friend who I care for very much."

Isabella paused. "Benjamin ... are you coming out? Are you secretly straight? It's OK. You can trust me. I just want to know if I should stop changing my clothes in front of you."

"Get lost." Benjamin retorted as he hung up his mobile. Benjamin bought a box of chocolate truffles and a bottle of chocolate liquor. He glanced at the time display on his mobile phone. The train would be there in 17 minutes. Getting to the platform took 6 minutes. He paced the length of the platform for 10 straight minutes. At 7:59 am. The train arrived.

Benjamin jumped on. Soon, he was zipping through Westchester County. The view from the window was unimpressive. Rich people may live next to a train station, but they rarely live next the tracks between the stations. A long train ride is a tour of a region's low income housing. After Tarrytown the view became more scenic. Less than an hour north of Manhattan, there was seemingly endless forests on both sides of the Hudson River. Crossing Interstate Highway 84 brought Benjamin into Upstate New York. Farms were the dominant feature there. Benjamin shook his head. With so much open space available, why is Columbia University stealing my little brownstone? Why is Albany giving them the green light?. The next highway was over an hour away. It was the beltway for Albany. Inspired by the protestors at Dag Hammarskjold Plaza, Benjamin got a marker and a piece of paper from his satchel. He wrote, "You may take my land, but you'll never take my freedom," in big bold letters. A short bridge brought the train over the narrow Hudson into Albany. Benjamin keep the sing pressed against the window for all to see until he left the capital.

As Benjamin passed through Saratoga Springs, the cradle of the American Suffragette Movement, he began to feel like his situations wasn't quite so hopeless. Benjamin was serine by the time the train reached the shores of Lake Champlain. Soon, he would be out of authoritarian New York and in libertine Quebec. I'm going north on the railroad to freedom, Benjamin thought jokingly. His quiet chuckle attracted the attention of a man who was walking down the aisle.

"Bonjour, Hello." The man greeted him.

Benjamin paused. He had been practicing French for months. Was he ready to try it out? "Bonjour," he smiled. "Je suis un New-Yorkais."

"Oh." The man turned up his nose. "You're a Yankee."

Benjamin stood up. "You've got something against Americans?" His tone dared the man to start a fight.

The gentleman grinned warmly. "Not as long as they're from bellow the Mason-Dixon Line." He struck out his hand for a handshake. "I'm from NOLA. 100% Cajun here."

Benjamin shook the hand and slapped the man on his upper arm. "Good to hear. How's the rebuilding going?"

"Oh, bit by bit. I'm an architecture student at Cooper Union. I'm headed to Montreal for the Jazz festival."

Benjamin scanned the young man's body. "Me too. What instruments do you like?"

The college student noticed Benjamin's roaming eyes. "Eh, saxophone, of course. Then there's clarinet, trumpet, and trombone. I have very good breath control," the young man lowered his eyelids, "and I love playing the flute." He leaned forward to whisper into Benjamin's ear. "The flesh flute." Those words made Benjamin's blood begin to rush. "Are you a member of the mile long club?"

"What's that?" Benjamin quietly asked.

"It's like the mile high club, but with trains instead of airplanes. I've done it before. I'll show you how."

The Cajun man lead Benjamin to the bathroom at the end of the railcar. Once inside, he unzipped Benjamin's fly. He got on his knees to look at Benjamin's basket. "Oh yeah, Daddy. Give it to me. I kneed that cock."

Benjamin lowered his pants and underwear to expose his manhood. Daddy? He looked himself in the mirror. His hand went up to his cheek. Do I look that old? Maybe I need an anti-wrinkle cream. Benjamin hardly noticed the hot willing mouth sucking on his nuts. The aspiring architect worked Benjamin's erection. Benjamin passively looked down at the youth. The young man placed Benjamin's hand at the back of his head. With a sigh, Benjamin played along. The blowjob was over by the time the train reached the border. Both men were in their seats when the train crossed the St. Lawrence River into Montreal. They had exchanged business cards more as a formality than out of any expectation to ever see each other again.

Benjamin was glad when the train pulled up to the platform in Gare Centrale. Francis was there to greet him with a hug. "How was your trip?" she asked.

"Uneventful," he replied. "So where can we go to eat at this time in the evening?"

"There's a bagel shop nearby. You'll like it."

"A bagel shop? I came all the way from New York to have a bagel?"

"A New York bagel is to fill the stomach. A Montreal bagel is to please the palate."

Francis gave Benjamin a sly look. "The French perfected the art of pleasing."

Benjamin felt uncomfortable with Francis's words. She had never used that sultry tone with him over the phone. "How is your husband doing?" he asked as they walked to Francis's car.

"Fine." Francis snapped.

The pair was silent as Francis drove them to the restaurant. They did not speak again until they were eating dinner. Benjamin had a poppy seed whole wheat bagel with feta cheese and salmon. Francis had a sesame seed barley bagel with a tofu spread. Benjamin presented his gifts to break the silence. "For you."

Seeing the chocolates gave Francis hope. "Thank you. You know, chocolate is an aphrodisiac."

Benjamin coughed. He took a sip of water. "Sorry. Wrong pipe. Who told you that?"

Francis hesitated. "My husband. Patrick is a biologist. He's got a way of turning everything into a lecture. He gives a box of chocolates, and he explains about its medicinal effects, it's ecology, the economics of coca bean production. Every bouquet of flowers is a case study of evolution. Apparently, flowers are plant genitals, and genitals are the key to understanding evolutionary relationships. The plant kingdom is divided according to how the plants have sex."

"Is he teaching now?"

"No. He's just a bean counter. He couldn't handle his PhD program, so he settled for a Masters."

"A Masters is still more than I have."

Francis's foot moved between Benjamin's legs to gently rub against his right ankle. "I'm sure you have more than him in other departments."

Benjamin lifted his ankle up to rest it on his left thigh. "Francis. I'm so glad to have you as a friend."

Francis frowned. "I'm glad to know you too."

The companions finished their meal. The waiter brought them the bill. "I'll pay." Benjamin offered.

"No. It is my treat. I promised that. Remember?"

"I recall our conversation. So, what is that favor you need."

Francis took a credit card from her purse and inserted it in the folder with the bill. "Benjamin, Patrick and I have been trying to conceive for over a year. Patrick is infertile. We need a sperm donor. We want it to be you."

Benjamin was skeptical. "You and your husband want me to knock you up?"

"In short, yes. We want you to get me pregnant. A sperm donation is a simple medical procedure. We just need a quick office visit. We can talk about the details at my house tomorrow morning. Patrick is going to the jazz festival early for a show. I'll be home alone all morning. It will give us plenty of time."

Benjamin was torn. It was much to ask of him, and Francis's body language indicated that her thoughts were less than medical. On the other hand, she had just given him thousands of dollars worth of free legal advice during the summer. How could he deny her something so simple as jerking off in a cup? TANSTAAFL "I would like to talk to your husband about it before I agree."

"Certainly." Francis dialed Patrick's number on her mobile. She spoke to her husband, "Hey honey. I'm here with Benjamin. He wants to talk to you about the plan." Francis handed the phone to Benjamin and instructed her friend. "Talk to Patrick. I need the ladies room."

Benjamin spoke into the phone. "Hi. I'm Benjamin."

Patrick responded. "Nice to meet you. I'm Patrick. What did Francis tell you already."

"She said you two want my sperm."

"That sums it up. There's a clinic in the city. You go into one room and produce your sample. The nurse brings it to the room with Francis and me. The doctor inserts it. And 9 months later, we finally have a baby."

"I see. Francis was right. You are a biologist."

Patrick laughed. "So do you like jazz?"

"Like it? I love it."

"Good. There's a jazz festival in the city. Francis is going to her office in the morning for work. I'm headed to the festival first thing in the morning. Come with me. Francis can join us after she catches up on her legal briefs."

Benjamin growled quietly. "I'll join the two of you in the afternoon. I have something to clear up tomorrow morning. Bye Patrick."

"See you later, Benjamin. It was good to meet you."

Benjamin looked at the credit card that Francis had placed with the bill. The name on it read "Patrick O'Connell". That slut. he thought. Benjamin placed the credit card next to Francis's plate. He inserted his own credit card in the folder with the bill. The waiter processed the payment before Francis returned to the table.

"The bill is paid," Benjamin told her.

Francis returned her credit card to her purse. "Good. Will you help us out?"

"I haven't decided. It depends on the details."

"There's no rush. Becoming a father is a big decision. Will you meet me at my house tomorrow at 9 am?" Francis handed him a slip of paper. Her address was already written out on it.

Benjamin put the paper in his back pocket. "You should get business cards printed up. They're only $30 for a batch of 500."

"I wouldn't put my home address on a business card."

"I don't see why not. I'll be there at 9 am sharp. Be ready for me." Benjamin stormed out of the restaurant and took a cab to his hotel. 



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 18



Benjamin drove a rented car to the suburban address that Francis had given her. Kahnawake, Quebec was on the south side of the St. Lawrence River. Row upon row of posh houses with grand lawns created a bucolic setting. This town reminds me of Stepford, Connecticut. I wonder who does the programming here. Benjamin parked on the street in front of the address. A woman was weeding in the garden next door. Benjamin stood by the car watching.

A portly man emerged from the house that the garden belonged to. "Wanda, get out of my garden."

The woman held her ground. "I'm here on official government business."

"You have no business uprooting my flowers."

"These aren't flowers, Eric. They're weeds, and they are invasive species. As a member of the Environmental Commission, it is my duty to maintain the delicate ecological balance in this community."

"Hogwash. You just have a chip on your shoulder because of the sculptures I had up last year. I can't believe you brought me to court to have them taken down."

"They did not match the character of the neighborhood. They were hideous."

"Funny, the complaint you filed only mentioned that sculptures were 3 cm too tall. Don't worry, Wanda. I'm used to it. Your not the first woman to complain that I have too many centimeters."

"That's harassment," Wanda accused.

Eric rested his hand on his beer belly and shook it. "What? Because I mention that women complain about my gut. You're the pervert who keeps imagining other meanings."

"I know the law."

"And you're skilled at twisting it to your advantage."

"If you don't like the laws here, go back to Michigan," Wanda suggested.

"If you don't like the immigrants here, go back to Africa."

"My family is French," Wanda corrected.

"Trace you family history long enough, and we're all African."

Wanda responded with venom in her voice. "My family is not African."

Benjamin jumped in the fray. "Excuse me, madam. I seem to be a bit lost. Is this Nairobi?"

Wanda spun around to see Benjamin. She stammered a response, "I ... I ... Sor ... I'm sorry. I didn't know your were there."

"Obviously," Benjamin replied. Wanda retreated to her hybrid van. Benjamin approached Eric and waved. "My name's Benjamin."

"Eric here. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

"What brings you to this hick town?" Eric asked.

Benjamin pointed to Francis's house. "Francis invited me."

"Yeah. I know Francis. We spoke many times on her front porch while she was waiting for her husband to come home from work." Eric looked Benjamin in the eye with a serious expression. "Did you bring a condom?"

"No. Will I need one?"

"I doubt it matters. If you had a condom, she would probably poke holes in it while your back was turned anyway." Eric's face softened. "Women. They either love you or hate you."

"I wouldn't know. I'm gay."

Eric spit on his lawn. "You know that's a sin. You Westerners are all sex fiends."

Benjamin was unmoved. "We're in North America. When in Rome, do as the Romans."

"Rome fell."

"That's odd. JFK still has daily flights to it."

"JFK?"

"It's an airport. Anyway, welcome to the Eastern Seaboard." Benjamin left Eric and walked to Francis's front porch. He waited in front of the door to collect his thoughts. Dealing with Francis would be infuriating enough without residual anger from his encounter with Wanda and Eric. Once his mind was calm, he rang the doorbell.

Francis opened the door a crack. She was wearing a silk, black bathrobe. It contrasted sharply with her alabaster skin. She stepped back as Benjamin walked through the door. Francis arched he back as she stretched and yawned. "Sorry. I slept late and did not have time to dress," she said.

Benjamin noted the mascara and blush on her cheeks. "You found time to paint your face." He closed the door before the neighbors could see her display. "How many men have you invited in like this? How many times have you cheated on your husband?"

Francis turned away from Benjamin's harsh tone. "It's not what you think."

"I spoke with Eric," he informed her.

"Eric is a boor," Francis declared, her gaze fixed on the floor.

Benjamin circled Francis to see her face. "A boor who fucked you?"

Francis jerked her head up indignantly. "No!" Her angry facial expression softened as she mentally added, He's a boor who doesn't want to fuck me, just like Patrick.

Benjamin was unmoved. "You should go to your bedroom to get dressed." As Francis obeyed, Benjamin walked through the downstairs of the house. He brushed his fingers along the chrome chairs and glass table in the dining room. The modern, urban furniture seemed incongruous in this neighborhood of suburban colonials. Sliding oak doors separated the dinning room from the living room. In the living room, Benjamin saw a tan leather couch and a black media center filled with expensive gadgets. The time on the grandfather clock in the corner read 9:06 am.

After 10 more minutes of waiting for Francis to return, Benjamin got tiered enough to sit down without his host's invitation. From the couch, Benjamin noticed the pictures hanging over the oak doors. The series of outdoor photographs started with a wedding picture. Judging from background scenery, a new photograph was taken each month until the year was complete. Benjamin recognized the woman in the pictures as Francis. The man in the pictures seemed familiar. He reasoned that the man was Patrick, Francis's husband. Then a realization dawned on Benjamin. It was Patrick, the man from the Jazz Festival last September, and the man who bumped into him in New York City last October.

Benjamin jumped of the couch and grabbed the wedding picture for a closer look. Yes, that is definitely the man who lusted after me those two times. He rushed upstairs to confront Francis. The door to Francis's master suite was open. Benjamin walked in. Francis was sitting in the antechamber with her head in her hands. A gas fire burned in the fireplace next to her. She still wore the black bathrobe. Benjamin shoved the wedding picture in front of her and asked, "Who is he?"

Francis slowly looked up. She saw the wedding picture in Benjamin's hand. "That is Patrick, my husband," she sighed. Then she retreated through the arched entrance to the sleeping chambers.

"Did he ask you to sleep with me?" Benjamin asked.

"No. It was my idea."

"Why?"

Francis pointed to the his and her dormers in the bedroom. "Why do you think? Because I'm lonely. We've slept in separate dormers ever since we moved in to this town. Patrick has lost all interest in fucking me." Francis stormed to her dormer and showed him the leather straps on her bedpost. "Look. He makes me tie him up and fuck him. The man is twisted!"

Benjamin rushed to close the curtains to the window by the bed. "Some things should be kept private."

"Don't worry," Francis assured him. "This is the suburbs. No one sees into your home and no one cares what goes on there."

"You know I won't sleep with you," Benjamin insisted.

"I know," Francis acquiesced.

"And I'm not giving you my sperm in a cup either."

Francis was panic stricken. "No, please!"

The dire tone in her voice softened Benjamin's heart a bit. "Maybe."

"Please say you'll do the donation," Francis begged.

"Maybe," Benjamin said firmly. "I need to speak to Patrick."

"He's at the Jazz Festival."

"Give me his cell phone number." Francis wrote down the number for Benjamin. Benjamin put it in his pocket. "I will make my decision before I leave for New York."

Francis lied in her bed with tears dripping onto the pillow. Her plans for love had evaporated in minutes. Her chance to bear Benjamin's child hung by a thread. She had to devise a new plan before Benjamin returned.



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 19



Benjamin watched the next band set up. It was a brass quartet, the fifth group he saw so far that day. He called Patrick to tell him to hurry. "Hi. It's Benjamin. I'm near stage with the brass quartet. They are about to start. Where are you?"

"Hey Benjamin. I'm at the hot dog stand. I can see you from here. I'll be with you in a minute," Patrick replied.

Benjamin looked at the row of food carts on the side. He picked out Patrick. Benjamin's face felt flush. Patrick looked even better than Benjamin had remembered. All those feelings of lust for him started to rise again. Benjamin pushed them down.

Patrick came to Benjamin with two hot dogs in his hand. "Here. Take this one," Patrick offered.

Benjamin took the treat. "What do I owe you for it?"

"Nothing," Patrick replied.

Benjamin looked past Patrick to read the sign on the hot dog cart. The price was $2. Benjamin handed Patrick that amount. "There ain't no such thing as a free lunch," Benjamin insisted.

Patrick shrugged and pocketed the bills. "So, how are you doing?"

"I'm fine. Do you know where Francis is?"

Patrick was a bit surprised at the sudden question. "She's in the office." Patrick started eating his meal.

Benjamin studied Patrick's face. He honestly believed that his wife was in the office rather than lounging in bed with nothing but a silk bathrobe on. Benjamin started to feel a bit sorry for the man. "You look familiar. Have we met before?"

"No, but Francis told me so much about you. I feel like I know you through her descriptions."

Again, there was no hint of deceit in Patrick's facial expressions. He must have completely forgotten their previous two encounters. Benjamin took a few bites out of his hot dog. "Let's cut to the chase," Benjamin said. "Why do you want me to impregnate your wife?"

"Because I'm infertile, and we want to start a family," Patrick answered.

"But why me?"

"It was Francis's choice. I trust her."

Then you're a fool, Benjamin thought. Then he asked, "What did Francis tell you about me?"

Patrick frowned. "If you don't want to help, I understand."

Benjamin felt Patrick's uneasiness. "Sorry. It's just that your request is so unusual."

"Well, Francis and you are friends, and we would rather get a donation from someone we know than from a complete stranger."

"You and I are complete strangers."

"True, but I heard so much about you from Francis. It is as if we met months ago."

Benjamin grinned slightly, "Or a year ago." The pair had fished their lunches. The musicians started their improvisation. The speakers blared some very high pitched shrieks. Benjamin grimaced. "Maybe we should move to someplace where we can talk more easily."

"Sure. There's a patch of wilderness on the other end of the park. It's always quiet."

"Lead the way."

Patrick brought them to a slow moving brook by a meadow. Benjamin sat on a large rock. Patrick scanned the plants in the meadow. He picked several leaves off of one of them. "There may not be a free lunch, but here's a free desert." He handed Benjamin a couple of the leave. "Taste it."

Benjamin cautiously nibbled on one of the leaves. The flavor was familiar, but he could not place it. Then he put the rest of the leaves in his mouth to chew. "What is it? It's good."

"Peppermint," Patrick replied. Then he picked an entire sprig for Benjamin. "Feel the stem," Patrick instructed. "You can feel the ridges on the stem. That's an easy way to recognize peppermint."

"You know a lot about nature."

Patrick blushed, "Well, I studied botany in grad school, but now I'm just a number cruncher. Peppermint is one of my favorite plants, because it's a hybrid, like ..." Patrick's voice drifted off.

Benjamin swallowed the leaves. "Like what?" he asked as he stood up and placed a hand gently on Patrick's shoulder.

Patrick sighed. "Like the family I was going to raise with Francis. Francis is 100% Quebecois. My ancestors are mostly Irish. Her family was not thrilled at her dating someone with roots in the British Isles. I used to assure Francis that if a hybrid like peppermint could thrive, so could our future kids, only we never had those kids. Last year, I learned that it was my fault. I'm sterile."

Benjamin squeezed Patrick's shoulder. "This has nothing to do with fault. It's a medical condition with a medical answer." Patrick stepped a bit closer. Their eyes locked. Benjamin had to resist the urge to hug Patrick. His feelings for Patrick started to bubble up again despite his best efforts. Benjamin felt the warm glow of affection for Patrick rather than a fiery lust. He also felt a tinge of anger towards Francis for the way she described Patrick that morning. "How did Francis take the news?"

"She's been very supportive," Patrick sat down on the rock.

Benjamin sat down next to him. "Really?"

"Yes. Speaking of Francis, let me see how long she will be." Patrick called his wife on his mobile phone. Benjamin only hear half the conversation. "Hey dear. ... Yes, Benjamin is here. ... We're enjoying some quiet time by that brook. ... No problem, I can make dinner. ... I love you too. Bye."

Benjamin cringed at that last part. "What's our plan?"

"Francis needs more time to work on the briefs. I'll have to make dinner. Sorry to cut our time at the festival so short."

"It's fine. I saw enough jazz for one day."

"How did you get here?"

"I drove in a rental."

"I took public transit. I guess you're driving us to my place. We'll have dinner there."

"Let me pick up a bottle of wine on the way."

Patrick shrugged. "OK."

Benjamin stopped in at a supermarket on the way out to the suburbs. "What were you planning to make for dinner?" he asked Patrick as they sat in the parking lot.

"Breaded chicken breasts. Nothing fancy."

"We'll turn that into something nicer. Wait here. I'll be back in a 5 minutes." Benjamin bought merlot wine, lemon juice, onions, and mushrooms. Then he was back in the driver's seat. The pair compared Montreal and New York City weather for the rest of the drive. Before long, Benjamin was pulling into the driveway of the O'Connell residence. As they walked to the front door, Benjamin noticed a hybrid van parked across the street. Once inside the home, Patrick lead the way to the kitchen.

"So, what do you in mind?" Patrick asked.

"Heat some oil in a pan while I chop the onions," Benjamin commanded. Patrick got a cutting board and knife out for Benjamin. Then he followed the order. Benjamin sliced the onion and threw them into the pan. The mushrooms got the same treatment next. Patrick looked after them in the pan while Benjamin searched the cabinets for a glass. "Do you have any juice?" Benjamin asked.

Patrick left the stovetop to search the refrigerator. "Do you want apple, grape, or orange?"

"Apple," Benjamin requested. Patrick filled Benjamin's glass with apple juice. Then he went back to tending the vegetables. Benjamin sat at the kitchen table sipping his drink and watching Patrick from behind. He's definitely got a bit of a domestic side, but not too much. Benjamin scanned Patrick's slim torso and developed backside and legs. He must be a jogger. He's fit. Benjamin bit his tongue to keep himself from mentally undressing Patrick. "Do you cook much?"

Patrick turned to face Benjamin. He saw the admiration in Benjamin's eyes and smiled sheepishly. "I've been making dinners on most nights ever since Francis got her promotion. I've never made anything this involved before. I'm more of a meat and potatoes kind of guy."

"Don't worry, I'll teach you." Benjamin stood next to Patrick and put the juice on the counter beside them. "Keep stirring so that the vegetables don't burn. The onions will turn translucent when they are ready. The mushrooms will brown a bit and turn soft." Patrick turned away from Benjamin to face the pan. He stirred its contents. Benjamin rested his right hand on the far side of Patrick's waist. "That's perfect."

Patrick coughed some in surprise. He sipped from Benjamin's cup without thinking. "Sorry. You startled me."

Benjamin rubbed Patrick's back between the shoulder blades. "It's my fault." Then he moved to the refrigerator. "Where are the chicken breasts?"

"Behind the bread. Pull that out too. I'll make toast."

Benjamin brought the chicken to the counter. "You can't have toast with this meal. Do you have rice?"

"Yes. It's in the canister near the sink. You need 3 cups of water for every 2 cups of rice," Patrick said as he placed measuring cups in front to the canister of rice.

Benjamin took one of the pots that was hanging on the wall near the stove. He filled with half way without bothering to use the measuring cups. Then he added what he estimated was the correct amount of rice. "You measure too much," he teased. Then Benjamin looked into the pan. "Those are done. Put them in a bowl on the side and wash the chicken breasts." Benjamin put the pot of rice on the flame. Patrick followed the orders. Benjamin held the pan near the sink so Patrick could put the breasts into them as soon as they were washed. Benjamin found a pair of tongs in the draws. He pan fried the chicken while Patrick relaxed with the apple juice near the sink.

When the chicken was done, Benjamin gave the next direction. "Open the wine." Patrick obeyed. Benjamin poured lemon juice and merlot into the pan. He mixed it with the drippings from the chicken. "I need flour." Patrick handed him a bag of flour from the cupboard. Benjamin thickened the sauce with it. Finally, he added the cooked onions and mushrooms back to the pan. "Now that's a chicken dinner. Let's set the table. The rice is almost done."

Patrick brought the good china to the dining room table. He felt comfortable with Benjamin giving directions. Francis was always so vague and yet demanding. She expected Patrick to read her mind. Benjamin would just say what he needed and not worry about the details. If only Francis could be more like him. Patrick stood by the table to gaze at three place settings. Benjamin stepped behind him and wrapped an arm around his waist. Patrick leaned into Benjamin and spoke. "Francis should be happy with this surprise."

Benjamin stepped away. "Yes. When will she get here?"

"I'll call her." Patrick stepped into the kitchen for the phone call. He returned a few minutes later. "She's on her way."

Benjamin crossed his arms. "What should be do until then?"

Patrick looked at his watch. "The news is probably on." The pair sat on opposite ends of the couch in the living room and watched the news as they waited for Francis to arrive. Her impending presence damped their growing connection.

Francis slammed the front door when she entered the house. Patrick rushed to meet her in the foyer. Benjamin watched from the couch. Francis opened her briefcase on the dining room table. Then she recited the line she had be practicing all afternoon. "Damn! I forgot the case in the office. Patrick, be a dear and pick it up for me. It's in a red folder on my desk."

"Can't it wait. Dinner will get cold," Patrick objected.

Francis was taken aback by Patrick's newfound spine. "I need those files ASAP. I have a ton of work to do tonight. Maybe if your finished grad school, I wouldn't have to be in the office while you are enjoying jazz performances."

Patrick's eyes darted between Francis and Benjamin. That last remark sapped his will to resist. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised before leaving.

Francis turned to Benjamin. "What did he make for dinner?"

"We made chicken," Benjamin informed her.

Francis hung up her jack. She wore a crisp white blouse underneath with the top few buttons undone. The frilly edge of her violet bra was barely visible. She sauntered over to the television and bent over it as she turned it off so that Benjamin could get a good look at her bottom in her pencil skirt. "Can I get you a drink?" she asked.

"I bought some merlot. It's in the kitchen." Benjamin followed Francis into the kitchen. "You said Patrick never finished grad school. Why didn't he?"

"He was in a PhD program, but he just couldn't handle the pressure." Francis found the bottle on the countertop. "Go sit in the dining room. I'll pour this into a couple of glasses."

"I can do that."

"It's my house. I know where the glasses are," Francis insisted. Benjamin gave up arguing, but refused to comply. He sat down on the living room couch. Francis moved to the wet bar in the parlor out of Benjamin's site. She poured a bit of wine into two black wine glasses. Then she added water to her glass and four fingers of vodka to Benjamin's. She leaned forward as she handed Benjamin his glass. "Enjoy."

Benjamin sipped his drink. "That wine is past it's prime."

Francis nervously kicked off her shoes and sat on the couch. "It tastes fine to me."

Benjamin gulped down another mouthful. "Patrick is a nice man. He explained your situation to me."

Francis patted Benjamin on the thigh. "Patrick will be gone at least an hour. Let's talk about you."

Benjamin shifted uneasily. "What about me?"

Francis leaned back and curled her legs up on the couch. "I want to know more about you. What do you like? What do you dislike? Tell me everything."

Benjamin finished off his drink. "I like the city. It is great being able to walk to the grocery store or a night club at any time of the day."

Francis stood up. "Let me refresh your drink." Her hand lingered on his before taking Benjamin's glass.

Benjamin rubbed his forehead. "No thanks. That wine seems to be affecting me."

"It's only wine," Francis assured him. Francis and Benjamin exchanged idle chit chat over several more glasses. Francis's desire grew, but her flirting could not invoke the same feeling in Benjamin. The vodka laced wine made him fully inebriated. Once it seemed as if his defenses were impaired, Francis grew bold enough to ask, "Are you ready to fuck someone?"

"Yeah," chuckled Benjamin. "I want to fuck Patrick." Benjamin sat there shocked at what he said. He put his glass down on the side table. "I'm sorry Francis. I promise, I would never go after Patrick. I don't date married men. Yes, I do want to fuck him. I want to hold him all night. There's something about Patrick that makes me want to have him forever. He's so sincere and straight forward and ..." At that point, Benjamin fell unconscious from the alcohol.

Francis cussed under her breath. She looked at the clock. She had half an hour before Patrick would be back. She cleaned up the glasses to erase all evidence of their drinking. Then she helped herself to the rice and chicken. The wine sauce tasted great. Her solitude was bitter. Francis feared that she would have to get used to being alone. It was clear that Benjamin would never reciprocate her interest. Now, it looked as if she might loose Patrick to him too.

Francis was washing the dishes when Patrick returned with her file. He stopped in the living room when he saw Benjamin asleep. "What happened?" he asked.

"He fell asleep. It must have been a long day for him," Francis explained.

Patrick lifted up Benjamin's legs onto the couch and covered him with a blanket. Francis brought Patrick a plate full of dinner. "I'm not hungry," he insisted.

Francis put the plate on the dining room table. Then she hugged Patrick from behind. Her left hand slipped down to his crotch. "Let's go to bed."

"I'm not hungry for that either. Let's go to our beds and get some sleep." The couple went up to there bedroom and slept once again in their separate dormers.



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 20



Thanks to everyone for reading this series and for providing feedback. This is the final chapter in the series.

*

Benjamin awoke with a sharp pain pulsing in his temple. One glass of wine should not have given me a hangover. I must be getting old. Footsteps on the stairs sounded like a pile driver. Benjamin turned towards the bottom of the staircase to see who was approaching, but he could not get a good view of it from the living room couch. As he climbed off the couch, he noticed the blanket that was wrapped around him. Who gave me a blanket?

The thumping on the stairs stopped and the front door creaked open. Benjamin could make out Patrick's lower half as the man reached pass the front door to collect the morning mail. Yes. That guy must be a jogger. His backside is more pronounced than his wife's. The thought of Patrick's wife forced Benjamin to keep his lust in check. Francis was the barrier between Benjamin's steel and Patrick's mounds, yet if it wasn't for Francis's womb, the couple would never have invited Benjamin into their home in the first place.

Patrick jumped a bit as he put the mail on the dining room table. "Oh. You're up." He walked through the dining room to Benjamin's side. "How did you sleep? Was the blanket warm enough."

Of couse, Benjamin though, Francis wouldn't have bothered covering me. Benjamin put an arm around Patrick. "The blanket was fine. Thanks."

Patrick leaned against Benjamin's chest. The sheltering feeling of Benjamin's muscular arm and built pecs relaxed away last night's unpleasantness with Francis. "You smell a bit musky," Patrick sighed.

Benjamin stepped back, partly in response to Patrick's comment and partly to prevent his growing member from brushing against Patrick's thigh. "Sorry. I haven't showered yet."

Patrick's normally pale cheeks turned bright pink. "I wasn't complaining, just noticing."

Benjamin parried Patrick's affection with an ice tone. "Do you notice men often?"

"I don't notice anyone often. Francis manages our social life."

Benjamin started to fold the blanket. "Francis manages quite a bit."

Patrick took the blanket from his guest. "You have to fold it in thirds so it fits in the closet."

"I imagine that it's a very full closet," Benjamin remarked through gritted teeth.

Oblivious to Benjamin's emotions, Patrick finished folding the blanket and put it away. Then he cleared the dirty dish that Francis had left on the dining room table after diner. The place settings for Patrick and Benjamin remain unused. As he washed the dish in the kitchen sink, he asked, "What do you want for breakfast?"

Benjamin gathered the utensils and glass that Francis had used the night before, then he joined his host in the kitchen. "I like eggs."

Patrick washed each item as Benjamin handed it to him. "Eggs with bacon?"

"Sure." Benjamin fetched his wine glass from the living room.

"How much did you drink last night?" Patrick asked as he finished washing.

"Just a glass of wine." Wine that tasted funny. "Why?"

"You looked a bit flushed when I came home last night."

"Who knows?" Benjamin shrugged. Francis does, he thought with inner certainty.

Patrick dropped the mater and gestured towards the refrigerator. "The bacon is in the meet tray. The eggs are on the bottom shelf." He started heating some cooking oil in a frying pan. Patrick and Benjamin cooperated on breakfast much as they had worked together on diner the night before. Soon they were enjoying their eggs at the dining room table. Benjamin couldn't help noticing how comfortable it was for just the two of them to share a meal without Francis. Feelings for Patrick surfaced, feelings that went beyond lust.

"So what's the schedule for the sperm donation?" Benjamin asked as he finished the last of this meal.

"It will take a couple of months to arrange everything. You need to get blood tests, and we need to make an appointment with the fertility clinic," Patrick explained.

"Why don't I plan to come back during Thanksgiving to make the donation? November should give us enough time to set things up."

"November?" Patrick questioned. Then he realized, "Oh, you mean American Thanksgiving. It will take some getting used to those differences now that we'll have a Yankee in the family."

That last word startled Benjamin. "I thought you just wanted sperm."

"Right, sorry," Patrick backed off. "I don't know what I was thinking. It just sort of spilled out. Like I said, socializing isn't my strong point."

"No problem," Benjamin accepted. He certainly doesn't have much of a wall against others. Benjamin got up and retrieved his coat from the front closet. "Give my best to your wife. I'll be back in November." Once outside, Benjamin realized he forgot something. He stuck his head make into Patrick's home. "By the way, thanks for breakfast."

Patrick was clearing the table when he heard Benjamin's gratitude. "Don't mention it. It's on the house."

**********

Benjamin drove pass the border into Canada late Thanksgiving morning. November in Montreal was much colder than in New York City. There was a dusting of snow on the grown. He hoped his future kid would be up to the cold weather. He knew that Patrick would keep him updated over the years. The two of them spoke over the phone almost every night since his Labor Day visit. Benjamin's mobile phone started to ring as he parked the car in the fertility clinic's parking deck. It was his best client. Benjamin answered the call. "What is it Mark?"

Mark was a bit surprised at Benjamin's annoyed tone. "Sorry. Did I interrupt family plans for the holiday?"

"Not exactly."

Back in New York City, a smirk came on Mark's face. "Were you on your way to a cum dump?"

"Not exactly."

Confusion replaced that smirk. "So what did I interrupt?"

"It's complicated," Benjamin explained.

"In all the time I've known you, I've never heard you use that phrase."

"People change."

"Never mind. You're entitled to a personal life. I just need you in the Montreal office for an hour today."

"Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

"Wow. You've never said that before either," Mark noted. "Look, I need it done by 8 pm tonight. We're expecting a surge in traffic on the website after that."

"Who spends Thanksgiving on a porn site?"

"Well, the holiday sales start Thursday night now. With wives out of the house shopping ..."

Benjamin chuckled. "If I was married, I think I would be able to outcompete a sale on sweaters."

"If you were married," Mark echoed with skepticism. "Who are you and what did you do with Benjamin?"

"Fuck you. I'll be at the office at 6 this evening. A dear friend is waiting for me. Bye."

Patrick and Francis were waiting for Benjamin in the lobby of the fertility clinic when he reached the door. Patrick gave him a warm hug. Francis gave him a cordial one. "The clinic is running late," Francis reported. "We're treating you to lunch. They should be ready for us when we get back."

"There's no such thing ..." Benjamin began.

Patrick silenced the protest by placing a finger on Benjamin's lips. "Then we're taking you out for a late breakfast. There's precedent for that."

Patrick's finger lingered just long enough to make Benjamin's heart pound harder. Benjamin remembered the wonderful breakfast he shared with Patrick on his last visit. But that breakfast was with you alone. Benjamin's shoulder's dropped in acquiescence Is 'bottom whipped' a word?

At the restaurant, Patrick ordered a tuna melt for lunch. Francis ordered steak. Benjamin ordered a short stack of pancakes. Francis was beaming as they waited for their orders to arrive. "I can't thank you enough for doing this," she told Benjamin. "I've been looking forward to being a mother ever since Patrick gave me the news in September. We've even started painting the nursery. This couldn't have happened without your sperm."

Benjamin gave Francis an icy stare. "Your behavior during my last visit made it clear how much you wanted it. I have phrased your desire a bit differently. It's clear that you want my seed, and I gathered at the time that you wanted something close to it."

Oblivious to the reference, Patrick clasped Benjamin's hand. "Regardless of the past, we're happy that you are helping us create a future." Patrick's smile melted Benjamin's stare. Idle chit chat and Patrick's charm brought the conversation to an amicable tone all around. By the time the food arrived, Benjamin was reluctant to release Patrick's hand. The mood as they ate was practically celebratory. At the end of the meal, Benjamin brought out his mobile to take a picture of his friends.

"You certainly don't skimp on technology," Francis observed.

"I'm in the field. I've got to be familiar with the latest gadgets," Benjamin replied. Then he proceeded to show off all the features and apps on his toy. " I can do everything from editing photos to uploading videos with this thing. Now pose for me so I can take your picture." Patrick and Francis sat shoulder to shoulder while Benjamin photographed them and saved the picture.

"I want a copy," Patrick said.

"Sure thing." Benjamin emailed the picture to his friend from his phone. Then he noticed the time on the touch screen. "We better hurry. The clinic is probably ready for us now."

At the clinic, Patrick and Francis remained in the waiting room while a nurse brought Benjamin to the donation room where he was supposed to produce his sperm donation. The room had a stark medical decor and a table full of straight porn magazines. Benjamin flipped through the selection. The women in the photo spreads were the wrong gender for him, and the men were far from attractive. It's as if straight porn producers look for unappealing men to make sure that their readers don't have a stray gay thought during masturbation sessions.

Benjamin started to rub his trouser snake through his pants, but it was difficult for him to get into the mood. He needed a good looking bottom to focus his attention on the task at hand. Benjamin pulled out his organ and squeezed it into a semi. Then he remembered the picture on his mobile. Benjamin felt torn between guilt over his attraction for a married man and the desire to help his friends by producing a sperm donation.

Desire won the internal tug of war. Benjamin brought out his phone and opened the picture of Patrick and Francis. Gazing at it just intensified his dilemma. It was difficult to channel his lust for Patrick with Francis's face staring back at him. Benjamin cropped out Francis from the pic with a photo editing app. Only Patrick's smiling face filled the screen. Blood filled Benjamin's serpent until it was rock hard.

Benjamin stroked his thick Black rod as he focused on Patrick's Celtic features. He imagined Patrick's ginger hair brushing against his jawline. In his mind's eye, Benjamin pushed on Patrick's shoulders to bring the man's lips pass his bulky chest and ripped abs. Benjamin put the phone back in his pocket and tickled his shaft with his finger tips as he pictured Patrick's tongue causing the sensations. Benjamin closed his eyes and gripped his bone, wishing it was Patrick's perfect mouth doing the work. A quarter hour of simulating a blow job from Patrick brought the desired result. Benjamin shot a copious sperm donation into the donation cup.

After giving the sperm donation to a nurse, Benjamin sat in the clinic's waiting room. Francis and Patrick had moved to a side room where the doctor would insert the donation into Francis. Benjamin blushed at the realization that his swimmers were now impregnating another man's wife. It's completely medical, Benjamin assured himself. It's not as if I've having an affair with Francis. I don't even like women. Benjamin looked at the floor as guilt washed over him. I like Patrick. I want him more than anything.

A greeting from Patrick pulled Benjamin out of his thoughts, "Hey Benjamin. Francis is just getting some prenatal care directions from the doctor. I thought I would keep you company."

Benjamin had difficulty looking Patrick in the eyes. He settled for looking at Patrick's lips. The pink lips that he had just imagined wrapping around his dark dick. His cock stirred as his baser instincts urged him to try to make that fantasy come true. "I guess you won't be needing me after today."

"We'll know in a few days if Francis is pregnant. If so, we won't need another sperm donation, but we'll still want to stay in touch. We may be raising the kid, but you'll always be the genetic father. We might need to contact you about medical family history, allergies and stuff like that. Even temperament has a genetic component. You're input will be important for years."

"I didn't realize I was making such a long term commitment."

"If it's a problem ..."

"No, no. It's fine. I've got friends who became father's without getting married. I have some sense of what it's like. I guess that makes Francis my baby-mama now."

"So I'm what, the baby-daddy?"

"Um, I think that term applies more towards me. How about I be the dad, and you be the father?"

Patrick's good hearted laugh put Benjamin at ease. "OK. We're sort of charting new territory here. Not many kids grown up with 3 parents, at least not unless two of them get divorced."

That last word made Benjamin tense again. "I certainly hope that doesn't happen. You and Francis should stay married for a long time."

Patrick hugged Benjamin. "We plan on it."

Francis returned to the waiting room as Patrick was releasing Benjamin. She noticed the prominent erection Benjamin was sporting. "Did I interrupt something?"

"No," Benjamin swore as he readjusted his pants. "I have to get to the office for a last minute assignment. Call me when you know the results. I can always come back up to make another donation."

"Thanks. That's great to know," Patrick replied before Francis could voice any concerns.

Benjamin walked out of the clinic awkwardly. He felt as if everyone could see the bulge in his front. His erection subsided by the time he go to the Mark's Montreal office. It turned out that their regular guy ran into come compatibility issues when he tried to upgrade the server the day before. Mark knew that Benjamin would be in the area, and decided to dump the problem on him. As usual, Benjamin quickly competed the upgrade and had the website running with the newly added capacity. Benjamin chuckled as he thought of thousands of horny American husbands enjoying the site while their wives shopped for bargains. I'll never understand straight people.

Benjamin called Mark on his mobile to tell him the job was complete and the invoice would be in his email inbox soon. After the call, he noticed a dialogue box on screen. It asked if he wanted to save the changes to his picture of Francis and Patrick. Benjamin was tempted to just keep the cropped photo of Patrick, but decided against it. While wives can be divorced, a baby-mama stays a part of a man's life forever. With a sigh, Benjamin deleted the cropped photo and kept the image of both Patrick and Francis together.



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 21



The first thing Jovita noticed as she and her girlfriend approached their destination was the opulence of the house. The wide two story structure had a double car garage, gabbles on the second floor, and brickwork covering the exterior. Jovita turned to her girlfriend, "Hanna, does your cousin live by himself?"

"Yes, Aaron is a bachelor." Hanna replied.

"This is such a big house for one man. Teaneck must be a very rich town," Jovita concluded.

Hanna shrugged. "You get more space for your money in the suburbs, and Aaron likes to entertain. Don't spend all day staring at the house. He said we should go right on to the backyard." 

The pair proceeded around the house to a spacious suburban back yard. A crude shelter stood on the patio behind the house. It had interconnected metal poles along the edges and canvas for walls. The roof was a mat of bamboo slivers. The structure seemed strange to Jovita. "What is that called?" she asked Hanna as she pointed to it.

"It is a shukkah. We build it on the holiday of Sukkoth to remind us of the 40 years we spent wandering the desert after the exodus from Egypt. It stays up for 1 week. We eat in it, and single religious men sleep in it."

A middle-aged man stepped out of the sukkah and towards Hanna and Jovita. "Shalom, and welcome," he greeted the guests.

"Shalom, Aaron. This is my girlfriend Jovita," Hanna replied. "Jovita, this is Aaron, my favorite cousin."

"What makes him your favorite?" Jovita asked.

With a smile, Hanna recalled her reasons, "Aaron stood by me when I wanted to be a scribe. He also supported me when I came out as a lesbian."

Jovita was surprised. "I can understand opposition to you being a lesbian, but what is so controversial about becoming a scribe."

Hanna answered, "Being a scribe is a religious profession, and therefore a man's job in the Orthodox Jewish world. Aaron had to convince my parents to let me study the trade. Then he helped me through the difficult search for an experienced scribe who would be willing to train me. After my training, I couldn't find work making religious documents, because I lack a penis. That's why I ended up becoming an artist.

"You could write religious documents for Reform Jews. Reform Judaism is dedicated to gender equality," Aaron suggested.

"I'm not going to participate in a heretical Church," Hanna responded, smiling at Aaron to soften the blow of her rejection.

"Well," said Aaron, "Let's continue the conversation in the sukkah. I'm ready to eat."

Inside, the sukkah was decorated with flowers, gourds, and some of Hanna's artwork. The Hebrew calligraphy in Hanna's art was shaped to form pictures. One was a bird, another a tree. The effect of making objects out of text was a subtle suggestion of form rather than a detailed copy of the subject. A folding table with three folding chairs were set up in the sukkah. Horderves consisting of crackers and spreads lay on silver platters upon the table. Hanna, Jovita, and Aaron sat down and began to eat.

"So Aaron, how did you convince Hanna's parents to accept her as a lesbian?" Jovita inquired.

Aaron leaned towards Jovita. "I had to use halakic arguments, because they are Orthodox. I pointed out that the Torah verse forbidding homosexually specifies that a man should not lay with a man. It says nothing about women sleeping together. Furthermore, the verse can be seen as part of the larger prohibition against using birth control, because of its proximity to the prohibition against having sex with a menstruating woman. The ban on birth control only applies to men, because only men are commanded to be fruitful and multiply. It would have been much simpler if they were Reform. Reform Judaism accepts homosexuality, because being with anyone you love is better than being along. A person was not meant to be alone."

"Interesting," Jovita responded. "As a Catholic, I also had to reconcile my lesbianism with my faith. I decided that lesbianism is a sin, but it is alright. Our heavenly father understands that humans are frail and sent us Jesus to atone for our sins. I am saved through Jesus regardless of who I love."

"So Hanna is going to Hell, because she is a lesbian who does not believe in Jesus," Aaron quipped sarcastically.

Jovita placed her hand on her breasts, worried that she had offended her host. "Oh no. The Church declared half a century ago that G-d has a special relationship with the Jews. Hanna and you gain entrance to heaven through Judaism even if you never accept Jesus," she said before she popping the last horderves into her mouth.

"I'll bring out the next course," Aaron announced as he got up and left the sukkah.

Once he was gone, Jovita turned to Hanna. "I like him."

"I thought you might," Hanna said.

"Thank you for finally brining me out to meet one of your relatives. It was important for me."

"Anything for my honey."

Aaron came back with baked chicken, noodle kugel, candied pears, and cooked baby carrots. He laid the meal out of the table with flare. Then he set the table with dishes from a shelf in the sukkah. "Bon appétit," he announced. As the group dived into the meal, Aaron broached a delicate topic. "I am think of moving to River Edge."

"Why?" Hanna asked.

"Teaneck is becoming overrun by the Orthodox. There's a nice Reform temple in River Edge. It's a more pluralistic town," Aaron said.

"I find it ironic that liberal Jews helped racially integrate Teaneck decades ago, and now they don't want to live next to a different minority. They complain about Orthodox Jews moving in and having babies, or they flee to another town. It's Liberal flight instead of White flight," Hanna observed.

"Aaron, at least you have the freedom to move to a new town that suites you better," Jovita interjected diplomatically. With the argument behind them, all three focused on enjoying their meal.

The final course was pecan pie from a local farmer's market. It was as delightful as the conversation that accompanied it. As Aaron finished the last crumbs on his plate, he asked Hanna, "Have you told your parents yet that you are dating a Catholic?"

Hanna glanced downward, "No."

"You really should," Aaron said. There was awkward silence as Aaron cleared the table followed by cordial goodbyes. 

Jovita glared at Hanna while they stood next to the bus stop. "What did Aaron mean by 'dating a Catholic'? Do your parents have something against Catholics?"

"No," Hanna replied, "They interact with people of all religions as friends. It's just that," Hanna turned her face away a bit, "for them, interfaith dating is more taboo than lesbian sex."

Jovita fumed. "So that's why you invited me to your cousin's house instead of your parents'. You were only willing to introduce me to a safe relative." She crossed her arms over her chest. "You decided to date outside your faith. You owe it to me to not keep our relationship secrete."

Unable to hurt her lover any more than she already did, Hanna relented. "Alright. We can visit my parents next week for Simchas Torah."

Jovita relaxed her arms. "Good, and thank you."

"You're welcome, baby. I'm sorry I offended you."

"I forgive you."

The two lovers almost failed to notice their bus back into Manhattan as they exchanged a long, tender kiss.



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 22



Hanna waited excitedly at the front door to her parent's Teaneck shul for Jovita on a Thursday afternoon. At the start of their relationship, Hanna was reluctant to introduce her girlfriend to her family, but today Jovita was finally going to meet her parents. First they would attend Simchat Torah services. Then they would go to her parents' house for dinner and spend the next two days there. Hanna's eyes lit up when she saw Jovita approach the shul. Jovita was wearing a modest white shirt that went up to her neck and down to her wrists. A black broomstick skirt covered her legs all the way down to her ankles. Hanna's own broomstick skirt was tie-dye and her shirtsleeves stopped just below her elbows.

"You look great," Hanna said when Jovita reached her.

"I wanted to make a good impression with your parents," Jovita replied. As the couple hugged, Hanna could feel the crucifix that Jovita wore beneath her shirt.

Hanna lead Jovita by the hand through the front doors of the synagogue. Once inside, Jovita's eyes drank in the lobby decorations. There was a metal bas-relief tree on one lobby wall. The leaves were engraved with the names of donors who contributed in honor or in memory of loved ones. A glass encased bulletin board hung nearby. Jovita read the notices as Hanna silently gave her space to explore this new surrounding. The first paper was about a pledge drive for a local day school. The second paper was a letter from the congregation's president supporting Israel and the right of Jews to build in Judea and Samaria. Below those pages was a notice about a protest in front of the Metropolitan Opera for the next Monday. The rally was to object to the Met's performance of The Death of Klinghoffer.

Jovita turned to Hanna with questions about what she read. "Where is Judea and Samaria?"

"That's the Israeli name for the West Bank. Jordan dubbed the region the West Bank after conquering it during the Israeli War of Independence, and the rest of the world followed Jordan's lead ever since."

"Why is it necessary to stand up for the rights of Jews to build there. Can't anyone build on land if she buys it first."

"You would think so, but most nations don't agree. They condemn Israel whenever it lets Jews build in Judea and Samaria. They won't even allow for construction to accommodate natural population growth. Without new homes, young couples can't start new families. The international community insist that the area must be cleared of Jews in order to have peace. Since those who oppose construction are motivated by a desire to keep the Jewish population low, their opposition boils down to a mild form of ethnic cleansing."

Jovita quietly changed the subject. "Why are people protesting The Death of Klinghoffer?"

"That opera is about Palestinian terrorists who killed an disabled elderly Jewish man on a cruise ship. It glorifies the terrorist and demonizes the Jews. It's disgraceful that the Met would put on such tripe. The West Australian Opera won't show Carmen because the characters in it smoke tobacco, but an anti-Semitic opera is fine. To the cultural elites, smoking is beyond the pale, but killing Jews is a legitimate position." Hanna glanced at the date on the protest notice. "Hey, the protest is this Monday. Do you want to go to it together."

"I've got to work late every day next week to make up for taking today and tomorrow off," Jovita declined. "How about I send a donation to support the cause."

"I don't think there's a charity associated with the protest. It was put together kind of ad hoc."

Jovita looked again at the notice. "It says Congressrep Peter King will be there. I'll send him a campaign contribution with a letter thanking him for attending the rally," Jovita promised.

Hanna kisses Jovita on the cheek. "Thanks. I'll be thinking of you while I'm at the demonstration."

Jovita put her hand on Hanna's triceps. "You have all these people to fight just to assert your basic rights. I never realized being Jewish was so difficult."

"Well, that's one reason we're called the chosen people. Hashem is tougher on us than on any other nation," Hanna explained. Then she lead Jovita into the sanctuary.

The sanctuary was divided into separate men's and women's sections by a low glass wall with etched scrollwork. Jovita and Hanna sat together in the women's section as the Simchat Torah service started. The first time Jovita went to an Orthodox Jewish service she was completely lost. On this second experience, she was more prepared. Hanna had gone over the service earlier in the week. Jovita brought her own copy of the Artscroll prayer book with post-it notes in it with instructions for the service. The notes marked out the most important prayers in the service. Jovita whispered those prayers in English and skipped the minor prayers so that she could keep up with the congregations Hebrew speed reading. The preparation paid off. Jovita found the service somewhat moving, while her previous experience with Orthodox pray brought mostly anxiety.

At the end of the service, the rabbi brought out the Torah scrolls. Leaders of the congregation passed the Torah scrolls to the men's section where the male congregants paraded them up and down the aisle while singing Hebrew songs. At one point, a couple of men laid two Torah scrolls on a table that was between the men's section and the women's section. Two women picked up the Torah scrolls and danced them down the aisle of the women's section. Soon both men and women proceeded out the sanctuary and into the shul's social hall with the Torah scrolls. Hanna and Jovita joined the procession.

The social hall had a wooden lattice dividing it into a men's half and a woman's half. Members of each gender danced in their respective sections. Each group formed a large circle and held hands as they danced. The dancing alternated between speeding up and slowing down to keep pace with the singing. People joined and left the circle at random intervals as they felt like it. Sometimes a circle got to big, and a small break away circle formed inside the larger circle to accommodate the extra dancers. If the dancers became fewer in number again, the circles became one again. Jovita found the whole experience joyous and exhilarating. After half an hour of dancing, Hanna and Jovita were both out of breath. They went out to the shul lobby to look for Hanna's parents.

As they waited in the lobby, Jovita asked Hanna about the experience, "Why were there walls separating the men from the women in the sanctuary and the dance hall?"

"Oh, that's the mahitza," Hanna explained. "It separates men from women so that men do not share a pew with or touch a menstruating women. It also gives the women privacy to dance without men ogling them." Hanna spotted her parents and waved them over to the couple. When they were close, Hanna made introductions. "Mom, Dad, this is my girlfriend, Jovita Martinez. Jovita, these are my parents."

"So good to meet you," Hanna's mom declared as she placed her hands on Jovita's shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. 

Hanna's father gave Hanna a hug and waved a greeting to Jovita. Jovita waved back. "So, Hanna hasn't told us much about you. Where are you from?"

"I grew up in Poughkeepsie, but now I live in Brighton Beach."

"That sounds nice," Hanna's father said. "Tell me, are you Orthodox, Conservative, or Reform?"

"She isn't either of those," Hanna interjected.

"Reconstructionist?" her father asked Hanna.

There was awkward silence for a minute and a half before Jovita gave up on Hanna answering the man. "Actually, I'm Catholic," she volunteered.

Hanna's mother gasped slightly as her face began to pale. Hanna's father spoke to Hanna with a hint of anger in his voice. "We forgave you for being a lesbian; we even supported you when you wanted to become a scribe, but this ... this is too much. What will you do if you want to marry. No respectable rabbi will preside over an interfaith marriage. Oh, and don't expect us to be at the ceremony. We won't consider it an event to celebrate. Have you even though of how complicated your futures together will be. She can't even be buried in a Jewish cemetery. You'll have to spend eternity apart."

Hanna meekly defended her position. "Dad, I love Jovita, and I'm staying with her even if that means you won't support us. We can get a judge to marry us if we get that far, and if we can't be buried together in a cemetery, we'll just get cremated."

Hanna's father stood up straight as a rod. "I'm sorry Hanna, but you are turning your back on your people. I cannot accept this, and neither can your mother. Jovita is not welcomed in our house."

Hanna nearly screamed at her father. "If Jovita is not entering your house, then neither am I. We'll stay at Aaron's until Shabbat is over. Goodbye." With tears streaming down her cheeks, she pulled Jovita by the arm and ran into the shul's coatroom for some privacy.

Once they were alone in the coatroom, Jovita cradled Hanna in her arms. She gently kissed away a tear that was lingering on Hanna's jaw. Hanna looked at her with thankful eyes. Jovita tenderly stroked behind Hanna's ear before kissing another tear on her face. Then her tongue darted up to follow the stream of tears that streaked her lover's left cheek.

Hanna craned her neck to invite Jovita's tongue lower. Jovita followed the signal and licked a trail down Hanna's neck then moved her tongue back up and over to Hanna's right cheek. Hanna purred contently. She softly caressed Jovinta's bosom in response to her loving moves. Soon, Hanna was kissing all over Jovinta's breast through the white shirt. Jovita rubbed her fingers through Hanna's pixie cut hair. Her own long locks cascaded down her back and along the sides of her breasts. Hanna untucked Jovita's shirt and slide her hands beneath it. She rubbed Jovita's belly before moving up to cup her breasts over her bra.

Jovita reached behind her back to unclasp her bra. Then Hanna explored her newly freed breasts. The peaks were already swollen with pleasure. Hanna took one bud, then the other, between her fingers and playfully rolled them. Jovita whispered a moan into Hanna's ear as she pulled off her lover's shirt. Hanna stepped back and removed her bra while Jovita discarded her own shirt and bra. The two lovers stood bare breasted before each other. They could still hear the faint sound of religious singing coming from the social hall.

Hanna and Jovita approached each other for a passionate kiss. Jovita's tongue flicked lightly along Hanna's lips as Hanna's hands delved into the valley of Jovita's chest, passing the crucifix along the way. Hanna cupped the bottom of Jovita's right orb before sliding her hand around the side and up to the top. Next, she spread her fingers and dragged them across the top of both breasts. Finally she brushed her fingers down the left side of Jovita's bosom and continued further down until she reached the edge of Jovita's skirt.

Jovita responded to Hanna's hands by taking her girlfriend's tits into her hands. She fondled them roughly, causing Hanna to inhale deeply with intense pleasure. Hanna's hands slid around to the back of Jovita's skirt on either side to massage her buttocks. Jovita pressed herself closer against Hanna. Their crotches merged. Jovita longed to remove their shirts and panties so that their naked sexes could grind together without any barriers between them, but she was aware that they were in a semipublic place where they could get caught. Instead of risking full nudity, Jovita brought her mouth to Hanna's left nipple to suckle it.

Hanna moved her hands to the back of Jovita's head to cradle it as Jovita alternated between sucking the left and right nipples. Her womanhood began to moisten and swell, demanding more with pure physical lust. Hanna hooked her fingers in the top of Jovita's skirt.

The lovers were interrupted when the coatroom door opened. A Hassidic man stopped short in the doorway staring in shock at the two topples women. The girls stopped their love making and giggled as they picked up their clothes. The embarrassed man fled by the time they were dressed again.



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 23



Hanna stood in her Greenwich Village studio apartment admiring the table she had set. The fine china, crystal glasses, and good silverware elevated the Shabbat dinner she was about to have with Jovita. A pair of Shabbat candles glowed in silver candlesticks on the window sill. A bustling nightlife was visible through the window, but inside, everything was calm and peaceful. Hanna put the challah on the her cutting board, covered it, and placed it on the table. A salt shaker went next to the braided bread. Skipping services is one perk of being a woman, Hanna thought to herself. I would never have been able to prepare everything in time if I had to go to maariv too. Lastly, she opened a bottle of Israeli wine and put it in the refrigerator to breath and chill. The sound of a doorbell told her that her girlfriend had arrived.

Hanna rushed to the front door of her building to open the door for Jovita. "You're right on time. I just finished preparing everything," she declared.

Jovita handed Hanna the bag of fresh fruit she was carrying. "Good. I'm starving. I had to work through lunch today, and I came here straight from the office." The couple walked to Hanna's apartment. There, Hanna washed the fruit and put it in a bowl. "How are things with your parents," Jovita asked.

"They still haven't returned my phone calls, but it's only been a week since they blew up at us for interdating. I'm sure they will come around with time."

Jovita nuzzled her lips in the crook of Hanna's neck. "Thanks for standing up for our relationship. I know that was difficult for you."

"You were worth it," Hanna replied.

"Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?" Jovita asked.

"Not yet. Why?"

"My parents are hosting the entire extended family up in Poughkeepsie. You're invited."

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," Hanna said.

"What time do you think we should leave to get there by noon with the holiday traffic?"

Hanna fidgeted a bit. "Let's plan the details tomorrow night when Shabbat is over. I'll make Kiddush over the wine, and then we can start the meal." Hanna got the wine out of the fridge and poured it into her ornate silver Kiddush cup. Jovita waited patiently as Hanna recited a long Hebrew paragraph. When the prayer was over, Hanna took a sip of wine from the Kiddush cup. Then she poured half the wine into Jovita's wine glass and handed it to her. Jovita tasted the red wine. Next Hanna poured the rest of the wine into her own wine glass. 

"What does that Hebrew mean?" Jovita asked.

"It sanctifies Shabbat and commemorates the exodus from Egypt," Hanna answered. Hanna brought the Kiddush cup to the kitchenette sink and called over her shoulder to Jovita. "Now we wash our hands before breaking the bread."

Jovita stood next to Hanna as Hanna put water into a silver vessel with two handles. Hanna poured water from the vessel three times over one hand and then three times over the other. She pulled Jovita's hands over the sink, refilled the vessel, and repeated the ritual to wash Jovita's hands. "ברוך אתה יי אלהינו מלך העולם, אשר קדשנו במצוותיו, וצונו על נטילת ידים,"Hanna recited. Then she dried both sets of hands with a towel.

"What does that prayer mean?" Jovita asked.

Rather than answer, Hanna motioned for silence and lead Jovita back to the dinner table. She uncovered the challa and scored it with a bread knife. Then she recited more Hebrew, "ברוך אתה יי אלהינו מלך העולם המוציא לחם מן הארץ". Next Hanna sliced the bread into small pieces and shook salt on it. She ate one piece before passing the cutting board full to bread to Jovita. "Eat."

Jovita followed Hanna's order and ate a piece herself. "This is all kind of new to me."

"Don't worry. It becomes more familiar with time," Hanna assured her. "I should have told you ahead of time. There's no talking between washing the hands and eating the bread, except for reciting the prayer over the bread."

"I see," said Jovita before changing the subject. "The embroidery on that bread coverer is exquisite."

"Thanks," Hanna said. "We keep the challah covered during the prayer over the wine so the challah doesn't get embarrassed about being second."

Jovita suppressed a chuckle at the concept of bread being embarrassed. As Hannah brought the food to the table, Jovita made conversation. "I read online that this Shabbat is part of a global effort to get Jews to observe Shabbat. The program started last year in South Africa and became international this year."

"Shabbat brings the Jewish people together. It's a unifying force for us," Hanna explained as she sat down with Jovita.

"I guess you have Shabbat to unify you, and we have the Pope," Hanna's legs shifted anxiously under the table. She silently served herself some gefilte fish. Jovita continued talking about the Pope, "I really like Pope Francis. He's reforming the Church's views on homosexuality. He's only taking baby steps, but it's something." Jovita noticed Hannah's discomfort with the topic. "So tell me, what do Jews do on Shabbat."

"We go to services, have festive meals, and take Shabbat naps. Some Jews walk through the park," Hanna answered.

Jovita delved into her meal. "After such a stressful week at work, I could use a Shabbat nap," she said in between bites.

Hanna got a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "You know, Shabbat nap has a different meaning for married couples. It is also a euphemism for afternoon sex," she said as she finished the fish and loaded chicken and side dishes onto her plate. Hanna held Jovita's hand. "I'm very glad you are finally staying over for the night."

"Me too," Jovita agreed. "I'm excited and a bit nervous. I've never spent the night with a lover before, but I think I'm ready to take that step with you."

Soon, dinner was done and it was time for dessert. The lovers went to the kitchenette where they sliced up the fruit. Hanna got a parve dark chocolate spread out of the refrigerator. Both women took turns dipping the fruit into the chocolate and feeding it to each other. At one point, Hanna got a smudge of chocolate on the corner of Jovita's lip. Jovita held still while Hanna licked it off. Smiling, Jovita dipped her finger into the chocolate and smeared it on Hanna's cheek. She cleaned up the mess with her own tongue. Abandoning the fruit, Hanna and Jovita painted each other's faces and necks with chocolate so they could enjoy licking it off their bodies. Jovita started to unbutton Hanna's blouse, but Hanna stopped her with a hand. "I better bench before we get naked."

Jovita waited patiently as Hanna read several pages of Hebrew prayers from her book. Then the couple moved to the bed where they got each other undressed. "You really have never been naked with a lover before," Hanna asked.

"That's right," Jovita confirmed. "I was waiting for the right person, because I'm kind of traditional that way. I'm also saving my hymen for marriage."

Hanna fondled Jovita's D cup breasts as they faced each other in front of the bed. "I lost my virginity when I was 21, and I've gone all the way with 3 lovers in my life." Hanna's hands slid down Jovita's body to her ass. "I guess I'll take the lead here. It will be hot to guide you through love making." Hanna turned Jovita around and bent her over the side of the bed. Her hands spread Jovita's legs apart to give her access to her lover's muff. Then they glided up her inner thigh. Once there, one hand made large circles around the edge of Jovita's sex while the other massaged her back. Jovita arched her back in response.

The hand on Jovita's pussy lips found its way to her growing bud and rubbed it vigorously. Jovita gasped at the sensation. Hanna's other hand grabbed Jovita's long black hair and pulled it gently. Then a finger slipped into Jovita's cunt. At first it just explored the end of her virgin tunnel, but soon it was inching its way deeper. Two more fingers joined the first. Hanna let go of Jovita's hair and groped her ass. The fingers in her womanhood delved deeper and deeper until they met with resistance. Jovita grabbed Hanna's hand to stop her. "Careful. You're at my hymen."

"Sorry," Hanna said as she backed off. Hanna turned Jovita onto her back and knelt by the edge of the bed. She put one of Jovita's legs over each of her shoulders. Then she spent long minutes kissing her lover's inner thighs. Jovita moaned in pleasure as the slow foreplay brought her to new heights. Finally, she put a hand on the back of Hanna's head to guide the woman to her cunt. Hanna obliged by kissing and licking her labia. Eventually her tongue found its way into Jovita's pussy. Her fingers roughly fondled Jovita's clit. This treatment brought Jovita over the top, and her womanhood contracted in a sudden orgasm.

Hanna kissed her way up to Jovita's lips. "Was that good for you," she asked.

"Very good," Jovita replied.

"I'm glad," Hanna said. Then she glanced out the window as she broached a difficult topic. "You said you are saving your hymen for marriage. Can you picture us being married some day?"

"It's still early to talk seriously about marriage, but yes, I have pictured us spending our lives together."

"Me too," Hanna declared. The couple rested naked in each others arms beneath the covers until they slowly drifted off to sleep.



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 24



Benjamin walked from his Chelsea apartment to the nearby hotel that was hosting a Halloween fundraiser for LGBT causes. He was dressed like a construction worker, with the sleeves torn off his plaid shirt to expose his muscular arms. A frayed spot in the crotch of his blue jeans drew attention to his package. Once in the hotel and pass the lobby, he showed his ticket before popping his head into the main ballroom to see a crowd of costumed people dancing to techno music. Most of the costumes were even more revealing than Benjamin's. Dressing up for Halloween takes on a new dimension when a person becomes an adult, he thought.

Benjamin moved on to the second ballroom which the hotel had divided into booths for small parties to rent. Isabella had rented a both for the gang, and everyone pitched in for the cost ahead of time. The first to arrive, Benjamin took a seat at his group's booth and checked his email on his smart phone. The first email was from his baby mama, Francis. She sent it from her work account at the Montreal Universal Freedom Foundation. MUFF had done some work for marriage equality in New York State and had helped with the losing battle against Columbia University's expansion plan. The university had invoked eminent domain to expand, forcing Benjamin to move from Harlem to Chelsea. The email had links to pictures of Columbia's new construction. Not in the mood for upsetting topics, Benjamin deleted the email without opening the links.

The next email was from Francis's personal account. It had pictures of her and Benjamin's nearly 2 year old son along with an update on his development. Their child continued to learn new words and had progressed from walking to running and climbing stairs. Benjamin felt proud of his boy and wished he could visit him more. His boss sent him to Montreal every other moth, which gave him an excuse to stay at Francis's and Patrick's house, but it was not often enough. Benjamin couldn't ask for a better baby mama than Francis. She was the perfect balance of caring and strict. Patrick was a great dad to the child too. He brought the infant to the park every weekend during nice weather so he can become familiar with botany. That boy might grow up to be a scientist just like Patrick, Benjamin beamed inwardly.

The final email was from Patrick. It started with a description of his current biology research. Next, it talked about Patrick's new enthusiasm for biking. Finally, there were some links to gay porn that he thought Benjamin might like. Benjamin saved the email so he could look at the links later in the privacy of his apartment. Patrick and Benjamin were practically fuck buddies now, but without the fucking. Benjamin still loved and lusted for Patrick, however he new that he would never have an affair with a married person. Even so, sharing links to porn they both liked was harmless enough. Their friendship had grown incredibly deep over the past couple of years. Patrick was now fully comfortable with his bisexuality, and Benjamin was glad to have helped guide him through that transition in his life.

Soon Isabella arrived with Hanna and Jovita. Isabella was dressed like a biker with a leather vest and pants. Hanna and Jovita were in matching Roman togas. As they sat at the table with Benjamin, Isabella made introductions. "Hey, Benjamin. This is Hanna and Jovita. Hanna, Jovita, this is Benjamin." Jovita shook hands with Benjamin while Hanna just waved politely.

"What do you two do?" Benjamin asked.

"I'm a secretary in the Finance District for an Argentinean based investment firm," Jovita answered.

Hanna spoke next. "I'm a struggling artist. I sell my works at a stand on the High Line."

"Benjamin is in porn," Isabella bragged.

Jovita's eyebrow raised. "As an actor?"

Benjamin smiled. "No. I handle the website. I started as a freelance web developer for a porn producer with offices in NYC and Montreal. After a year of that, they took me on in house. It's fulfilling work, and it gives me paid trips to Montreal where I can visit my kid and his parents."

"How's he doing?" Isabella asked.

"He's growing up fine," Benjamin exclaimed as he showed off the latest pictures of the child from Francis. The women cooed over the baby.

"I want one of those," Hanna said.

"One?" Jovita responded. "I want a dozen."

A ding announced that Isabella got a text message. She checked it on her phone. "That's the Sayeds. They will be here in a few minutes. They just have to park the car." Everyone but Hanna ordered drinks from the waiter while they waited for the last group members to arrive.

A few minutes later they were sipping their drinks when the Sayeds showed up. Zac Sayed was an Arab man dressed as Henry the VII. Next to him were an Eastern European woman and a Vietnamese woman dressed in costumes from the same period. "Hello, everyone. I'm Zac," the Arab man said with a slight French accent. "These are my wives, Elan and Parnella." Zac gestured to the Eastern European woman and the Vietnamese woman respectively as he gave their names. "Sorry we're late. The traffic heading out of Queens was heavy."

Isabella introduced her three friends to the Sayeds as they took seats in the booth. Then she told a bit about the new arrivals. "Elan is a house spouse, and Parnella translates technical writing between English and French. Zac just got his civil engineering degree last May. He's working on a skyscraper now."

"So was it a graduate degree," Hanna guessed.

"No. It was a bachelors," Zac answered.

"Aren't you a bit old to have just graduated with a bachelors?" Hanna asked.

Zac's response was a bit curt. "I'm 31. I lost a decade in a Paris prison. It's a long story."

"We've got time," Hanna insisted.

Elan put her hand on Zac's wrist and came to his defense. "It's actually a bit romantic if you hear the whole story." She turned to her husband, "Tell them everything, especially how we met."

"OK," Zac sighed. "I was 18 and participating in an anti-Israel protest on the edge of Paris. I got swept up in the fever and torched a small business. The police arrested me. Then the judge sentenced me to 9 years in prison. That's were I met Elan."

"I was doing a few years for burglary," Elan interjected.

Zac smiled at his wife. "Elan was a pre-opt transvestite. We hit it off right away. At first the relationship was purely sexual. I was a bit radical then, and I got a kick out of fucking a Jew, but over time, I started to really care about her."

"He got hell for it from the other Muslims in the prison," Elan added, "but that wouldn't stop him."

Zac smiled demurely. "One trouble maker gave me a ton of grief. It made me quit being a Muslim and become secular. For him, that was the last straw. I was having a gay relationship, I cared about a Jew, and I left the faith. In his eyes, that was three reasons I deserved to die. One day, the came at me and tried to slit my throat. I grabbed his wrist, took the knife, and stabbed him in the stomach with it."

"Wow," Jovita interrupted. "I can't imagine having to defend my relationship against physical violence, let alone stabbing someone over it."

"I would have done the same thing," Benjamin declared. When everyone looked at him with surprise he added, "in a heartbeat."

Zac continued his story. "Elan and I got closer over the months. When she got out, she had breast implants put in for me. She kept visiting me regularly. We even had conjugal visits. When I got released Elan changed her last name to mine. We had a small commitment ceremony for close friends and family. Then, we moved in together."

"You're right. That is romantic," Isabella said to Elan. Then she turned to Parnella. "How did you end up in the marriage."

Parnella told her part of the story. "Zac's uncle paid for him to go to college when he got out of jail. He studied civil engineering. I was studying physics on the same campus. We met in calculus class. It started with studying together. That lead to affection. Zac got Elan's permission to date me and then asked me out. During Christmas break of our senior year, we had our own small commitment ceremony. I changed my last name to Sayed and moved in with Zac and Elan."

Zac kissed Parnella on the forehead as he stood up. "Our waiter seems to have disappeared. I'm going to the bar to get us some drinks."

When Zac was gone, Hanna leaned in to talk to Elan and Parnella. "I'm Sephardic. We still allow polygyny if all parties agree to it. The first two spouses write in the marriage contract whether or not the husband is allow to take other wives."

Jovita chimed in. "Ayn Rand believed that marriage shouldn't be a barrier to finding new love." Turning to Hanna she added, "Although I want monogamy for us."

"I'll make sure to put that in our katubah," Hanna assured her.

"The law won't let us have a formal marriage with the three of us, but we're happy with just a common law marriage," Elan explained. "Instead of a wife, Zac has two live-in mistresses. What could be more French than that?"

"We go to the Polyamorous NYC meetings every month at the Lesbian and Gay Community Center. There are many polyamorous people in the area," Parnella said.

"It's a shame they didn't have a rally this year," Isabella observed.

Zac returned with the drinks. All seven friends spent the evening conversing about the challenges they faced having alternative love lives in a vanilla society. Jovita and Hanna updated everyone on her parent's objections to their interfaith relationship. Isabella lamented that her activism only produced slow progress towards getting acceptance for their lifestyles. Benjamin remained relatively silent as he pondered the Sayeds' arrangement. Polyamory works for Zac, Elan, and Parnella. Maybe it is right for Francis, Patrick, and me, he considered.



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 25



Hanna approached Saint Peter's Roman Catholic Church in the Finance District early in the morning on election day. She hesitated in front of the church entrance. The stone carvings of saints and angles that adorned the entrance were foreign to her. Jewish prohibitions against idolatry prevent any similar ornamentation on synagogue walls. As per her tradition, Hanna usually avoided admiring Christian churches, let alone entering them. Now, she was about to attend Catholic mass for the first time. With a sigh, Hanna mentally strengthened her resolve to enter. This is an important part of Jovita's life. I should share it with her.

Jovita greeted her in the church foyer. "Hi Hanna. Was it easy for you to get here?"

"Hey Jovita. I took the 1 line down here. It wasn't too crowded," Hanna replied.

"Good. Let's go in. The mass is about to start," Jovita said.

Once inside the sanctuary, Hanna sat in the backmost pew. Jovita followed her lead. The mass was unfamiliar to Hanna, but she could at least follow the services, because they were in English. Hanna stood and sat along with the congregation during the mass, but she declined to kneel when the rest of the laity did. The mass started with singing. Then the priest entered the sanctuary and greeted the congregants. Prayers about sin and forgiveness followed. Next came scriptural readings and more hymns. During the priest's sermon, Hanna let her mind wander and her eyes take in the stained glass windows of the church. More prayer preceded the Eucharist. As the priests prepared the bread and wine, a collection plate made its way through the pews. Then it was time for holy communion. Jovita went up to take communion while Hanna waited for her in the pew. The service ended with everyone wishing peace to his neighbors in the pews.

After the mass, Hanna and Jovita went to a cafe for a breakfast of coffee and pastries. "What did you think of the mass?" Jovita asked.

"It was different," Hanna answered.

"How so?" Jovita asked.

"Sin and forgiveness was a major theme. In a Jewish service those topics only occupy a brief prayer," Hanna said. "Jesus also plays a big part in the ceremony."

"Of course he does. Jesus is central to Catholicism. Through him, we are forgiven for our sins, because he sacrificed himself. He is our lord and savior."

"In Judaism, we loot to Hashem for salvation. Jesus was just another Jew who was killed by the Romans for challenging their authority just like thousands of Jews were at that time," Hanna explained. "As a Jew, Jesus is my brother. All Jews are siblings, because Jacob is our father. Christians are our first cousins, because they descend from Esau, and Muslims are our second cousins, because they are descended from Ishmael."

"That sounds very tribal to me," Jovita countered. "Why keep track of who begat who just to decide which groups are related to you and by how much? I see all humans as my brothers and sisters." 

"Judaism is more than just a religion. It's a nationality with a long history," Hanna insisted with a hint of irritation in her voice.

Jovita changed the subject. "I have to rush to work soon. What are your plans for the day?"

"I'm going to the Democratic headquarters to make calls to get out the vote." 

"I don't see how you can align yourself with those Socialists," Jovita said.

"The Democrats are much better than the Republicans are on LGBT issues," Hanna pointed out.

"There's more than two parties, you know," Jovita told Hanna. "Vote Libertarian. Capitalism has a much better track record when it comes to gays. During World War II, the National Socialists sent gays to the gas chamber, and Russia still has anti-gay policies thanks to it's Communist past. Russia recently passed a bill limiting free speech and freedom of the press in the name of stopping 'gay propaganda'."

"I vote here in America and in the present. The American left has the best track record among mainstream parties here and now. That's what matters the most to me. Why waist my vote and efforts on a Libertarian candidate with no chance of winning?" Hanna asked.

"I have to run now, before I'm late," Jovita announced. "Let's not leave on a bad note."

"OK," Hanna agreed. "Are we still getting together this Shabbat?"

"Definitely. I'll see you Saturday around noon." Jovita kissed Hanna squarely on the lips before heading off to work. Hanna leisurely enjoyed the rest of her coffee and then left for home.



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 26



The week passed quickly, and Jovita and Hanna were soon enjoying their Saturday together. After a festive Shabbat lunch, they walked hand in hand from Hanna's Greenwich Village apartment to the National Museum of the American Indian in the Finance District, exchanging pleasantries along the way. Hanna was excited about looking up the indigenous aspect of Jovita's Puerto Rican heritage, although Jovita did not share this enthusiasm. At the museum, they started with the Infinity of Nations exhibit, a collection of artifacts from indigenous peoples throughout the Americas. There was a depiction of a Mayan ball game and an Inuit parka among sundry other pieces. Each item intrigued Hanna. Jovita feigned interest out of politeness.

Having completed the exhibit, Hanna said she needed the restroom. Jovita waited outside the bathroom door for her. Hanna came out after only a second inside. "The bathroom light is off," Hanna casually mentioned. Jovita opened the lavatory door and turned on the light for her Jewish girlfriend. Hanna looked at her awkwardly. "Do you think you need the bathroom too?"

Jovita rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I guess it could use a piss." The two ladies took care of their business in neighboring stalls. "Is this what I have to look forward if we live together?" Jovita asked.

"Sorry," Hanna said. "I know it's not fun being a Shabbat goy, but I promise it won't happen too often." The pair washed up and moved on to the museum's Resource Center.

At the resource center, Hanna found a book about the Taino who inhabited Puerto Rico before the Spanish arrived. She summarized the content for Jovita, "It says here that the Spanish decimated the local Taino population when they enslaved them. Chalk up one more atrocity for Colonialism."

Jovita sighed. "Colonialism wasn't all bad. It brought Christianity to the New World. Spain was at the forefront of spreading Catholicism. If the Spanish hadn't driven out the Moors, I probably wouldn't be saved today. Besides, I'm sure I've got more conquistador blood in me than Taino ancestry." 

Hanna turned to Jovita. "The Spanish didn't just drive out the Moors. They also expelled the Jews. My ancestors had to feel from Spain to Egypt thanks to them. The Jews that stayed behind had to either convert, be executed, or hide their Jewish faith from the public. Even today, some Conversos live outwardly as Catholics while staying Jewish in their heart. They keep a few of the Jewish traditions and pass them on to their children to preserve their heritage."

"The expulsion of the Jews was over half a millennium ago. Maybe you should let it go," Jovita suggested as she checked her watch. "We should move on if we want to catch the sunset. It's almost 4 pm, and it's a bit of a walk from here to the Irish Hunger Memorial."

The women were silent as they walked up Broadway and along Liberty Street. They paused as they passed the 9/11 memorial. Jovita grabbed Hanna's hand and told her that the Freedom Tower was finally open for business. Hanna squeezed her hand tightly as she murmured her approval of the progress.

Both women entered a convenience store inside the World Financial Center. Jovita bought cheese, bread, and fruit for their dinner. Hanna thanked her for taking care of the meal. "You cooked a wonderful lunch for us," Jovita pointed out. "We're merely exchanging value for value."

The Irish Hunger Memorial was just north of the World Financial Center. A grim facade greeted the pair as they approached the monument. The loud speakers played quotes about the famine mixed with Irish music. The narrow space that lead into the memorial made Hanna and Jovita feel a bit claustrophobic. It opened up to the roofless ruins of an old Irish cottage. The path continued up to the roof of the landmark which was landscaped to resemble an Irish meadow. At the top of the slope, the ladies had a clear view of the Statue of Liberty and the Jersey City skyline across the Hudson River. The sun was starting to dip below the high-rises in Jersey City.

Jovita handed Hanna a block of cheese and started nibbling on some bread. "You know, the American tribes weren't the only ones who suffered from Colonialism. The Irish had a difficult time under British rule. I've never agreed with the way history books decry Colonialism in the Western Hemisphere but ignore Irish suffering just because it happened east of the Atlantic."

Hanna dived into the cheese and took a pear out of the shopping bag. "What did the British do to the Irish?" she asked.

Jovita answered her, "For one thing, they made the Irish famine much worse. The potato blight was natural, but British socialist polices made the hunger much worse. The Corn Laws prevented the Irish from importing food from other lands to make up for their crop failures. Over a million people died from the famine, and a million more had to leave the island."

Hanna gazed at the Statue of Liberty, "At least America's generous immigration policies at the time allowed the Irish to find refuge here." Then she broke of some cheese from the bock and handed it to Jovita. "Are you sure you don't want to come back to my place for havdalah?"

"I've got a long subway ride back. Maybe another week," Jovita responded before wrapping her arms around Hanna. The couple held each other as they watched the sunset in the west until the sky turned dark. Then they said their goodbyes and parted ways.

By the time Jovita got back to her Brighton Beach apartment building, the sky was full of stars. Smiling, she looked up at the celestial objects. As per her family tradition every Saturday night, she counted 3 stars for good luck before going inside.



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 27



Jovita and Hanna sat at a table with a book on Jewish law in front of each of them. Hanna was giving background for the text they were studying, but Jovita's mind wasn't focused on the lesson. Her eyes wandered to the stack of artwork in the corner of Hanna's small apartment. Then they glanced out the window. The autumn weather was inviting, but Jovita was stuck inside learning with Hanna.

Hanna touched the back of Jovita's hand to emphasize a point. "So the 613 commandments were given by Hashem to the Jews, while the 7 Noahide Laws are the universal morals he gave to all of humanity. The 7 Noahide laws are: Don't murder, don't steal, don't curse Hashem, don't worship Idols, don't commit sexual immorality, don't eat parts ripped off of a live animal, and establish courts of justice."

Jovita returned her attention to her partner. "Sexual immorality is a vague term. What exactly is forbidden?"

"Adultery and incest are prohibited," Hanna answered.

Jovita flipped to the section about sexual immorality in her book and skimmed it. "This book says that same-sex relationships are also sinful," she said as she gave Hanna a wry look. "I'm not going to follow that opinion."

"It's a book, not a rabbi," Hanna explained. "It's just a guide. Only a rabbi has authority to declare things sinful."

"Then what does your rabbi say about homosexuality?" Jovita asked.

"I'm between rabbis at the moment," Hanna sheepishly confessed.

"For how long?"

"Several years. I lost count."

Jovita brushed Hanna's cheek. "Maybe it's time you gave yourself permission to follow your heart instead of listening to clergy."

Hanna took Jovita's hand in her own. "Maybe you're right."

Jovita looked Hanna in the eyes. "What do you think about the morality of same-sex relationships among non-Jews?"

Hanna knew her response would be problematic. "Lesbianism is OK, but man to man sex is not. Men are supposed to focus their desires on creating the next generation. It's not just about gay sex. Celibacy is also wrong for a man, because they are obligated to procreate."

Jovita sat back in her chair. "I plan on supporting my sons' reproductive decisions no mater what their orientations are. They can be gay, straight, bi, or even celibate if they want. It's all OK by me."

Hanna paused to consider Jovita's position. "I guess, it's fine for your sons because they won't be Jewish, but I expect my sons to give me grandkids."

Jovita accepted the compromise. "You said that religion is inherited matrilineally. We'll just raise my kids Catholic and your kids Jewish. There's no need to go through all this Noahide stuff."

Hanna paused before answering, "I'm not sure how I feel about raising my kids in a house with crucifixes."

"What's wrong with crucifixes?" Jovita inquired.

Hanna tapped her fingers on the table nervously. "Praying to a carving of a man is a bit idolatrous."

Jovita glared at Hanna. "I don't pray to the crucifix. I pray to Jesus. The crucifix only helps to focus my mind on him."

Hanna declined to mention that she found the concept of praying to a dead man nearly as problematic. Instead, she offered an olive branch. "Some scholars say that Christianity and Islam are Noahide religions because they are ethical monotheistic faiths that worship Hashem." She got up and put the books away on her shelf. "You just follow your traditions and teach them to your kids. I won't say anything else on the matter."

Jovita stood behind Hanna and embraced her. "That settles it. Your kids will be Jewish and mine will be Catholic."

Hanna turned to face Jovita while remaining in her arms. "Speaking of kids, some scholars say that Jesus was courting Mary of Magdalene in the hopes of marrying her, because, as a Jewish man, he was obligated to start a family. That theory gives new meaning to Judas's betrayal. Perhaps Judas was upset that Jesus was putting his personal life over his mission to save the world. Modern Malthusianists echo Judas's sentiments when they say that we must restrict birth rates for the sake of the planet."

Jovita kissed Hanna's forehead. "We can agree on that last part. I have no love for antinatalists. I want a big family."

Hanna rubbed Jovita's nose with her own. "Me too." She stroked her lover's hair. "What do you want our kids to look like?"

"I hadn't though about it," Jovita said.

"How about you use a sperm donor who looks like me, and I'll use a sperm donor who looks like you. That way our kids will look like a mixture of the two of us," Hanna proposed.

"I like that idea," Jovita agreed.

Having settled on the religion and genetics of their future kids, Hanna and Jovita started making dinner. The meal was followed by a quiet evening lying on Hanna's bed as they watched a movie. It was late at night before they fell asleep together.



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 28



Jovita drove down the exit ramp off the Taconic Parkway and on to Route 55. The car she and Hanna had rented for the trip handled well. Hanna sat in the passenger's seat checking her text messages. One text from her father had good news. "My dad says he and mom want us to come to their place for New Years Eve so they can introduce you to the family," she reported to Jovita. "I knew they would come around in time."

"Count me in," Jovita replied as they rode into Poughkeepsie, NY. She glanced at the clock. "We made good time, considering the holiday traffic. We'll even be a bit early."

"Do you think your parents will mind?" Hanna asked.

"Nah, they are very laid back hosts," Jovita said.

"Is there anything I should know before we get there," Hanna asked.

"Not really," Jovita replied as she parked on the curb in front of her parent's home.

Hanna took in the modest two-story home that Jovita had spent her high school years in. Jovita's parents and grandmother still lived there while the kids were grown and scattered along the Hudson Valley. The front door was open for them already. Hanna got the pumpkin pie they brought out of the car trunk while Jovita walked up the front steps. She hurried to catch up with her girlfriend before they both entered the house.

The front door lead directly to a living room where Jovita's family was watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV. The eldest was Jovita's brother who sat on the couch with his wife and children. Next came 3 sisters, all older than Jovita. Two of them had husbands in tow, while the third sat by herself. Jovita's mother entered the room, alerted to Jovita and Hanna's arrival by the sound of the screen door slamming shut behind them. "You're early," she declared as she hugged Jovita and Hanna in turn.

"We over budgeted for traffic," Jovita explained. "Mom, everyone, this is my girlfriend, Hanna." The family waved hello to Hanna as Jovita rattled of the names of her sundry relatives. "Where's dad and grandma?"

"Dad's carving the turkey, and grandma is finishing up the pastries," Jovita's mother replied.

Hanna presented the pie she held, "We brought this for dessert."

"Thank you," Jovita's mom said as she took the offering. "Make yourselves at home. We'll be starting dinner in a few minutes," she instructed before bringing the pie into the kitchen.

"Jovita told us you're Jewish. I hope you don't find the lot of us Catholics too intimidating," Jovita's brother said.

"Not at all," Hanna answered. "I feel very comfortable here among likeminded people. 'Jews earn like Episcopalians but vote like Puerto Ricans,' as the saying goes."

Jovita's siblings looked at each other uneasily after that faux pas. Her brother spoke up, "Not always. Puerto Rico elected a Republican governor in 2008."

Jovita came to Hanna's defense. "But they switched to a Democrat when Padilla won in 2012."

"Padilla barely beat Fortuno. They could go red again next time," Jovita's brother insisted.

"Oh, look. There's the Snoopy balloon," Hanna said to change the topic. Everyone turned their attention to the classic character on the TV.

Jovita's mother called out from the dining room to announce that dinner was ready. The younger generations filed in and sat at the table. After grace, they dug into the abundant feast. Hanna skipped the turkey and any dishes with meat, but there were plenty of vegetarian side dishes to fill her up. Over dinner the family talked about their jobs and weekend activities. Hanna learned that Jovita's brother oversaw work at an apple orchard in Dutchess County and that one sister raised funds for Sisters of Life, a Catholic order that helped women spiritually heal from abortions. Jovita's parents told how the family moved up to Poughkeepsie from the Bronx when Jovita was starting high school to escape the high rents and bad city schools. Between bites of cranberry sauce, Hanna described her artwork and how she spent a typical Shabbat.

Soon it was time for Hanna and Jovita to clear the table. As they stacked dishes, cups, and utensils into the dishwasher in the kitchen, Jovita asked Hanna what she thought of her family.

"They are very loving," Hanna answered.

"I'm glad you like them, because someday you'll be a part of the family too," Jovita said. One arm reached around Hanna for a quick embrace. "I think it's time we got engaged."

Hanna's eyes lit up. "Me too."

"When do you want to do it?" Jovita asked. "And who's going to get a ring for who?"

"We can go ring shopping together in a couple of weeks. Let's exchange rings on Christmas. Then we'll have the entire day to be together."

"Let's do it at Rockefeller Center. It will be perfect," Jovita suggested.

"Sounds good," Hanna agreed. The pair went from a gentle embrace to a tight hung before bringing the desserts and coffee out to the dining room.

Jovita's grandmother noticed the extra affection that her granddaughter and Hanna shared when they came back from the kitchen. After dessert, she asked Jovita to help her wrap up the left over desserts. Alone with Jovita in the kitchen, she braced herself for a serious conversation. "What are your plans for you and Hanna?" she inquired.

Jovita beamed with excitement at the opportunity to share the good news. "We're going to get married."

Jovita's grandmother held her hand lightly. "Then there's something you should know."

Jovita was taken aback by the somber tone in her grandmother's voice. "What is it?"

The elderly lady gripped Jovita's shoulders. "We're Jewish. You, me, and the whole family are Jewish. It's a secrete we've kept ever since the Spanish expelled the Jews from Spain. I was planning to tell everyone on my death bed, but considering your plans with Hanna, I thought you should know now."

Jovita didn't know how to react to this new information. She managed to utter a quiet thanks as she finished putting the remaining desserts into the refrigerator. Her grandmother returned to the dining room, leaving her in solitude to consider her identity.



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 29



Zac leaned over the rail of the observation deck of the Empire State Building looking north beyond the city. He appreciated the long unobstructed view as only a man who had been behind bars for years could. Benjamin slapped him on the shoulder and said, "I just looked at the view from the south side. You can see the Freedom Tower clearly and the ocean beyond that."

Zac turned towards his new friend. "I don't know which I like better, the distant suburbs or the nearby skyscrapers. New York City has more skyscrapers than any other city save Hong Kong."

"That's because Manhattan is an island," Benjamin said.

Zac replied, "There's more to it than that. Plenty of cities are on islands, but they don't have Manhattan's skyline. That skyline is a testament to the economic freedoms that existed here a century ago. Back then, governments respected property rights enough to let land owners build whatever they wanted on their land. That freedom make it possible for builders to meet the demand for working and living space by building as high as technology would allow. Iron and steel bended to people's will to make gigantic new habitats for them. When the Woolworth Building opened in 1913, it was the tallest inhabited building in the world. An article about it dubbed the building the Cathedral of Commerce."

Benjamin smiled at Zac. "Good point. So, what's the story behind the Empire State Building?"

Zac answered, "This building and the Chrysler building proved that even the Great Depression could not stop progress. In 1929, a race between the two started with their designs. They were competing to be the tallest building on Earth. Construction of the Empire State Building began in 1930. One year and 45 days later, the finished skyscraper stood at 1,250 feet. It remained the tallest building on the planet until the World Trade Center took that title in 1972." Zac looked skyward and continued. "As builders created more and more skyscrapers, technological innovation went hand in hand with market forces to satisfy ever greater demand for space. With those innovations and freedoms, New York City found room for millions of immigrants and generations of babies. When Americans needed more space, they colonized the sky. Do you know what Germans did when they thought they needed more living space? They invaded other countries and killed the Jews. I tell you, I'll take American values over European ones any day."

"I hear you on that," Benjamin agreed. Then he pointed several blocks north to a skyscraper that reached higher than their current location. "What's that building? I don't remember seeing it before."

"That's 432 Park Avenue," Zac said. "They topped it out already, and it should be finished in 2015. At 1,398 feet, it is currently the world's 15th tallest building. It's a condominium complex."

Benjamin whistled as he gazed at the tower. "Wow. Just imagine living in one of the top condos and seeing the view from there every day." Turning to Zac, he broached a delicate subject. "I need a bit of advice. You're bi, right?"

"No, I'm straight," Zac corrected.

"OK. Anyway. My friend, Patrick, is bisexual and married to a great woman who I've also befriended. I've been feeling romantic attraction towards him for years, but I don't know how to handle it. The last thing I want to go is have Patrick cheat on Francis with me. I thought ..." Benjamin tried to find the right words for his question. "You have two wives. How does a married man go about dating seriously and creating a group marriage?"

"Polyamory isn't for everyone," Zac warned. "You have to be careful of the feelings of all those involved. Make sure you get Francis's permission before you and Patrick date. Then go out with him. See if you two have romantic chemistry. It also is best if you have good chemistry with his wife."

"Francis and I have great chemistry," Benjamin assured him. "She's my baby mama, and we agree on many political topics. She's practically a libertarian when it comes to people's private lives."

"When do you think you might make your move?" Zac asked.

"My boss offered to transfer me to his Montreal office at the start of next year. My fondness for New York waned after Columbia U took my building. I'm ready for a change, so I accepted the transfer. I'll rent an apartment in the city and get to see Patrick and Francis every weekend. That will be a good time to see if we're right for something more than friendship."

"Good luck with that," Zac said as he shook Benjamin's hand. "We should do something big for New Years Eve, if that's your last day in the States."

"How about going to Times Square to watch the ball drop. I'll tell Isabella to get the whole gang together."

"I've got to run that plan by Elan and Parnella, but I'm sure they'll like the idea," Zac said. "It's getting a bit chilly. Do you want to head down?"

"Yeah. I should head home soon and get ready for the move," Benjamin said before they walked inside.



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 30



Jovita and Hanna strolled through the Metropolitan Museum of Art to the exhibit on Ancient Egypt. One the way there, Jovita expressed her excitement to Hanna. "Today, we're going to see the history of your ancestors."

Hanna gently disagreed, "My ancestors are Jewish, not Egyptian. The Met doesn't bother showing Jewish culture, because the Jews never established an empire."

"Well, at least there are Jewish museums to compensate for that omission. We can visit one of those another day," Jovita responded.

Burial objects from the beginning of human existence in the Nile Valley to the unification of Egypt 5,000 years ago greeted Jovita and Hanna when they reached the exhibit. The rooms of artifacts progressed chronologically through Egyptian history from there. Religious items from Egypt's Old Kingdom were followed by coffins from the Middle Kingdom. Jovita lingered by the household objects from 35 centuries ago in a room dedicated to the eighteenth dynasty. "Just imagine what it must have been like living at that time," she told Hanna.

"Given the demographics back then, we would probably be slaves or peasants if we lived in Ancient Egypt," Hanna said. "I think this was about the time that the Jews left Egypt for Israel."

Both women proceeded to a room with artwork from the twenty-sixth dynasty. The pieces remained Egyptian in nature even though they had been created during Persian rule over the nation. Two mummies and various funerary equipment represented Egypt under Greek rule. The exhibit ended with artifacts from Egypt under the Roman Empire after Cleopatra's death. The Greco-Roman influence on Egypt was visible in the most recent physical remains.

"Egypt certainly got conquered by many empires," Jovita observed.

"Yes," Hanna agreed. "The march of empires kept going through the Middle East over the centuries. After the Romans, there was the Byzantine Empire with a brief interlude of the Persian control. Next came the various Arab conquests and Ottoman rule. Neighboring Israel went through a similar history of colonization."

Jovita brushed Hanna's arm. "I think the Medieval art collection starts with Byzantine artifacts. Let's go there next."

Hanna followed her girlfriend to the exhibit on Medieval art. As expected, it began with secular and religious items from the Late Roman period to the end of the Byzantine Empire. The next space in the exhibit displayed stained glass windows, and items made of enamel, ivory, and precious metals. The Romanesque and Early Gothic styles fascinated Jovita. Hanna quelled her discomfort with the Christian symbolism around her so as not to upset her lover. Jovita considered the historical significance of the works before her. This was when Western civilization began. Nourished from roots in the Greco-Roman world and Ancient Israel, then developed in the womb of the Catholic Church, Western culture emerged on its own when the Latin Church separated from the East a thousand years ago. The artifacts before her reminded Jovita that, like Jewish culture, Western culture had a long unifying history.

Jovita and Hanna moved on to the Medieval Sculpture Hall. Designed to resemble a European church, it was filled with sculptures, tapestries, furniture, and altarpieces from the 14th and 15th Centuries that made Jovita consider her Christian heritage. Ever since her grandmother said that she was secretly Jewish two weeks ago, she had been struggling with her identity. Could she remain Catholic knowing that her lineage was really Jewish? Should she join the rich Jewish heritage that Hanna embraced? Until then, Jovita had always considered her Christianity to be a purely spiritual part of her life. The Christian objects before her reminded her that there is a cultural side to Christianity too. 

Products of the Renascence, Reformation, and Enlightenment were also her birthright as a Westerner. Just as Hanna had Moses and Maimonides, Jovita had Locke and Jefferson. Wasn't looking beyond accidents of birth a key principle in modern Western society? Did it really matter if her ancestors happened to be Jewish instead of Pagan?

Turning right, Jovita and Hanna came to a room of Gothic stained glass windows, illuminated manuscripts, and liturgical objects made from valuable materials. As Jovita sat on a bench looking at a stained glass depiction of Christ's entombment, she realized that Jesus' salvation did more that wipe ways sin. It cleared away tribal affiliation to create a unified humanity. Universalism was the West's gift to the world. It did not make sense to backtrack on it by letting her family origins cloud her dedication to Catholicism. Jovita concluded that she would embrace Western religion, history, and peoplehood just as Hanna held to Judaism. She turned to Hanna and said, "I'm ready to go now."

Hanna slid next to Jovita on the bench. "Good, because I'm getting weary." Then she looked more closely at her love. "You are positively glowing. That exhibit must have really moved you."

"More than I could put in words," Jovita said.

"Then I'm glad I shared it with you," Hanna told her. "Whatever is important to you is important to me."



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 31



Jovita got out of her cab at 15th Street and 10th Avenue and paid the driver. After a long day at work, she was going to meet Hanna for a very special evening. The stars above were barely visible thanks to the ambient Manhattan lights, but the beauty of the city buildings more than made up for the light pollution.

A scene across the street caught Jovita's attention. A man dressed in casual clothes leaned against a building on the street corner. As a Hasidic Jew passed buy, the man called out, "Perro!"

Infuriated, Jovita approached the man and told him in Spanish, "Si el es un perro, tu eres su perra."

Shocked that someone had understood him and confronted him, the man blushed and walked away. Jovita's back straightened with pride for having defended one of Hanna's people. Eagar to see her beloved, she climbed the stairs to the High Line.

An engineered elevated park greeted her at the top of the stairs. Once an abandoned railroad, the High Line now consisted of a 20 block linear landscape dotted with food carts and the occasional artist hawking his creation. Hanna had set up her table near the gelato cart. She smiled when she saw Jovita.

Jovita walked up to Hanna's table. "Happy Hanukkah. I hope you weren't waiting too long for me."

"Happy Hanukkah to you," Hanna responded. "The wait wasn't bad. I had to be here late anyway to sell as much as I could."

"How was business today?" Jovita asked.

"Good. There were many customers this week. They were probably buying last minute Hanukkah gifts," Hanna said. "How was your day?"

"Hectic," Jovita sighed. "Everyone's trying to figure out how the dropping oil prices will affect our investments. I came here directly from the office." Jovita put her briefcase on Hanna's table and let her shoulders sag.

Hanna pulled an piece from the back of her art collection and presented it to Jovita. "This should cheer you up. I made you a Hanukkah present." The calligraphy work had a grey background with white text on one side of the canvas and black text on the other side. The letters making up five verses were from the Hebrew, Greek, and Latin alphabets. Jovita could make out the Spanish and English in the last two verses, but the could not recognize the text of the earlier three verses. Hanna explained the gift. "It's a depiction of the first day of creation when Hashem separated light from darkness. The first verse is in Biblical Hebrew. Then comes a verse in Ancient Greek. Latin, Spanish, and English follow afterwards in that order. It represents the continuity from Ancient Judaism to modern American religions."

"It's gorgeous," Jovita declared. "How did you get the translations for the Greek, Latin, and Spanish?"

"It took about half an hour with bilingual dictionaries in the library, but it was worth it," Hanna said.

Jovita reached into her briefcase. "I got you something too." She pulled out a small wrapped present.

"Thanks," Hanna said as she opened the gift to reveal a CD. "Who's the musician?"

"It's the works of Tomas Luis de Victoria," Jovita replied. "He was a prolific composer from Renaissance Spain. It's choral music, so you can play it for your male guests without worrying about kol isha."

Hanna held the CD case lovingly. "That was very considerate of you." She opened the case and looked through the booklet inside to see the lyrics to the songs. The first song was entitled Sancta Maria, Succurre Miseris. The translation of the Latin contained a plea to the Virgin Mary to help the faint-hearted, mourners, the poor, the clergy, and religious women. After reading the Christian lyrics, Hanna paused to find a polite way to express her reaction. "Well, it certainly broadens my music collection."

Jovita moved closer to Hanna. "Speaking of broadening your tastes in music, do you want to come with me to see the Radio City Christmas Spectacular?"

"It's really not my thing," Hanna said. "I don't see how people can celebrate a religious holiday with dancing women high kicking their bare legs."

Jovita stood up for her libertine principles. "There's nothing wrong with admiring a woman's legs any time of the year. I love admiring your legs."

Placated by the compliment Hanna softened her tone. "Thanks. Now let's get these pieces back to my apartment and go ring shopping." Putting words to action, Hanna and Jovita lugged the remaining canvases and the table back down the stairs to the street. They took a cab to Hanna's flat and had it wait for them while they quickly dropped off everthing. Then they rode it up to the diamond district.

At the jewelry store, Hanna and Jovita kept touching each other with such giddy affection that their relationship status was obvious to the salesclerk. The store employee guided them to a counter with a plethora of engagement rings when they told her the purpose of their trip.

Hanna looked at the selection wide-eyed. She could hardly believe she was only a week away from getting engaged. One ring stood out to her. It had a modest central diamond surrounded by 6 smaller diamonds. Hanna asked to see it move closely. When the clerk gave it to her, she held it up for Jovita to see. "This is perfect," Hanna said. "It has seven diamonds to represent the seven Noahide Laws."

Inspired by the symbolism of Hanna's choice, Jovita picked a ring with a bold solitaire diamond. Pointing to it, she said, "This ring has one diamond to represent Universalism. I'll get it for you." Then she pressed her hand against Hanna's cheek. "When do you want the wedding?"

"Let's do it in June upstate. We'll find an outdoor location with plenty of flowers," Hanna suggested as she placed her hand over her lover's.

"That sounds wonderful," Jovita agreed. "You know, my suitcase is in your apartment already. Why don't I stay the night?"

"Oh a work night," Hanna exclaimed with mock surprise. "What time of life am I leading you into?"

"A very enjoyable one," Jovita replied. "I've got a few clean clothes in my draw at your place. Besides, I don't want to face the long trip to my place this late at night."

"OK," Hanna said. "It will be great sleeping with you again."

The excited women bought their purchases separately and placed them in their respective pockets. The cashier looked pleased at their happiness. Jovita kissed Hanna gently on the lips. Hanna responded with firm, demanding urgency. Jovita followed her lead, pressing ever harder. As their lips parted their tongues met in a passionate French kiss. "Perhaps you should continue your celebration in private," the saleswomen suggested. The ladies grinned as they headed for Hanna's home for a night of love making.



Derby Line Marriage Ch. 32



Hanna arrived a few minutes early to Rockefeller Center where she was supposed to meet Jovita. It was Christmas Eve, or as Hanna liked to call it Erev Christmas, and the famous Christmas tree was up in the plaza. Hanna looked at it as she thought about the change in her attitudes over the past year. A year ago, I wouldn't have looked twice at a Christmas tree. By this time next year, I'll be Jovita's wife and we'll be sure to have a tree in our home.

Opposing assimilation into America's Christian culture had always been a part of Hanna's identity as a Jew, but dating Jovita forced her to reconsider her positions. Now she looked at Christianity with new eyes. I love Jovita. I love every part of her, even her Catholicism. She is worth bringing Christianity into my home, worth confronting my parents to make them accept her, worth whatever it takes to make the relationship work. It was amazing how much Hanna had evolved in a matter of months.

A hug from behind interrupted Hanna's thoughts. Jovita spoke into her ear, "Merry Christmas, baby."

"Merry Christmas," Hanna responded as she turned around. The women rubbed their noses together affectionately. "How was your trip up here?"

"Uneventful," Jovita said. "The subways are mostly empty on Christmas."

"So are the movie theaters and Chinese restaurants," Hanna said. Then she realized that she won't be patronizing either of those places on future Christmas's. She'll be at home celebrating the holiday with Jovita. She felt strangely comfortable with that trade off. Hanna put her arms around her girlfriend's neck. "Are you ready to exchange rings?"

"Not yet," said Jovita. "I want to go ice skating with you first." Jovita lead Hanna to the booth to rent ice skates. In short order, they donned the skates and went out on the rink. Children in the center of the rink were learning to skate for the first time. Some novice adults were a bit further out. The most skilled skaters circled the perimeter of the ice. Lone skaters zipped by without a word to the people they passed. Couples skated hand in hand as they spoke to each other about their days. Jovita and Hanna joined the count of couples on the rink.

After several minutes of casual chit chatting, Jovita and Hanna silently enjoyed the time together. Hanna noticed that although New York City was very blue, she and Jovita were the only same-sex couple skating there. Hanna felt lucky that she lived in a place where people accepted her sexual preference. She was able to marry a woman now that same-sex marriages were legal in New York State. Even New Jersey had same-sex marriages.

How odd it seemed to Hanna that that dating a woman would be acceptable but dating a Catholic would require a fight with her family. Of course, mom and dad were concerned about how I would raise their grandchildren. They wanted to make sure that their faith got passed on. I guess that being a lesbian works to my advantage in that department. My children won't be mixed kids who need to choose an identity from the two halves of their family. They will be 100% mine and completely Jewish from birth on. They will learn tolerance and coexistence from growing up in a household with Jovita and her children.

Jovita and Hanna followed the ice skating with treats at a nearby French bakery. Sitting at a table with cookies and hot chocolate, they discussed plans for the future. Hanna broached the subject of moving out of the city. "We can rent a good-sized apartment for a reasonable price in Jersey City after the wedding. It will be a quick PATH ride to your office," she said.

Jovita looked concerned over the idea. "That works for me, but what about you? How will you manage transporting all your canvases on the PATH to sell them in the city?"

"I checked Google Maps. There are a few art galleries near Exchange Place. It's time I graduated from a table to a gallery anyway," Hanna assured her.

Jovita warmed up to the idea. "I would love to live along the waterfront and see the Manhattan skyline every day." Then her heart sunk a bit. "What about the schools? Jersey City isn't known for having good public schools."

"I assumed our kids would go to parochial school," Hanna said.

"Can you imagine kids with two mommies at a Catholic school or an Orthodox day school? They wouldn't exactly fit in there," Jovita pointed out.

Hanna was crestfallen. She realized that an Orthodox day school would not look favorably on an interfaith couple either. It was relatively easy to be lesbian and Orthodox when it was just her, but adding kids to the combination make things much harder. "Public school might be best," she reluctantly concluded. "Kids are a few years away. We can rent in Jersey City for a year while we look for a house in a good school district."

Once they finished their cookies and drinks, Hanna placed her ring box on the table. Jovita looked down at it with a slight frown. She knew there was something she had to tell Hanna before they got engaged. "Hanna..." she started.

"Yes?" Hanna replied encouragingly.

"I have news for you before we exchange rings," Jovita said. "I don't know how to tell it to you."

"I love you no matter what. Just spit it out," Hanna told her.

Jovita ploughed through with the information. "On Thanksgiving, my grandmother spoke to me in the kitchen while you weren't there. She said that my family is secretly Jewish. They've kept their faith hidden ever since the Jews got expelled from Spain."

Hanna was overjoyed at the news. "That means we're both Jewish. This will make us being married so much easier. My parents will love to hear what you told me. My whole family will embrace you now without any argument. When a family is Jewish, they stay Jewish, no mater how many centuries they spend following another religion. We can even send our kids to the same Jewish day school. Orthodox day schools might not welcome kids from a lesbian couple, but we can find a traditional Conservative day school to send them too."

Jovita interrupted Hanna's reverie. "I'm not Jewish. My lineage is Jewish. It's just my ethnicity. I'm still Catholic," she insisted. "There is no way I'm going to start following all the rules you follow."

"That won't work," Hanna said as her heart moved up her throat. "It's one thing to live with a non-Jew, but it's much more difficult to live with an unobservant Jew. Just take Shabbat as one example. If you turn on a light during Shabbat, I'll have to leave the room to avoid using it. When a Jew violates Shabbat, I'm not allowed to benefit from that transgression in any way."

"Turning on a light is not sinful," Jovita said angrily.

The tone of Jovita's voice silenced Hanna, but she thought, It is to me.

Jovita continued with her response. "I've been very tolerant throughout our relationship, but now you are asking too much. I'm not going to start worrying about rules every time I eat or let an outdated calendar decide when I'm allowed or not allowed to do things. I'm definitely not giving up Jesus for you. This relationship is over." Before Hanna could respond, Jovita got up and walked away. She did not look back once.

Hanna sat alone with tears welling up inside her. Did she ever realize the things I was tolerating? Going to mass, yielding on the Noahide Laws, even getting ready to have a Christmas tree in the home and send my kids to public school. Then there were all those lectures on Capitalism that I sat through. How could she not see that the tolerance was mutual?

Tears burst out as Hanna considered the ramifications of her ended relationship with Jovita. She had alienated her close family by defending the interfaith romance. Now Jovita was gone, and she had nothing to show for the damage she did to those relationships. Crying into a napkin, Hanna felt with dismay that she was alone, completely alone.