0 comments/  8352 views/  2 favorites

Hectic!

By: RetMarut



Almost 30 years have passed! A chance comic encounter with Irene Regan, a former lover, and memories consigned to Sidney Cuniff's mental attic tumble into the present. These escaped escapades assemble at his feet. Given their unplanned resurrection, he unsurprisingly finds himself reliving vicariously: 

*

The divergence between Sidney Cuniff and Beryl Lind was tricky. No, twisty.

Perhaps had he been upfront at some point about Irene Regan their course of events might've been simpler and clear-cut. Instead what they once shared lingered improperly resolved over miles and years.

Having shared intimacy with Beryl, "nefarious" was not one of the attributes he'd ascribed to her. He saw her in mostly complimentary terms. Fortunately for him she never had an inkling of his liaisons with Irene. Because if Beryl had known then surely what eventually transpired never would've occurred. 

In real life, that was. Certainly in the letters sections of men's magazines. Still, though, even the densest frat brother knew those stories were churned out in formulaic and assembly-line fashion. 

Cuniff decided late on that fate, love and trust had coincided. Beryl wasn't using the occasion to discomfort nor intimidate him. Rather, taking an extensive now educated view, her gesture, as magnanimous as he'd ever heard or seen, proved the extent of her affection. Had he been less self-absorbed -- far less self-absorbed -- Cuniff would've recognized it and hurried to reciprocate, therefore solidifying their union.

While he grasped all the implications eventually, he acknowledged never possibly being man enough to abide such unquestioning belief. 

Cuniff achieved sexual and emotional equilibrium between Beryl and Irene. His justification's perfection satisfied him almost as much as the girls' actual complementary charms. 

Approaching that time of semester, Beryl grilled Cuniff about his previous Spring Break. He could've spilled completely, but had no desire to undergo any thoroughly subsequent interrogations. Sparing himself, Cuniff told Beryl he'd wasted the week away in Matzalan, a little resort town on the Mexican Pacific Coast. In reality, he'd spent much of that week bedding the woman whose guidance refined his urges, the same which Beryl and Irene enjoyed. 

If Cuniff needed to keep Irene secret, no way he'd reveal ... Beryl might've parsed those interludes down to their molecular structure. Then he knew she would've culminated her auto de sexo by asking who the better of the two.

Any answer would've been unsatisfactory. 

One early evening a few weeks before Spring Break 1979, Cuniff accompanied Beryl to the university's main library. These were rare occasions. Not his visiting the library, but going with her.

An essay was due. She absolutely required tranquility in order to write. As dead as he found a women's dorm during the week, she believed hers still had too much vibrancy. Beryl's academic struggles in a men's dorm surely would've made her skull explode. 

Ordinarily, Cuniff simply borrowed books from this library. He didn't even bother haunting the stacks in search of sweet-looking susceptible betties. 

Tonight, though, a rare convergence. "Triumph of the Will" had recently been screened in his Language of Film class. Impressed by the primitive propaganda, he scoured the shelves for writings about Leni Riefenstahl, the movie's director. 

Through cursory reading, Cuniff learned the old Nazi had evaded major post-war punishment. In spite of having been in bed with the regime's high mucks, the director confessed to nothing. Or as Cuniff saw it she used the "piano player in the whorehouse" dodge. 

Leni Riefenstahl had it right. When confronted by the facts deny everything! That often worked. It certainly did in her case. If she hadn't been an old Nazi who'd escaped serious reprimand, he might've admired her bald-faced lying as much as her work. 

Cuniff knew Beryl would be holding down a table. He looked to demonstrate some diligence by keeping her company as well as separate Leni the artist from Riefensthal the fascist from the white-haired old lady who late in life became an advocate of animist sub-Saharan African tribes.

Somehow his inquisitiveness deviated into asking why the truly bad usually sought atonement for their misdeeds through prodigious botany or championing less advanced cultures. Oh, how Keyworth, Cuniff's professor, would cream over that theoretical switchback!

Their conversation sotto voce under color draining fluorescent lamps, Beryl suggested they take a driving excursion along the California Coast, from San Francisco to Los Angeles. Monterey, Carmel, the whole Pacific Coast Highway actually, particularly interested her.

He liked the idea. Over a year in the West and Cuniff had yet seen the Pacific. Besides, seeing Hearst Castle in San Simeon ought have clarified some questions he had about the movie "Citizen Kane." The vistas around Carmel were said to have been dramatic. Also, six nights with Beryl. 

Unlike the spontaneity Irene presented him, sex with Beryl was too regulated. Mood seldom struck. The time always had to be right. The loosely structured approaching vacation week should've opened opportunity aplenty for them to indulge in mindless, feckless sex play. 

Only after he wholeheartedly endorsed the road trip did Beryl mention Coral. She didn't pop his balloon, though rude fingers on its surface sure emitted skin-crawling squeaks. 

"Beryl, darling, why do you want to bring Coral along?"

"You don't want her to come?"

"I see it as a time we can have all to ourselves," Cuniff said. "We won't have to be nice, kowtow or accommodate anybody else. We can be alone and do what we want when we want without worrying about maybe inconveniencing others. We can be selfish with each other."

Beryl owned an uncanny knack for shredding his solid reasoning.

"You mean we can stay naked a lot longer after we fool around that much more," she said.

"Well, there's that, too."

"Sid, right now chocolate wouldn't melt in your mouth."

Cuniff slid fingers into the notch between the folds of Beryl's shorts. She carefully glanced around. They faced the second floor stacks. Behind them a picture window filled by a lighted Arizona Stadium. She reflexively clamped her thighs together. 

"Give me two minutes I'll make this melt 22 times in my mouth," Cuniff said. 

Beryl bolted upright. 

"C'mon, baby," Cuniff cooed. "Let me be your 60 Minute Man."

The refrain from an old entendre-laden tune forced her to stifle a snigger. One big snigger. While her upper torso remained straight, Cuniff's below-the-belt fingering made her wriggle. 

"Aye!" he said. "There's the rub!"

A brittle trill running through her voice, Beryl said, "Fuck, Sid, I'm gonna --"

" -- Scream!?" Cuniff answered.

Her inner impropriety alarm must've rung because as much as she obviously enjoyed Cuniff's manipulations, the frisson increased thanks to their public exposure, Beryl forcefully concluded the session. Using both hands, she clutched his pleasuring hand's wrist. Drawing every reserve of Swede farm girl strength, Beryl dredged his appendage from her lap. His resistance more for show than effort, she still struggled. Beryl thumped his forearm on the table. After looking around once more, a clear coast allowed Beryl to perform a most unlady-like shimmy in her shorts.

Cuniff asked, "Are your nipples hard? Mine are."

"No doubt," Beryl sighed, unbunching her clothing. 

"We ought to give these books a break and find an unoccupied bed someplace," Cuniff said. "What luck! I happen to know of one that's close by. C'mon, Beryl, you know how I like to see your --"

Beryl knew exactly what he liked to see. Her widening eyes and tightening mouth shushed him. He gave the amorous stuff a rest. His face sloughed off its wolfish cast. He hoped it settled into one that appeared at least mildly interested. Cuniff weaved his fingers behind his head and leaned back in the seat. 

He conceded the conversation to Beryl. Eagerness replaced her perturbation. 

"I know it's an imposition having Coral come along," she said. "I wouldn't insist if I thought all it'd do was piss you off." 

"I'm not pissed off," Cuniff said. "The week should be ours, is all. Ours alone. Hitting the Coast is a perfect suggestion you skewer by including Coral. If she wants to see the Pacific, fine. There must be some guy who wants to go, who's looking for some chick to go with. You and I, we put our heads together, we can find him, pair them up, then go our own way."

"It's that simple, huh?"

"That's linear thinking," Cuniff said. 

Beryl slid her hand into his crotch. His shorts were baggy. She deftly managed finding his cock among the confining folds. Alone the pressure of her palm was enough. Her teasing strokes elicited one big Pavlovian response. 

"This is an entirely girly answer," Beryl said. "I need you to do something you wouldn't understand now because doing so later will prove how much you would do for me."

"That's convoluted, isn't it?" Cuniff asked.

She pled in an insinuating tone. "Do this, Sid, and the result will be reciprocal. I will be grateful. I promise."

Cuniff pondered while she kneaded his joint. Beryl had done much for him and been much as well. Mostly a challenge. Until tonight the adjective "grateful" had enjoyed little currency between them. What was her ulterior motive? Oh, yes, there must've been one. She wouldn't simply drop Coral on him out of goodness, mercy and kindness. Coral was clutter. Beryl functioned in a precise calculated manner. That was the kind of discipline which should've been exploited at the track and various games of chance.

Now his curiosity was engaged. Cuniff wondered about the urgency behind Coral's incipient third-wheel-hood. Beryl had to have known his agreeing would make her beholden to him. Her stroking blurred all the angles.

Absently, his regret vague, Cuniff approved. 

Beryl ceased working his meat over and kissed him. Not a cheek peck, but one full on the mouth passion exchange. This gesture further raised his suspicions. Beryl was not into such overt displays of affection. Especially in a site as holy as the library. 

Nonetheless she piqued his interest as well as tented his pants.

Roomy as Beryl's car was Cuniff couldn't quite shake how the three of them crowded it. While he drove the lions share through Southwest voids, Beryl and Coral navigated city lanes.

Coral's was a chirpy presence. She prattled incessantly. Funny thing was Beryl kept pace. Until the radio signals faded, ceding the dial to country/western or religious stations, he heard them as competition against music. Yet once appreciable reception weakened, their diversion became relief.

Listening as closely as he did, Cuniff still failed making heads or tails of their references. To him theirs was a plain language code whose simple key lay maddeningly just beyond his reach.

While his time behind the wheel mounted, Beryl started spending more and more miles sprawled in the back seat. Glimpses of her were becoming rarer. Maybe if he craned his neck and canted sight he might spy her wind-blown auburn curls and mystery-laden placid expression. Otherwise there was only Coral's constant being beside him. Whenever his eyes swept the three mirrors (to break the asphalt's hypnotic effect), Coral's sight always seemed leveled on him.

The frequency discounted coincidence. After some several hundred miles Cuniff realized he was Coral's focus. Any more blatantly and she would've been staring. On one hand, her insistence should've creeped him out. On the other, Cuniff was a 20-year-old man -- women making him the center of their universes was his due by dint of everything masculine. 

Naturally that last self-serving observation kept him from sharing his realization with Beryl. Somehow he knew she'd take offense at being just another satellite orbiting his sun. 

Since Cuniff "endured" hundreds of miles of Coral (mostly in three-quarters profile), he used the long seating to really appraise her. Over miles her lively face, one framed by light brown bangs, became less goggle-eyed. Instead, he gauged an appealing brightness and liveliness, behind which burned piercing expectation.

Coral's mouth was small, her lower lip fuller than the top. He bet her lips would be sweetly responsive slivers to an attentive man. Especially one with thick lips such as his own. Several times his gaze lingered longer than both knew necessary and she blushed lightly, her mouth's corners twisting into intricate curlicues. 

In spite of himself he met Coral's smile.

A generally northwestern blaze through Arizona, Las Vegas, the Mojave and Central Valley poured them into San Francisco. Spending two nights in Vegas, they indulged in a truncated Rat Pack crawl along the Strip, making poor people's bets in the Flamingo and at the Frontier, then enduring cheesy lounge acts at the MGM Grand. For true ring-a-ding-ding splendor, they nursed drinks while swapping excitement as the city boldly twinkled below them from atop the Sands' rooftop revolving bar.

To each person, Vegas failed lasting long enough.

The Mojave did not broil in March. Indeed, conditions were such that an inversion sealed cool and fog against the desert floor. 

Endless verdancy aside, the Central Valley held little appeal for Cuniff. He wasn't an Aggie and agriculture bored him. Besides, he'd seen more than his fill of companeros in Eloy, a town astride the Interstate between Tucson and Phoenix. Whether the crop cotton, pistachios or now in California, vegetables, he knew the back-breaking, hand-wrenching toil hard yet badly compensated. 

One absolute about Northeastern elementary and secondary schools -- there were always overly conscientious teachers who spared little guilt while illustrating the relative privileges of their students' lives. Their kvetching was well meant. As utmost professional agitators, um, educators, as they were, most, if at all possible, would've fed students chunks of "Let Us Now Praise Famous Men" intravenously.

It was seldom enough to read "The Grapes of Wrath" when a petitioner from Cesar Chavez' organization could be procured to lead the class in a discussion concerning the plight of current migrant workers.

Of course Cuniff loved table grapes.

San Francisco wasn't New York but Boston squeezed onto a smaller Left Coast landspit. With the girls along there wasn't any visit to the Mitchell Brothers theater. With the girls along there was one unsteadying sojourn through the Castro District. Believing himself secure enough in his manhood, Cuniff still lacked exhibiting the total indifference required while being perused and cruised by gays. 

Funny thing was men objectifying Cuniff raised his estimation in Beryl's eyes. Coral chimed in, calling him "a pretty man." A being of all surface, Coral possessed no sense of drollery. He accepted her bald statement for what it was: a bald compliment.

The Pacific Coast Highway was the only way they considered going south. Sure, blasting along I-5 would've been faster, but Coral wanted to see Pebble Beach -- who knew she liked golf? -- Beryl a winery and 17-Mile Drive, while Cuniff's goal waited in San Simeon. 

In San Francisco they fulfilled the touristy circuit. Coit Tower. Lombard Street. Drinky-poohs at the St. Regis. Sourdough bread and chocolates in Ghiaridelli Square, eating the day's catch on Fisherman's Wharf. Cuniff knew from New York that these venues mostly the province of out-of-towners like themselves. He wondered if the locals were numb to them like he was to the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty. Although he lived barely half an hour distant from both, Cuniff had yet ever visited the observation deck or sail to Liberty Island. 

And skate at the Rockefeller Center ice rink -- forget it!

Such absences conferred echt New Yorker status, no? 

Fortunately, Beryl and Coral toted along their cameras. Back in Tucson, the results weren't brilliant but after reflection touching.

Aboard an Alcatraz Island tour boat, Coral had snapped several of him and Beryl. The deep blue of the bay further drew the color in Beryl's face that the morning's chilly breeze stirred. She wore a contented smile, her eyes warm. Frozen in the photograph her wind-whipped hair became lustrous under the bright sun.

It was the most beautiful Cuniff had ever seen her. He should've told her then. Afterwards, after seeing Coral's results, he ought to have again. Yet such were their power, combined with the trip's latter phantasmagoria, that he reluctantly withheld the effusion. Emotion and an unspoken though nonetheless imposed feeling of obligation might've transformed his simple declaration into one ambivalent claim of love.

Cuniff could not speak the words because he did not believe them. Having Irene Regan on the sly proved that. Still, in his later years when the chosen course stopped looking so sure, Cuniff unearthed and gazed upon that perfect frozen moment before taste succumbed to male gluttony.

Until San Simeon, sleeping arrangements were tolerable. Seeing themselves worldly enough, Cuniff and Beryl shared one bed, while Coral sprawled in the room's other. The miracle behind America's hospitality industry assured those beds would always be queen-sized twins, the gap between them ample enough to muddle his and hers bundling or frottage. 

After all the communal screwing he'd done at Stennerson's, Cuniff found it odd to be so solicitous of Coral's propriety. He worried she'd view their intimacies as inconsiderate. Or worse, mistake them for instances of blithe abandonment. Her lack of suitors was the biggest reason Beryl insisted having Coral accompany them. She didn't want Coral moping around a pretty devoid campus during Spring Break. Watching or hearing them carry on might've made them all regret Beryl's kindness. 

When clothed friction just wouldn't suffice, Cuniff and Beryl maneuvered themselves into positions whose efforts emitted as little noise as possible while exacting the greatest amount of pleasure. Excruciating and ridiculous, it was all the pair could do not to curse or laugh aloud at their plight. 

Thankfully after her first rugby party Beryl never returned to Stennerson's. Drunkenness nor brutish behavior kept her away, but the sheer excessive frivolity of those bacchanals. She believed the dissipation witnessed that night could only have been exceeded by what remained unseen. 

As Beryl often told him she had quite an imagination.

How he didn't flatten that claim by cluing her in Cuniff never knew. Obviously some part of her didn't want him wallowing at party central. However, Beryl must've also reasoned that demanding his curtailment in those social spectacles might certainly have been seen by him as her intrusion. 

Nonetheless had she asked Cuniff would've complied. Yet his subsequent attempts at not resenting her would surely have strained both. In the end her "outta sight, outta mind" stance diluted their likely discord. 

Different than Irene's or any girl he made at Stennerson's, Beryl's love-making wasn't demonstrative. No great yelps of passion from Beryl. Her limbs didn't thrash. Cuniff liked how she took him. She lost herself in his exertions, transported to places he'd only suspect, transformed behind closed eyes and dreamy expressions.

Often Beryl's palms and fingers completed soft circuits of his tensed shoulders and arms. Through this contact along his contour she not only acknowledged his presence but also subtly directed him.

In San Simeon, Beryl introduced an unexpected variable. At first Cuniff saw it as an ingenious device by which she hoped to expose his indiscriminate bed-hopping at Stennerson's, as well as his more passionate rampings with Irene. Ultimately Cuniff concluded Beryl's machinations were from immense empathy, not sinister motives. 


Hectic!



Only one bed in San Simeon. It never occurred to Cuniff to query Beryl about this circumstance. After all, her credit card financed this trip's lodging. He assumed the motel had exhausted its supply of rooms with double beds. 

The likelihood of Cuniff pulling up some floor for a night didn't bother him in the least. More than one rugby road trip in the past had required his stretching out there. Better to crowd as many players as necessary in as few rooms as possible and use the savings for beer.

That night, Hearst Castle having been partially toured during the day, resulting in his merrily riffing a somewhat confused Beryl and Coral with dialogue from "Citizen Kane," Cuniff believed he couldn't have been more chipper. When Beryl broke out one of her winery purchases, then her stash, an already fine moment further improved. 

Coral supplied rolling papers.

Anticipation adding conviviality they chatted amiably while Coral cleaned a small mound of grass. Her nimble fingers eliminated stalks and seeds in no time. She rolled three tight bones whose perfection reflected Cheech & Chong artistry.

Golf, now this own-rolled craftsmanship! Was there any end to the surprises Coral yielded?

Before sparking up, Beryl uncorked the Zinfandel. Cuniff knew beer, not wine. When the girls complimented the vintage, he gladly chipped in his own two uninformed cents.

Beryl refilled their plastic cups. Coral lit the first bone and took a huge toke. Seconds later she expelled one stoner-sized plume. She passed the dutchie to Beryl, whose indulgence was comparatively lady-like. Cuniff's own drag wasn't greedy at all. Coral smoked the remaining half down into a roach.

Only dope etiquette kept Cuniff from remarking on Coral's bogarting the joint. Besides, a certain lassitude started overcoming him. 

After expelling another mushroom cloud, Coral pinched the remainder against his lips. Cuniff puckered up and inhaled until she deposited gray crumbs in an ashtray. 

He complimented Beryl on her cheeba. She told him of its provenance, carrying on as if it were primo shit. Apparently she, Coral and other members of her dorm had hooked up a dealer whose wares were commensurate with their budgets. The way Beryl spoke, and Coral backed her, affirmed frequency as well as familiarity. 

Man! What didn't he know about Beryl!? Between classes, library, labs and him, when did she find time to kick back and mellow out? And her dealer, what did she really know about her dealer? It nagged him. It was all too pat. He smelled entrapment. Not campus cops but TPD or DPS. 

Cuniff got a hold of himself. He tamped down his mounting paranoia. Strange. Many guys in his dorm had similar easy connections yet their circumstances never led to the Gestapo. 

Maybe because this time it was his girl. If he ever worried about dormmates getting busted, it was news to him. This and Irene. Perhaps Beryl found time to get recreationally stoned because during those same periods he likely fucked Irene. Did one craving permit the other?

Coral sparked up the second joint. She hit it hard then passed around to Cuniff. He declined.

"Sometimes it's a troublesome thing doin' a doob with your girl," Cuniff said. 

He saw that Beryl had an intimation but nothing solid on which to base any conjecture. Even under higher consciousness Cuniff recognized her expression. Beryl took the bone Coral offered and toked thoughtfully. 

In the end it appeared willful ignorance won out over having him explain. Cuniff was grateful.

Another reason he should've loved Beryl.

His organic intake, meager as it was, the wine, the exhilarating tour of Hearst Castle, all suddenly fell upon him. He needed to crash. They quickly rebuffed his selection of floor space. Both insisted he lay in bed. 

Had he been straight, his modesty still would've sounded odd. Cuniff saw that the sleeping arrangement might be "awkward."

"Don't be ridiculous," Coral said.

He required little prompting. Cuniff grabbed pajama bottoms from his suitcase and entered the bathroom. Mechanically he changed clothes. Stepping back into the room, sneakers in one hand, clothes in the other, Coral and Beryl eyed him. Especially the former whose first reaction to seeing him bare-chested and lightly-girded neared incandescence. 

Cuniff wondered if she were capable of smoldering. Ever?

Stowing clothes and footwear, Cuniff kissed Beryl good-night. Spoken words sufficed for Coral. Settling onto the mattress, their mild chatter, the aroma of okay though not primo grass, eased him into sleep.

Some restful time later Beryl woke Cuniff. Actually she coaxed him from slumber. He figured his snoring must've irritated them. 

A low-set lamp on the dresser lit the room dimly. Beryl perched on the bed's edge. She leaned close to him. Her fingers ruffled his chest hair or circled and flicked his nipples. 

Senses restored, Cuniff felt Coral's back pressed against him. She wasn't much of a presence. That was compared to Beryl. Or even Irene. 

Cuniff turned his attention on Beryl. She was dressed as if for an excursion. Both the bedside clock and the room window confirmed many hours yet before dawn. He became alarmed, worried an emergency had occurred. Whatever lethargy remained fled him. They conversed in low urgent voices.

"Nothing's wrong," Beryl answered.

"What did you do?" he asked. "Sleep dress?"

Beryl's face conveyed purpose. Cuniff liked when she had an urgent matter to share. Her features became pointed, eyes unwavering. Her voice found a timbre which compelled him to listen.

She was direct. If Beryl were capable of artifice, she seldom expended it upon him. She leaned closer, whispering in his ear away from Coral. 

"Sid, this is complicated, maybe even confusing. I need you to do something for us."

He agreed too readily for her liking.

"No. Not just us, 'you and me' us, but 'us' including Coral."

Cuniff hadn't known an "us" which also consisted of Coral.

Beryl spoke succinctly. Her explanation had the clipped swiftness of someone who'd not only rehearsed -- exhaustively -- but had foreseen any sharp rhetorical angles and already rounded them off. Her request was decisive, though not so clear-cut.

Beryl pitched one simple premise: Coral was mad about him -- her ga-ga boundless.

While hearing this further inflated his ego, Cuniff wondered why it was necessary to rouse and tell him at so early an hour. By the way what was Beryl doing dressed? She looked ready to walk the remaining two-thirds of Hearst Castle. 

The short pause before her explanation should've been the sole clue he needed. Beryl used it to gather herself, make certain her convictions were solid, then assure herself she possessed sustaining thrust. 

"Sid, she adores you. She talks about you all the time. She talks about you like I wish I could. If it weren't for me, she'd be on the way to loving you. I almost can't stand it."

Awake now, Beryl's fast and furious revelations knocked Cuniff off-kilter. For all their chatter, the sidelong glances, the longing stares, the girls had done a great job of keeping him in the dark. 

Then Cuniff stepped back. He wondered if this were a set-up, a lure to make him admit Irene. His suspicion fermented. 

"What can't you stand?" Cuniff asked.

"I hate to say this," Beryl said, "but how she nearly worships you. My god, it disgusts me! Oh, if she could, Sid, Coral would fawn all over you."

"I could stand the extra adulation."

"You'd be damned insufferable. Two women attending you would make you impossible." 

He let the moment stretch before answering. "You might think that."

"I know so!" Beryl said.

One slow nod from Cuniff acknowledged her declaration. "I can only hope you never find out." 

How Beryl replied would establish their future. He prepared himself for confrontation. Should she accuse him and provide evidence, Cuniff was ready to confess. Yes, it would be painful. However, he saw denying and lying to Beryl as worse. Like most men's minds, his could hold opposing views. As did other men who shared his catbird seat. To the uncomprehending or altogether obtuse any rationalizing might sound selfish. Indulgent. 

Young as Cuniff was facetiousness ruled where cynicism would later bloom. 

Pure and simple, Irene was great sex. Beyond that his concerns for or about her were negligible. Cuniff esteemed Beryl. Her character, her quirks, attracted him. She had a clarity which challenged him. At no time during their relations did he ever feel she depended on him. Of course she was drawn to Cuniff, though not cloyingly so. The bargain required his contending with her whole person. Beryl wasn't going to submerge any portion of herself to retain him. 

Frankly if she hadn't been such a powerful woman he would've consciously or subconsciously tried swaying her to his whims. Whatever its form, Cuniff respected strength.

He readied himself for her blow. He expected lacerating words. Anger, hers, entirely justified, would shame him. Beryl was far stronger than he imagined.

"I can't stand it!" she said. "She actually aches for you! Sid, that should be me. It should be my heart going through all those contortions. Forgive me."

Cuniff's surprise was honest. "What do you have to be sorry for?"

"Because I'm not like that," Beryl said. "I can't be like that. I won't be like that. I care the world for you. I will go to any lengths for you I'd deny myself. But Sid, I just can't get caught up and lost in you like Coral." 

Relieved and accepting himself off any hooks, that his assignations with Irene remained outside Beryl's view, Cuniff turned to subduing her regret. A two-prong problem, he first sought to dispel her contention of insufficient passion. However, Beryl jumped to the second matter before he made cooing sounds about the first.

Coral.

Beryl had doped it all out. For the three of them. A solution so slick it came wrapped in Y-chromosomes. Had Beryl been a guy, Cuniff might've congratulated him on reducing one tricky, twisty question to its basic swerve.

She had something to prove. To herself. Beryl also believed it necessary to fulfill Coral's canyon-wide desire. What she suggested and intended implementing tonight absolutely confirmed to Cuniff how infinitely stronger females were than males. 

"You want me to -- " Cuniff started.

" -- Yes. Sleep with Coral," Beryl finished. 

Her plea was too pat. In the wild he would've perked up his ears and sniffed the wind. Fortunately, Beryl misread his caginess for reluctance. She lowered Cuniff's guard.

"We've talked about it," Beryl said. "You cannot imagine the understatement behind my saying she's all for it. These last few days I'm surprised she's been able to stay in her skin."

Which of course explained why Coral eyed him like a hungry dog would a plate of pork chops. Should he have been indignant? Cool reckoning erased such foolishness. 

Instead, Cuniff had a chutzpah stroke of warped genius.

"Don't you think you should've consulted me? What if I decline? What if I don't feel right about it?"

This feigned concern almost made him laugh.

Beryl teased his phony earnestness. Without shifting her gaze off Cuniff's face, she reached into his pajamas and tugged his member.

"You're right," she said. "I ignored your say-so in this. But let me be selfish and impose on you. This will be one of the most significant things I will ever ask you. Do it, I'll know I can depend on you for anything. Besides, afterwards Coral keeps telling me how good you are, reminding me how great I have it."

Beryl's reasoning was smooth. He couldn't decide who or what she stroked the best.

Not wanting to overplay "Mister Sensitive Male," Cuniff simply agreed. Deal sealed, Beryl gave him a playfully reassuring squeeze, withdrew her hand, and kissed his cheek. She stood, her impetus lifting him off the bed. They huddled at the room door.

Pressed tight together, Beryl's voice took on an urgency.

"Sid, this is just a one-shot. I swear I will never again loan you out to service needy women."

Ruefully, he stated, "I'll be all yours."

"All mine," she emphasized.

Beryl tilted her face towards his. They embraced, their subsequent kisses deep and lingering. Separating, Beryl cast her eyes on the floor. Before he fumbled with the doorknob, she glanced back up at him. 

"Oh, yeah, Sid, two important things -- I left rubbers by the phone and no giving her 'this.' Got it?"

In a marvelously vulgar gesture, Beryl demonstrated the forbidden. She spread index and middle fingers, turned the tips up, raised them to her mouth, then flicked her tongue wildly between the gap. 

Serious as Beryl was, both sniggered nonetheless. He opened the door. He heard the jingle of car keys. She slid out into the night. The door secure behind him, Cuniff turned to ponder Coral's recumbent form.

Had he ever desired Coral, this opportunity never would've arrived. Since he wanted no part of her, there she was all his. Several days ago back in Vegas she'd inadvertently tweaked his interest.

Coral had just stepped out of the shower. A thin floral-patterned robe covered her. Despite toweling off, condensation adhered the slight material against her skin. Beneficiary of good eyesight, this condition failed taxing his imagination.

Now thoroughly informed and reviewing the scene, Cuniff wondered if it had been a contrivance.

The garment clinging to her as such, Coral somehow performed a great deal of calisthenics around him. She made her activity impossible to avoid. One particular memory from their encounter: when Coral bent over in front of him, garment glued against her flanks and buttocks, petals collecting at her coccyx neatly bisected her narrow behind. 

For an idle instant, Cuniff envisioned himself biting that "bouquet." He recognized instinct. Fortunately that was one Wild Kingdom move he let pass. Good thing or else maybe Beryl might've accused him of anticipatory favor-skinning; prematurely acting before being properly bidden. 

Reverie ended, Cuniff walked to the bed. He settled himself across from where Coral reclined. Unfortunately there wasn't any protocol for this event. Cuniff spoke normally.

"We tried talking as softly as possible. How much did you hear?"

Coral opened her eyes. They were luminous and lighted her entire face.

"Everything. Until you went to the door."

"Let me be truthful," Cuniff said. "This is awkward."

She rolled on her side and faced him. "Sid, if I really thought about my behavior, I'd probably be embarrassed. The only thing keeping from being ashamed is that you are such a pretty man. If I have to pay with humiliation, I say I'm getting off cheap. It's one thing to lust after boys. I don't know how many times I've done that just walking between classes. Very involved daydreaming, I guess." 

"We all have those thoughts," Cuniff said.

"Nobody I know turns around and says, 'I will do what I must to get him,'" Coral said. " 'Or her.' That's psychotic, isn't it?"

He laughed. "Maybe a little excessive. Psychotic, though, no. Unless you have an ax hidden over there somewhere."

His swipe at humor missed. Painful honesty inflamed Coral.

"You know I don't love you," she said. "Not like Beryl does. She must. She must love and trust you. I can't imagine being her and have someone like me come up with something as nuts as this -- then agreeing to it! That's crazy! Unbelievable! Fantastic!" 

"I know," Cuniff said. 

"I don't love you," Coral said. "I expected to have these overwhelming feelings for the man I will someday love. Sid, excuse my blibbering like some lovelorn high school kid with a crush, but, man, this is a chance for the skinny girl to land the fox! And no way am I ashamed to grab it!"

The giddiness in Coral's voice almost infected him, too. On some above and beyond level what Coral and Beryl agreed upon was brave. A woman less confident than Beryl could've found the idea mortifying. What if she'd said "no!"? After all, throughout history walking the plank had always been one-way trips. 

Cuniff reached across the bed. He caressed Coral's cheek. She swooned into his touch.

Softly, he said, "It's good you took the chance. And you're not skinny. You're slender."

They came together in the bed's center. His exploratory pecks yielded to her enervating soul kisses. She had a hard greedy mouth. 

Coral ran ropy fingers along his upper torso. Cuniff's musculature fascinated her tactile sense. His arms, shoulders, chest, lats, all taut, firm and packed, received skipping visits from those lively fingers. At certain moments Coral even dared playing with his nipples. That these stippled under her curiosity seemed revelatory.

Coral's fingers were bonier than Beryl's and Irene's. Those of the former were wider and softer, the latter's reminding him of thick articulated vines. Coral's grip was nowhere near that of the other two. 

Since it was her fantasy come to life, Coral decided Cuniff should undress first. Accustomed to simultaneous disrobing, her command (unsure as it was) slightly wobbled him.

"But not in bed," Coral said. "Over there."

She pointed to clear-view acreage on her side of the bed. He complied without knowing why.

Three snaps bound his pajama bottoms. He laboriously undid each. Every release increased Coral's obvious anticipation. His teasing and her reaction amused him.

Although disengaged, the third snap's release did not create a cotton cascade. Cuniff's waist remained girded. He held the waistband together. 

"I refuse to do your dirty work," Cuniff said. "You'll have to come here and pull them down yourself." 

The goofy smile Cuniff had first seen in the Student Union cafeteria revisited her face. Coral launched herself off the bed and clutched his waistband. She tugged but the garment only sunk a jot down his hips.

Cuniff admonished her. "You have to do it slow. Some things are better savored than gulped."

Ravenous as she appeared, Coral heeded his instructions. His hand holding the waistband descended in a measured pace. One he hoped she found excruciating. When she'd uncovered his sex, Cuniff released his pajamas. Coral stepped back. Her appraisal was bald and thorough, well on the road to devour. 

He stepped out of the cotton around his ankles. She sighed, then uttered, "Oh my God!"

Hamming it up, he egged her on. Cuniff pumped his chest, flexed his arms them posed with them behind his back, and rolled his hips forward to make his uglies sway significantly. Coral drank in so much of him, Cuniff thought she might drown. 

"Coral, until this very moment I never felt as naked before a girl as I do you."

Aghast, she said, "Was I staring!? I'm sorry --"

He pacified her. "Coral-Coral, joking, I was just joking. But here's something serious. Your clothes have got to come off!"

Cuniff stepped towards her. She actually recoiled a bit as he approached. He gestured for the faded T-shirt to rise, then motioned for her worn-out gym shorts to fall. Renewed nerves lent both tasks Houdini-like degrees of difficulty. 

When she finally stood in the altogether, Coral's eyes struggled to meet his. Though compared against her unsure hands shielding her breasts, that was easy. 

Coral was one of those lanky girls he knew had gone through life being reminded to "stand straight." Even now she fought instincts to cringe and shy away. A-cup breasts poked above an impossibly flat midriff that swiveled on a reed-width waist and boyish hips. Two dainty pink buds crowned her chest. A manicured briar two shades darker than the hair atop her head relieved Coral's paleness. Nudity lengthened her already long legs. 

Before pressure became overbearing, Cuniff joined her. Their fingers clasped. She accompanied him to bed. There she settled against him. Aware of their mass discrepancy, Cuniff adjusted all he could in order to reduce his weight upon Coral. 




Hectic!



After Beryl and Irene Coral seemed insubstantial. An educated man might've mistaken her for a sylph. 

In his embrace, calmed now, Coral eased into her situation. Stroking his thick arms and wide chest, she smiled contentedly. Cuniff had done such a good job of lessening his burden, she drew her legs higher which pressed his balls firmly against her thighs. 

While she assessed him, he licked and sucked Coral's thin lips. These little impertinences gave her the giggles. Cuniff palmed and gently obliterated her girlish breasts. Her nipples hardened beneath his lightest touch. 

He barely felt her chest rise and fall. Beryl and Irene each chuffed steadily along. Perhaps Coral needed the ramp up then coitus before her respiration became noticeable. 

Or maybe she was just one of those anaerobic chicks.

Fully aware she clutched "the prize," Coral burrowed her head into his chest. She exulted. Her joy made him laugh. Looking up from the nest of his chest, her smile as goofy as it had been during their introduction, Coral reached up and carefully let her fingers glide along Cuniff's face. She stopped on his lips momentarily, parting them slightly then continuing onto chin, throat, finally ending her mapping where the clavicles, neck and pectorals converged. 

Happy incredulousness gradually left her face. It assumed an enormity sex with a relative stranger did not warrant.

"I can't believe we're here," Coral said.

Her solemnity struck him as melodramatic.

"This is what you wanted, no?" he said.

"Girls like me never get guys like you."

"That sounds like one of those bad life lessons taught on soap operas and women's movies. Maybe we should turn it around. Maybe instead it's guys like me who aren't lucky enough to value girls like you."

"I don't understand."

Cuniff had hoped his gratuitous comment would've been sufficient. Either Coral was intentionally thick or she angled for a bigger chunk of flattery. If it were the second, damn, she was smarter than he thought.

"Because you desired something," Cuniff said. "Rather than mope around and drop hints, pine, yearn, and generally make a nuisance of yourself, you had courage enough to level with Beryl. In that respect you got lucky. One because she doesn't scare easy. Two because she saw your difficulty without feeling threatened and freaking out. We both know any other woman would've turned you into a pariah faster than you could say 'Why did I fuck that guy?'"

"Maybe you're the lucky one, Sid." 

"I don't need anyone to tell me that."

"Then this is what you need to hear, Sid."

"What's that?"

"You are one pretty man," Coral said. "From your lashes to your lips, your whole body, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever and will probably ever see. I'm sorry I don't love you. Especially now. But if I did I'd being going nuts right this instance. I don't wanna go nuts, Sid. I wanna ..."

Coral reached down and entwined fingers around his cock. Responding immediately to pressure, he became fully rigid. 

Cuniff swept a hand by the phone where Beryl had left foil packets. Grabbing one, he opened it. He figured he'd routinely apply the prophylactic -- jam the cap on his turtle then unfurl it along his length. Coral stopped him before he started sheathing. 

"Let me."

Wordlessly Cuniff handed her latex. She surprised him, affixing it orally rather than manually.

Coral untangled from their embrace. She straddled his legs and scrunched above his mast. Her mouth formed a wet "O." Using a rarely witnessed skill, Coral tongued out some of the rubber in her mouth. Space now provided for spume, she lunged forward. If Cuniff thought she might gag, he was mistaken. Using more teeth than he liked, Coral demonstrated a remarkable gullet while covering him. 

Her nose brushed against his pubic beard. For Coral it was an oral day at the beach. Would she ever cease to astonish him!? 

Since Beryl had put the kibosh on cunnilingus, Cuniff gave Coral's pube a two-finger treatment. He needn't have bothered. She was already moist, engorged and distended. His probing did nothing more than add gas to the refinery fire.

They reversed into comfortable positions. He considered placing pillows beneath her hips but factored mass and weight. Because of their heft, Beryl and Irene benefited from the support pillows provided. With much less of Coral to move, Cuniff chose to handle her manually

Cuniff's exertions began caring and kind but Coral tired quickly of the considerate stuff. She wanted him often, hard and fast.

A good old-fashioned pounding! That's how he'd come into Arizona. If he hadn't lucked into gentle patient guidance by ... Well, fortunately Cuniff had or else he'd still be bruising female pelvic bones by doing his utmost to emulate freight trains. Worse, his technique likely would've remained that of some smirky, smart-ass high school jock. 

He'd received priceless instruction from ... One thing she got through his thick skull: pleasure given is doubly returned. Sloppy, ragged, mindless fucking -- though it had merits -- was kid stuff.

She helped him quantify his attributes: youth, endurance. In doing so she'd shown him, ah, methods which ought, when properly applied, have induced sensations that traversed the entire body as well as created some kind of shallow hallucinogenic trance. 

Done really right the procedure broached spirituality.

Of course there'd been a lot of dope smoked during those fuck sessions. However, cheeba never distracted from his mastery of the mechanics. Repetition was the key. 

And to think all this came about because he loved cheese Danish!

Coral's demands freed him from finesse. Cuniff returned to who and what he'd been -- a mere meat stick. Had he been in his mind then, Cuniff would've noticed Coral's insatiability equaled his own. 

On the long jarring road to climax, Coral became vocal. She chanted a breathless mantra of "Oh, shit!" 

She came so hard Cuniff himself felt the waves wash through her. Or maybe the shuddering was his own release on the heels of hers. Who knew? Neither much cared. 

Now Coral respired heavily. A sheen, a deep blush, and a sly smile covered her face. She wiped perspiration out of her eyes, then palmed sweat off his brow. Cuniff's own breathing had become bellows. Muscle strands in his arms twitched. He uncapped Coral's ass and settled into the hot, damp valley around her sex. Gradually he lowered the rest of himself against her torso. Breaths regained, they kissed. Remorselessly. She hugged Cuniff as if to crush him.

He believed the moment required something pithy.

"I didn't notice but do you blush all over?"

Coral giggled. "Why should I tell you? You should've been paying attention."

"I was too involved elsewhere," he said. "So tell me."

"No," Coral said. "You know everything else about me. Uh, my body. Maybe that should stay our one big mystery. The one question that'll keep me somewhere in your memory."

Cuniff grinned to himself. Aside from the whole event, Coral knew what this night ultimately meant. To them both. She knew how the game was played and scored.

She'd transform their encounter into a keepsake, a most treasured one. He'd allow his portion to diminish. Not just another woman, Coral, though certainly one more on the string. 

Should Coral have deserved greater consideration, it never occurred to Cuniff.

During the next hours she gave herself again and again. His beat remained the same, their subsequent go-rounds were just as feral. Getting what she asked for and satisfied by it, Coral drifted off to sleep in his arms. Cuniff followed her. His slumber, as he later suspected hers, floated on an immense carefree cumulus. 

Beryl must've returned sometime around dawn. Through semi-consciousness Cuniff saw the room had brightened. Her dull voice cajoled him into sliding over. In providing bed space for the third body, a large one at that, the jostling tightened Coral against him.

When he woke for good, Coral splayed across his chest. Their legs were linked. Peace had embedded itself on her face.

On Cuniff's right, her back to them, Beryl steadily rose and fell. Her facing away he saw as fortuitous. Because if she were awake, her eyes might've incinerated their minor idyll. 

Beryl talked a good game. She doubtlessly believed her sacrifice/his contribution necessary. Nevertheless wonder if jealousy willed out? There'd be no greasing the rest of this morning, day, trip, relationship, only weathering.

The bedside clock indicated nigh eleven. The taut flesh rearing upward between his legs signaled a boner. The hellacious can't conceal morning kind. 

Coral stirred awake. Happiness crinkled her eyes and flooded her face.

Although technically a one-night stand, their special circumstances allowed acres of leeway. They kissed with meaning. Afterwards, she grinned shyly and ruffled his chest hair. Only by chance did she look down to see his blood-gorged ugly stick. A precocious sense grabbed her. She clutched a big hard handful of him.

How easy would it have been for Coral to mount him, burying him as it were? Well, not very. He tilted his head toward Beryl. Playfully, Coral mouthed the word, "So?"

To reiterate, Cuniff shook his head.

Coral regarded the bed's third form. She faked a pout, sighed quietly, all the while her active hand came close to uncorking his morning dilemma. The possibility stuck different silly grins on their faces. She barely suppressed a whoop.

Reluctantly, Coral uncoiled her warm fingers and rosy palm. Cuniff slurred out of bed through the foot. Ensconced in the bathroom away from such explosive stimuli, he lost interest as well as tension. He showered, sloughing off Coral. The water also diluted their night's romps. 

He continued toweling off in the room. By now both girls were awake. One or the other had drawn back the window curtains. If the brilliance flooding the room was any indication, then this day had prospects as one of those golden California perfectos. 

Grumpy and rumpled, Beryl wore a Beach Boys commemorative shirt he'd received after working the group's Tucson concert security detail. A pair of ragged rugby shorts poked out from beneath the tent-like shirt's hem. Coral, hunched crossed-legged in bed, ran through the television channels with the remote.

Naked in daylight revealed Coral's tan. Slight as it was. Artificial light obscured the richer tone of her shoulders and limbs. Of course until this morning Cuniff had never seen Coral's bare torso under such illumination.

Cuniff hardly noticed Beryl's expression. Had he been more of the moment perhaps he might've seen her ire. 

Showering had reinvigorated Cuniff. Entering the drier room completed his revitalization. 

Her inspection of TV programming finished, Coral hopped off the bed and skirted past Cuniff into the bathroom. They exchanged tiny full of knowing smiles. One barely heard water running off her body into the tub behind the closed door.

When his attention fell on Beryl, her distress erupted. She yelled.

"Will you put on some fucking clothes!"

Until Beryl's command Cuniff didn't know how naked he was. Of course he knew his state, but given all which had preceded this instant it seemed quite natural.

Thus his first indication that Beryl's proprietary nature started eclipsing her benevolence. Cuniff dug out boxers from his suitcase, then hurriedly rolled pants over them. For good measure he even threw on a shirt.

Presentable as he made himself it did nothing to soothe Beryl's distemper. When Coral traipsed out of the bathroom pink as sin, she immediately received the heavy non-verbal signal Beryl emitted. In doing her utmost to be less naked fast, Coral slowly picked through her suitcase to find an outfit right for the day. Beryl seethed all through her careful selection.

Everybody being dressed finally ceased Beryl's visual discomfort. She charged into the bathroom. Once the shower started running, Coral looked at Cuniff. 

"I bet she isn't using hot water this morning," Coral said.

Whether intentionally flip or not, Cuniff snickered after her remark.

Showering only lessened Beryl's temper slightly. She remained a bear at lunch. On the ride to Los Angeles, whose miles she rode shotgun, there were outbreaks of humanity. By chance or reason Coral avoided sitting in the rearview mirror's sightlines. 

When the Pacific Coast Highway branched off onto the Ventura Freeway and Los Angeles reality, Beryl had forgiven all three of them. She even stroked his thigh. They cut eyes at one another, their understanding, their reconciliation, silent but complete.

"This is L.A., all right," Beryl said. "See how brown the sky is across the city -- how blue it is over the ocean?"

Happy to pursue a line of small talk, Coral rattled off chatter which Beryl matched. Seeing the previous night absolutely erased, their relationships properly restored, Cuniff tuned out the girls' conversation.

-30-



Hector and the Sisters



Hector sat across the desk, looking morose and unhappy. His jeans and jean jacket were streaked with dirt. His shoulder length black hair was tangled, with fragments of leaves in it.

The principal said, "You really did it today. They say you started the fight."

"He started it, the tall white kid. Called me a dago. I decked him." His dark eyes stared at Ralph without flinching.

"You knocked him out. He's at the ER with a possible concussion."

"You get one of the girls in here privately and she will tell you what really happened."

"I believed you the first time, but the system will be coming down hard. I don't think I can run much interference, even though you are one of my best students. You're eighteen, so they'll be after you as an adult."

"They can't do much. My dad's dead, my mom's in prison. The foster home folks can't be tagged with anything."

Ralph looked at Hector, admiring the grit, the determination to get even with the bigoted whites who tried to bully him. One by one, he had picked them off, leaving a trail of broken noses, cracked fingers and bloody shins. He was tall, with muscles to show for the hours he spent in the gym.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'll be gone by morning. You don't want to know anything more than that when the cops come looking for me. I've been reading those police novels."

They stared at each other. Hector pulled a small folded up piece of paper from his back pocket. "Maybe you would do me a favor and see this gets to Beth, but not for a day or two. It's ok for you to unfold to see."

In small, precise cursive, it said, "Love you. I'll be back."

"Not leaving a trail are you?"

"I figured it might come to this. I've been preparing. You know that phrase about the backcountry, 'Leave no trace?' That's me."

Hector started to stand but Ralph said, "Sit for a minute." He pressed a button on his phone and said, "Come in and close the door behind you."

Sharon walked over to his desk, but Ralph said, "Sit in his lap." She stared at him but it was the end of the day, so she did it. "Pull your blouse out of your skirt and unhook your bra."

"Hector, you've been admiring those tits since Sharon arrived. Kiss them and love them a little. It's a going away present from Sharon and me."

It took Hector a few seconds to realize this was for real. After that, his dark fingers were busy exploring the blond's gorgeous tits. She leaned over, "Kiss them and then kiss me."

Hector knew this was a tease, but a nice tease. He stood with her in his arms and prolonged the kiss. He whispered in her ear, "Thanks, you are a wonderful teacher."

As he reached the end of the corridor, he heard her warbling cry of passion. Principals had the best perks, he thought.

The police detective was at Ralph's office before nine. "I'd like to talk to Hector Nunez about yesterday."

Ralph pressed a button and Linda, his morning shift assistant, said "Yes, sir."

"Please send someone to bring Hector to my office." He gestured to the officer to sit. He told him that the school's anti-bullying program was having trouble getting off the ground. The detective said, "The Whitmors and their lawyer don't see it that way. They're after felony assault and civil damages."

Ralph was going to respond when the intercom opened up and Linda reported that Hector was not in class and no one had seen him this morning.

The detective rose and said, "I hate to put out an arrest warrant for him. Any idea where he might have ducked out to?"

Ralph allowed as how the foster parents probably knew as much as anyone.

As the detective left, the principal didn't wish him luck. 

Linda closed the door and kissed him on the cheek. "Sharon told me Hector got a going away present last night." 

"He deserved it, poor bastard. Schedule a meeting of the steering committee of that group we have on bullying, will you? I need to light a fire or two." 

The foster parents told police that Hector had been to the house before they came home from work, and cleaned out most of the stuff in his room. No note, no sign of where he was going. 

Hector hadn't shown up at the pizza delivery job, either, but the truck he drove every evening was missing. The police thought the truck would be easy to trace until the owner told them the colored signs on the doors peeled off easily. After that, it looked like a lot of other tired, dirty vans on the highway.

The chief of detectives called a meeting at four-thirty. "We just had a call from the sheriff in Creekside, saying the pizza truck is sitting in front of his grocery store, with the key in the ignition, a full tank of gas, and a one word note on the dash that says, "Sorry."

The detectives sat there waiting for the boss to say something. Creekside was a village in the foothills about a hundred miles away, population three hundred, if that. Surrounded by ranches and a lot of public land. "Kirk," the boss said, "did you tell me the principal didn't seem sympathetic to the Whitmors?"

"He didn't say much, but he seemed inclined in that direction. I did hear a black kid in the hall say he was glad that Danny Whitmor finally got what he deserved."

"So we have a schoolyard fight to sort out, which means a lot of he said, she said. Then we have one of the fighters, with no family and no money we know of, has stolen a truck but left it filled with gas and an apology note, and disappeared into foothill trees a hundred miles from here."

"That's about it, boss."

Turning to his most junior detective, a tough Irishman recently promoted from patrol, he said, "Shamus, I want you to pursue this case aggressively. I want a written note to the file every day for the next seven days documenting the intensity of your investigation. Since the budget is tight, you are to conduct the investigation from your desk. I'll talk to the DA about fending off the warrant requests from the Whitmor's lawyer. Clear case of insufficient evidence. By the way, that dope trail involving the stripper from Vegas is really hot. The Chief wants results by the weekend."

Shamus responded, "Yes sir, I'll get right on it. Oh sir, the staff room is buzzing with a story that the stripper has skipped, but her twin sister is filling in at the club. Last night she had a wardrobe malfunction and her bra fell off and all the tips went on the floor. Two drunks got up there to help and... well, the rest of the story is x-rated."

The chief paused and smiled. "Shamus, you ever read any Damon Runyon?" 

"Yes, sir. Hard to miss for an Irish cop originally from New York."

"Shamus, I want a two thousand word report on this twin sister stripper situation for the Chief by the end of day tomorrow. I want the main characters in this story, shady or not, identified. I want you to find printable words to describe some of the interesting activities going on. Do you have that, Shamus?"

Addressing the room, he said, "Now go on home to your spouses, partners or whatever, and enjoy the evening. Some days are better than others."

Hector wasn't so sure about that. He was dug into the side of a bank at the bottom of a ravine about three miles uphill from Creekside. It was cold and he was more than damp, and he didn't dare make a fire. Under the parka, he had on everything he owned in the way of outdoor clothing. He was wondering about his bright idea when three deer came up the creek to drink. They saw him but he didn't move and they trotted back into the brush. 

Several months ago, Beth told him her very independent sister had kicked her abusive husband out of the cabin they had on ranchland her parents owned. The parents obligingly hired a lawyer to deal with the divorce, but Diane decided to stay with her horses and the cattle. Their father's shouting about single women alone in the wilderness didn't work. She told her dad to be careful approaching the ranch house because she took target practice almost every day. He gave up and left her alone. Her mom was a city girl who didn't understand any of this and just smiled a lot.

It entered Hector's mind during the last few weeks, as things got worse in school, that if he could get to Diane's place undetected, she might allow him to stay.

He sat there in the cold and dark and cursed himself for trying a stupid wiseass stunt. But he couldn't go back to Creekside, because the cops must have spotted the truck by now. He couldn't show up on a highway trying to hitch, they were sure to capture him that way. No, he had a week's worth of emergency food and he had better get his butt up the mountain in the morning. According to the topo he had, and his GPS, the Simonson ranch was ten miles generally northeast and up another fifteen hundred feet. If he was lucky, he might find her late today.

While Hector was toughing it in the woods, other forces were at work. The more Shamus Kelly looked into what he now called "the Whitmor affair," the madder he got. His partner, Marie Topolino, came over to his desk. No one was around, so she grabbed his curly hair and pulled. He was used to this torture and wrapped his arm around her where he got the best tickle territory. 

"Oh, Shamus, no." She let go and doubled over. They were both divorced, like a lot of cops, and wary about a second time around. But she was cute and he was funny, and they got along well. He took her out the other night and they even danced. She was developing feelings, and wondered how long it would take for him to bed her. This had the usual complications. He had teenagers at home. She lived with her widowed mom, who needed help. 

He whispered in her ear, "You are hot stuff, and even a good cop, for an Italian. I want to get to know you better."

She was cuffing his head, but not very hard, when the Chief of Detectives, Brian O'Malley, walked in. "I should never have put you two together. Can't the Irish and the Italians stop fighting for one minute?"

"Sir, I want you to know we were just discussing my homework paper for the Chief. Marie has some special insights into the motivations of women that take up stripping. She was demonstrating what a stripper is likely to do if you try to stiff her on a lap dance tip."

"Enough already. Whitmor's lawyer is after me, claiming police incompetence. Wants to talk to the chief."

Shamus smiled. "I had an interesting conversation with the school board's lawyer yesterday. Turns out Danny Whitmor is known as a notorious bully and leader of what the lawyer called a pack of schoolyard thugs. Has two suspensions for fighting in his record. The school board guy knows the Whitmor's lawyer and suggested we have him in and see how much of the background he wants to come out."

Brian smiled and asked, "Any news on the kid?" 

"Nothing. Went into thin air, as they say. He's tough and he's smart. Was headed for valedictorian."

Hector was stiff as a board when first light came. He filtered water into two bottles and fished out another energy bar. Didn't take long to warm as he climbed. His thoughts were dark and angry. The DEA had framed mom after his dad was shot by a rogue drug dealer. Searched the house and found his father's secret stash. Jury didn't like the government's case, but the evidence was clear. She got a year and a day. Just enough to lose her license permanently. He was thinking about how the two of them were going to put things back together when the deer trail he was following came up to a cattle fence, which ran along the edge of the forest. In the distance was a cabin with a thin column of smoke rising.

If I am going to do this kind of thing, I need binoculars, he said to himself. There was no sign of activity, but he needed to stay hidden. She could easily use her rifle on him. But he had a thought. If I approach straight across the big pasture, looking as harmless as possible, maybe she won't shoot.

She came out on the porch when he was two hundred yards away. A mean looking rifle was cradled in her arm. When he got to fifty yards, she said, "Stop there. Strangers aren't welcome here. You are trespassing." She had on a man's ranch clothes, including a worn Stetson, and looked tough. 

"I need to talk to you. Your sister is a friend of mine."

That got her attention. "I don't believe you. Why aren't you in school? What are you doing walking out of the forest up here?"

"It's complicated but I can explain."

"Sit there on the log and tell me why you are here." She looked grim.

"I decked a white kid who was trying to bully me and he cracked his head on the way down. I had to make myself scarce. Even the principal encouraged me to get lost. I remembered that Beth told me you were here."

"Does she know you decided to come here?"

"No. I didn't want to put her in the position of lying to protect me."

"So the cops are probably looking for you and I'm supposed to provide an outlaw hideout?" She gave him a thin smile.

"Look, I don't want to be a bother. I'll sleep in the barn and do chores for you. I've got some food with me."

"Are there any weapons in that pack?"

"No."

"I can't trust you yet. Dump it out and show me." She leaned the rifle on the railing and came down to the log. She poked at the pile of energy bars. "You call that food?"

"It says on the package it has all essential nutrients."

She grabbed his hair and jerked his head up. "You're sweet on my sister?"

"Beth is the nicest girl I ever met. I'm in love with her, but can't tell her. Your folks wouldn't want to know about me."

"My folks don't want to know about a lot of things. Does she kiss you?"

"She gives the sweetest kisses ever."

"I suppose you spent last night in the woods. Go in the cabin, last door on the right is the bathroom. Take a shower, use the robe and bring me your dirty clothes in the kitchen."

"Yes, M'am. He hurried to put things back in the pack.

"And don't call me m'am. My name is Diane."

He tiptoed into the warm kitchen in his bare feet. The clothes were bunched up in his hand. She gestured at the large bowl of soup on the counter. "That's for you."

She disappeared with the clothes and he heard washer noises. She came back with a brush in hand and went to work on his hair. "Are you Spanish?"

"On my mother's side. How did you guess."

"I had a boyfriend once with hair like this. Turned me on something fierce. Thick, black, straight."

He spooned soup and she brushed hair for a few minutes. She pointed toward a computer in the corner. "Go sit in that chair. I'm going to check you out."

"You have Internet?"

"Satellite. Makes life livable up here. Tell me something that only Beth knows about you."

She took the machine out of sleep and looked at him. "Well?"

He colored and hesitated. "She likes her nipples kissed and nibbled. She told me I did it the best of anybody."

"Oh boy, that is perfect. So if I ask her the name of the guy who loves her boobs the best, she is going to give me your name?" 

"I sure hope so. If she doesn't, I'm dead."

She typed rapidly for a few seconds and said, "Ok, here it goes." Click.

"By the way, what is your name?" 

He told her and she led the way out the back door. There were a number of outbuildings, several still in need of repair.

"I don't think we will get a visit here from the police, but you never know. I'm putting you in a rotten place. So rotten they won't think to look there."

A loud siren went off back at the house. She turned and smiled at him. "My sat phone, who do you suppose could be calling?"

He followed her to the house, a few steps behind. She was talking animatedly into the phone. "It's good to hear from my little sister. I'm sorry I missed your birthday party. You're all grownup at eighteen! What did you say? You are breaking up. My email? So what's the answer?" 

"Hector?"

Diane motioned him over and put the phone on speaker. "OMG, you've got Hector? He's right there? OMG, don't let go of him. Let me talk to him!"

"You're on speaker, sis, and he is standing right here. You told me not to let go, so I've got him pinned to the wall."

She leaned in close and ran her fingers through his hair. He could smell a faint fragrance on her.

"Hector! Oh, I'm so glad you are alive. When that email came, I almost fainted."

He broke in, "Where are you now, we can't talk where anyone can hear."

"I know, I walked out beyond the running track. There's no one around."

Hector continued, "Beth, did Ralph give you my note? I was so sorry I couldn't say anything to you. I didn't know what the police might do."

Diane was licking him and brushing her hand on the front of his pants. 

Beth answered breathlessly, "I have to see you. We have so much to talk about! Diane, you have to help me get up there. Can you tell mom you are sick and I've said I will come up for the weekend and help? Tell her it's contagious and older people shouldn't be exposed?"

"And I get Dad to buy that too?"

"Oh please, I'll owe you forever!"

"Yes you will. And Hector too. He looks strong. You probably will have to teach him about horses."

"OMG, I will! Hector, I'm good with horses. Ask Diane. She is riding MY horse. At least she was my horse until Diane gave her a much better home than the miniature corral here."

"So you're hot for this guy, this outlaw I'm standing next to?"

"Sis, don't you dare hit on him. He is MINE!"

Hector broke in, "What's going on with the police?"

"You wouldn't believe how things are turned around. Let me tell you when I get there. I'll try to make it for Friday dinner."

"Ok. I miss you."

Diane and Beth worked on details and hung up.

She turned, "So you are not the cowboy rapist, after all. That's good to know. I believe in consensual sex."

She advanced on him, pulling her top off and unhooking her bra. "My sister and I are very competitive about our tits. If she likes what you do to hers, maybe that means I'll like you too."

She had his hands on her breasts, moving them around. "Show me your sucking technique. I get horny up here by myself."

He picked her up and fastened on a big brown nipple. He walked them down the hall and she gestured to her bedroom. "Oh, that's nice. Don't you dare stop. Yes, yes. You definitely are impressing my boobs. They like your tongue. They like it a lot."

He sat on the edge of the bed and worked on first one and then the other. She giggled and made happy little noises.

He moved to her mouth and kissed her with a lot of tongue.

"She said you were not supposed to hit on me."

"I know! I should have dodged that bullet." She was standing and skinning out of her boots and jeans and panties. He reached out and pulled her belly to his tongue. She groaned, and moaned even louder when he pushed her down and climbed between her legs. 

"Oh shit, I'm gushing all over you. You are bad. Very bad. You're making me come." She screamed and twisted under his mouth.

He lay there as she calmed down. He said, "I love your wide eyes. You have bedroom eyes. Your body is as good as Beth's. Better, I think, with all that muscle. Life up here agrees with you. Why isn't there a man around?"

She bucked her hips at him. "I want you. I want you really badly. If Beth lets me, will you have sex with me? Let me see you."

He got up and slowly unzipped. All the foreplay had got him hard. It jutted out from a nest of black curls. The head had his juice running down. She quickly leaned over and took him in her mouth, pushing him down on the bed with the rest of her body.

He didn't last long, not even a minute. Hector gave a great groan and let loose in her mouth, the extra spilling out and down her chin."

"Good god, Hector, how am I going to wait until Beth gets here?"

He brought a wet towel from the bathroom and wiped her. She lay with legs still wide apart, showing him everything. "You and Beth haven't had sex, have you?"




Hector and the Sisters



He shook his head. "Big problem," he mouthed and smiled at her. He sat and pulled her across his lap, massaging the hard behind and running his finger into her. "Keep doing that, please. Will you sleep with me tonight? If I can't have your cock right now, can I at least have your warm body?"

"I thought you were going to make me sleep in sheep dung out back?"

"I was. I'm sorry. I didn't know who you were."

"Maybe your ass needs a hand on it."

"I suppose it does. You know the guy I mentioned, with your hair? He used to beat the living hell out of my ass. Told me I was a disobedient twit and had to be disciplined."

She went on, "He beat me and fucked me and I cried."

"What happened to him?"

"He was from a rich, aristocratic family in Madrid. His uncle took him riding and told him to stop slumming with the American girl and marry his cousin."

"Did he?"

"He took me to their beach place and fucked me for a whole weekend. I was totally in love with him. On the way back, he told me in Spain family comes first and he had been ordered to marry his cousin."

"What a shitty deal."

She was getting her pants back on. "I thought so. Cried and cried and couldn't eat for a week. Flew back to the States and got a doubletime MA in Art." She waved at a canvas on the wall.

"You didn't answer my question about why there is no man around."

They were back in the kitchen and she was putting on a kettle. "First, you have to fuck Beth, and then you have to fuck me. Then I'll tell you about my man problems."

They sat across the kitchen table from each other, sipping tea and staring. "I've got the hots for you."

"You can't, I love your sister." He still had the robe on and was very hard. She was missing her top and the incredible tits were hard as could be. He kept looking at them.

She took his hand and led them back to the bedroom. The late afternoon sun was across her bed. She pulled off the robe and pushed him against the headboard. The sun was shining on his big hard cock with moisture at the tip of it. She slowly got out of her jeans a second time and straddled his thighs. The cock was pressed up between them.

"You are a tit man and these are for you." She fingered herself and pulled on the nipples. "I have only one favor to ask."

His hands were on the breasts now, exploring up and down, side to side, pushing a nipple in and then stretching it out. She leaned up for a kiss with pouty wet lips and her tongue out in front waiting for his. The kiss went on for a very long time as they got hotter and hotter. Carefully, she leaned up on her knees and silently slipped him inside. He thought he had never felt anything finer than the tight, slippery cunt of Beth's sister Diane. He wondered how he could ever explain this.

She squeezed him, pulsing rhythmically as she rose and fell. Very quickly, he knew she was going to get another load of his stuff. She breathed into his ear, "I'm going to owe you for this favor."

He kneaded her hard ass and drove himself up into her. "Yes, you are."

She cried out and came on him. He held a shaking, orgasmic woman in his arms for the first time.

When she stopped shaking, she looked up at him and grinned, "I know what you are thinking."

He was still hard and not ready to stop. She posted on him, moving just an inch or two.

"What's the answer?"

She opened her mouth, but he got her with a tremendous upward surge onto his knees that blasted a flood of come up against her cervix. She screamed and collapsed backward, pulling him down with her.

There was total silence for several minutes, marked by hard breathing. His finger was doing circles around her right nipple. 

"I could tell her the truth. I totally lost control and threw myself on you. You are strong, but succumbed to my immoral advances. Immoral and improper advances."

"How do we explain that you are going to be sore because my cock won't leave you alone?"

She stared at him and looked at the cummy cock, which was lying full out on his thigh.

"I already walk bowlegged from being on the horse all the time. And I have special lotion for that problem. Are you going to do me again now?"

"I've read in books that once you start fucking, it's impossible to give it up. Sounded like bullshit. I guess it isn't. Go get your lotion."

When she came back, he was outside gathering his clothes off the line. His hard red cock was waving around in the breeze. She walked out on the porch, naked, and squeezed lotion on her fingers. She stuck them in her twat and stood there, diddling herself, as he approached. He put the dry clothes on a chair, leaned her over the railing, and drove right on in.

"You are going to treat me like a mare, are you? Wait until I get warmed up and then just mosey over for a ration of pussy?

"Shut up and fuck." He slapped her ass. She squeezed hard and bucked back into him.

"If a stallion doesn't treat the mare right, she kicks him in the privates. Stings real bad."

"You are a feisty, no good mare. Took my cherry, came all over me. Came again, and my cock is bringing you off right this minute." He drove faster and harder into her delicious behind. In seconds, she was screaming and hollering again.

That session calmed things down. They got dressed and she started dinner. He followed her directions as best he knew how to feed the chickens and close them in against the varmints. He did feed bags for the three horses, who eyed his black hair and dark complexion suspiciously. He offered the carrots Diane had given him and became an instant friend.

She fixed pan fried potatoes, pork chops, and a big green salad with tomato, avocado and green onions. She pointed to a shelf of wine bottles and asked, "You know anything about wine?"

She put the plates on the table and came over next to him, kissing his cheek and putting her finger on a bottle of cabernet. "This will do fine."

He figured out how to get the cork out and and poured it. 

"I'll tell you some things about wine if you like. Learned a lot myself when I was in Europe for school. Can come in handy if you want to impress a girl." She smiled across at him.

"How come you're feeding me so well. I snuck up on your place uninvited."

"You were counting on more energy bars?"

"They are kind of basic."

She laughed and laughed. "Tell you what. You give me sex like that everyday and I'll cook for you forever."

"Thought you had a man problem."

She laughed again. "I do, but your close attention to my needs is changing my views."

"You've still got me scared shitless about Beth."

She eyed him carefully, measuring her words. "My sister and I have a special relationship. If I tell her I did what had to be done, she will understand."

"What had to be done," he repeated, thinking back over the events since he showed up in her pasture.

"That's right. But you and I are going to have some pillow talk about how to handle things when she arrives tomorrow night."

His dark eyes smiled at her. "I haven't had much pillow time with girls so far."

She reached for his hand. "Hector, I think running into the Simonson girls may be the best thing that has happened to you, so far." She emphasized the 'so far' and giggled.

The next morning, Hector rode a horse for the first time in his life. The mare that Diane put him on seemed to know this, and alternately misbehaved and gave him a nice ride. Diane teased him about hanging out with feisty women, until he threatened to take up where her Spanish boyfriend left off.

Before they went out riding, Diane showed him a neglected hot tub, and he took a hose and scrubbrush to it. It was one of those primitive ones that the back to nature folks who owned the ranch before the Simonsons had installed. There was a wood stove to one side with water coils in it that also coiled in the bottom of the tub under the foot rails. The two of them pumped a ton of water to get it filled and made a fire before they left. Diane gave him one of her extra hot kisses and said that Beth would not believe they had rescued the tub.

Diane said that one of her plans for the evening was to get everyone naked as soon as possible and the tub would help.

It was another warm, sunny day and they spent extra time riding the fence line. They only found one break, where a tree limb had come down, but the cows would surely have gone next door if they hadn't come by and wired things back together. Hector watched her quickly and competently take care of ranch chores and felt a growing attraction for this independent woman who fucked like a tiger. She caught him looking at her and smiled. 

"Like what you see?"

"I do. You are nice to look at, clothes on or clothes off."

"Thank you. I don't get compliments much up here."

He looked at her darkly, "You and I are still having a talk about men."

She looked at him sidewise and said, "Yes, sir. I won't forget."

They were sitting on the front porch swing nursing beers when Beth's car came rapidly up the drive in a cloud of dust. It was five o'clock and the setting sun was casting long shadows. Diane was massaging Hector's fingers one by one and didn't stop when the car arrived. Beth jumped out of the automobile and dashed up the stairs, launching herself at them. Kisses flew everywhere. Beth was shedding tears and hugging Hector for dear life. She talked so fast that neither Diane nor Hector had any idea what she was talking about except that she was really really happy to be back with her boyfriend.

Hector got Beth's duffel from the car and brought it in. Diane had instructed Hector about how to make margaritas and he set to work, pretending this was old hat to him. They went to the back porch, where there was still some sun, and relaxed. Beth climbed into Hector's lap and rubbed all over him like a cat. Diane winked at Hector from behind Beth's back. That morning, as they lay in bed still snuggled up against each other, she told him no more sex until tonight because he had to put on a performance for Beth and needed to save up his special juice. He put her over his knee, said she had a fantastic ass, but was asking for trouble by teasing him about special juice. She wiggled and told him no violence, he also had to save his energy for the evening's playtime.

Diane grabbed Beth's hand and said, "Come see the surprise Hector and I did for you." Hector trailed behind as the women went around the corner of the barn toward the tub. He had been nursing the fire since they got back, and the tub was nice and hot.

"OMG, I can't believe this. That ratty old thing! We're going to use it tonight?"

Diane and Hector nodded. "Yes, I even found a bottle of hot tub wine in the cellar."

Beth was getting pink and weaving a little from all the tension and the wicked margarita she was still sipping on. Hector picked her up and kissed her and told her he loved her. Diane walked beside them, leaning over for a kiss now and then and sliding her hand across Beth's breast with its very stiff nipple.

"Hey, I can make myself scarce if you want some time to yourselves. Dinner can wait. I changed the bed this morning." She grinned at them.

Beth woke up a bit and said, "But, sis, we haven't..."

"You haven't been to bed with this hunk! I can't believe that. I wet my pants just being around him."

"Oh, Diane!," Beth wailed, " I've wanted to for ages, but you know how it is around home. And I didn't want my first time to be in the back of a car!"

Very aggressively, Diane said, "I have a cure for your problem. Come right this way, Hector." She led them into her bedroom, where the bed was already turned down. Before they knew it, Diane was naked and stripping clothes from Beth as well. She gestured to Hector and he was bare in seconds also. His beautiful cock was halfway hard, looking large and menacing. Diane got a tube out of her night table and had Hector place Beth gently down on her back. While Hector climbed across the bed, Diane ran her hand up the inside of Beth's thigh and parted her pussy lips. Beth was trying to get some words out when Diane's coated fingers went plunging easily into her wetness. 

"Oh, what are you doing?" Beth was in a trance, but awake enough to challenge her probing sister.

"Relax, sis, this is just some of the stuff we used on each other before. Remember how nice it felt?"

Beth was still trying to pull herself back to reality when Diane leaned down to her ear and said wickedly, "Hector has a special present you are really going to love." She gave Beth a hot sisterly kiss, with her body concealing Hector getting into position. She grabbed the big, throbbing cock and brought it to rub on Beth's wet cleft, making a liquid noise as she rubbed it back and forth. Beth was moaning and out of it. "Oh, sis, we can't play with the dildo now, he'll see."

"Beth,"her sister whispered, '"you are all fired up. I've seen you like this before. I'll help. Just lie back and close your eyes." She rubbed Hector in the white cum gushing out of Beth's waiting twat and at the same time used her fingers on Beth's clit, which made the writhing girl jerk hard into the air. This was just what Diane wanted, because Hector's love instrument was precisely poised to connect with the heaving pelvis. 

When the two of them landed back on the mattress, he was fully buried in her.

Diane was clapping and shouting, "Bravo, look at that. He's doing you, Beth. Your boyfriend is fucking you in my bed and it is so beautiful!"

Beth was still trying to get words out about how they couldn't do this when Hector gave her a half dozen good thrusts and she came with a vengeance. "Oh god, oh no, oh I can't"

Hector had been carefully coached by Diane that Beth probably needed three orgasms before she totally gave into her body and just went for it. Actually, it was four, but they happened rapidly because Beth's nervous system decoupled from her brain and just went into sexual overdrive. The sensations from her spasming cunt sent her into climax every three or four minutes.

After the fourth time, and a tremendous injection from Hector, she obligingly fainted. Diane quickly positioned herself on her back next to comatose Beth and pulled her legs up so Hector could bury himself in her.

She pulled Hector's head down next to hers and whispered, "When she comes around, I want you to be doing me hard. I'm going to be talking dirty, so don't be surprised."

They enjoyed a leisurely fuck, liking each other's bodies. Beth moaned and started coming around. Hector stepped up the pace and Diane groaned and said, "You dirty fucker, hurry up. You made my sister come and come, and I want some too." Hector was giving it his best effort as Beth opened her eyes and realized what was happening. "Diane, what are you doing?"

"Beth, I'm sorry, I couldn't take it. You kept coming and coming and I just had to have some of your boyfriend's cock. Oh god, he feels so good in there. I'm going to come, oh, oh, oh."

And Diane did have a very big, very satisfying climax, crying out and swearing and calling Hector a big fucker again. She collapsed back into her sister, kissing and crying and shaking. 

Hector beat a retreat, covering them with a blanket and heading for the shower and the hot tub.

Fifteen minutes later, he was relaxing in the very hot water when two naked bodies approached, carrying plastic glasses and a bottle. They got a hand over the edge of the tub and everyone settled on a seat with knees just touching.

Hector was taking a sip of wine when he noticed Beth sitting there with tears running down her cheeks. He put the glass down and gathered her into his arms, kissing and soothing. Diane was close on the other side.

Beth sobbed into his chest, "Oh Hector, this is so screwed up. I wanted you to be my first but I got drunk at that football party and two guys held me down while their friend took me. I didn't even know what was happening. Then Diane admits that she not only fucked you tonight, she lost control and fucked you last night."

She sobbed some more and said, "God, how could things go so wrong.?"

Diane got Beth in her lap facing him, and said, "Beth, honey, listen to me. This is not the end of the world. Did you have good sex with Hector tonight?

Hesitantly, "Yes. Yes, it was great."

"Hector, did you have good sex with Beth?"

"Yes, it was great."

"So, the only thing that happened was that you each had your first sex with someone else. That was probably for the best. First love and first sex aren't a very good mix anyway. Now let's go to bed and get some sleep."

The sun was on them and Diane was bringing coffee. Everyone sat up and sipped their coffee and thought about what next. 

Beth climbed over Hector, tweaking his erect cock as she went, and sat on her sister. "You want him to fuck you again, don't you?"

Beth's body was gloriously pink all over in the sunlight. Hector got out of bed and came back with body lotion. He sat on Diane behind Beth and started applying it. "The hot tub sucks everything out of your skin. You need this. Keep talking."

Beth was playing with Diane's tits and staring at her, waiting for an answer.

The answer she got was Diane leaning forward and planting a hot wet kiss on Beth's pouty lips. Hector decided if Diane kept the top busy, he would deal with the bottom. His slippery fingers went after her from both directions. She jerked, but didn't get away. His cock was riding in her ass crack, pointed straight up. There was only one thing to do, and he did it. The lotion helped them slide together like a well oiled machine.

"Oh, Hector, you're not supposed to do that. We have to talk."

His hands were busy on her back, the giant cock was gently busy in her cunt.

"Ok, talk"

"Oh shit, I can't do this. Oh, oh, oh." The anxious twat spasmed on him and she shook from top to bottom.

He lay her down carefully to one side and pulled Diane forcefully to him, her dripping pussy more than ready. "Ooh, Hector, you can't do that. I don't have permission from Beth. Oooh."

Beth lay there with his come oozing out of her well fucked hole. Diane lay back with Hector thrusting ever harder into her underused cunt.

"Sis?"

Diane and Hector looked at Beth. "He's too good not to share." She closed her eyes.

Older sister gave a joyous whoop and bucked up at him. "Ok, cowboy, show me what you've got!"

Hector was totally confused by the great sex with two hot sisters, but his cock was too busy ravishing first one, and then the other for him to worry.

Diane brought them more coffee. "You've wrecked me and you've wrecked my sister. You are lying there with a shit eating grin on your face.

He held Beth to his chest and asked Diane, "Did you tell her about the weekend with the Spanish guy?"

Beth sat up and pulled Diane down with them. "I know what you are going to say."

Beth looked at him with open eyes. "We played this game last night. She had me scared about what was going to happen when you found out she went all the way with me."

He went on, "Now it's her that is worried. Especially when she tells you about the Spanish guy she was so hot for."

He said, "I'll be right back," and walked into the other room.

He walked back in with some line in his hands to find Diane's arm bent up behind with Beth on it saying, "Tell me, damn it."

It was just a few moment's work and Diane was hanging by her arms from a beam in the ceiling.

Hector handed Beth his wide leather belt.

He looked at Diane, "Tell her."

"No, please no, I can't."

He nodded darkly at Beth. The belt made a whistling noise as it flew through the air to land on Diane's delicious ass. The scream was high pitched and long.

He reached in his pocket and brought out something and dangled it in front of Diane's eyes. She didn't recognize it for a moment, and then shrieked, "No, you wouldn't?" Her eyes pleaded with him. 




Hector and the Sisters



Hector stood next to Beth, his arm around her. "You hit on me when she told you not to. Is that any way to treat your family?"

Beth's blue eyes were not kind. "Sis, no more fooling around. Tell me or I'm going to strap you and he is going to put the nipple clamps on."

Diane sagged, her defiance crumbling. "All right, I'll tell you. Will you let me down?"

Hector lowered her from the beam and said, "Start talking." 

Diane tried to sit on the edge of the bed, but Hector maneuvered her into the middle and began winding rope around her. "The longer you take the more uncomfortable this rope is going to make you."

The whole story Hector had heard the previous day tumbled out. The lust, the sex, the beatings, the wild shouting orgasms, the crashing down of her world when she was told the affair was over.

They were both crying. He pushed Beth next to Diane and continued wrapping the line around them and tying exotic knots. In a few minutes, they were completely immobilized and asking what he was doing.

He tenderly kissed them both and said, "I'm practicing my cowboy knots and waiting for you to work out your frustrations about sex."

"Don't we have any say?"

"I'm worried that you will cut off my hair and make me your fuck slave."

They licked each other and said, "Would we do that?"

He rummaged in Diane's closet and came back with a flogger. It had soft tassels. He wondered how much damage it would do.

"I probably can't believe your promises while you are tied up." He applied the flogger gently to the beautiful writhing bodies. "No, stop that, no."

There was a problem, they weren't screaming, they were moaning. He got some lotion and spread it around. He pushed their legs as far apart as he could, which wasn't much. His knots were making wonderful marks on their pale skin. He wished he had a camera.

"Where is your camera? 

"No, you can't take pictures of us like this." Their tongues were busy on each other and the pussies were leaking.

The flogger came down harder. "Tell me."

Diane confessed it was in the living room on the bookshelf. He grabbed some blankets and the camera and arranged them outside in the sunlight.

He carried the trussed up bodies outside and lay them in the warm sun. It was early and the shadows on their boobs and elsewhere were magical. This time, he spread tanning oil, which glistened in the light.

He told them to stay still while he did some photography for an art class. When they kept wiggling around, he was forced to use the flogger again. The thin red lines were incredibly erotic. He could tell they were very aroused. Nipples were sticking out a mile through the rope. There was moisture on their thighs.

"Ok, we give up," moaned Beth.

"Maybe we have to negotiate a deal before I let you loose."

"What kind of a deal," hissed Diane, looking daggers at him.

He went over with the lotion and tenderly ran his fingers over her distended clit. 

"Oh god, sis, he's going to make me cum. Pretty soon, I'll promise anything."

Nearby, Beth's globes got five more soft lashes of the flogger. "Me too, I can't take it."

Their low moans were delightful. He started unwrapping them, with stops for massage of critical parts. He loved these bodies and made sure they had orgasms before their arms and legs were released. He retrieved their dark glasses and their bikinis and throw pillows and glasses of punch with some tequila added.

"Fucker!" "Dirty fucking bastard." "Sadist." 

They sipped their drinks and swore at him, making no move to put on their suits. He knelt beside them and said, "Turn over," in his most aggressive male voice.

They had fine bodies. His hands worked strong muscles, the fingers digging in deep and causing more curses. The lines from the rope and the flogger had already disappeared. The curses dropped away into low moans.

"We have to deal with him. I don't want these hands or that horrible cock to go away."

"What if we promise to cook in exchange for sex?"

"Probably not good enough."

He turned them over and kissed with his tongue exploring and licking. Four nipples popped out at him, casting tiny shadows on their chests. The sun and the tanning oil were making them sleepy.

"He is going to make a deal while we are lying here defenseless."

"We better get the best we can before this gets any worse."

He lay back between them and closed his eyes. His shorts were missing and his cock lay on his thigh, nice and long and thick.

"Are you ready for my conditions?"

"We don't have any choice, do we?"

"Not much, I'm afraid."

"So, we are basically agreeing in advance to whatever you say?" Diane's mound was prominent but he couldn't see it with his eyes closed.

"Yes."

"Shit," they said together.

"First, one of you has to marry me, and the other has to agree to live with the married couple."

Silence.

Beth asked, "And?"

"You have to agree to these one by one."

Diane rolled over on top of Beth and rubbed up and down her front. Beth pinched Diane's ass and stuck her tongue in her sister's mouth.

Their heads came up, "Ok."

"Second, the three of us are going to make this into a regular horse ranch, with boarding, lessons, rentals, vet care, and a training ring."

The eyes looked intrigued. "Ok."

"Third, Diane is going to file for home schooling of Beth and Hector and we are actually going to study hard and apply to good colleges."

"Hmmm. Better."

"Fourth, Diane is going to find a young, sexy, well hung vet and bring him out for an interview about being the house horse doctor. The two of you are going to bed him as a special incentive."

"Oooh. Even better."

"Fifth, we are going to fix things up and I will do a color brochure about the Simonson Horse Facility and its many attractions and there will be photographs inside of both of you in very attractive cowgirl outfits with your tits pushed out."

"Hmmm. I've never had a pushup bra before." Hector sat up and poured more tanning oil on the four remarkable breasts next to him. Diane asked him, "Do they pass the tit test?"

He massaged in deep and pulled the nipples skyward. "Hey, that hurts."

"Just checking firmness and flexibility." He lay back down.

"Is that it?"

"Your dad has to front the working capital and improvements. Two hundred thousand ought to do it. And the two of you have to decide who is marrying me and how often you get sex."

Three bodies lay in the sun in quiet peacefulness.

"No routine beatings? No kinky sex?"

"We might get to that later. You said you believed in consensual sex. Are you into kink?"

"Sis, did you say that before or after you hit on him?" Her teeth were fastened on Diane's nipple. 

"Oh, I just thought of another condition. The two of you can't have serious fights without my permission."

"Shit, that is going to really wreck things. What if we get to fight with you without permission?"

"I already know you are two beautiful brainy women with high frustration levels. I've been working on them this morning. Look how passive and submissive you are now. I want you to remember how I took down the school bullies and not push me too far."

They were warm and horny and rubbing their greasy bodies on each other. His fingers were still playing around with their backsides.

A low voice said, "He could be violent, we better take this before he changes his mind."

"What about that last part? Do you think it is true that he lets us decide on marrying and sex?"

"Hector, go chop some wood while your concubines sort out a few things."

He found the ax, sharpened it, and went to work. In ten minutes, they came out in their riding clothes and said they would return for lunch.

Hector worked out a lot of frustration and worry in two hours. The pile of wood was impressive. How would his act with the women go down. He felt like Gary Cooper in High Noon, bluffing his way down Main Street.

He was on the porch with a beer when they rode up. Looked good. The pictures for the brochure would be eye-catching.

Beth brought two more beers and they sat next to him. The view was better when they were on the horses in front of him.

"We thought about getting in the car and just leaving."

He said nothing and let that hang in the air.

Beth said, "Diane reminded me that marriage is just a device for men to oppress women. That's why she chased her no good husband off."

Better not respond to that.

"If you really love us, why have a marriage certificate?"

Diane kissed him and said, "We know, it's handy for the babies."

So far, he hadn't had to say anything incriminating.

"You are not very talkative."

"Look around the corner of the barn."

They walked away. He loved the tight jeans outlininng their tight asses.

Diane looked at him, eyes glinting. "Chopping word for the fire is part of the deal?"

"Yeah, I need the exercise. Have to keep in shape for dealing with two wildcats."

Diane said to Beth, "You tell him, I'll make sandwiches."

Beth tugged on his hair and licked the side of his face. She pulled his hand up to her breast.

"Guess what, you are going to marry me." Her lips were tender and loving. By the time they stopped the kissing contest, Diane was back.

They munched on meatloaf sandwiches while she babbled.

"You walk out of the forest. You are tall, dark and handsome. My sister says don't hit on you, but I can't control myself. Beth gets here and all three of us get fucked. It's out of this world. You tie us up and I'm getting off on my sister. We get laid out in the sun and you offer a better deal than I'm ever going to get from someone else. Beth tells me on the ride that she wants to marry you and have tall, dark and handsome babies. She says that she doesn't mind sharing you with me as long as it keeps me as nice as I am right now."

Hector pulled her into his lap and clamped his hand over her mouth. The other hand was unbuttoning her cowgirl blouse and pulling the lacy bra up. The jugs already looked more tanned from just one morning. He fastened on and she moaned.

He looked at Beth and mouthed, "I love you."

To Diane, he said, "You are babbling. There must be something wrong. Or is all that your way of saying ok to the deal?"

She was hugging both of them and crying. "Shit, I came up here to try mountain living and nothing was working. You arrive and turn everything around in two days. I hate to say it, but I guess having a man around makes a difference."

Hector had Beth call Ralph and ask if he could call her back on a phone that wasn't monitored.

In a few moments, the ranch phone siren went off and Diane answered. "Oh hi, Ralph, it's a pleasure to hear your voice. There is someone here who needs to talk to you."

Hector sounded very grownup, "Hi, Beth tells me things aren't so bad." He switched on the speaker.

"You've been outed by those girls? I sort of knew you were going to have trouble up there."

"Yeah, they drive a hard bargain on any guy that just drops by."

The girls looked daggers at him.

"Well, the coast is not clear yet, but the Whitmor's are in retreat. Detective Kelly tells me they expect to close the case within a few days, without prejudice to you."

"That's good news. Say, I have a question. Diane Simonson has hired me as her ranch foreman, and says she thinks I qualify for the home schooling program so I can get my degree on time."

"Diane was one of my best students a while back. You watch how handy you are with her. I think she is correct about home schooling but I'll check and have Sharon call. I didn't talk to you today, did I?"

Diane took the phone, "Ralph, thanks for the help. Please grab whichever of those gorgeous teachers you are romancing the hardest and come up soon."

Beth grabbed the phone, "Ralph, it's Beth. I have a better idea, grab my home room teacher who is unmarried and horny. Tell her there is a home schooling seminar that needs her help. We will get Hector decked out in his all black outfit with the silver buttons and the shiny boots. She'll totally lose it when she finds out she has been kidnapped and is being ravished by an outlaw. If you want, we can lay in a sheriff's outfit and you can inspect all the women for sexual assault."

Ralph was pleased. "Beth, you have a wonderful dirty mind. Sign us up for next weekend."

Diane was rolling her eyes and Hector had a new look in his eyes. Diane said, "Sis, you can't be married to him, at least publicly, if he is going to be a new after hours attraction at the ranch. It upsets a woman to think she is making a man cheat."

Hector picked them up, one under each arm, marched into the bedroom and threw them in the middle of the pile of duvets. He skinned them out of their jeans, and tossed his too. He climbed in and pulled them close.

"All this excitement has worn me down. Give me a kiss and let's take a nap."

It was getting dark when he opened his eyes. The two warm bodies snuggled up to him were breathing slowly. He licked the sexy neck in front of him and pulled at the wisps of hair. A hand came around reaching for him. He pulled it to his lips and sucked on fingers. She turned over on her back, her eyes just slits. He still had the hand, kissing it. 

"You can only be nice to us some of the time. Otherwise, you will lose your outlaw reputation."

The other one opened her eyes to see what was going on. "Yes, just some of the time, like afternoon naps."

She had on pale yellow bikini briefs with a lace border around the top. He switched around so he could trace the line of the top of the briefs with his tongue.

"That is not permitted! You are making me gush."

The silk material was hugging the crease of her sex. His thumb and forefinger took the crotch of the brief and forced it between the plump lips. 

Diane said, "You are torturing my sister. The loving woman who has agreed to marry you." She reached out her hand to caress the labia, making Beth jerk and wiggle.

Beth turned over, "If we don't run from here, he is going to take us and breed us this very day. I'm not on any protection and he probably doesn't know what a condom is." They giggled loudly.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed with both rumps in hand in a flash. He said in a low, husky voice, "I want it known that these are two of the most seductive pussies on the planet. They have paralyzed me with lust. I'm barely able to control myself." He leaned down and gave each of them a good bite and tossed them in the air.

There was punching and elbowing as jeans went on and chores were handed out. Hector got the horses, and Beth got the chickens tonight. "While you are out there, get the hot tub going. We need a soak before bed."

Hector was still brushing the horses when Beth finished, so she built a fire in the stove for the tub and turned the little pump on to circulate water. Hector was working on the mare that she had raised and sent to the ranch to have an open pasture to range in. The horse nuzzled at her and neighed softly. Hector said, "I'm not the only one who loves you." She whispered, "I think I'm going to cry," as they closed the stable and went to dinner.

After dinner, the girls called home and Hector caught up with his mail on the net. He decided not to do any outgoing mail yet. The girls and he needed to get their plans sorted out first.

They settled down in the tub, a tight, friendly fit for three. "Do the folks know about me?"

"Not yet. Need to get our story straight."

"I guess Beth has to appear at home and at school?"

"Yes, damn it. We can't give any secrets away right now. And if Diane is right about the outlaw here, I'm going to be living in sin." 

"I shouldn't say this, but I don't really need extra pussy. Why not let Ralph entertain the girls he brings?"

They hung around his neck, straddling his thighs and rubbing back and forth. "Can you believe it, he doesn't need extra pussy. We better write that down."

The kisses were tender and he closed his eyes. "I don't know what two fine women like you see in me. I haven't got any money. I haven't finished high school. About the only assets I have is being a good street fighter and having a strong back."

He added, "I'm totally in love with both of you, but you deserve more."

Their hands were between his legs. "You have this and he makes us very happy."

"Yeah, but that's an activity that doesn't put food on the table... mostly," he added, realizing that there were studs who fucked for money.

Diane climbed out and said, "Come on, I have an idea to try out on you, inside."

They settled on the large bath towel in front of the stove and he went to work massaging lotion into their warm skin.

Diane said, "Our horse ranch can also be a destination resort for lovers, especially on weekends. Fix up a couple of rustic structures out there with beds. A sink in every unit but central showers and toilets. More hot tubs with central piping for the water. Activities that wear them down. Great food. Everything on the cuff, no money and no tips allowed. The entire weekend is paid for in advance. 

"They drive here and we park their cars out of sight in the trees. Bring them to the main house in a horse drawn buggy. Get them settled in their units and encourage the ones who haven't brought cowboy clothes to choose some from our wardrobe room, which can be partitioned off in the barn. There is a horse for every guest, and we fill up Saturday with riding the fences and a chuck wagon lunch. 

"Just when the guests are arriving back and tying their horses to the railing in front, Hector rides out of the trees across the pasture. All black, with a Winchester sticking out of a saddle scabbard. One of us says, 'oh oh,' and the guests ask what's wrong. We tell them it's Daniel Isherwood, the notorious outlaw, come to settle a score. From the other direction, another horse and rider appear, it's Ralph fitted up as the Sheriff. Ralph pulls out a pistol and fires warning shots in the air. 'Hold it right there, Isherwood,' he says. The guests are hiding behind trees and on the porch. There is more gunfire and both men fall out of the saddle and lie on the ground, dead. The women are scared speechless as Beth and I rush out in nurse's uniforms and kneel next to the fallen men. The guests are gathering around when we look up at each other and say, "This one's dead."

Hector said, "I really have to fall on the ground from on top of the horse? You'll be the ones giving the massage instead of me."

Diane finished, "After a couple of minutes, you and Ralph stand up, dust yourselves off and invite everyone for drinks on the veranda."

Beth hugged Hector and said, "She's pretty good at this resort stuff, isn't she?"

They pulled Diane into their laps and worked on her until she hollered. "I know I'm surplus but do you have to destroy me?"

Beth said, "Let's go to bed, I need to be warmer."

In the dark, snuggled up as tight to Hector as they could get, the two women kissed him and asked if he minded being their outlaw.

He laughed and said, "Are you kidding? If I am an outlaw, and especially if I am your outlaw, then that means I get to chase you around and string you up anywhere on the property. After hours dangling in the hot sun, you will submit to all the kinky sex I want."

They drifted off to sleep with the girls saying, "That will be the day."

The next Friday, Hector and Diane were on the swing again, watching a car come up the drive. They were both beat from hard days fixing up the ranch. And maybe a little from having a hot tub and great sex every evening. 

The car drew up and Beth jumped out and ran for their laps as she did last week."Oh! I am so happy to be here. Ralph and Anna were nice enough to bring me and all my stuff." She was up and back to the car to get a load and introduce Anna to them. Anna was tall and rangy, with short black hair and a pretty face with sharp bones showing. "Anna, you know Hector and this is my sister Diane who went through school before you got there." 




Hector and the Sisters



Ralph stuck out his hand to Hector and said, "You look like ranch life agrees with you."

He smiled and said, "It does, especially when you have a tough boss who beats you when you slack off."

Beth was still bubbling. "Diane, you'll never guess. Anna is a horsewoman from Montana! She will be so welcome here!" 

Anna was led off to the barn to check the horses. Hector and Ralph brought all the gear in and Hector asked about a drink. Ralph said, "A cold beer would do my thirst just fine." Diane sent them to the back porch to relax while she put marinade on the meat and started the salad. Anna and Beth came back from the barn all smiles. Ralph caught Anna's hand as she went by and said, "Hey, up here you don't work for me, there aren't any students to spy on us, except these delinquents, and the Superintendent is nowhere around."

Her hands were in his hair. "You mean I'm supposed to relax and enjoy the mountain air?"

He said, "Something like that. You need to get out of those school clothes fast."

Hector made margaritas for the ladies, and took a beer for himself. Everyone sat on the back porch and relaxed for a few minutes. Anna was in a tee and shorts, just like Diane and Beth. All three looked terrific.

Anna said, "Ralph, there is a wonderful old fashioned hot tub behind the barn. Beth says it puts you in the mood."

They stared at each other for a moment and Ralph smiled. "Hospitality seems first rate around here."

Hector and Ralph stood at the grille, watching the meat cook. Ralph said, "For a guy who was escaping the law a few days ago, you seem to have landed on your feet."

Hector smiled and said, "For a principal who has been running a lot of risks chasing skirts, you seem to be doing well with your latest target."

Ralph said, "Tell me about this Sheriff business."

"Diane cooked that up. It's actually a pretty good idea. Might open up some new opportunities for you. The idea is that we run a weekend dude ranch for lovers. Private little cabins behind the barn, more hot tubs, lots of hot water in the showers. Diane and Beth take them out riding, have a chuckwagon lunch and just as they get back here at the end of the day, you and I ride out of the woods at either end of the pasture and start shooting at each other. It'll be blanks but the guests won't know that. We fall down dead and the girls rush out in nurse's uniforms to take care of us and announce we are dead. Scares the shit out of the guests."

"I get to wear a cowboy outfit with a badge and a gunbelt?"

"You got it."

"And if one of the guests has to kiss me for not being dead after all, that's ok?"

Anna had snuck up on them and she said, "No, that's not ok. At least as long as I am around. I'm not good at sharing." She hugged him from behind and kissed his cheek.

"Oh man, here I am on a first date and I'm already in trouble with the girl."

Anna pressed herself to his front and said, "Diane has given us the bunkhouse for ourselves. Says it's rustic but private. We should go check it out."

By the time the meat was done, the rest of the food was on the table. Hector opened a bottle of Diane's best St. Emilion, which he had learned was from the Bordeaux region of France, and poured all around just as Ralph and Anna walked in looking flushed but happy.

Dinner was laid back. Diane and Beth were full of excitement about the new things they were going to do with the ranch. Hector was looking at Anna, imagining her in a cowgirl outfit. He said to her, "I bet you fill out a cowgirl outfit real nice. Maybe you should come back with the Sheriff on weekends and be a hostess for the guests. Should pay well and beat looking at high school term papers."

She stared at him, dark eyes full of something enticing, he didn't know what. She said to Beth, "Your outlaw husband-to-be is damn handsome. There's going to be a lot of women around here hitting on him."

She added, "I'm going to hit on him, but he's not going to like it. I have his course assignments for this coming week, and I'm coming back next Friday to make sure he has done them."

He suddenly realized what that look was. It was a high achool teacher putting him down and loving it.

He grinned at the table and said, "Maybe after the homework review, the Sheriff and the Outlaw have to take one of the cowgirls hostage and tie her up. Tie her up way out on the fence line."

Beth was standing behind him, pulling his hair harshly. "Hector, you stop that. Anna is the prettiest woman who has been around the ranch in a long time, and she is also trying to get you to graduation on time. Tell her you are sorry."

Hector gave Anna his boldest look and said, "Anna, I apologize. That was not nice of me, especially since you are trying to help." He emphasized the word "help."

She blinked at him and laughed. "Beth, you better keep a good hold on that sexy black hair. This one is dangerous."

After cleaning up the kitchen, they all took a stroll around the ranch buildings, ending up at the hot tub. Beth said to Diane, "Why don't you tub with Ralph and Anna. I need to discuss important matters with Hector. We'll go for a little walk."

She had his hand, strolling into the trees behind the ranch house. He put his arm around her and hung on tight. 

"You were making eyes at her."

"You were the one who said she was hot to trot and Ralph should bring her."

"If she is checking your homework and starts undressing, I'm supposed to look the other way?"

"No, you are supposed to get naked too. Maybe you need some up close and personal time with that hot body."

"You are bad, truly bad. I'm only eighteen, and just engaged to you, and already your eyes are wandering." She stuffed her hand down his pants and squeezed.

"If we do it out here, your bottom is going to suffer. Let's go inside and make a lot of noise."

She leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Which couple is Diane spending the night with?"

He picked her up and walked down the hill, kissing. "Why not both, she has been deprived until lately."

"What about me. I only had my fingers until a week ago."

"Are you really going to marry me? No family, no money, no nothing?"

"You said you would hold me, and love me, and give me great sex. That's enough."

"I'm sure stuck on you, Beth. I'm not wandering anywhere. Unless you tell me, of course."

"So, if I'm having insanely hot girl sex with Anna, and ask you to join in, you will?" She giggled in his arms as he opened the back door. He flopped down on their bed with her on top. "You are getting to be a worse tease every day."

He pulled up a blanket and they cuddled quietly. They woke to find a naked Diane and a naked Anna crawling in with them. "Ok, it's your turn. Ralph has been really nice to us but he's all tired out."

The naked ones helped them out of their clothes and headed them out the back door. The tub was nice and hot. Their hands wandered over each other. Her head was on his shoulder. "A few days ago, I was so caught up in that mess at school, and my folks being dumb. Now look at me."

"I am. You look fantastic. Even though you keep saying you love me, I can't believe we are together and even engaged."

She straddled him and rubbed her pussy on his erection. Her teeth were nibbling on his neck. "Every time I think about you walking across that pasture into Diane's rifle, I get the shakes."

"Your sister is tough. She has to be, living up here by herself. Let's go find her and make nice. She took me in."

"She had sex with you! Before me!"

"She deserved a reward for saving me. I had an incredible guilt trip until you said it was ok."

Diane was in their bed, asleep. She was nice and warm and mumbled as they climbed in. The tub had calmed them down and put them to sleep.

In the early morning dark, Hector was very hard because something was stroking him. Two hands at work, first hard, then soft. He found lips and kissed them. Before he could say anything, his cock was buried in a welcoming cunt. They were being very quiet, just teasing him and rubbing his bare skin with theirs. 

A voice whispered, "Is this an ok way to start the day?"

One tight ass was on top of him and one was at his side. He could tell by the experienced movements that Diane was claiming her reward. He kissed Beth and said, "Your sister is very demanding."

"When we were little, she made me do things for her before I could play with her dolls, which were nicer than mine."

Diane was getting frantic, posting on him and moaning. He took it for a little longer and then flipped them so he could pound her down into the bed, whispering, "I am in charge and you are going to come, NOW!"

Beth helped by biting Diane's prominent nipple. She screamed and shook.

Hector was sitting back on his knees when Anna padded silently into the room. She was naked and the curves of her delicious body shone in the dim light. Beth looked up at her. She looked at Hector's cock, still hard and dripping Diane's and his juices. "Can I have some of that?"

He looked at Beth who giggled and said, "Better keep the home room teacher happy."

Beth pulled Diane to one side and Anna took her place, spreading her legs and reaching for him. She guided him home and grunted as he bottomed in a wet, slippery sheath. "I knew this would be good."

Hector said, "You are an eighteen year old's dream. I thought I was in heaven with these two. Now I'm pumping the teacher my friends have been hard over for years."

"You have a nice cock. Stop thinking about school and give me a good fuck."

He did. The sisters explored Anna's body with lips and teeth and fingers. Anna gave a great loud scream and came. They heard a slight noise and Ralph was in the doorway with a very big grin.

"She told me she had to have you. It wasn't fair for the sisters to hog your cock."

Diane got out of bed and pushed Ralph down the hall. A little later, when Anna was still resting with Hector in her, they heard moans and a scream. Beth giggled. "The ranch lady is taking many rewards today."

Anna and Beth exchanged spit and Hector went to clean up. Ralph joined him and they heard more sex noise from the bedroom. Ralph said, "We're lucky. Three beautiful women who like sex."

Hector said, "Well, you're the Sheriff and I'm the Outlaw and we rescue damsels in distress. Then we get our rewards."

Ralph said, "I keep having the feeling you have stumbled into something special here. Available pussy, horses to ride, chores to keep your body hard. What am I doing wrong?" They laughed and went to make coffee.

After breakfast, Anna brought out her box of schoolwork and arranged the texts on the dining table. Hector looked at them with a sinking feeling. Back to work. He was a good student, but that didn't mean he liked all this. She leaned over his shoulder, paging the history book. She smelled of shampoo and scented deodorant. He whispered, "I can't concentrate on the Normans with you so close."

She pulled his hair and said, "Not as close as I was a little while ago. When I come back next weekend, I will need another treatment. I'll get Ralph to say it is ok."

Beth had her arms around Anna, tickling her and saying, "You better not hit on my man. He says he is going to marry me."

Anna turned around and gave Beth a scorching kiss. "I'm as hot for you as I am for him. Maybe I need to work up here full time. Teaching sucks. Do you share?"

They carried Anna out to the front porch, where Ralph and Diane were relaxing in the early sunlight. 

Beth said to Ralph, "Her hormones are out of control. She just attacked both of us and said teaching sucks and she wants to come here and ride horses and have sex every night."

"She's one of the best teachers in school. I can't afford to lose her. What are we going to do?"

Anna was laid out across the knees of Ralph and Diane, eyes closed. The sun was warm. Hector and Beth sat in a rocker together.

Nobody said anything for a while, pushing the swing and the rocker back and forth. 

Diane ran her fingers across Anna's face. "She can have a job here anytime, but the students need her. Anna, you are too good at what you do now to just give it up. There are good days, aren't there?"

Anna opened her eyes and drew Diane's head down for a soft kiss. "Yes. When I watch them march up and get their diplomas every spring, launching out into the world with some learning from me, it grabs you."

She stood and pulled Ralph up. "You horny old stud, we have to head back. Your bed partner Sharon needs you. I'm in trouble with her for stealing." Everyone laughed.

Hector and his women watched the car raise dust on its way out. Whatever happened next, they were in it together.



Hector Road Pt. 01



Part 1 of Pilar's adventures. Thanks for reading. There is a bunch of build up here but I hope the payoff will be worth it.

*

"3782...37. . .82" Pilar mumbled to herself as she drove her Rav4 slowly up Hector Road. Peering at the barely-visible houses through the screen of trees, she finally found a mailbox with the right number. Consulting her mapping app on her phone, she confirmed that the blue dot signifying her car hovered directly over the red dot of her destination.

"Looks like I'm here," she murmured. And then for a wild moment she considered turning around and driving way, imagining the autumn leaves that were blanketing the road flying up in a cloud as she floored it car-commercial-style down the road and back towards home. But instead she pulled into the tree-lined driveway of 3782 Hector Road, which wasn't quite an estate-style private drive, and yet wasn't exactly not that either. 

The house came into clearer view as she pulled closer, until she could see the whole thing. Not overlarge, but beautifully maintained and landscaped, it had no porch but did have a wisteria covered entryway, wide rough-hewn natural stone steps, and large double front doors. A very California house, unpretentious and yet clearly the home of someone who had the resources and time - or help - to care for it lovingly. 

Pilar pulled to a stop and sat with her hands clenching the wheel as she regarded herself in the rearview mirror. She thought whether staying instead of turning around right the hell now was just another in a series of bad decisions that had led her to this moment. 

At this point it felt like all she had going for her was a certain devil-may-care scrappiness and her looks, which were still pretty good even for being 28. Fair-haired with sky-blue eyes, ("Here she comes, Miss Typical-Boring-America") her body - which had been so taut and lithe in her teens - had gotten a little bit softer, but in compensation her breasts had ripened to be lushly beautiful and full and even rounder than when she was young. She'd happily admit it: she loved her boobs. As for the ass. Well. She just wished she had appreciated her ass more when she was 19. Oh well, she'll just have to start running or kickboxing someday. 

Sighing, she shifted to thinking for the millionth time about the absurdity of her name - Pilar. Really. Her parents had experienced an "awakening" and "spiritual journey" in Costa Rica when her mom was just barely pregnant with her. The shaman's girlfriend had been named Pilar and it had seemed like the perfect name for their baby.

"Fucking hippies" she thought - mostly fondly but a little bitterly - and not for the first time. Her parents were about as spiritual as Wonder Bread, and growing up in Minneapolis as a blue-eyed blond with an exotic name like Pilar had been her unique cross to bear.

Shaking her head to clear away the thought of her wonderful but definitely wacky parents, Pilar readied herself for what she assumed the next few hours would hold, and mentally reviewed everything that had led her here to this place, and the man who was waiting inside for her.

....

That spring, Pilar had moved to Sonoma County to pick up the pieces of her life. She'd had to leave Connecticut, to get out and never go back, and could only think of Sonoma County, where she had once been young and happy attending Sonoma State University.

18 months ago she had been accused of having an affair with the owner of the company she worked for, and also accused of embezzling about $145,000. In actuality she was guilty of nothing more illegal than being a bit naive and a whole lot gullible, but the truth didn't come out until long after the accusations ruined her life. 

Pilar didn't like to about that time in her life, not directly. Only by sliding up next to it and letting her thoughts skip sideways over the oily scrim that her memories hid behind. 

What it came to was this: Her husband divorced her and got sole custody of their two young children. She was fired, arrested, ridiculed. She was in the paper, the sad little free local fucking paper, with the caption under her picture of "Local woman arrested in embezzlement scheme." Was she shallow enough to notice it was a pretty good picture of herself? You bet your ass. But that was scant compensation for the humiliation.

The rest was almost too predictable to believe. She was frozen out by everyone in her circle of friends, rejected by everyone who had known her, with the notable exception of her parents and younger sister (who it must be noted, got the very normal name of Kristen. Bitch.) And then to complete her humiliation, her former best friend was now married to her husband. Ex-husband.

Pilar actually had nothing to do with the missing money, and luckily that was cleared up before slipping too far into the Kafkaesque experience that was the justice system. So legally she was in the clear. But everything she'd had once thought of as her stable, orderly and slightly dull but comfortably predictable life? Gone.

As for the ex-boss, he was probably living in a shack somewhere on a Mexican beach, trying to eke out his $145K into paying for a slice of the good life.

Of course, the real secret of it all was that she had actually had fucked the boss the one time, the act which had set off the whole hideous chain of events. And though at the time Pilar thought they were in love - God how that made her sick - she knew now it was just boredom and lust on her part, matched with finding a convenient sucker to cover for his plans on his part. In the end it really didn't matter that he wasn't around anymore and Pilar denied everything. Her husband divorced her. And thanks to a botched suicide attempt, made more to scare the husband than really threaten herself...and in light of the ensuing 72 hour hold .... his creepy lawyer managed to convince the judge that Pilar was "was unsuitable to parent her children" at the moment.

She was a fucking fool, and knew it, and had to live with the shame and regret.

....

Running as far as she could while staying on the same continent she arrived in Petaluma, and set about finding herself the very best cheap-and-crappy apartment she could afford. She bought a used car and then landed a job as a waitress at a local brewpub. Noisy, sticky-floored, and agreeably run-down, it was constantly full of crazy bands-on-the-make and drunken fratboys. She worked until her arms trembled from holding up trays of greasy food and pints of beer, and until her ass was black and blue from the pinches of those fratboys - and from the occasional suburban dad. 

It was the perfect place to hide from her former life. She took as many shifts as she could in order to keep busy and to stay out of the crappy apartment. She rejected all come-ons, including the one from her new boss the day after she was hired (oh, the fucking irony) yet somehow managed to keep her job.

It was quite the comedown from someone who had worked as a Senior Media Buyer for a small but growing ad shop, and who had thought being a VP in 5 or 8 years wasn't outside the range of possible. And yet somehow it wasn't that different. The drama and politics were still there, but now it was about who was fucking who, and who wasn't tipping out the busboys fairly instead of buzz-speak jargon-wars and spouting of strategic bullshit. But here at least the drama was about the fundamentals of life - sex and money - instead of corporate dickwaving.

16 months in, Pilar had finally settled into a routine that felt familiar if not comfortable. She got moved to a slightly better shift, she knew where to grocery shop and how to find the best deal on getting her beater Rav4 fixed. She'd even gone exploring a bit - out to the beach once, and wine tasting once. Though wine tasting alone had to be the saddest activity known to man, she had enjoyed the beautiful winery and views. She was existing, but existing was about all that she could ask for. All, if she was to be honest with herself, that she felt she deserved.

And then she noticed Jans.

Of course she didn't know he was Jans at the time. The first few times she spotted him, he was just the hot older guy she saw in the pub once or twice. Fit as hell, the kind of fit older guy that shouldn't exist outside of a magazine. He had this particular spot in the corner of the restaurant he liked best, and after she spotted him the first time, it felt like she started noticing him coming in to the bar more often. At the time she assumed it was confirmation bias speaking.

Finally after a few weeks she had to ask Erin, her favorite bartender, what the old guy's deal was. An older lesbian who had seriously epic gauges in her ears and the kind of tattoos that aren't just ink but were art, Erin had kind of taken Pilar under her wing. Really just "kind of" though - Erin clearly radiated the fact that she seen too many sad stories come and go through the bar over the years to actually give a shit about what happened to someone she'd known just a few months. But she was nicer than most and gave Pilar a few key pointers and warnings that helped make the adjustment to working at the bar tolerable. 

Erin said that Old Guy's name was Jans. He'd had just recently started showing up regularly, though he'd been in once or twice over the last few years. He was a good tipper, though not chatty and always came in alone, with a book to read or more often with a notebook he wrote in. 

"If you ask me, it seems like he's only in on your shifts. Watch yourself, because I think he's keeping an eye on you." She turned away and started wiping the long wooden bar which was age-worn with the scratches and nicks of a thousand drunken nights. Maybe a million. "If you want one of the guys to walk you to your car at the end of your shift, just let me know."

Pilar paused, then blurted out, "Erin, will you find out more about him for me? And let me know if you think he's harmless or if I really should be worried?" She knew a slight thrill tinged her voice but couldn't help it.

Erin gave her a long look then said "Sure babes, I'll see what I can find out." Somehow Pilar thought Erin was disappointed in her. 

Several days had passed before she and Erin were working the same shift again. Pilar had her dignity - she wouldn't ask - but at the first lull, Erin called her over. "Turns out he's a professor of 'comparative literature' over at Sonoma State. Apparently he's some kind of famous-ish writer. He started working there just a few years ago but I didn't catch where he came from before."

"So," Pilar asked, "do you really think he's watching me?" 

"You bet your ass he is," said Erin. "Like I said, you be careful. He seems normal, but then again...kind of not." 

It would all be fucking creepy, if only he wasn't so hot.

.......

Over the next month or so Pilar felt Jans' eyes on her when he came in every few days, and though they'd never said a word beyond "What can I get you?" and "Pint of LA Guinitas" to each other, when he was there it was starting to feel like they were the only two people in the room. Looking up from his notebook - that notebook he was always, always writing in - his eyes finding her and smiling his crooked smile then looking down again every few minutes, well. It felt like a heavy grip on her shoulders. She also felt his gaze in the tightening of her nipples...and lower down where she felt an almost magnetic pull from her core to wherever he was sitting. 

Being honest with herself, Pilar had to admit that having a massive crush on the strange, quiet hot-older-guy in the bar was just the type of dum-dum thing she'd do. But it felt really good to have something to look forward to at work, and something to think about at night alone in the crappy apartment. Because otherwise is was just her, alone with her regrets and the empty place in her heart that no amount of skype with her kids could fill. She had her lawyer back home still working to get her visitation, but at the moment virtual connection was all the court order allowed.

.....

After one seriously shitty shift - more ass-pinching frat boys than usual, and crappy tips to make up for it - Pilar was wiping tables and pausing to stretch and blow her bangs out of her eyes when she spotted something lying under the chair where Jans had been sitting.

His notebook, the little moleskine one (so professorial!) he was constantly writing in. 

Now the thing is that Pilar thought of herself as a reasonably moral person. Mostly told the truth, except the occasional little white lie. Paid her taxes, didn't cheat on her timecard, didn't engage too much in the gossip that the pub thrived on. Didn't speed, paid her rent on time, even watched a lady drop a $20 at the store and then ran up to her to hand it back. And that would have been a very useful 20 bucks. OK sure, there was that sleeping-with-the-boss thing, but well...it was just the once, and she paid for that little lapse ten times over, so she figured it was a wash.

And yet, here was the notebook. This notebook that Jans - and she did think of him as Jans now, though she'd never even said his name out loud to him - always had with him. 

How exactly was she supposed to not look in it? 

Tucking it into her apron pocket next to her tips, spare napkins, and some straws, she finished up with her shift. She'd decided she wouldn't take off with the notebook, but instead just have a little look-see and then leave it in the lost and found in the upstairs office. Besides wasn't this about her safety and security? DIdn't she have a right to know what this guy - who followed her with his eyes, who was practically stalking her - what he was thinking about as he sat there?

Yep, she figured, she damn well did have a right to look. Sheer nosiness wasn't any part of the calculation.

Later, walking down the back hallway and to the stairs that led up to the offices and staff washroom, she pulled off her apron and ran a hand through her hair. She figured she could grab 5 or 10 minutes in the lumpy green pleather chair that the owner had in his office - he'd gone home for the day and usually no one else was in there. She'd already sat there a couple of times; during her so-called interview, again the next day when he hit on her, and once in a while over the following months when she asked for a better shift.

Easing herself into the office, she sat down - goddamn that was the best moment of every day, sitting down after a long shift - and looked at the notebook in her hand. 

Was she really going to open the notebook and read whatever she found there? Yes, It looked like she was.

.......

And, now looking back, if she really had to pick a moment, that was when her life changed. Not later when she finally said Jans name out loud for the first time, or even later than that when they'd talked about what would come next. Or even right now, sitting in his driveway, preparing herself to go inside and find out everything she'd come to learn. No, the moment everything really started was there in that dingy office when she opened the notebook.

.......

She read.

....and grabbed her left wrist. He hefted the rope in his hand and held her wrist clamped down to the bed, considering. After a moment, Pieter tied her left wrist, then her right. He moved to the head of the bed and secured the ropes to the rings anchored in the headboard, cinching her arms tight against the mattress, fully extended above her head. He then moved to the foot of the bed and spread her legs wide, pushing her knees out and up towards her shoulders. 

He wrapped a fresh length of rope around each leg, binding each leg to itself so she couldn't straighten it, with each ankle resting against the back of her upper thigh.

Then he woke her. 

She came to herself gradually, unsure what was happening, only understanding the sensation of exposure, vulnerability. She moaned and tossed her head as he trailed the flogger rhythmically over her breasts and belly and exposed cunt, up and down, raising the gooseflesh on her skin.

He watched her face as her eyes fluttered open, making sure that the first thing she saw were his own eyes boring into hers.

"I came back," he said to her, and watched her eyes widen in in surprise, uncertainty...and something else. She squirmed, pulling on her arms and trying to move her legs, and then she subsided into a watchful stillness as she realized that she was entirely helpless, and at his mercy.

He laid the flogger aside - for now - and trailed one finger, just one finger, from her bottom lip, down her chin, to the hollow of her neck, then across the smooth mound of her left breast and around her nipple, not quite touching the pink smoothness that tightened and stood erect at his touch. Across her breastbone and then around the other nipple, which also stood to attention, matching its twin. So tempting to take those nubs in his mouth to suck and bite until they stood like shining peaks...but not yet. That would be later. First he had other work to do. 

Her breath came faster and she held her bottom lip between her teeth, watching him silently as his finger trailed down her belly, gently across her navel and then continued downward, skimming lightly down and across her clit, until it finally dipped into the slick wetness of her core.

Moving to kneel between her bound legs Pieter used his thumbs and fingers to pinch and spread her outer lips and exposed her slick inner pinkness more fully to his gaze. His fingers tightened hard on her petals until she groaned as he spread her even wider, looking as deep into her core as was possible without finding his other tools.

Exposing the damp pink flesh to the air, he watched her clit rise engorged, and saw beads of her fluid forming on the walls of her sex. Pieter moved nearer and breathed on her, filling his face with her heat and the scent of her arousal. Releasing her folds he plunged his finger into her moistness and brought his thumb down hard on her clit, forcing a moan from her, circling his thumb around her nub over and over. 

"You are so wet for me" he said softly, "so slick and smooth." He roughly drew his single finger out and slammed two back in as deep as he could reach. "This is mine," he then growled, deep in his throat. "Mine to use and suck, lick and taste, hurt and worship." With each word he drove his fingers in hard, trying to reach as far inside as he could. Curving his fingers upwards he roughly drew his fingers against her front walls, and his thumb flew across her hard nub until her hips began to rise in matching rhythm. 

His voice dropped lower. "That's right . . . you belong to me, not yourself, no one else. To no one but me." He watched her face as it flushed with her arousal, knowing her so well, judging the moment just before she reached her peak. Her back arched and hips bucked as she rose closer and closer. Breasts heaving, nipples hard as pink diamonds, wordless cries torn from her lush mouth, until he found the hair's-breadth moment just before she fell. Then he abruptly withdrew his hand as she cried out in frustration and disappointment. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes as she whimpered mindlessly and whispered "Pieter, please. Please." 

"Mine," he repeated in an insistent growl, as he walked to the door, and left his Pilar there alone, trussed and helpless, victim to her own arousal.

.......

She didn't exactly remember how she ended up back in her car. Surely she'd walked back down the stairs, clocked out, and walked into the parking lot. Probably said some kind of good night to the busboys and Erin. She must have found her keys and started her car, because here she was driving, and even in the right direction.

But she had been in a daze. As she looked down, she noticed her apron was crumpled in her lap. And in the pocket, tucked safely again next to the straws and napkins was Jans' notebook.




Hector Road Pt. 01



Continued in Part 2



Hector Road Pt. 02



A sleepless night. An endless shift. Then another.

Finally, after three days he was there. Sitting in his usual corner, writing in a notebook, now and again looking up at her. The same as every other time, only now it was different. Now she knew. What he was writing, and what he was thinking about as he sat there, glancing at her with those unfathomable blue eyes. 

Those sleepless nights? She had spent them reading the entire notebook, and then reading it again. It was full of more stories of Pilar and Pieter, all on a single theme: how they met, her initial submission to him, her betrayal of him and her punishment, then her redemption and final recommitment to him. 

And the scary part - Ok and also the thrilling part - was that she recognized herself in the pages. He had captured her perfectly. Not just the physical description (though she did wonder how he happened to know the exact pink of her nipples), but her sense of herself, and her new way of moving through the world. She needed a redemption story or she'd be condemned to wander with the cold blanket of regret laid over her heart forever. 

But never mind all that deep introspective bullshit...that way lay despair. She already had been there and back. The real question was what now? Would she tell Jans that she knew? Did he even realize he was missing a notebook, and know where he'd left it? And if she did reveal her knowledge to him, what would happen then? Was this just fantasy for Jans...or an expression of things he knew how to make real? 

Because if she was getting right down to it and being honest with herself, she hoped that he did know how to make it real. 

The sleepless nights? Those weren't just taken up with thinking about Jans and the meaning of the stories, but with driving her fingers in and out of the slick pink folds he described so perfectly. With pinching the stiff nipples that he wrote about clamping, and imagining his cock sunk deep in her mouth, filling her throat to the point of gagging. She spent the nights milking her clit, pulling and squeezing it, drawing out of herself the deepest orgasims she'd ever had, and wishing it was his lips sucking her nub into his mouth, tongue and lips lapping at her, drinking her juices and fingers spreading her wide, wide enough to know her core.

That decided it. She needed to find out what would happen next. And if it all went to hell, well she'd started over before, and could do it again.

...

Jans:

The notebook dropped on to the table with a soft sound. It sat there, so normal-looking, just your basic moleskine notebook you could find in any stationary shop (if those still existed) and that he bought a half-dozen at a time on Amazon.

"Pieter," she said, in a low voice, almost conversationally but not meeting his eyes. "How can I serve you?" Then she looked at him, raised one eyebrow and stood waiting expectantly with her pen poised over her waitress' notepad.

Only someone who knew her as well as he did could have ignored the false air of casual confidence and noticed the short, rapid breaths, and the flush along her collarbone and along the line of her cheekbones. Saying those five words took more courage from her than almost anything she'd done lately, and he admired her for it. This one might be different.

Jans knew she didn't guess he had googled her, had even flown to Connecticut and interviewed friends and neighbors on the guise of writing an article about her sordid little scandale for Vanity Fair. 

"Pilar," he said. "it seems we have some things to talk about."

...

They met on neutral ground, the neutral ground everyone meets on. Starbucks. 

...

At first she disappointed herself. She was giggly. And awkward. And just kind of weird. She tried to be coy and arch and all so very "who cares" about it all. The thing was, Jans didn't tolerate any of that nonsense. And she liked him for it.

He said to her, "I think I see you, probably better than you see yourself."

Then he said "My advice would be to walk away now, but if you can't then I'll show you want you want to know."

He also said, "if we do this, it will be because you accept my terms, and give yourself entirely over to me. I can't have it any other way."

And he said "I'm not doing the cutesy flirting thing, so you can stop now. We're both grown-ups. You want to know if I'd like to be inside you, ride your body, and use you until you cry and beg me to give you release? Yes, that I do." 

And finally he said "When I look at you all I can think of is how I'm going to hold your head down and fuck that beautiful mouth of yours."

...

And so here she was, in his driveway. It was time to either ring his doorbell or drive away.

She got out of the car.

...

Tour of the house concluded, we walked into the bright, open kitchen. Painted a light grey instead of the typical wood tones or even all-too-typical white, it featured industrial appliances and granite marble tops. "Of course" she thought to herself.

Jans smiled at her across the counter.

"Sit, and relax. We have plenty of time. First we'll eat, and it will be best if you drink a little too much wine. Then we'll sit outside and talk together about this thing and how it'll be between us." 

She chose the stool nearest the windows and watched his hands as he chopped and stirred. After a few moments he pulled a bottle of rose from the fridge and removed the cork, then poured me a large glass. 

Holding it in her hand Pilar held the wineglass in the sun admiring the blush color of the wine. "The exact color of my nipples" she thought and felt heat rise to her cheeks. She considered what Jans had said about drinking a little too much wine and took a deep sip from the crystal glass. 

"Can I get myself some water?" She asked. Looking up from his cooking Jans glanced at me and then nodded over his shoulder. "Absolutely. There are bottles in the fridge." 

She walked around the counter and across behind him, then opened one of the double doors of his huge stainless steel refrigerator. Grabbing a water bottle she let the door swing shut. He looked over his shoulder and gently said "You didn't ask me if I wanted one." 

"Damn. Selfish. So typical of me," she thought to herself.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Do you want a bottle too?" Wordlessly he nodded, and winked with a smile.

Pilar opened the door and pulled a second bottle from the recesses of the fridge. Placing it on the counter next to the stove where Jans was cooking, she walked back around and sat on my stool again. 

The moment she sat he looked up and said "Open it." Not a request. 

She reached across the counter, twisted the cap and placed the open bottle back in the same spot next to him.

"Get me a glass. For yourself too. We don't drink from plastic." Again, this was not a request, but instructions; like the stating of a rule to learn and follow.

Back around the counter Pilar opened cabinet doors until she found glass tumblers. She noticed as she looked that Jans had no plastic of any kind in his kitchen...or even anywhere in his house, at least not that she could see from where she stood.

"I'll pour it out for you?" she asked. Jans again nodded instead of speaking, so she did. "Anything else sir?"

At her half teasing, half serious words he looked up at her for a long moment, blue eyes dilating; appraising her, searching her face. Finally he said, "That's all for now. Dinner is almost ready. Sit, drink your wine. It's very good. I should know, it's from my parents vineyard."

They ate sitting at a glass-topped table placed in the open french doors between his kitchen and the grey-cobbled patio overlooking his view to the west. Simple, perfect Sonoma County food: sliced peaches tossed with olive oil and chopped basil as salad. Penne with grilled chicken, sungold tomatoes, more olive oil, salt, pepper and freshly grated Parmesean cheese. Crusty bakery-fresh bread and a crock of local butter. Jans watched and smiled into her eyes as she tasted everything with pleasure clearly showing on her expressive face.

The sun traveled across the far side of the valley and sank towards the western hills as they talked of local news, laughed about the latest stupid memes going around Facebook, and slowly finished our meal. It was a kind of bizarrely regular conversation, considering the reason they were together.

Pilar did indeed drink a little too much wine. Most of the bottle of rose, which as promised was amazing. Jans, she noticed, drank only one full glass and then sipped very slowly at another.

Without being asked - or rather, told - she cleared the plates after they finished. Noticing the dishwasher was full of clean dishes she quickly emptied it, moving easily while putting all the dishes away. Jans sat on the stool where she had perched before, continuing the conversation and occasionally telling her where things belonged as she hunted around the kitchen. Finally with the dirty dishes in the dishwasher (no pots or pans, as Jans was the type of annoyingly effortless cook who cleaned as he went) she crossed her arms, leaned back against the far counter and looked at him.

"I'm fed. Definitely had too much wine." she said. Then she tilted her head and raised one eyebrow as if to say..."and now what?"

Jans answered the unasked question. "Now," he said, "lets talk." 

Grabbing the bottle of rose - bottle number 2 Pilar remembered - he gently steered her through the door to the patio and gestured towards two chairs, with a small, drum-shaped ceramic table between them. Perfectly placed to watch the sunset, the chairs were angled comfortably towards each other, and were layered with brightly patterned cushions. 

Sinking into one chair, she put her wine glass down on the table. She noticed the chime of the crystal as the glass clattered slightly, thanks to her shaking hand.

"Jans..." She started, but then couldn't think of what to say next.

He settled in the other chair and took a deep breath. Letting it out he began.

"You need to understand, this isn't about romance. It's not about holding hands, and whispering sweet nothings. No long walks on the beach, and in spite of appearances" he grinned wryly and nodded at the sky, "it's not about sunset evenings and candlelight dinners."

"It is about your body and mine. About surrender and trust. It's about my owning and possessing you, and its about you letting go and giving yourself over to me. But you have to understand, I'm going to hurt you. Sometimes very badly. That is a part of this too, and without that pain there is nothing for us to find in each other. Are you really prepared for that?"

She had figured out what she needed to say. "Jans, I read the stories. I get it. I know the parts we'll each play." She continued on, trying to explain, to convince him that she knew what she was doing there with him. "I want..." No. She stopped and shook her head, almost angrily. "I need this," she stressed. "I'm so fucking empty. I need to feel again, and to be filled. I need to know I am alive, because I have walked up to the edge of the abyss and looked in. I really think that only you can do that for me. I have to find a way to be released from myself and my past, you know? So, ok then. I give myself to you and give freely; I want to be reborn as your possession to use or discard as you choose."

"You shouldn't want this." He said it bleakly. "You actually should want to run, to run the hell away from me, out those doors and down the street, back to the light. But yeah, again I think I see you as no one else does, and I know if you don't find what you are looking for here, you'll just seek it out some place else. It may not be this, and you are hanging in there now. But someday soon instead of me it may be drugs or booze or something else fucking stupid and dangerous that you believe will fill your empty places."

"That means its a deal. I'll accept your gift of yourself. I'll be your guide, your Charon. I'll ferry you across the Styx and into the infinite darkness."

"But before we start first you need to choose a word. Some people would call it a safety word, but to you it will be like beacon in the dark, a flare you can light which will guide you back home. And like a flare, you can only use it one time before it is gone forever."

"Choose wisely, and choose something that you can't forget, because once we go together into the dark it will be all you can cling to. That and you will cling to the trust you place in me, your guide."

A tiny whisper in her brain said, his spiel sounded a bit rehearsed - this wasn't the first time he'd had this conversation with a woman - but sent a chill down her back nonetheless. My mind roamed through what he said, thinking of his metaphor of the word as my way home. 

"Hector," Pilar finally said. "The name of your road. When...well, I should say if...I want to leave you, I'll say the name of the road that will lead me away. Hector."

Jans closed his eyes. He thought about how usually his toys chose idiotic words like 'potato' or 'iceberg'. Only this new toy - who may turn out to be much more than a toy; who may actually become a person to him - chose a word of meaning and of its own dark power.

Jans leaned forward suddenly in his chair, legs wide, elbows on his knees, hands dangling and head deeply bowed. He stayed that way a long moment, long enough she started to worry and wonder what the hell was wrong with him.

Just before she decided to speak (and probably say something stupid and mood-ruining), he looked up at her and his face was transformed. Eyes ablaze, his jaw looked chiseled from granite, with strong nose and brow standing out in sharp relief against the darkening blue of the evening sky. And his voice when he spoke was also chiseled from granite. 

"And so we start. You understand that belong to me now. You are mine; my possession utterly, until I choose to release you."

That got her attention. She sat frozen; tense, scared, and silent.

"Use the word if you will. That is your power over me. Use it once, and this ends. You can go. I'll let you go safely home to your life and your friends and whatever is left of your family, and this thing between us will be done, forever." 

"But you should also know this: When I am inside you, the word does not work," he warned. "Use it before, or after, but when we are joined together you have no power and you have no will." He looked in my eyes to be sure she understood. "As of now you do what I will." 

He added more conversationally, "and I will. Be inside you I mean. I will open you, and I will be so deep inside you. I will lick you, and touch you, and together we will come to know your darkest inner places where no one else has ever been. You'll empty yourself and open your soul to me. And I'll fuck you, and taste your blood, and I'll leave my mark upon you."

He waited. Pilar sat, looking over the view, saying farewell to everything she had known about herself. And then I too sat waiting for whatever would come next.

He finally stirred, drank deeply from his wineglass, and looked at me kindly. Again I saw the Jans I knew, with the gentle smile I recognized.

"Lets begin. Stand up and take your clothing off." As I hesitated at the sudden command, just for a moment, his smile widened. "This is it. This is when you decide. As promised, Hector is right out there, waiting for you. But if you stay I promise you'll find everything that you seek."

She stood. How could she not? She'd wanted this, came to Jans to find it. To now turn away from it would be madness. 

She unbuttoned her shorts, dropped them to her ankles and stepped out, then pulled her tank top over my head. Folded them neatly and placed them on the cobbled floor next to the chair where she had been sitting. Stood waiting.

He reached out a strong hand towards me and she lifted her own hand, palm upwards towards him until we grasped each other, clung tightly as if together we could avoid drowning. Taking a step towards him she turned her body so she was bathed in the final golden light of the sunset.

Jans ran his hands down her arms, her waist, her back, smoothing and caressing her. Raising goose flesh on me wherever he touched, though the night was warm. He pulled her towards him now, gripping her waist and forcing her forward until she was between his knees, and he kissed the exposed skin of her belly, rubbing his whole face back and forth, rasping her skin with the stubble of his cheeks. He smoothed his thumbs rhythmically outwards from my navel, over and over, then moved his hands to grip my outer thighs and then around to cup and hold my ass. He rested his forehead against her belly and murmured "So soft. So soft." 

As if he could see the wry grimace she pulled at his words ... Yes she was soft, as any woman with 28 years and 2 children under her belt would be ... He said fiercely, lips moving against her belly, "Never apologize for being soft. You have to stay soft for me, and I intend to worship your curves and valleys and the shape of your body."

He drew his hands down her thighs and ass and belly and back, over and over. Never coming near my breasts which pushed outward in invitation, never near the most private part of her, so close and yet so far from his questing hands. 

Until suddenly he spoke thickly. "Show me your breasts. Do it now." She immediately reached behind her back to unclasp the strapless wisp of lace that she had put on in such anticipation just a few hours earlier.

As she pulled the bra away from her body he reached up and lifted my breasts in both hands, measuring, feeling their weight. He pulled on my nipples - truly the color of rosé she noted - gently and then pinching and rolling the nubs harder and harder until she was gasping, not sure if it was pleasure or pain she was feeling.

He again ran his hands over her, lifting her arms to smooth my hairless armpits with a grunt of approval, then moving again down my waist and hips and ass to caress my hairless calves and thighs.

"So soft" he breathed again, still the only words between them. 

Finally he ran his hands up the front of my thighs and dipped his fingers slowly inside the elastic of my underpants. 

Then he stroked once, twice, feeling the nakedness of her hairless lips. His fingers sought the core of her sex, and pinched her clit, gently shaking it back and forth. Watching her, gauging her responsiveness, he kept shaking, pulling on her clit and she gasped and shook and cried out all at once.

The slap on her face took her completely by surprise. The second one brought tears to her eyes and the third brought a cry of pain to her lips.

He moved his hand to grab her jaw from beneath, digging into the muscles of her face. "I didn't give you permission to come" he said darkly into her her ear. "Your orgasims don't belong to you anymore, they belong to me now." His hand tightened and her breath came faster as she waited for whatever would come next. "We have some work to do with you. Go home, until I call for you." 

By now the sudden change in his demeanor had left her with tears on her cheeks, and an embarrassing hitch in her breath. She tried to stammer out an apology, to explain that she didn't know, she couldn't help herself and was just trying to please him. But he had turned off, tuned her out as if she didn't exist. He walked into the house and started clearing up the last of things from dinner, still ignoring her. After standing stupidly for a moment she realized - she had vowed to obey him; she had to leave now and wait upon his word. 

Gathering her clothing she dressed quickly and silently, and walked barefoot through the house towards the driveway where she had left her car. Jans did not look at her as she padded across the floor and through the front doors. Passing out into the dark of night she started her Rav4 and the headlights suddenly illuminated the ancient oak tree in the middle of his driveway. She pulled her car out...on to Hector Road she realized, as she half laughed and half sobbed, and drove down the hill into the empty darkness.