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The Bridge

By: Just Plain Bill



Although the following was written by a male, it employs the first person narrative of a female. It simply seems more effective and believable presented this way. 

It is a work of fiction. None of the circumstances or characters bear any resemblance to actual events or real persons. 

JPB

*

My name is Jane Adams. Though I had always felt I led a happy life, I knew there must be more to it than my experience during my first twenty-five years. It's not that I don't like men, I've always told myself I just haven't met the right one. I had fun on my few dates in high school and college but they never led to anything serious. 

On my twenty-fifth birthday last May, I reflected on my life and the thought occurred to me that; here I am in my mid-twenties and still a virgin! 

Sure, I had a few close calls. In high school, there was one boy in particular I had the "hots" for, as we girls used to say. His name was Bert Olson. We would park out by the lake and Bert would start kissing me and plunge his tongue into my mouth. Then he would rub my breasts through my blouse and bra, once or twice even managing to get his hand inside and touch a nipple. It felt good, but my mother had told me that I shouldn't let a boy do such things. Bert would also put his hand between my legs and rub me down there! That felt even better and I got wet. But, I knew I shouldn't let him do that either. My mother had warned me what it could lead to. 

Some of the girls in my class had already gotten pregnant and had babies, loosing their chance to go to college and becoming professional women. I didn't want that to happen to me. 

Sometimes, while Bert was feeling me with one hand, he would take his other hand and grasp my wrist and place my hand on his lap. I could plainly feel how hard he was. Several times, I let him take his penis out. I had never seen one in that condition before. Of course, I knew what boys have down there. In my earlier teen years, I baby-sat to pick up extra spending money. So I knew that little boy babies had that little thing that sometimes would shoot like a fire hose, spaying pee all over me. I also saw Bobby, my younger brother, a few times, as he emerged from the shower. Several times, as young children, when Bobby and I were out walking in the woods, he would take his dickie out to pee. That's what we called it then. Observing how handy that little appendage was, I thought it unfair that boys had it so much easier than us girls. 

But, until Bert displayed what was hiding in his pants, I had never seen a hard one, although I had heard from other girls that they get that way. It was so big and fearsome, but it thrilled me to see it, nevertheless. But, knowing what it could do to me, it scared me a lot too.

That first time I saw it, nothing further happened. Bert put it back and kissed me, then drove me home. But a few weeks later when he withdrew that frightening but fascinating instrument, he guided my hand to it and told me to grasp it, then to start pumping my hand up and down. I was surprised to find that the skin moved freely under my hand. I soon discovered that I liked the feel of Bert's penis in my hand and observed that he enjoyed what I was doing. I kept this up and down motion for a couple of minutes before he urged me to move my hand faster and grip his penis tighter. As I complied, I soon I felt it get even harder and bigger.

"Get ready," he shouted. "I'm gunna come!"

I didn't know what that meant, but I soon found out.

His body began writhing, as if he was being tortured. Then it happened. A jet of white stuff shot from the end of his penis and landed on my jeans and all over my arm. 

"Don't stop, babe. Don't stop yet," Bert ordered. So, I kept on stroking as more white stuff leaped out, although not as forcefully as that first jet. Soon it was merely dribbling out of the small hole in the end of his penis. Now, he seemed very relaxed. 

"Thanks, babe. I needed that. You can't imagine how much I needed that. You turn me on so. I've had blue balls those other nights we were out here."

I didn't know what blue balls were.

I used my hand to please Bert many times that last few months in high school. We had both turned eighteen just before that first time I satisfied him that way. Several times, as I was doing it, he would put his hand on the back of my head and try to force my face down to where my hand was stroking him. I knew what he wanted me to do. I had heard other girls, more adventurous than I, talk about giving blow jobs. But, I wasn't ready for that, and didn't know if I would ever be. 

Bert would also put his hand between my legs. And when I was wearing a skirt, try to put his hand up there. I know he felt the wetness on my panties, and I wanted his hand to probe inside of me. I longed for that big hard penis of his to thrust in there too, but I knew the consequences of that, so I pulled away and firmly said no. 

Bert and I graduated that June. I went on a long trip to the western states with my parents during the summer. We saw each other once or twice in late August. Both times, he tried to get me to go all the way. That's what we called it then. I still refused even though he assured me he would wear a condom. Somehow I wasn't yet ready to go all the way. I liked Bert but was certain I didn't love him, which made it easier to refuse to submit to his wishes. I did, however please him with my hand as I had learned to do months before. That, at least, temporarily seemed to relieve the pent-up pressure that was driving him in his attempts to convince me to agree to the ultimate joining of male and female bodies. 

In September we went off to separate colleges, and I lost track of Bert Olson. That chapter in my life was over.

I soon found that college was very different from high school. I had to study very hard to keep up and thus had few dates during my freshman year. But early in my sophomore year, I met Tom Stanton. Tom was handsome and large man of twenty-one. He was a Junior and quarterback on the football team. We began dating and I fell for him immediately. 

Of course, like Bert, Tom tried to seduce me, but, as I had previously, I resisted. But, on our second date, I put the knowledge I had gained with Bert, to use. If I thought Bert's penis was large and fearsome, Tom's was huge and beautiful. Once while stroking this prodigious manhood, I remarked on its dimensions. 

"It's nine and quarter inches long and five inches in circumference," Tom bragged. 

Even without actual measurement, I knew that Bert's was at least two inches shy of what Tom was displaying. Tom's information on his dimensions peaked my curiosity. Having never observed erections, other than Tom's and Bert's, I had no standard by which to compare them with what might be considered "normal." Obviously, my little fifteen-year-old brother's limp penis as he stepped out of the shower gave me no clue as to how long a normal sized aroused male should be. And, I certainly had no way to compare circumferences, but Tom's stout meat certainly outshone Bert's rather skinny one.

"It sounds like you've actually taken measurements, I quipped, as I continued stroking him. We had been doing this regularly, and Tom was taking longer to come than he had the first few times. 

"Sure. I suppose all guys do. They always want to know how their dicks stack up," he laughed.

"How would they know? I mean how would they know about others?"

"Oh, there're books where you can get that information. But, as kids, we used to get together and measure. I always came out on top."

"You're bragging," I scolded as I increased the force and speed of my stroking. 

"Just being truthful," Tom responded, his breathing becoming heavier.

But, I knew from experience that he wasn't ready to erupt yet. When he did, it would be a flood! "You mean you and other boys got naked together and got hard... hard-ons?"

"Sure, we used to jack off together - see who could come first and shoot the farthest - that sort of thing."

"Grosse!" was the only response I could think of at that bit of male trivia.

"But, we all grew out of that kid stuff" he assured me.

I tried picturing my little brother engaging in such activity with his young buddies, but couldn't conjure up such a disturbing image.

Increasing the rapidity and vigor of my stroking still farther, I inquired about what I had been curious about since the beginning of this conversation. "So, how much are you above normal, assuming you are above normal?" Somehow I couldn't imagine men with larger penises than the one in front of me, the one I was stroking with my two hands. Believe me, there was plenty of room for both of my hands. 

"I can tell you that I've spoiled you for any guy you'll ever run into," he panted.

I could tell he was getting close, and prepared for the gushing onslaught. It would be messy. But, I had figured out a way to handle that. At the time, I thought I loved Tom and would do anything for him, except what we both wanted to do so badly. There was no more time to consider. The moment was at hand. With both of my hands still gripping the base and mid portion of Tom's immense manhood, I brought my mouth down on its tip, tasting the clear fluid which precedes the torrent of white semen which was working its way up the lengthy shaft. Tom gasped in pleasure as he felt my warm moist lips on the tip of his penis and that first rush of warmth cascaded into my mouth and down my throat. The flood kept coming and coming as I swept my tongue over the smooth ruby skin that graces the business end of the male organ. I kept my lips tight against the prodigious sausage and Tom began thrusting it in and out of my mouth as if it were a medieval battering ram. 

Our relationship, if that's what it was, ended a month later when Tom apparently found a girl who would go all the way. The break-up was difficult for me. But I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard a few months later that his new girlfriend was pregnant. They both dropped out of school and ended up getting married. Later I heard that they have three kids, and Tom was working as a car salesman. 

Until a few days ago, I had never again done anything like I did with Bert and Tom. But, I'm getting ahead of my story. 

After graduation from college, I landed a job with one of the city's top law firms. There weren't many single men in the office. And even if there had been, I didn't really want to get involved with guys at work. However, I met some very pleasant women, most of them older. They liked many of the same things I did, so we went to plays and concerts, and sometimes out to dinner together. We enjoyed each other's company, but there was nothing sexual between us. I knew that some women do things with each other, but I never have. It was a pleasant life, but not very exciting. Many nights, lying awake in bed, I would think about Bert Olson and Tom Stanton and remember the exciting things I did with them. Especially memories of how Tom's big thick penis felt in my hand, and in my mouth, would come flooding back and I'd recall the taste of Tom's warm load of cum as he shot it down my throat. At such times, I think about how his stiff penis would have felt buried deep into my vagina, and sometimes wished I had let him do it at least once. When I would lie in bed thinking about these things, I knew that, if there had been a man in the bed with me, we'd be doing it. With that thought raging in my brain, my hand would slide down to the place between my legs and begin fingering my clit until wave after wave of wonderful sensation would engulf me. Only then, could I relax and drop off to sleep.

Despite my rather pleasant life with work and my female friends, I frequently felt strange. I had never been sexually attracted to women, but why hadn't I met a man who affected me the way Tom did? Was there something the matter with me?

But, that all changed. Even if he had never called me, I felt differently about myself after meeting Earl. As soon as I met him I knew he was someone special, someone I wanted.

I went to a symphony concert by myself one evening. None of my girl friends could make it and the program included a work I wanted to hear very badly. Seated next to me, was a tall handsome gentleman in his mid-thirties. I was surprised to observe that he was also unaccompanied. At the conclusion of the first work he spoke, commenting on the orchestra's performance. After the second selection, it was intermission and I decided it was my turn to say something. I noted how much I was enjoying the concert. He agreed, then asked if I would join him for a glass of champagne. 

I almost didn't accept his offer, but feeling there was safety in the crowded concert hall lobby, I did. Besides, I liked his looks already.

Presenting me with the champagne, he told me that his name was Earl Worthington and that he was an engineer at a large aerospace company.

I introduced myself and thanked him for the champagne.

When the concert was over, he offered to drive me home. With more than a little trepidation, I agreed. As we reached my apartment, he asked if he could see me again. Already attracted to him, I gave him my phone number. 

A few nights later, Earl called, inviting me to dinner. He chose a very expensive restaurant, one I had never expected to see the inside of. It proved as marvelous as its reputation. During dinner, he told me about his job involving space and missiles. I didn't quite understand it all. When we reached my door, I let him kiss me goodnight, and I kissed him back, like I've kissed no other man since Tom Stanton. I hoped I hadn't scared him away. I didn't ask him in, not yet telling him I lived alone. 

As we dated over the next few weeks, I realized I was completely in love with this wonderful man. But, one night, he dropped the "bombshell" - announcing that he was married, but quickly adding that he and his wife were separated. Not knowing how to handle this revelation, I immediately asked him to take me home. As he drove off, I missed him already.

When Earl didn't call over the next few weeks, I debated calling him. Married or not, I had decided I wanted this man. After all, he had said that he and his wife were separated. But, maybe he had found someone else, perhaps even gone back to his wife. I was miserable contemplating such possibilities, and didn't know what to do.

Finally, one Saturday afternoon, Earl phoned apologizing for not calling, explaining that he had been busy at work, and on travel. I didn't know whether to believe him or not, but agreed when he said he wanted to take me to a great seafood restaurant that evening, that is if I didn't have other plans. I didn't, and accepted. 

He was right as usual. The restaurant was superb. After dinner, he suggested he show me his house, which he said was nearby. I was apprehensive about visiting any man's home, especially a married man. I almost refused, but not wanting to take another chance of losing him, I agreed. Just being with him, caused me to lose my previous inhibitions. He showed me around his house, which was very nice - quite large with a pretty yard and a hot tub enclosed by a high fence. I'd never seen a hot tub at someone's home before and it looked extremely inviting. Earl fixed drinks and we sat and talked about what each wanted from life. Neither desired to become rich, just comfortable and have a nice home. We both shared a love of classical music and discovered several other interests in common. Eventually, we began getting closer. We kissed for a long time. Finally, he put his hand on my breasts. I didn't pull away. In fact, I reveled at his touch. Before I knew what was happening, Earl's hand was inside my blouse and bra, fingering one of my nipples. Then, he gently placed my hand on his lap, his hardening penis very apparent. 

I drew back. 

Sensing my hesitation, he apologized. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm proceeding a little too fast, but you turn me on so, I can barely restrain myself." 

"I'm not sure I want things to proceed this rapidly, especially since you're married," I replied. But I already knew that I wanted Earl, married or not. 

"Was married," he replied. "My divorce became final this week," he announced triumphantly. 

"That's great news!" I responded, unable to conceal my elation. "Nevertheless," I continued. "I know you're experienced. I'm not. In fact, I'm still a virgin. I can't help wondering, how many other women you've been with. Am I to be another of your 'trophies?'" 

"No, you certainly won't be one of my 'trophies,' as you put it," he replied emphatically. "I feel differently about you than any other woman I've ever met. And, I'm not saying that just to get you into bed, as intriguing as that prospect is. As to other women I have been with, it's not a long list - three or four in addition to my now ex-wife - and none since we separated. I don't claim to be a saint, just a man, a fairly successful man for my age, who is in love with you, he said. "If my sexual history shocks you, maybe we ought to call it off now, before either of us becomes more interested than I already am." 

"I don't want to call it off, Earl," I said. "It's just that I've had so little experience and I'm not accustomed to what's happening. I petted a little in high school and college, but I never let it to go any farther." I guess what I had done with Bert and Tom could be classified as petting. 

"But, somehow with you, Earl, I want it to go farther." With those words, I sealed my fate and we both knew it. 

"We're going to do it, Jane, if not tonight, soon!" 

"I know it's bound to happen. But, being a virgin, it represents a big step for me. Please understand." 

"I understand. And I'll try to be patient; and, when our time does come - gentle. But, I'm having difficulty holding back much longer. You turn me on so," he gasped. "You can't imagine how horny I am right now." 

I had learned from Bert, about blue balls and didn't want Earl to suffer that fate because of me. And, with my experience with both Bert and Tom, I knew how to prevent it.

Always before, it was the male who took the lead, by unzipping and extracting and displaying his wares. This time, I was determined that Earl wouldn't go unsatisfied. I placed one hand firmly around the bulge in his trousers and stroked. Then, with my other hand, I reached for his zipper and pulled. I was greeted by a bulging set of boxers. "You're going to have to help a little here," I told him. 

With that he reached down and withdrew the strangest looking male organ I had ever seen.

He obviously read my puzzled expression and said. "I should have warned you that I'm not circumcised." 

"I've never seen... 

"You've never seen an uncircumcised penis before?"

"No," I responded somewhat shocked. "I thought all of them looked pretty much the same."

"Most, but not all, are circumscribed," he informed me. "It's common practice, especially in this country, but not universal."

"But why, if it's such common practice, weren't you?" I asked.

"I don't know exactly. It's so routine. Perhaps it was because my mother died when I was born and the resulting confusion. It's hard to say. I wasn't too cognizant at the time."

"I've never seen a guy who wasn't - my brother and the few guys I dated..." 

Earl pulled back the foreskin to reveal the moist front part, the part that's dry and pink on those circumcised penises I'd seen. Then he gently reached over and took my hand and placed my trembling fingers around it. It was growing each second, and the foreskin was pulling back of its own accord and it began to look much like the others. 

As I curled my hand around it, he gasped and told me my touch felt very good. I was glad my experience with Bert and Tom had taught me how to please a man this way, and had to admit that Earl's beautifully fashioned penis felt wonderful in my grip. No, it wasn't as monstrous at that which Tom Stanton carried around, but I knew right then, it was the one I wanted in me. As I stroked, it grew in size and hardness with each passing second. As it did, I began to stroke slowly, as I had in the past. But, I realized this was different. It felt so good in my hand. And, I could tell Earl was enjoying what I was doing. Before I realized it, he put his hand on my leg, ran it up all the way up to my crotch and slid my panties to the side. I was already very wet, and he had no difficulty inserting a finger into my opening, then sliding it back out to find my clitoris. As he began to massage it, I stroked his now fully hard, beautiful penis even more vigorously.


The Bridge



As Earl increased the pressure and speed of his massage, I did likewise. It wasn't long before that exquisite feeling, which I had given myself over the years, rolled over me. I was breathing hard and moving my entire body. That only caused me to stroke Earl's penis faster and more vigorously. I could feel it getting even bigger as I did. Then he convulsed and that spurt of white liquid, shot three or four feet into the air and fell back on his trousers, and my skirt. But, I didn't care. I was too wrapped up in the wonderful feeling wracking my entire body, and the pleasure I knew I was bringing this wonderful man - the man I now knew I loved.

As we relaxed and thanked each other, he softly said to me, "When we do, we'll do it 'right', removing all of our clothes; and on a nice soft bed. It won't be in the back seat of a car, like a couple of high school kids," he promised. And I'll try to be as gentle as I can. In the meantime, I'll attempt to be patient. But," he added. "I'm having a hell of a time holding back much longer." 

I realized this was the first cuss word I'd heard escape Earl's lips. 

Just the thought of being naked with this man on a nice soft bed and having his wonderful organ in me, excited me almost beyond expression. And, Earl seemed to sense my state of mind. 

Then apparently breaking the tension, he asked: "Would you like to try the spa?"

"I somehow didn't think to bring a bathing suit on a date to a seafood restaurant," I laughed.

"After what we just did, do you really think bathing suits are necessary?"

Despite my apprehensions, the idea intrigued me. The anticipation of sitting sans clothing with this man in his spa, excited me even more than I was already. And, contemplating what might occur afterward drove me almost out of my mind. But, balancing that was the knowledge that, if I gave in, I would be crossing a bridge I could never recross. That thought made me pause. And, yes, I was scared. 

When I didn't respond immediately, he continued. "You'll find a heavy robe hanging just inside my closet. While you're getting ready, I'll get the cover off the spa. Once you're in, I'll take a quick shower and join you." 

Putting my misgivings aside, I agreed and went into the bathroom, showered, put on the robe and went out to the spa. I was glad for the robe. Not only did it hide my body for just a little while longer, but also protected me from the rather chilly evening. Removing the robe and hanging it on a hook next to the spa, I got in quickly - immersing myself in the wonderful one-hundred-degree water. I had been luxuriating in the soothing warmth for about five minutes when Earl appeared wearing nothing but a towel wrapped strategically around him. Even in the dim light, I could discern the outlines of his masculine frame as he hung the towel on another hook and swung his naked body into the spa. Ilooked away, in an attempt to not see him, or maybe pretend I wasn't looking at him. I wasn't sure which. Then, he too was under the water, with only his head and shoulders out. 

He punched some buttons on the control panel, and water began swirling about us, producing fine bubbles which helped obscure our nakedness. We'd sat there for a while, enjoying the rushing water, when suddenly, I felt Earl's hand on my arm. Then, his mouth was on mine and we were sharing a deep kiss - our tongues teasing each other. I felt his hand move from my arm over to my breasts; and as he slid his body closer, his erection brushed my thigh. As he stroked my nipples, his other hand found the place between my legs. I know the wetness there wasn't from just the water in the spa. 

Earl seemed to know exactly where to put his hand and how to work his fingers to drive me absolutely wild! Observing his excited state, I reached over and grasped his erection. Holding it in my hand heightened my excitement, and his. He stroked me for several minutes until I could barely stand it another second. Electric currents were pulsating through my entire body, and I felt as if something was about to explode within me. 

Finally, he gasped, "Jane, I can't take this any longer. Let's go inside and do it!" 

By then, my only possible response was a weak, "okay." 

We got out of the spa and dried ourselves, Earl with his towel and I by sliding into the heavy terry cloth robe. As we entered the darkened room, he held me close, his stiff appendage nearly finding my ready opening as we stood there embracing. But, he didn't try to enter me. Instead, he maneuvered me toward the bed, turned on a small lamp that sat on a bedside table, then took the robe from my shoulders and tossed it on a nearby chair. 

I winced, partly from the sudden illumination and partly from embarrassment of my nudity and his. 

"I want to be able to see you," Earl whispered. "It's important to me that I see you as we make love for the first time." 

Even in my embarrassment, I couldn't help but gaze on his beautiful masculine body, drinking in the sight of his square shoulders, broad chest and flat stomach. Best of all, his cock. Penis is too wimpy a word to describe what Earl was displaying. "Cock," a beautiful, plenty-big-enough-for-me, "cock" was the right word for it. No, it didn't match Tom's nine and a quarter incher, but Tom was wrong. His had not spoiled me for others. This was the cock I wanted to take my virginity!

For a moment, we just stood there admiring each other's bodies. Then Earl gently laid me on the bed and placed his large frame over my trembling form - his tool poised between my thighs. I could feel it throbbing as it slid against the inside of my calf. Gently spreading my legs with one hand, he grasped that beautiful cock with the other, and used it to massage my crack much as his fingers had done. But it felt ever so much better, as if it belonged there. The slick moisture seeping from the little slit at the end, along with that pouring from me, combined to produce a delectable smooth oily sensation, the likes of which I had never known. With the guidance of Earl's hand, his cock's oozing tip found my clitoris. I was close to exploding. But, as wonderful as that feeling was, I longed for him to plunge that cock into me. I didn't care if there would be pain. I wanted it deep within me. Sensing my desire, Earl carefully slid that wonderful cock into my wet and waiting opening. It went in easily at first, but soon encountered my hymen. We both knew that had to go.

Pausing for a moment, he uttered only, "I must!" as he plunged forcefully into me. Despite the pain, I responded with a matching thrust of my own - our mutual intense desire bringing forth the forceful simultaneous thrusts which combined to forever rip away the barrier which had guarded the entrance to my love channel for the first twenty-five years of my life. 

I was a virgin no longer!

I had crossed that bridge and could never go back.

I put the pain out of my mind, feeling both the relief and, at the same time, the nostalgia that must come to every girl the instant she becomes a full woman. And, most assuredly, I was a "full woman!" Earl's cock stretched me almost beyond endurance, and I couldn't help but be grateful that I hadn't given in to Tom Stanton's frequent demands. Earl was right for me is so many ways, the size of his cock being only one of them. I knew this was the man I had been saving my innocence for, all these years. 

Still in as far as he could go; he paused for a moment, and softly asked, "Are you all right?" 

Ignoring my pain, I answered, "Yes." I was determined that, my discomfort would not spoil what was happening.

At that, Earl began thrusting, slowly and gently at first, them more fiercely. I don't know for how long he kept it up. I lost track of time. But presently, I saw the pupils of his eyes dilate and felt his body tense. I could feel his cock growing larger within me and throbbing with his every heart beat. As he gasped, and let out a low moan, I felt a spurt inside me - then another - then more. It was scary but, also so wonderful to realize I was giving, this man, I now knew I loved passionately, such pleasure. Whether it was the pain, my fright, or merely the knowledge that I had taken this irrevocable step; I didn't achieve the height of feeling that my hand had produced so many nights when I lay on my bed, trying to get to sleep, or Earl's had a few minutes before. But, nevertheless, my first fuck was a wonderful, if frightening, experience. We had done it, and somehow I knew it wouldn't be the last time we would do it.

After Earl relaxed and withdrew, his now limp penis, which was still beautiful, I went into the bathroom and soaked up the blood with a tissue, and washed. There really wasn't that much, and the pain was already subsiding. I returned to the bedroom and lay next to the man I loved, pulling up the covers to protect us from the slight chill as he fought sleep. 

"Thank you," he whispered. "You were wonderful. Next time, I'll see that you get as much out of it as I do," he promised - his voice trailing off as sleep began to overtake him. I turned out the little light and lay awake for a while, thinking about what had just taken place and wondering where it would lead. But soon, I too dropped into a deep sleep. 

I didn't awake until the sun, coming in the sliding door that led to the spa area, bathed the room in light.

Earl was not next to me! I got up, put on the robe and went looking for him. I found "my Earl" in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Orange juice, scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and coffee were all ready for both of us to assuage the hunger the events of the previous evening had produced.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully, kissing me. "Did you sleep well? I certainly did," he added with a grin. 

"Yes, surprisingly enough," I responded. 

"Why surprisingly?" he inquired. 

"Because, it's a double first for me. It's the first time I... And, it's surly first time I spent the night sleeping next to a man, especially a naked man." 

"If I have anything to say about it," he said softly but firmly, "it won't be the last time for either. Jane darling, tell me, right now, you'll marry me." 

I was overwhelmed at the suddenness of Earl's proposal, and for a moment couldn't form words to respond. But finally, I regained my composure enough to gasp, "Yes I will, my darling." At that, he took me in his arms and kissed me passionately, and I responded in kind to my fiancé.

We enjoyed several wonderful breakfasts that Sunday morning, the first consisting of the food Earl had prepared in his kitchen, and the others, back his bed where his tongue and cock took me to the heights I had previously only experienced with my own hand and his - not once, but several times that wonderful morning. It was ever so much better than it had ever been before, better than I had ever dared imagine it could be. 

That was thirty years ago. Earl and I are still happily married and we have three wonderful children and four beautiful grandchildren to show for it. 

Best of all, we still love each other and we still love to fuck!



The Bridge



A friend was looking for photos of bridges to be used in a book; the proceeds of the sale of that book were to be donated to a charity. The word was sent out that they were still lacking a photo of a footbridge. 

My first thought was of a crude, rickety bridge made of ropes and boards strung over a deep river canyon. I could picture it in my head, it was older and there would be spaces where a few boards were missing. There would also be places where the ropes had been repaired, many time, over the years. You would not see the river in the canyon below but the water mist would clearly be visible in the corner of the photo. 

The dark green jungle foliage is clearly shown in the background at the top of the photo. There were no persons in the photo and you could not see either end of the bridge. The near end was clearly behind the photographer and the far end disappeared into the mist.

I had seen such photos in various publications over the years, but had no idea where to find such a bridge. 

My wife and I had donated a few photos of bridges, both large and small, in our area. We did not know which, if any, had been used. We do know that she was listed as a contributor to the book, so we presume one may have been used, or it could have been a piece of loose poetry she wrote that was chosen.

It was 3 weeks ago that we heard about the need for a photo of a foot bridge and I had not thought much about it. I woke out of a sound sleep to see a picture in my head of another foot bridge, this one was much simpler. There were already photos of that bridge, one was an award winner.

This bridge was just a log that had fallen over a ravine. The ravine was not that big, maybe 5 feet across. The log was huge, about 24 to 30 inches across and worn smooth and flat by all the boots that had crossed it. I was there the day the photo was taken. 

It was while I was in basic training, I was to be a grunt, a ground pounding soldier. My squad was traveling a trail through a section of woods in full combat gear when I saw the photographer. He was almost on his belly, the camera was pointing across the log at near ground level looking in from a slight angle. Not quite looking straight down the log.

I was a pace or two behind the last guy in the photo. All you could see of me was below the knee as the rest of us ran toward that log. There were 3 guys on the log and 2 more turned to the right and heading up the trail on the other side. It was in black and white.

You could see the mud on our boots, but you were not able to make out the details on any of the faces. You could see the fatigue in the way the bodies moved as we went on.

I could not remember the name of the fellow who took it. I sat up for a while thinking back on that day, then lay back down and went to sleep. When I woke later that morning my wife was not in bed, she was up and about and on the computer. There was a determined look on her face. I asked if there was anything I could do.

"No" was the reply. She was just looking up some information.

It was 15 to 20 days later that she showed me an envelope that had arrived in the day's mail. In it, among other items, were 2 large photos and release. The photos were from a series of photos that had been taken that day long ago, they were the ones just before and after the famous one. 

In the accompanying letter the photographer thanked us for remembering his work and stated that he was pleased to donate either or both of the photos to the book. He had been retired for a decade and getting on in years. But he still remembers the looks on our faces as we trained that day. He wrote that "Those looks made him proud and grateful to be a part of such a great nation." The intensity impressed him a great deal.

He also enclosed another photo that was not to be used for publication. In that photo you could see that once great log still lying there almost 30 years later. It was worn even further and was now showing signs of decay where it touched the ground. There was a newer log lying off to the side that was now used for the same training. 

As I sat there looking at my past I asked how and why she got those photos. She only said that they were important to me, and I was important to her. She later told me I had talked in my sleep.

We scanned the photos and sent them by email to our friend, along with the release. The before photo was used in the book. It was the very last photo in it. There was a paragraph that explained how a bridge did not need to be large, complex, fancy or even planned. It just had to get you past an obstacle to another place.

I told my wife "Just like the love you and I have for each other." Then we hugged and kissed and headed for bed.



The Bridge



Driving through the flat Norfolk countryside on a sunny, if windy, May Bank Holiday Monday, Anne reflected on the weekend that had passed. It hadn't been spent in quite the way she'd have chosen, if choice ever really entered into the equation but, every so often duty had to come before pleasure. 

Visiting Mother was never easy, always more of a chore than a pleasure, and it had become harder as Mother had grown older and more cantankerous into the bargain. She'd been particularly difficult this weekend. Widow of a Baronet and well connected friend of a lady-in-waiting to the Queen, Elizabeth Glenning wasn't best pleased over her lack of an invitation to the Royal Wedding. Consequently she'd gone in for a big sulk and, as the only daughter free to visit, Anne had drawn the short straw. Julie, her witless elder sister, could always be relied upon to be unavailable when needed, and was holidaying in the South of France with her current partner. Brian, Anne's husband, was still as terrified of his mother as he'd been when they'd first met nearly twenty nine years earlier. Unsurprisingly he'd declined Anne's invitation to accompany her, citing 'constituency business' as the reason. Anne knew him well enough to not be in any doubt as to how he'd be spending the weekend in her absence, fucking his secretary, but she also knew that every bitch has her day and one day she'd have hers. She'd thought it inadvisable to bring Barnaby, her adult nephew, or Adam, his friend, with her. They both lived their lives around their penises, something which the liberal in her did nothing to discourage, but she suspected their masturbatory habits might prove just a little too much for Mother whose apparent shockability had grown rather than diminished with the passing years. Thus it was that she'd had the joy of spending the weekend with Mother by herself. 

Mother's big sulk over the Royal Wedding was, in republican Anne's view, hardly justified. Mother had seen far more of the proceedings on her flat screen forty eight inch digital TV than she ever would have done inside a tree-lined Westminster Abbey. As someone who loved 'holding it' the only aspect of the wedding to remotely interest Anne was the fact that most of the guest supposedly had to be seated by 8.15am – nearly three hours before the hour long ceremony began. The thought that there might be more than a few full bladders in there wasn't far from her mind. However she'd obliged her mother by dutifully watching the televised ceremony with her, having taken care to imbibe copious amounts of coffee over breakfast beforehand. More to infuriate her ageing mother than because she needed to pee, Anne had jammed her right hand into her crotch area and kept it there as the service progressed. At first Elizabeth had pretended not to notice but she couldn't keep up the pretence long, least of all as Anne's hand showed no sign of moving. Scowling at her daughter, irritation eventually got the better of her. 

"Anne, is that really necessary? It's hardly ladylike. If you must go, you know perfectly well where the lavatory is. Honestly!"

Her daughter's reply had been hardly less forthright. 

"Mother, in case it's escaped your notice, I am a grown woman. If I need to go to the fucking toilet, I'll go. Meanwhile if I want to sit like this I will. In case you hadn't noticed, HMQ's wearing yellow, a most evocative colour I'd say."

Elizabeth gave her daughter a withering look which betrayed her contempt without the need for words and they'd watched what remained of the ceremony in silence, although such was the atmosphere that one could have cut it with a knife. 

Of course Anne had peed once the ceremony was over, but not in the lavatory of her mother's residence, South Balsham Manor. No, she'd enjoyed a deliciously naughty but amazingly powerful alfresco pee behind a hedge on one of the lanes leading out of the village. As is the lot of many middle aged people, Anne had an indisputable duty of care to her mother. She did not consider, however, that the duty extended to using her mother's lavatory. She had more pride than that. Besides, waiting until her bladder was incredibly full and then peeing where she shouldn't, made her amazingly horny. Often the exhilaration of such a powerful pee was followed by a masturbation session leading to the most wonderful climax. That particular April Friday afternoon had been no exception.

It was merely the need to pee though, which triggered her arousal. Oh no. As an undergraduate at Cambridge, Anne had discovered the till then latent delights of holding on to full bowels for as long as possible and only going to poo when she wanted to, not when other people thought she should. Opportunities to indulge that pleasure since had been taken when available, although they'd been limited by what was for all practical purposes an 'arranged' marriage to Brian - a man who whilst kind didn't understand and regarded farting or worse, messed panties, as just plain dirty.

Like many people turned on by that sort of thing, she didn't fully understand the reasons herself, only that doing it made her feel good and the more she did it the better it felt. There was undoubtedly a strong biological component, to be sure, in which the interactions of muscles and nerve endings played a part. There was also an element of defiance though – a desire to rebel and be different. In essence doing something which had shock value and was frowned upon by polite society. "Not ladylike" was the phrase her mother would use for such conduct. 

It was easy enough to nurse a full bladder without betraying the extent of her desperation. Clutching herself was good for theatrical effect but it had limited practical value. Full bowels were harder to disguise though; that bloated look, the slightly awkward walk and, if nature's call was postponed long enough, the tell tale farts which left no doubt that something meatier than wind was making a bid for freedom. 

She'd treated Farmer Appleyard to a delivery of fertiliser on her arrival the previous Thursday evening. As usual they'd chatted happily away and exchanged gossip whilst she, jeans round her ankles, had enjoyed the poo of her life on his ancient earth privvie, her turds noiselessly hitting the ash as, one by one, they were passed. She'd not had a poo since though and, although she'd eaten plenty, Anne's anus had remained tightly closed to the world. 

Of course the situation hadn't escaped Elizabeth's notice nor was it likely to. She knew her daughter too well for that. Knowing what Anne did – or rather didn't 'do' – in no way aided Elizabeth's understanding of why she did it. So far as Elizabeth was concerned it was just plain dirty – in fact disgusting – for a woman who ought to know better and had, in fact, been brought up to know better. Anne didn't expect her mother to understand. Why should she? A little acceptance of the fact that it was part of who she was would be nice though. After nearly thirty years of war over the subject, she foresaw no sign of an imminent breakthrough though. It was in the spring of 1982 when Elizabeth discovered - to her horror – that her nineteen year old daughter loved 'holding it ' and didn't mind soiling herself. It was now 2011 and, apart from Anne's marriage to the kind but clueless Brian, nothing fundamental had changed. Anne was now forty eight and Elizabeth was pushing eighty instead of pushing fifty but the dynamics of their bittersweet relationship were essentially the same. 

As she drove along the A17 towards Sutton Bridge, Anne recalled the conversation she'd had earlier that morning whilst packing for the homeward journey, when a couple of isolated farts had escaped from her posterior. 

"Have you been to the lavatory, Anne?" 

"No Mother. Why do you ask?"

"Well it's a long drive and there aren't too many places on that road where you can stop. Places a lady would wish to use, that is."

"I'm well aware of that, Mother."

"Well don't you think a comfort stop would be wise before you leave?"

"Mother, I've been driving down that road on and off for thirty years now. I think I'm more than capable of deciding for myself what's wise or not, don't you?"

"Very well, on your own head be it, Anne Timpson. I was only trying to help. Don't blame me if you get caught short."

There it was that the conversation had ended. Elizabeth Glenning was no fool and she understood perfectly well the impossibility of making her grown up daughter use the lavatory if she didn't wish to. Anne, for her part, was no fool either. She knew only too well what her mother thought and was determined to safeguard her much cherished 'anal independence' as she called it. However the conversation had to take place. It was part of the ritualised bitchiness in the bittersweet relationship between mother and daughter. In a perverse way they'd both enjoyed it and would have been disappointed if the exchange hadn't taken place. Both strong willed women they were alike in their stubbornness and the opportunity for a little bitchiness was just too good to pass up. Despite the bonds of love, Elizabeth didn't greatly admire her daughter's habits but she admired and respected her stubborn, dogged determination to do her own thing. The feeling was, of course, mutual. 

As she approached the swing bridge which gave Sutton its name and marked the crossing point of the River Nene, that natural boundary between Norfolk and Lincolnshire, Anne farted again. Another fart followed, then two more in quick succession. What had earlier been a comfortable feeling of fullness down below, a sensation of 'needing to go' but without being desperate, was turning into an unmistakable and urgent need to poo. Stuck in a line of traffic with no means of extricating herself from the queue had it been of advantage to do so, Anne felt a sense of excitement mingled with a little anxiety. Excitement because this was how it should be, the glorious sensation of needing to poo badly but having to hold because there was no chance of getting to a toilet anytime soon, even if one were available. Anxiety because these were expensive jeans – she'd bought them in Norwich two days earlier and they'd cost nearly eighty five pounds. Ruining a tatty old pair was one thing but ruining these would be a different matter. 

One thing was certain – the traffic wasn't moving. Obviously the bridge was open to let a vessel – or maybe vessels – through. Now desperately in need of a toilet, Anne was in no doubt that she wouldn't get near one anytime soon. More farts followed and Anne wound down the car window in search of some fresh air. She was smelling for England and still the traffic wasn't moving. Always lucky here herself in the past, she'd heard anecdotal stories that this bridge wasn't a good place to get stuck if one needed a pee, but no one she knew had ever recounted any tales of needing to poo whilst waiting to cross it. Now, she was experiencing that particular pleasure for herself. 

Although turned on by her state, Anne wished she'd had the good sense to take Mother's advice and relieve herself before leaving the ancestral home. Infuriatingly Mother had been right – as she always was. Anne wondered what it was about that inter-war generation which meant that they were invariably right. Was it something to do, she wondered, about them having lived through the Battle of Britain and the Blitz? Perspiring slightly and gritting her teeth as more farts escaped, Anne cursed her own stubbornness. Was it really worth risking a brand new, expensive pair of jeans just because she loved 'holding it' and couldn't let the opportunity pass her by. 

Gasping for breath, Anne glanced at her watch. She'd been sat in stationary traffic for forty minutes. Slowly but surely, the traffic began to move. Obviously the river craft were through the bridge and it was back down. Alas the traffic wasn't the only thing moving. Down below, Anne felt that familiar sensation known as 'turtle's head' and as she drove over the bridge, Anne realised from the feeling in her panties that she was 'touching cloth' – another equally delightful expression which she'd first encountered some years earlier. Unable to fight the need to relieve herself any longer, Anne relaxed as the inevitable happened and, unable to wait a second longer if she'd tried, she filled her black maxi panties. What came felt fairly solid and, even though it was the end of her panties, with soaking and careful washing the jeans might just live to see another day. Turning down the A151 which would lead her through Cambridgeshire and homeward, Anne decided that she wasn't going to stop off anywhere to get cleaned up. Oh no. Brian wouldn't be around when she got home but Barnaby and Adam would. As soon as they realised she'd messed herself, their cocks would be hard and, oh boy, they'd both be excited. They both knew about her 'tendency' and both were easily excited by it. The car seat would be okay – experience had taught her the wisdom of having a plastic sheet to protect it – just in case. 

The End



The Bridge



I went on my normal morning walk. A beautiful trail with tall trees, a bridge and a small creek. It was perfect and peaceful. I put my headphones in and started down the trail. It was a warm morning so I put on a pair of cotton shorts and a t-shirt. I normally did not wear panties or a bra. I walked farther down the trail and noticed someone ahead of me. That is weird since no one else was usually here this early. I decided to keep my distance. I could tell it was a man. I slowed my pace. He did as well. Then he walked off the trail and sat on a park bench. Great. I had to keep walking. As I got closer I could see the man. I knew the man. I hated him. No, I loved him. Shaking my head, no, I hated him. We had been friends for over two years. Slept together for most of that time. Had a horrible ending to our friendship and rarely talked. What was he doing out here? I got closer. He looked at me. Those eyes. They still haunt me when I sleep. Blue eyes as bright as the sky. 

"Hey." He said.

I looked at him.

"What do you want?" I asked him. 

"You." He said looking at me with a slight smile. 

"Well, I hate to be the stick in the mud, but you aren't getting me. Remember, you walked away for me. I wasn't good enough for you!" I was getting mad. He was ruining my morning walk!

He stood up and walked over to me. He ran his finger down the side of my face. I loved it. No. I hate it! He wasn't supposed to be doing this. It had been over a year since we had touched each other. He grabbed my face in his hands. Looked me right in my eyes and kissed me on the lips. I wanted to push away. I wanted to turn and run. Instead I was lost in his kiss. 

He stopped and looked at me. 

"We need to go somewhere more private." He said.

I should of known that was coming. The whole two years we messed around was in private. Had anyone caught us his life would of been over.

"How about under the bridge?" I asked. 

The bridge was surrounded by trees and the only thing that ran through it was our creek. It was another spot I had liked to go to get away from the world. I would lay down there with my headphones on and just listen to the music. 

We walked over to the bridge and went under it. We sat down on the ground next to each other. 

"I want you, I need you. I want to feel you again." He said looking at me. 

As much as I want to tell him no, turn and run away, he knows I can't tell him no. 

I look at him, lay back on the cement and tell him

"Take me." 

He leans down and lifts my shirt. His mouth is on my breast before I can change my mind. His tongue is swirling around on my nipple. I feel him slightly bite down. This man could use his mouth! 

I feel his hand sliding down to my shorts. He pushes my shorts to the side and finds my pussy already soaking wet. I could feel him smile. I feel his fingers sliding around and he finds my clit and begins to rub it in a circular motion. It feels so amazing. 

He quits sucking on my nipples and he brings his lips to mine. Suddenly his mouth is open and his tongue is pushing into my mouth. I open my mouth and welcome him in. I feel him push two fingers inside of me. I moan into his mouth. His tongue was playing with mine. He pushes his fingers in and out of me harder. I know what he is trying to do. He wants to make me gush for him. He was the only guy who could make me squirt. I felt it building. I pushed it away. I wasn't going to let him have that just yet. He took his fingers out of me. He laid his body completely on top of mine. He kissed me harder. He knew I could get lost in his kisses. He squeezed my nipples and rubbed them harder. Then he ran his fingers back down to my soaking wet pussy and pushed them in harder. 

He moved his fingers around and found the spot. It was swelling up. He pushed in and out. I let go this time. I squirted all over his hand. He kissed me harder. I began to shake as he finger fucked me harder and harder. There was so much cum. I felt him move. He never stopped kissing me. His pants were down and I felt the tip of his rock hard dick pushing inside of me. It felt amazing. We always had that connection with each other. Our bodies just moved together like they were one. He was kissing me and I was kissing him back. I loved the way his cock felt inside of me. Pushing in and out. I felt myself needed to cum again. He could tell and picked up speed. I let go once again and he did as well. I could feel him cum inside of me and it felt perfect. He pulled his lips away from mine and looked at me. 

"Why did we ever stop?" He asked.

"Because life got in the way." I said.



The Bridge



She touched up her lip gloss and fluffed her hair up. Then, leaning closer to the bathroom mirror, she checked her teeth for parsley. Nothing worse than spending an evening across from someone with salad in their smile. She stepped back and checked the drape of her sundress. Satisfied that she was presentable, she made her way back to the table.

She used the opportunity that crossing the room presented her and she checked him out. He's hot.  Just HOT, she thought. Tall, dark hair, broad shoulders.... And a sexy damn smile that sent butterflies into happy, lust filled sambas in her belly. He had a subtle five o'clock shadow shading his jawline. He wore a simple white tee shirt and blue jeans.... but, gawd, did he wear them! On top of all of that, he was witty and intelligent and funny and attentive and sweet. Hot, she thought again.

He noticed her approach and his lips curved. The damn horny butterflies started a ruckus again. So far the evening had been perfect. They had walked to the little pub in her neighborhood. He had held her hand and flirted with her just enough to make her blush. Throughout dinner and drinks, he found excuses to touch her hand or brush the hair off her cheek. She was halfway to smitten.

She slipped back into her seat across from him and smiled. He laid his hand on hers, rubbed his thumb across the top. "Shall we go?" He asked? She nodded and murmured something close to intelligible. The man's sex appeal was affecting her IQ now. Great.

Again, he linked her fingers with hers as they started walking. He steered them along a path that would take them to the lake. They maintained idle chatter about work, about the neighborhood, about the scenery. Night fell around them as they walked the path. They paused to watch the antics of ridiculous ducks and laughed at a dog chasing frogs. He kept her close, leaning in to talk in hushed tones that amped up the intimacy. Occasionally he brought her hand to his lips to brush a kiss across her knuckles. He led her along a circuitous path, taking her further away from the bright street lights. 

Conversation tapered off. It seemed as if the less they said, the more the sexual tension built. Her breath was hitching and her pulse felt erratic. The path curved and sloped, bringing them to a fork. The right bend took them up on top of the bridge. It would give them moonlight and views of the lake and the breeze in their hair. The left would take them along the edge of the water and under the bridge, into the shadows and the quiet. He paused and inclined his head in an invitation for her to choose the direction. She hesitated for just a moment before turning left. She caught his smile.

They walked further into the dark. The sound of the water sliding onto shore was almost tangible now. The songs of all the night creatures almost echoed. She was afraid he'd be able to hear the melee the butterflies were sending up in her belly now. What was it about this man that affected her so? She snuck a little sideways glance at him. Oh yeah, she thought. Hot.

Rough stone walls rose up on both sides of the water now, connecting on the path above them, wrapping them up in a little space of solitude. His steps slowed. When they were directly under the bridge, he stopped. Her steps stuttered just a bit and she turned to him in question. His features were a bit obscured in the dark, but the set of his jaw seemed intense. 

"I've got to..." his statement ended on sort of a growl. He tugged her against him in a fast move that made her gasp. His hands slide up into her hair. His gaze dropped to her mouth. She lips parted. She wanted his kiss...

He slid his lips across hers. He kept his touch light, almost as if he was restraining himself. He teased them both with the barest of contact. She wanted more. She whimpered just a little bit and angled closer. He still maintained the maddening feather light touches. Frustrated, she fisted her hands in his t-shirt and tugged. On an incredibly sexy and almost feral sound, his control broke. He took her mouth. It was the single hottest kiss of her entire life. His hands seemed to find every single nerve ending in her entire body. The man found erogenous zones that she had no idea existed.

He pulled back, just a breath. She murmured a protest. He swore under his breath. Mouth on hers once again, he walked her backwards until she was pressed against the cool, rough stone of the bridge wall. His mouth moved off hers to her ear and down her throat. He kissed across her collar bone. Her knees started to give. He tugged the hem of her dress up. High Cool air rushed over over-heated skin and caused her to shiver. She could feel his smile against her skin. His open palms tracked up her bare skin. His mouth was back to hers now. No longer gentle, no longer teasing. One hand moved between her thighs. They both moaned. He pressed his palm against her, encouraged her to move against him. 

The combination of his mouth and his touch banished any remnant of common sense or modesty that she possessed. She spread her thighs in a shamelessly wanton move. His finger slipped into her panties. Then into her. Again, he swore. He pulled his finger away; let her watch him taste her on it. She reached for him again, this time tugging at the waist band of his jeans. Eyes on his, feeling brazen, she unbuttoned his pants, dipped her hand inside. His eyes closed when her fingers stroked over him. She indulged for a moment, enjoyed the pleasure she was giving him. Then she tugged at his jeans again, this time pushing them lower on his hips. Just far enough. When he opened his eyes again, she just about shattered. The heat and need reflected in them left her breathless.

He moved fast. Not quite sure how he did it, he scooped her up so her legs were around his waist, his hands under her ass. He pulled her panties to one side. It made her gasp. She couldn't believe this was happening. Out here in the dark, with this man she was just getting to know. Then he was inside her. And she forgot to think.

He took her hard and deep and fast. There was nothing she could do but hold on and let him. His mouth stayed on hers. The flavor of his kiss had changed now... Darker, richer.... And, god, hotter. That hot, tight coil of release started to twist and build. She murmured against his mouth, begged him not to stop. He moved faster. She shattered, broke... completely came apart in his arms. He followed. She was vaguely aware of his muscles trembling, but he still held her.

After breath came back to them and the world stopped spinning, he brushed kisses across her temples, her forehead, her mouth. His touch was tender as he set her back down, straightened her panties, fixed her skirt. His hands smoothed over her hair as he kissed her one more time. 

Then he took her hand as before and led her back to the path and the street lights.



The Bridge



 The following is fiction and not to be taken seriously. It has no graphic sex but a very adult theme. You have John, who wrote and volunteered, to thank that most if not all the grammatical mistakes have been fixed. Please write and tell me what you think. Good and bad I love to hear from the readers. As to the voting, I don't pay any attention. 

*****

The bridge was neither long nor wide. A simple wooden structure spanning the narrow but deep gap between the disappointments of the past and the uncertain future. To introduce myself, I am Lyle Jedermann, now thirty-eight years of age. A man formerly distinguished from other men only as the husband of Gloria, thirty-six, and the father of Robert, age twelve, and Anna, age eight. A very satisfying family situation but having a weighty set of obligations. To meet my obligations as a husband and father, I had been working for Countryman Real Estate for five years before Gabriel Zilo purchased the company from Bernie Schleifer. 

Real estate was not my original career, or even my preferred choice. I began my working life after graduating from Law School. I was by then married to Gloria for three years. She was pregnant as I exited Law School. It was not a very promising job market for young lawyers, but

Gloria's pregnancy gave me a strong incentive to find a job capable of supporting a family. 

My first job offered was working for a law firm that specialized in representing banks in closing residential home loans. It wasn't the job I had dreamed of but it was a job. While I was at Law School, Gloria had slaved away as a bank teller to support us both. She had earned enough to pay the rent and put food on our table. I worked a few part time hours doing whatever I could get, to supplement her income. Loans and scholarships paid my tuition. But I had indentured my future to the Department of Education. With Gloria decidedly pregnant at my law school graduation, I took the job that was offered. It was but the first of many concessions to the strict requirements of married life. 

Back in those ancient days, banks lent money to individual home buyers to purchase houses. Looking back, it was a gentleman lawyer trade. I sat at a house closing table to represent a lending bank on the closing of a mortgage. The buyer paid the bank a fee of around $500.00 for my services. The law firm received that amount plus another $500 from the title insurance company. All told a nice thousand dollars earned every time we shook hands at the end of a home closing. The firm, of course, received the money and I got a minuscule proportion of it as salary.

I guess all good things must end and honest avarice must be replaced by the bad and the purely greedy. All too soon after my wife, Gloria gave birth to our second child, the little banks were swallowed by the large banks who were in turn consumed by the big banks. Retail loans became a thing of the past. Banking became a wholesale trade. Everything was scaled up to an industrial level. I came to work every morning to find a stack of files for home loans that were to be closed that day.

I assume the profits were enormous but running between rooms where simultaneous house closings were taking place left me with a disturbing feeling that things could not continue at such a rate. Seven years into my legal career I had advanced, not to a partnership, but to the eminent status of a private contractor. I earned my income on a piecework basis. At $75 per closing I earned a good income, when you consider I closed seven or eight loans a day, five and sometimes six days a week. But could this last? I had this nagging feeling of impending doom.

Bernard Schleifer approached me. Bernie, as he preferred to be called, was looking for what he termed a smart kid with a law degree to join his company. His principle contract closer was retiring to the Sunbelt just when Bernie was looking to expand.

Bernie's Company, Countryman Real Estate, held the deeds to the Scarlet woods development. This development was a hundred approved sites, with a site plan proposing four hundred more. It was two miles from the Tech Park with the International Foundries chip plant. Two thousand high tech jobs were on the drawing board and Bernie was ready. 

Schleifer was a builder/developer. He was not a salesman or a financier for the small scale. If you needed to raise a couple million by selling a banker your development dream, then Bernie was your man. But he could not sell a housewife on adding real stone counter tops or her husband on a variable rate mortgage. 

Oddly when Bernie and I got together it was a perfect fit. I loved the home sales, and I was a details man. It was all those paper shuffling closings. I had also learned the value of profit centers from my former employers. I sold Bernie on the value of owning his own title company, home insurance agency, movers, gardeners, and you just name it. We quickly became a full services agency with a single purpose. Our function was to sell more homes and to get everything we could from all that goes with them.

Bernie started building and doing it in a big fast way. I ran the office and everything else. Bernie did the big deals and I the small. He made the big money and I was his well-paid employee. He saw the crash coming. Bear Stearns was the tip of an iceberg. Lehman Brothers Investment Bank was the ship that actually struck the iceberg.

The day the roof caved in Bernie was smiling. "What goes up must come down, but real estate will always go up again. If we can survive this in reasonable shape, we'll be set for a great expansion."

Bernie bet the market would come back. I buckled down and squeezed out every nickel which he then invested in a bigger, better Countryman Real Estate. Bernie had only one problem with this - he was a big fish in a small pond, and he wanted to go swim in the ocean. 

One evening over an after work drink he delivered the news. 

"I've sold out," he said.

"What!"

"Take it easy. The new owner will make no changes. At least not right away."

Bernie was right again. When I met Gabe Zilo, my first impression was of his youth. He was not yet thirty and had managed to buy Bernie out. He had both height and youth on me, and he was a handsome blond Adonis. The very image of a boy wonder business superstar. I guess I should have been jealous of the younger man but he was too charming and affable to resent. He was also great to work for. 

Bernie was a man in his late fifties. He was ambitious but he was essentially cautious. In contrast, Gabe loved putting it all out there. Everything on the line, all the time. It was apparent from the beginning that his deal to buy Countryman Real Estate had stretched Gabe's resources. Gabe was more finance than a builder, more manager than a salesman. He loved the quick buck and, as the real estate market came back, his gamble on Countryman was clearly paying a dividend.

Bernie was taking off for Florida, the big casino of the real estate game. I wished him luck on the night before he left.

"Come with me kid," he said.

"No, because I'm no kid anymore. I have a wife and two pre-teens to support," I said.

"Ok, but some day you may live to regret it."

I hoped not, but I did check the job market. What was left of my old firm was not much. Steven Pender, one of the younger partners, had managed to hold on through the crash. He was happy to hear from me, but he was paying a third of what I now made. So I put my nose to the wheel to make sure that Countryman stayed afloat. But all in all, I was happy working for Gabe, as we called him. He treated me well and let me pretty much run the day to day of the office. Did I have my doubts about him? Yes, but the only grievance I had with my boss was minor.

Bernie's never sprang for a formal company Christmas party. Gabe went to the opposite extreme. He hired one of the plusher Saratoga resort venues. Admittedly in their offseason, but still at considerable expense. The ensuing party on the first Saturday night in December was for the staff, the contractors, bankers, and realtors. It was a big plush party, and one heavily attended.

Gabe presided over it like a King. Well, it was his money and maybe there was a legitimate business purpose to all of it. My grievance came about midnight but had been building all night. You see I had arrived with the hottest woman in the place on my arm.

I married Gloria straight out of college. We were both barely twenty-two. She worked at a meaningless job to support us all while I was in Law School. I will be eternally grateful for that, but she sprang the pregnancy on me. Going off the pill as, I studied for the bar exam. The pregnancy may have been for the best in the long run. We were good parents and we still are.

As I struggled closing houses, Gloria raised our toddlers and went nights to get her Ph.D., in child psychology. When our youngest child went back to school, Gloria went back to work. She found a job with the State DSS. She also began what I now refer to as her running career. 

Gloria was what might be called plump. She was only fat if you compared her to some starving runway model. But at thirty, she went from two days a week swimming at the YWCA pool and running only after our kids to the loneliness of the long distance runner.

Each morning my wife rose early to do five miles cross country. Each evening she would do a half hour of sprints. She has the best times of any of the local women runners. Only the national competitors beat her times in the local 5K and 10K races. She has been three times to the New York City Marathon finishing in the top one hundred women. 

I'm no couch potato. I hit the gym, at least three times a week, and try to get a twenty-mile bike in on the summer weekends. But I have more than 5% body fat, and I do not have a body that appears to have been sculptured by Michelangelo. I had supported Gloria in the efforts she had made. I watched her rise before dawn, and return covered in sweat as I woke the kids. I was proud of my wife.

So when I walked into the Christmas party with this tall raven haired beauty on my arm, the conversation eased and people turned to see, Gloria the spectacular. She was just over 6'2" in her three-inch heels just my height. Her raven hair fell to her shoulders. When she runs, she braids it into a ponytail that flaps provocatively behind her. That night it shimmered in the ballroom lights.

Gloria had gone all out for the party. She had on a new form-fitting black dress. The scalloped dress showed just the hint of her cleavage and was immodestly short to show her fabulously long runners legs. That dress made sure you noticed her flat stomach and her sculptured ass. She was an object of warm-blooded art. My wife was no longer the plump girl. She was the beautiful woman on my arm. 

Gabe lost no time in greeting us and stealing Gloria away to dance. While I will admit they made a lovely couple, he is taller and fitter than I, his attention seemed to be pushing the foul line. 

He stepped over just before midnight with a passionate kiss under the mistletoe. 

I am not a jealous man. Yes, I have a hottie for a wife, but I trust her. We have been through a lot of hard times together, those Law School years, raising the kids, paying school loans. We had been through illness including a miscarriage. I pity couples who have never struggled together. I believe it is the difficult times that bring you together and make your marriage strong. Gloria and I had suffered together, and we loved each other.

Gloria had been drinking and clearly enjoying the attention. I put it down to that. I retrieved my wife and took her home. Nothing more was said, and she acted like nothing had happened. Just too much drink I told myself.

Six months later it was Memorial Day weekend. The half year had been good in real estate. Countryman's numbers were way up. The last week in May had been the hottest market in a decade. The company operating account was flush with cash from home sales all due to be wired transferred out the first business day of June. We cleared the checks and then electronically paid the banks when the office opened after the three-day weekend.

"You coming to camp for the weekend?" Gabe asked.

Gabe had rented an Adirondack mountain lodge for the Memorial Day weekend. He had talked of nothing else for weeks. His invitation was for Gloria and me, but it was something I wanted to avoid.

"Don't know what Gloria's plans are," I said trying to put him off.

"Oh, she's on board. Looking forward to it."

I gave him a quizzical look.

"We spoke on the phone," he hurriedly said.

Why didn't I believe him? But after he left, I called Gloria, and Yes, she was very enthused. I suppose that was the last moment to stop the train wreck. But I just didn't see it, I both loved and trusted Gloria. 

Mapquest told me the ride up to Gabe's place would be no easy slog. I drove my Honda accord to the rental place and checked out a four-wheel drive SUV. The map said the last twenty miles was on mountain roads and the last three a dirt track. I have been in the Adirondacks before. They can be a brutal set of mountains. 

Gabe's place was South West of Saranac Lake. The drive took almost four hours. The GPS reached only as far as the last five miles. We came off the County road onto two lonely miles of semi-paved road ending in a wooden bridge.

The bridge was narrow but looked sturdy. Recently repaired, it crossed a ravine. The gap was not very wide, but it was deep. This type of topography is common in the Adirondacks. The difficult terrain is the reason it has remained wild.

I crossed the bridge slowly wondering if there was another alternate way out although the GPS map showed none. I had the feeling of a mouse entering a trap. I wondered if there was a cat about.

Three miles further on the rutted unpaved road, we arrived at a two-story lodge house. It was built in a meadow on the mountainside about a thousand feet below the peak. Looking to the north, a dozen Adirondack mountains were visible. We had reached a remote spot where what was intended to appear to be a rustic lodge house had been built.

I pulled the SUV into a well-maintained parking area next to three comparable if much more expensive looking vehicles. Everything looked new and meticulously maintained. The lodge itself was one of those modern log structures that only look rustic. They are modern architecture with a traditional facing. I big comfortable modern building pretending to be a nineteenth century mountain retreat.

Rich was the impression intended. Gabe had once again gone overboard to impress. I had no doubt who he was seeking to impress, and it was not me. They greeted us on the broad porch with its Adirondack chairs and accompanying décor. There were six of them in all, three young men, Gabe and two of his college friends. Ken Lewis was the shortest about 5'10' but built like a weight lifter. He was in his late twenties like Gabe. Ken was beginning to bald and not as handsome of face as Gabe, but physically he was rippled with muscles that showed through his tight tee-shirt and cargo shorts.

Glen Sachs was the second college chum. About six feet tall with a lean body and curly blond hair, better looking than Ken. He stood with his arm tight around a blond woman. She was introduced as Sharon. She was a good looking woman with a lot of curves and an ample bust. She had to be at least late thirties maybe more. A good eight to ten years older than Glen. 

A slightly younger woman, named Robin, was standing next to Ken and clearly with him. She was a short bubble brunette in her early thirties and very well put together with breasts that looked a size too big for her small frame. The last member of the party was a tall woman with long auburn hair. This was Paula Henry, and she was one of those women you describe as handsome for lack of a better word. Definitely female with attractive but sharp not entirely feminine features. She had an appearance that said she was smart. She knew it, and you better too. Of the women, she was clearly the youngest and was a school friend of the boys. 

Everyone was very friendly and overly happy that we had, "MADE IT." But the whole greeting was off center. Gabe was clearly welcoming my wife with me as an afterthought, and his friend Paula was fixing me with the stare that you might give a lab animal before you dissect it.

They had held dinner for us. So we made only a quick bag drop at the second-floor bedroom room we had been allotted. Our little suite was right next to the master suite that Gabe occupied. We all took seats in the great room. A massive forty by forty-foot living room, dining room, and playroom combination. Here at the big oak table, we feasted on prepackaged microwave dinners of the gourmet variety. The food was good if low effort, and expensive. Wine had been provided in great quantities.

I watched my drinking as much as you can when your host is attempting to constantly refill your glass. After dinner, the now convivial group adjourned to sit by the gas fire pit on the terrace. There the hard liquor and marijuana came out. This was clearly to be a weekend of booze and mild drug use. It was by careful interrogation and sharp observation that I began to investigate my situation.

On first appearance, I was on a casual holiday weekend with my boss, his two friends and their dates. However, it seemed more contrived than that. It took only a few minutes to discover that Robin had a fiancé somewhere but not here and that Sharon was married with two kids and a husband at home. Sharon and Robin worked together and were supposedly at a health spa together having a girls only weekend. The infidelity was treated casually and as a matter of humor.

Paula kept giving me the eye, and she did not seem to fit this group. You might think that she was with Gabe, but she took no offense to his openly flirting with my wife. He was actually sitting between Gloria and Paula most of the night. Gabe kept talking mostly to Gloria. My efforts to engage Paula in conversation were met with polite interest only. She was sending me signals not to try and start anything. 

About Midnight, I could feel that the pleasantly buzzed partiers were ready to adjourn to the bedrooms to complete the evening's festivities. But they were waiting for something.

Suddenly Gabe turned to me and said, "Lyle you must be tired after the long drive."

"Yes dear, why don't you go up to bed and I will join you in a bit," my Gloria said.

"Hell, not before I have another drink," I said grabbing the bottle, "unless you are saving it, Gabe."

I gave him a smile as I said this but I was internally cursing this pig who was trying to seduce my wife. I was also wondering what Gloria was playing at. She had fallen in with him all night like she had at the Christmas party. Could she be infatuated? Was my wife of sixteen years crushing on my boss? 

It was a waiting game that night but one I won. Eventually, Gloria left for the bedroom with me.

In the room allotted to us, Gloria slipped into the shower alone. I did not try to join her. There seemed no point. She was acting a little cool toward me. When she came out of the shower, I slipped past her to take my own. I expected to find her beneath the covers when I came out, but she was sitting nude on the end of the bed. 

"Please," she said patting the bed next to her.

As I sat down, she turned to me and said," I want to have fun this weekend. Life has been rough for us. But I've worked very hard, and I think I deserve a break."

"I have no problem with that. You have been a great wife and mother through times that have not been easy. You put me through Law School and raised kids on my meager salary while going back to school. You struggled to earn the great body you have, and you still contribute more than your share to our household. I'm proud to be your husband."




The Bridge



In response, she bent and took my cock into her mouth. Gloria was never big on blow jobs. Getting oral sex yes, but not giving. That night she took her time to give me pleasure and asked nothing in return.

The morning light, streaming through the undrawn blinds of the large bedroom window, woke me. Normally, Gloria would have been up well before me getting in her morning run. But her liberality with the alcohol and pot the night before was having its effect. I drew the blinds as I got out of bed hitting the small en-suite bathroom with its stall shower. It was a small bedroom but more than adequate in its amenities. 

I was showered, shaved, and downstairs before anyone else. I decided to inspect my surrounding before the others got out of bed. I crossed from the great room onto the patio with its fire pit and built in outdoor barbecue. The patio continued into a raised deck area that held a small pool and sauna. Open water seemed a risky proposition in spring in these notoriously cold mountains, but as I reached the deck, I realized the whole complex was heated. A higher slope of the mountain was covered in solar panels. The pool area was thereby heated and probably the house as well.

Passing through the deck area, I came to what was a small barn. It contained no animals but was filled to capacity with ATV's, Snowmobiles, and gardening equipment including several small tractors. As I walked past this building I could hear a small stream in the distance. The stream was about twenty yards beyond a locked shed with a small flue in its roof. Looking inside the one small window, I saw a generator and fuel barrows. Thus was stored the gas for the power sports and a generator for emergencies. 

Someone had thought of everything. The place was an isolated world unto itself. It was apparently ready for any eventuality. The stream was small and shallow. I thought too small for fish until I saw one jump clean out of the little stream.

"Do you fish?" said the voice from behind me. 

Startled I turned to find Paula behind me. 

"No, but I did when I was younger and had more time."

"Pity, it might give you something to do this weekend."

"Do you fish?"

"No, like you—no time. How about some breakfast and a walk up the mountain? Seems a waste to come all this way and never reach the top," she said.

Paula had put the coffee on in the stainless steel brewer. The kitchen larder was stocked with ready to microwave breakfast. I opted for instant Oatmeal as did my companion. No one else was up.

"They will probably all sleep late. How about that hike," she said smiling.

Paula apparently knew right where the trail started for she led us right to it. The summit did not seem all that far, but an hour later it seemed just as far as when we started. 

"You sure you want to go to the top?" I asked.

"Why? You going to wus out old man," she said. 

"Just wondering what the others will think when they don't find us."

"Don't worry, I doubt out absence will be a concern."

We finally reached the top, and I would guess from the sun being almost directly overhead it was close on Noon.

The mountain top was a bit of a disappointment. It was a fairly flat area with rounded edges. Two ancient wooden benches had been set looking east, back toward the lodge and a collection of peaks to the south and the east. A haze dampened the long view although the air felt crisp and clean. At mid-day, there was a cool breeze, but nothing uncomfortable.

My companion took a seat apparently determined to enjoy what there was of a view.

"You don't mind?" she said, "I would like to rest for the trip down."

"No, the old man could use a break," I said.

This earned me a smile.

"So Glen is a broker, Ken a banker, and Gabe, a developer, but we spoke all night, and I never heard what you do?"

She gave me an appraising look. Apparently decided what the harm. 

"I'm a regulator. I work for the government, low pay and very boring," she said.

"You ever regulate anyone we know?"

"Oh, not lately. When we were in college, it seemed, I was always needed to help the guys out. You know cover for them with the angry girlfriend or provide crib sheets for exams. They've always been out there on the edge. It's what makes them who they are. You know exceptional young men."

"So that's your job? You cover up for them?" 

"What's the good of closing the barn door after the horse is out. It won't help getting the horse back. Regulations only hold things back. Better the bright people get a hand up, and the rest get pushed to the side to make way. It's best, in the long run, everyone benefits according to their merits."

"So what's your function this weekend. You didn't seem into the party last night," I said.

She paused as if the question had caught her off guard. I stood and walked to one side where I could see the road that led down the mountain. There was no other road only the one way out, the single exit. I turned looked hard at Paula. Had she even thought of this. The others were I realized in a moment of gestalt completely blind to everything but their own physical appetites. But was she? Clearly, she was looking. She must see the problem same as me?

"I'm just here as the designated sober person, I guess. Making sure that all goes well. That nothing untoward happens. Any problems get diverted. I don't want to interfere unless absolutely necessary."

"You mean unless the golden boys need you."

"I don't think I would put it that way, but certainly you can see what's best for them is best for everyone in the long run."

"Should we go back down?" I asked.

"What's the hurry the way back will be faster."

"Yes, fast but steep and maybe dangerous. You can fall hard."

"Why worry, when you are on top," she said but rose and started walking down.

We arrived at the lodge without incident, but my bad feelings had increased.

We found the others at the pool. My wife in a black bikini, I had never seen. Her body was shockingly exposed by the brief expanse of material. The other women were little better. As Paula and I approached, I saw my wife sit in Gabe's lap and give him a deep sensual kiss.

"We're back," Paula called causing Gabe and Gloria to break the kiss.

Gabe smirked like a bad little boy having been caught stealing cookies but knowing he will not be punished. 

My wife's smile was too broad and obviously false, "Hi where you been," she said as if she were talking to some casual friend.

There was an awkward silence following that. I could feel my fists clenching. But just then Paula grabbed my arm.

"Well, we obviously missed lunch and since we hiked to the top of the mountain we deserve some food," Paula said as she dragged me off toward the lodge.

I could hear a little-muffled laughter as we left the pool area. I don't know what Paula made to eat. If I ate, I don't remember. She forced a Johnny Walker Black on me. It was straight and burned my throat. 

"Think before you act," she said, "this is just one weekend in a good marriage, and you have a family to think about."

When we returned to the pool area, the couples had adjourned to the Jacuzzi. The men were laughing the women giggling. My wife was still in Gabe's lap. I couldn't see his or her hands beneath the water, but I assumed they were both busy. A joint was being passed, and it was clear everyone was high. Paula took a seat where she could watch and where she was positioned between the Jacuzzi and me. 

I made a great showing of getting another drink and then walked pointedly away. I dumped the drink when I was out of sight. It is an odd feeling, jealousy mixed with arousal. I was proud of my wife in one way and very disappointed in another. She had worked very hard and long to make herself over from the chubby girl I married. She was now a beautiful athletic woman and rightly desired.

I took pride in the fact that men wanted nothing more than to slip into the embrace of her strong and loving arms. But what had happened to her soul while she built that fabulous body? Seeing her with Gabe was oddly sexual. I could envision those perfect bodies joined in intercourse. A nightmare vision at once terrible and arousing.

I wandered the Lodge grounds making sure of how things were situated. Killing time and dreading where things seemed to be headed. Realizing that ultimately I might need to be in full possession of my faculties. I went to our bedroom deliberately forcing myself to try to sleep.

As I lay trying to quiet my thoughts the question of why my wife of sixteen years was flirting and kissing another man would not let me rest. We had been through so many hard times together, our early poverty, illnesses that struck the children, and the never ending grind of making ends meet on a middle-class budget. We had just started to climb to a secure and comfortable place. The kids were reaching that age where they could care for themselves.

My wife had a good if modest career. I was now making good money after so many lean years. Our debts were in hand, and our future bright. Why throw that away for a man as shallow and vain as Gabe Zilo. Beneath the charm and the brash bravado, there was nothing. Strip away the bright exterior and there was nothing beneath.

Gabe never developed a site plan, build a home, or worked a sale. He was the head of a business others ran. He was the money man, the rich kid. The wunderkind coming from nowhere, whose only asset was a self-created image. What was Gloria thinking? She had said that she just wanted to have some fun this weekend. Was this the fun and where did it end?

I did sleep, and when I came down stairs again they had moved into the great room. Dinner must have come and gone. The drink was still flowing as the joints were passing around. Gloria was back in Gabe's lap. There was no pretense that they were not making out. The bikini tops were off on all the women including Paula, who seemed to be sharing Ken with Robin.

I walked right through the room headed for the kitchen and food. I was microwaving a dinner when Gloria came in. 

"How you doing?" she said.

"I've been better," I said.

She seemed to hesitate and then she let me have it.

"I'm spending the night with Gabe," she said.

"I've noticed," I said as the microwaved dinged.

She gave a kind of funny smile as I turned to the microwave.

"No, I mean in his room tonight."

I stayed very still. I had my back to her. It was important that she did not see the pain she was causing me at that moment.

"I see, and our sixteen years of marriage?"

"That's why I can do this. It's just for the weekend. Next week I'll be all yours again," she said.

"Oh, and Gabe won't mind?"

She wrapped her arms around me from behind while burying her head in my back, "of course not, silly. Gabe likes you. He says you two are going places together. This is just a fling. A little fun for the weekend..."

"Ok?" she said, this last was punctuated with a hug.

"Do I have a choice?" I said.

"Not really, it's decided. I'm just telling you, so you know," she said.

She let go, and I heard her leave the kitchen. I walked to where the kitchen looked out into the great room. They were already at the stairs. As they ascended, Gabe looked back. He gave me a grin and a thumbs up like we were in it together. He said something into Gloria's ear, and she turned and gave me a wave and a smile.

I turned back to the kitchen. Apparently all we had been through together meant nothing. My wife had forsaken and humiliated me. I threw away the microwave meal. Instead, I made coffee - it was going to be a long night. As the water boiled, I heard someone enter the kitchen.

I turned to find Paula watching me.

"I wouldn't have expected caffeine. Wouldn't alcohol be more appropriate?" she said.

"To each their own," I said. "But tell me what is your function here?"

In response, she shrugged, "I try to help out. See things remain calm."

"How are you going to do that? Sleep with me."

She laughed, "No, I don't go that far, but cheer up you'll get your wife back and maybe a bonus."

"So," I said, "there's money involved."

"Isn't there always. You can't make a fuss because you work for the man. You have a family to consider. What can you do but take what you are given? It's their world, not yours. It's just the way of things."

There was a sharp scream of pleasure from upstairs. 

"She seems to be having a good time," Paula said smirking. 

"Well, that's fine. A pleasant weekend for all in the mountains...You know these rocks have been here a long time. Our existence is just a blip to them. Thousands of years ago they were covered in thick layers of ice that scoured them and cut the streams and the gorges that we now must bridge to make our world livable. 

"We sometimes forget just how precarious our existence is. Take away one little piece and our world falls in. It is only then we see what an illusion it is."

Paula laughed, "My God, you're a philosopher!"

"No, just a man who is aware enough to know what is important. Trying to separate the real and eternal from the illusions."

She must have decided that I would cause no problem for she left me to my coffee and my pain.

Around 1 a.m., I climbed the stairs. As I passed the door to the master bedroom, I could hear my wife's loud cries and moans of pleasure. She had always been very quiet in our love making, but I guess he was better. He was younger and had far more stamina. A better lover all around. I assumed my wife had found the fun she was searching for in his bed.

I took a shower then redressed in my warmest clothing. It would be cold outside. I tried to ignore the noise coming through the walls as I waited. It was past 3 a.m. when the stillness finally settled over the house. I gave it another thirty minutes and then crept downstairs.

In one of the kitchen cupboards, I found a flashlight and candles with matches. A necessary precaution, I assumed for when the power was cut by a harsh reality.

The night was truly dark out, the moon having set. You could hear the night sounds of the mountain, but they seem to be silence itself to a city dweller. I found the barn without difficulty and a twenty-gallon plastic gas can used to bring fuel to the motorsports. I also found a lug wrench. The generator shed door had a padlock but the hinge mechanism was rusted. The wrench made short work of it. The lodge proprietors had provided a good hand worked siphon to pump the gas.

It took not ten minutes to fill the can with gas. It took a few minutes longer to walk around the lodge building to where my rented SUV was parked. I put the gas in the back, removed the hand brake and put the truck into drive. I let it roll as far as it would go down the road before I started it and drove away.

I slowed as I approached the bridge. I navigated carefully across it. When I reached the macadam road, I stopped. I took my time and made sure the gas soaked into the wood of the bridge. It was a well-made and sturdy structure. It was something carefully made, the work of experienced builders, craftsmen who made things. People of substance had installed the bridge so those who live off the sweat of others could have a fun weekend.

The fun was about to end. I dropped a match. It sputtered, then it caught. A finger of flame rose as I moved back. A roaring blast of heat and fire followed shortly. I heard the crackle as the wood of the bridge as it caught the fire. The flames must have been visible for miles. I turned to my vehicle and drove off slowly. No need to hurry. All those who might see were now trapped on the other side. I was sure to be far away before they were aware of their situation.

About the time the dawn was breaking, I was pulling off the interstate for fuel. I filled the SUV up and left the empty gas can by the pumps. Someone would find it. With it went the only connection between the fire and me.

I turned the SUV in about 9 am and retrieved my car. I showered again and dressed business casual for the office. I had two more little things to do to end my association with Countryman Real Estate. Bernie had been a good boss, but forgetful. He often would call for me to retrieve something he had forgotten in his office. I had a key to every door and every file cabinet.

Gabe was a careful and meticulous individual when it came to his office and personal possessions. He had a big new Mahoney desk with a built in safe. Unfortunately, for him, he kept the combination in a file marked safe. It was in a locked cabinet, but I had the key thanks to Bernie.

Twenty minutes after entering the Countryman offices I had the password diary out of Gabe's safe and was logged into the company accounts. It would have been easy to walk away with everything, but that was not my plan. Theft would gain me nothing but a jail term. I simply swept the operating account into another account. When I first began work for Countryman, we had established a trust account for deposits. With each new development, a new trust account was established, a requirement of the State. The original trust account was a long forgotten. 

The old account was in the records, but no longer on the books. It was an empty account until I sweep almost twenty million into it. I moved all our cash, and for good measure, I maxed out the line of credit. 

My actions may seem a hollow gesture. Nothing was being stolen. It was all still there. But it would take several days to find and recover that money for use. Tuesday morning bright and early the electronic fund transfers would hit an empty operating account. Hundreds of payments would bounce. I wasn't sure how much damage would be caused, but we were always into the banks for more than we had. We existed on credit. Take away that credit and times would be tough at least for a bit. 

Countryman would need to work to recover its good credit. The longer the shortage lasted, the bigger the problem. With any luck, Gabe would still be up on the mountain Tuesday. I would be gone, for my next action after placing everything back was to type out my resignation. I was getting ready to leave the office after placing my resignation letter on the desk of Gabe's secretary when my cell phone rang.

I looked at my phone a picture of Gloria came up. I ignored the call. A moment later the phone chimed with a voice mail. I shouldn't have listened, but I did.

"Baby, where are you? They say the car is gone. I'm worried. Call me," my wife said.

About a half hour later. The phone rang again. It was Gabe.

"Hey Lyle, You OK buddy? Gloria's real worried. Give her a call. Like now!"

I detected a little threat there at the end. It brought a smile to my face. There were three more calls from Gloria that Sunday and a second from Gabe. He was more threatening in the second call, demanding that I call him back.

Monday morning, I went to pick the kids up from Gloria's parents. On my way out the door, Gloria called again.

"Lyle, I will be back tonight. We need to talk. If you get this message, please call. I am very worried. This is childish," she said.

I was betting she would not be back. 

When I arrived at her parents, they were expecting me.

"Gloria called and said you might be by alone to pick up the kids," her mother said.

"You need to call her son," her father said. 

"She says she will be back tonight. I think it best if I waited till then. There is something we need to work out in person." I wasn't about to get into a discussion with thes if I could avoid it. 

Mys weren't happy but there was little they could do. My daughter picked up that something was wrong, but I told her, "It's a grownup problem between your mother and me, and to be fair to her we should wait till she gets back to discuss it."




The Bridge



When I got the kids home and settled in, I went to what had been our bedroom and placed a call to Felix Rodriguez.

"Hey, Lyle how are you," he said answering.

"Not so good Felix, I need your services," I said. 

Felix was the best family lawyer I knew. He was good both as a lawyer and a man.

"Oh, what's the problem?" he said,

"I need to file for divorce."

"No way, it's not good to kid about things like that."

"Way, Gloria had a fling with Gabriel Zilo. You know, my boss."

"Shit. I am truly sorry. What do you need me to do?"

Felix and I discussed it for about an hour on the phone. I made an appointment for late Tuesday afternoon to get the ball rolling.

The phone calls kept coming from the mountain. Apparently her parents had called. The messages were conciliatory. Gloria's alternated with Gabe's. No threats now.

"Hey, man if I've made a mistake here I apologize. I don't want anything that happened this weekend to affect our working relationship. That would be bad all round, if you understand where I'm going," he said.

Then about five in the afternoon.

"Lyle, Lyle please call. Something has happened here. The bridge is out. We are all trapped. Call. I need to hear from you." My wife said.

Tuesday morning first thing, I called Steven Pender my old associate. We agree to meet for lunch at a modest sandwich place in one of the malls.

"You sure about this?" Steven asked between bites at a pepper jack tuna sandwich.

"Already done. I have officially resigned," I said.

As if to emphasize the fact, I received a call from Donna, my secretary at Countryman.

"Lyle, they're saying you resigned, but you need to come in. All hell is breaking lose here. Something is very wrong," Donna said.

"Sorry, no can do. I don't work there anymore. I suggest you call Gabe."

"They say he is trapped in the mountains. Something about a bridge."

"Gee sorry to hear that. Well, don't worry. I'm sure it will all straighten out in the end."

"Something I should know about?" Steve asked.

"No, nothing that concerns me any longer," I said.

"Well, if you're sure I think I can improve my last offer by 10k per annum. If you can start right away."

"Is tomorrow too soon?"

"No, that would be great," Steve said.

I started at Pender and Associates Wednesday morning. I was just getting settled in Wednesday afternoon when I had a visitor.

"Where is my money? You prick," Gabe Zilo said. 

"What money are you talking about?"

"You know, the operating funds."

"Sorry, perhaps you should talk to the company accountants."

"If I do, I will have you prosecuted for embezzlement," he said.

I only smiled at him. He had found a way off that mountain, but where were the operating funds? 

"You think you're some wise ass lawyer, but you're just an asshole who can't satisfy his wife. She had a real good time with me, and I'll be tapping her pussy whenever the mood strikes me," he said then stormed out.

The following day I heard from the police. They called and asked me to come to the station to answer some questions.

"Sorry, I just started a new job. My time is very limited but feels free to put your questions in writing, and I will get back to you." 

The officer who was calling tried to explain that that was not how they did things, but I explained right back that I was a lawyer, and I did things in writing or not at all. We went around for a few minutes and then he hung up.

I knew the police would have to verify a charge of embezzlement before they could act. That would mean tracing the money. I expected they would find it in the company account where I placed it within a few days. That should end the matter. It would simply be a civil case after that, and a poor one at best.

I was wrong it took them two weeks to find the missing funds. By then Countryman was in very serious trouble. Its credit had been entirely shut down by the banks, and it would need an infusion of new capital to get restarted.

Gloria showed up late Friday night with both our luggage from the trip. Her key didn't work because I had changed the locks. I met her at the door. She did not look so well.

"Please, Lyle let me in. If not for my sake, then think of the kids," she said.

"No, I won't because you don't live here anymore. I parked your car on the street. I assume you still have the car keys," I said.

"Do you hate me that much?"

"YES!" I said and closed the door.

I figured she would go to her parents. I had Felix serve her the restraining order and petition for divorce there. Those few days of grace the bridge had given me had paid great dividends. Felix got her restrained from accosting me and I received temporary custody of the kids. It took her two months and probably every dime she could scrape up to recover the momentum. By then the divorce was well advanced and all we had to do is work out the details. 

Gabe Zilo was not so lucky. Countryman Real Estate had to shut its doors. It stopped doing business just after Labor day. The following week, I had a visitor.

He was sitting in my visitor's chair as I returned from my third closing of the day. He was deeply tanned and looked to be in good health. He was a bit underdressed for the early northern fall that had set in.

"Bernie, how are you?" I said.

"I'm good," he said craning his neck to scan my meager office.

"What brings you to the cold north?" I asked sensing this was no casual visit.

"Well, It's like this—Ah—well. Florida is teaming with sharks, and very few of them are in the water. Thought it best to return to what I know," he said.

"Oh. I guess, it's good to have you back," I said not sure what else to say to his admission or what he wanted from me.

Bernie could read the question in my eyes.

"I dropped a good size chunk of change down there. I'm going to have to start over and start small, but it seems I'm in luck. This company I use to own seems to be available," he said as a smile cracked his face. 

I looked at him and smiled right back, "Yea, it is isn't it."

We both broke our laughing.

"So what do you want from me, you old pirate," I said.

"Well, it's like this. I need a partner. At my age, the bankers figure that any business I start will not have any continuity. And, well, you and I made a good team. So what do you say."

"I have very little money. I'm going through a divorce you may have heard," I said.

"Yes, I heard that," he said.

I wondered how much he had heard. The story got around.

"Look why not let me cut you in for 10%," he said.

"Fifty"

"Be reasonable you just said you have no money to put in."

"I'm betting neither do you. But I'll settle for 45%," I said.

"Look 25% that's fair."

"But not enough. 40% and the option to buy another 10% in ten years."

"Ok, I just hope I live that long," said the man I knew intended to attend my funeral.

Bernie and I went back into business. We bought every lot that Countryman had owned at a discount from the banks that now held them, using the same bank's money. I thought we would struggle but we were soon doing a very steady business, building and selling houses. Life moved on and so did my divorce. It was mostly a fight over custody and visitation.

In the end, we worked out a complicated joint custody and visitation arrangement. That is why on Christmas Eve I was returning home to a dark and empty house. Gloria had the kids for Christmas Eve. I was to have them Christmas Day. Because Christmas was on a Sunday, they were to go back to her on the Monday, which she had off. The kids hated these arrangements.

As I approached the house, I saw a figure sitting on the steps. They were shrouded against the cold and the light snow that was falling. I was on top of her before I recognized my former wife.

"Gloria, what are you doing here?" I said.

She did not look all that well. She was even thinner than the last time I saw her and her eyes looked hollow and vacant. She had clearly been crying at some point in the recent past.

"I want to come home," she wailed.

"Where are the children?" I demanded ignoring her plea.

"With my folks. They want to come home too. We want to be a family again in our little house. What you've done to us is not fair."

"I didn't do anything."

"Oh yes, you did. I made a mistake. Ok, it was a bad and hurtful mistake, but it was just one mistake. You're the one who destroyed our family," she accused, with anger creeping into her voice.

She made a conscious effort to calm herself. "I told myself I would not lose my temper but please understand, I have anger issues over this," she said.

"You have anger issues!" I was astonished.

"Don't act the innocent. You are anything but. You just happen to come out way ahead of anyone else? I'm no fool, Lyle. You were never a saint. I know I hurt you, but that was never my intention."

"Really, you expect me to believe that you thought having sex with another man right in front of me wasn't going to cause me pain?" I said.

She turned away. My words had apparently cut deep. I could see her wipe her hands across her eyes although she now had her back to me. It was apparent she was crying.

Her voice was low and filled with pain but steady, "I was always the fat girl, the last one asked to the dance; I had to accept whoever asked. I was a good girl, so I spent a lot of my time fending off crude assaults. I was waiting for the right man all through high school and most of college.

"When I met you, I knew I had found the right man. I was a virgin when we married. I didn't make a big fuss about it but I thought you knew. You are no prince now and you certainly weren't then. You were just an ordinary guy, but I loved you with all my heart. Yes. You were a bit smarter than most, and more ambitious, but we were always broke.

"I learned to live with lower expectations because I loved you. It hurt me to see you struggle so hard. Then Gabriel came along and things seemed to get better. He was everything a woman wants in a man. For once the prince wanted me. It was flattering. After the Christmas party, he kept calling me. It wasn't serious, just flirting.

"You know, the kind of things that beautiful women get all the time. It was not like I don't get hit on, but not by the handsome, powerful elites. He said nice things about you and how lucky I was to have a great guy like you."

"I'll bet he just fucking loved me," I said.

"He did. He said how hard you worked and how he wanted to reward you. I knew what he was saying, that if I was nice to him, he would take care of you. I guess I let him convince me that you would benefit if I gave in to him. That's true but so is the fact that I wanted him. It was like I had this crazy buzz in my head that was driving me toward him.

"I was caught between hoping that something would happen on that weekend and fearing that it would. Once we got there, all my resistance began to fade. I turned to you. I did. I asked you—"

"What! Are you kidding? You told me you were going to bed with him."

OK, OK. I didn't come out with it directly, but you knew what was happening, and you didn't say no," she said turning to me. The tears ran down her cheeks to drip from her chin. Her nose was running.

"I believed in you. As I said, that night, we had sixteen years together. How could you do that to me," I said.

"But that's exactly the point. We loved each other. It was only a fling. Nothing in comparison to what we had before and would have after."

"Are you so crazy that you believe that after hearing you scream in pleasure for him we could have anything together?"

"OH SHIT, you can't be that stupid. That was all an act. I wanted to be good for him. I put on a show. Men like that, need and expect it. I never behave that way in bed, and you must know that after sixteen years of making love to me."

"What I know is what you did. How you humiliated me. You took the golden boy over me. The assholes who contribute nothing and take everything. Powerful, is he? Well, where is he now? What happened when the crisis came? I'll tell you. He folded. We live in a society that supports the few over the many on the myth of some secret genius that they possess. Tell me how did the genius get off that mountain so fast?"

"He called for a helicopter. By then he knew you had done something to the business. It was pretty obvious you burned the bridge. He though you stole his money. The others began to panic. Paula kept saying this could not be happening. That it was not the way things worked.

"When the helicopter came there was only room for Gabe. The rest of us were abandoned. I guess the National Guard eventually installed a temporary bridge to rescue us. Sharon and I rode back together. By then her husband knew the true story. She was in trouble like I was. Poor Robin's fiancé broke off their engagement. 

"Glen and Ken were both in trouble, but I guess they got out of it with Paula's help. I guess only Gabe and us ordinary people truly bore the brunt. But hasn't there been enough pain?" she asked, looking at me hopefully. 

There was a lot of truth in what Gloria had said. I was not entirely innocent. I had worked for Gabe but, unlike the rest of the world, I was never taken in. I knew the truth but refused to admit it to myself. 

"I can't get past the way it went down. They have nothing but false promises. If you look hard, you see the trap. Yet, no one looked. The illusion is so much better than reality. We battled through hard times but they were getting better. What you and Gabe took from me was the security of my home. I can never recover that because those bastards proved that what I had believed in was an illusion. You and I were an illusion," As I said this I stood up moving towards the door of the dark and barren house.

She refused to give up.

"Answer me this," she said, "Are you better off alone without me or would it be better with me and our kids around the Christmas tree tonight?"

I looked at her. It would be so easy to take her into my arms, to love her, to bring the kids home to sleep in their own house Christmas Eve, and to pretend what had happened never happened. But all I could say was, "I don't know. That's a good question but I have no answer to it."

With that, we turned away from each other. What's in our past can't be changed. We must live for our future.



The Bridge Came



I was sitting across my desk from one of my clients who was going through a messy divorce. He wanted to change the beneficiaries on his life insurance policies and whatever else had to be done for any of the other insurance I had sold him. He was also venting his anger on how she had cheated on him and how he had caught her. One thing I had learned as a salesman is to let the client talk and find out what other kind of insurance I could sell to him. He said,

"She was so damn dumb, and so was I until realized what she must have been doing.

Our sex life was good until I woke up to the fact that every Tuesday and Thursday night I couldn't get laid. Every other night she never refused me and she fucked me like a bunny but never on those two nights. On Tuesday nights she told me that she always stopped for a drink with the people from her office on the way home and I always got a take out dinner. On Thursdays it was a night out with the girls so she left me to clean up after dinner while she rushed out. One Thursday night after she had been out with the 'girls' I wouldn't take no for an answer and I practically raped her. I shoved into her with no foreplay and she was as wet and loose as could be and when I pulled out she had to hold her hand under herself as she ran to the bathroom to clean up. It was then that I realized she must have been carrying a double load. I never said a word to her about my suspicions and the next Thursday girl's night I followed her to a local motel and the 'girl' that opened the door to the room she entered was a six foot hunk. She wrapped herself around him before the door was closed. By the time she came home at midnight her stuff was out on the lawn."

I commiserated with him and changed his life policies and made a note to change the house and auto ones when they finally reached a settlement. When he left I bid him good luck and he congratulated me on my good marriage and good fortune. As I drove home that night my mind wandered back to that conversation and I felt very good about my wife and our love life. We made love about four or five times a week, never on a schedule, and then it hit me; never on a Wednesday night. How could I have been so blind? We have two kids both in elementary school so she had her days to herself. She kept the house clean and was a wonderful cook and mother and did various volunteer and charity work. As far as I have ever known she led a perfectly normal life including her weekly bridge game every Wednesday. I knew that they played at each woman's home on a rotating schedule, so what could she be doing to make her not want sex with me on Wednesday nights? I decided I wasn't going to go through the routine of hiring a detective or hiding tape recorders or video cameras; I would just confront her and see what happens. So after dinner I said,

"Who is he?"

"Who is who? What are you talking about?"

"Who is the guy you are screwing?"

"I'm not screwing any guy. Are you crazy?"

"Every time I want to make love on a Wednesday, you always turn me down. I want to know who he is."

I could tell by her face that I was getting close but she answered,

"There is no guy."

"Then what the hell is going on Wednesdays that prevents sex with me that evening?"

Now I knew I asked the right question. She went pale as a ghost.

"I am too sore and too stretched."

"Too sore? Too stretched? Where?"

"In my pussy."

"Who are you fucking that is big enough to do that? I thought you played bridge on Wednesdays with three women."

"There are no men."

"Are you telling me that you are fucking one of the women?"

"No."

"Then who are you fucking?"

"All of them."

I looked at her like she was from another world. This was my wife confessing to an affair with three other women! She couldn't even look me in the eye when she said it. I was trying to control my temper when I said,

"I am trying not to lose my cool and keep from throwing your ass and all your belongings out onto the front lawn. I think you owe me some kind of explanation. Are you a lesbian now? Do you want a divorce?"

"No honey, I love you and I love having sex with you. You have to admit that our love life is as good as or better than when we first married. I don't want to lose you." 

"Then you better start telling me what is going on. Start at the beginning."

"Do you remember when we moved here four years ago Marlene came over to welcome us with a cake she also invited me into the neighborhood bridge game."

"Sure I remember that," I answered.

"Well it started out just four women, only playing bridge. We would start at ten in the morning, break for lunch at noon and play until about 2:30 and get home before the kids came home from school. The lunch breaks were short and naturally there was some neighborhood gossip. After about a year the gossip gave way to comparing our sex lives and Sylvia started bragging about how good hers was because her husband was so big."

"What are you talking about? I have seen Herb; he is shorter than I am."

"No honey, she was talking about his penis."

"How big is it?"

"That was our question and the way she described it none of us would believe her. We laughed at her and said no one could be that big. The next week we played at Sue's and when we broke for lunch the topic of conversation was again about the size of Herb's penis and Sue said, 

"I was in an adult shop and I saw this and had to buy it to show it to you girls because of last weeks conversation. She took out this huge penis mounted on a strap on and held it out in front of Sylvia and challenged her. Is this as big as Herb?"

Sylvia looked at it and after a pause said.

"Almost."

"That broke everyone up. We were all laughing and saying that no one could take that monster into their pussy."

Sylvia said, "I do it all the time." 

"None of us would believe her and after arguing back and forth the challenge went out,

"Prove it."

Sylvia looked at us and I could see the determination in her face when she said,

"OK but you will all be a bunch of jealous bitches when I do"."

She took off her jeans and panties and took the strap on in her hands and placed the head of the dildo against her pussy. She said,

"I can't get this thing into me like this. I am too dry. Herb and I always have a lot of foreplay." Marlene said,

"I'll help you." and she started to fondle Sylvia's breasts. "Take off your sweater and bra."

Sylvia was now naked and we could see how hard her nipples were getting. She said, 

"Maybe if you were wearing the strap on it would feel more natural."

"So Marlene undressed and Sue and I helped her put on the strap on. Now this thing has a part that fits into the wearer's pussy and presses against her clit and as we adjusted it on her we could see Marlene getting aroused and I have to admit we were too. Soon Marlene 

was kissing Sylvia and the cock was between Sylvia's thighs. Both of them were beginning to moan and Sylvia was rubbing her clit and cunt on the monster cock." She finally said,

"I'm ready now, fuck me."

She lay down on the rug, on her back, and Marlene knelt between her thighs and slowly inserted the monster. Marlene is a big woman and her tits are very pendulous. They hung so far down that Sylvia was able to suck on them as she was being fucked. Sue and I watched her slow fuck Sylvia and both of us were fingering ourselves, we were so turned on. I looked at Sue and she returned my look and we came into each others arms and started kissing and fingering and fondling each other. All four of us came at the same time. Before the afternoon was over Marlene had fucked the three of us. We could all take the monster and it was incredibly arousing and we knew we were going to do it again; in fact we never played bridge again. The only trouble was I was stretched out and sore and turned you down that night but I made it up to you every other night thereafter.

"Darling, I love you. I don't want to lose you. Don't throw me out. I'll give up the bridge game. I'll do anything you want to stay with you."

"I can't tell you how furious I am with you. I'm too angry to make a decision now, Go to bed, I will be up later."

I sat in my home office half the night before I made up my mind and went to bed. When I laid down next to her she turned towards me and asked,

"Have you come to a decision?"

"Not completely, I'll let you know tomorrow after dinner." 

I heard her murmur, "I love you" just before I fell asleep.

Chapter 2

The next morning she fixed breakfast for me and the kids and I left without saying a word. I could tell she was on tenterhooks but I let her stew until I came home for dinner. When the kids were bedded down I called her in to talk.

"Does Marlene always wear the dildo?"

"No, not always."

"Why not."

"Well, the hostess is supposed to wear it but Sue is too small and it doesn't feel right."

"Do you wear it when you play here?"

"Yes, some times."

"How does it make you feel?"

"I never thought about it much. Strong, I guess, in control."

"Which do you like better?"

"The part that is inside me when I wear it, fucks me too so both are good but I like it best when you make love to me."

"Even though I am not as big?"

"Sweetheart, size is good but love is more important and I love you. The other is just fucking."

"Well now you owe me fucking."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to fuck them too."

She looked at me and then it sunk in and I could see the dismay on her face.

"You mean....."

"Yes dear, each and every one, especially Marlene, and you are going to help me."

"You are right; I do owe you but only with them. I don't want to lose you to another woman."

"You won't, it's as much revenge on them as well as you. When is the next session here?"

"The Wednesday next week."

"OK this is what you are going to do."

I explained everything to her and went about setting up my revenge. They usually played in our basement finished playroom. It was carpeted and had a pull out sofa bed. Perfect for their sex games and now for mine. I got a nanny cam that was built into a picture frame and hooked it up to my computer and a huge external hard drive. I had the capacity for the whole four hours so when they came to play, I recorded it all. That night after the kids were in bed I said to Helen,

"Do you want to watch with me?"

"No, I was there; I don't want to watch the things I did. I am too ashamed now."

"OK, but don't go to sleep, I may be horny when I come up."

"Anything you want dear, you deserve, but after four hours you may have to wake me up."

I saw the four women come down the stairs all excited and laughing except that Helen was a bit subdued. The clothes started flying and soon all four were naked as jaybirds. Marlene offered the strap on to Helen but she declined as instructed and told Marlene to wear it. Marlene is a big woman, not fat, but broad shouldered and thick on top with slimmer hips and legs than most women. She is almost like a man with tits, heavy tits that hang. When the women helped her put on that cock you could see how she dominated them. She made them play with her tits and worship the cock with their tits and tongues a then she picked Helen to fuck. She stood behind my wife and slipped the dildo between her legs, it was long enough to stick out in front of Helen. I saw her whispering in Helen's ear while her hands twisted her nipples and I watched Helen reach down and pull that huge cock against her cunt and clit. Helen's head went back against Marlene's shoulder and her hips started to move against the cock. The smallest woman, Sue, knelt in front of Helen and started licking her belly and rubbing her clit and Sylvia was licking Marlene's ass. My wife was lost in her passion even though she knew it was being recorded. No wonder she didn't want to watch. All the women were groaning and moaning by now and Marlene had Helen bend forward from the waist and lean on the sofa. Sue sat on the sofa in front of her and kept sucking on her tits and Sylvia sat on the floor and worked her clit and her own pussy. Marlene was too busy just fucking her. In less than fifteen minutes from entering the basement all four women had climaxed. Helen collapsed onto the sofa next to Sue and they ended up in a 69 and Marlene got around to fucking Sylvia. How she ever forced that thing into Sue, when she fucked her later on, I will never know because Sue is barely five tall and doesn't weigh much more than 100 pounds. But fuck her she did, and the little bitch took it all, screaming all the way. When they broke for lunch I quit for the night and I went up and woke up Helen and took her as hard and as fast as I could. She was loose but not as much as I thought she would be. I kissed her good night and said we would talk again tomorrow night.

We were both quiet for breakfast. She fed the kids and looked at me but never had the courage to ask how I felt about what or how much I saw and I wasn't about to say anything even after the kids had left. When I gave her a peck on the lips as I left for work she said,

"I love you." I said,

"We'll talk after dinner and the kids are in bed."

I got home to my favorite dinner and the kids were in bed earlier that usual. I could see that Helen was anxious and nervous. She sat opposite me again, her hands in her lap. She was wringing them as she waited for me to speak.

"It looked to me like you really enjoyed what Marlene was doing to you."

"I can't deny it, it really turns me on. You saw how I reacted even though I knew you would see it."

"Is it better than when I make love to you?"

"No honey, not better but different."

"Why, because the cock is bigger?"

"I have to admit that I does reach places that you don't and that has an effect on me but it doesn't feel the same as when you are in me."

"Which do you like better?"

"There is no comparison. When you are inside of me your cock is alive, some times I think I can even feel your pulse. I know I feel every spurt when you come in me and I feel your love with you kisses and caresses. With the dildo is more mechanical. Please darling, don't send me away. I'll never meet with them again. I love only you."

"No, I am not going to send you away. I still love you even though I am disappointed with you and to make up for it you are going to suffer the same agony I went through. Tomorrow morning you will invite Marlene for lunch. Tell her it is important and don't take no for an answer. I will be with you when she gets here."



Chapter 3

I answered the door when Marlene rang to door bell. She was a bit flustered when I invited her in but I quickly put her at ease. I told her that I was home unexpectedly and I was going to leave immediately after lunch. I think she had come expecting to have a little private session with Helen. We all sat at the dining room table and finished the salads that Helen made for us and when we were drinking our coffee I said to her,

"I have a little video I think you might enjoy. Bring your coffee into the den with me."

I turned on the portion of the basement fuck session where she was doing Helen. Marlene turned white. The coffee cup fell from her hand, good thing she had finished the coffee. 

"I see you like to be a dominant Marlene. I think you are the leader of this group."

"No, you didn't....my god ....this can't be."

"But it is, isn't it. It's you fucking those women. I think you like having a big dick."

"Yes....no I mean...Please don't show this to any one else."

"Why not? I think it makes a good lesbian porno."

"Please my husband would kill me."

"He doesn't have to see it, that is. If you cooperate."

"Cooperate? How?"

"You're a slut Marlene and you are going to be my slut."

"Are you crazy? I won't do that."

"OK, Ernie will have a copy of this in his office tomorrow."

"No, no. OK, I'll do anything you want."

"Good girl. Now strip!"

She did and she stood there naked. I walked around her relishing the control I had over her. She had trouble controlling her hands, she wanted to cover herself and I wouldn't let her. My finger tip traced circles all over her body and it made her shiver. When I pinched her nipples I heard her moan and she shuddered.

"Did you cum just now?"

She didn't answer.

"Did you cum just now?"

"Yes."

"On your knees."

As she sunk to the floor I pulled out my cock. My cock was a flag pole.

"All right slut, you know what to do."

She started sucking on my cock and I called out,

"Helen, come in here."

And Helen as instructed walked in to the den, naked except for the dildo. Marlene tried to pull off my cock but I held her head and made her continue as I talked to Helen.

"Do you see this Helen? This is what comes of your cheating. She is going to be my bitch now and you will have to share me with her. Get your butt up higher Marlene. Good. Now fuck her from behind Helen."

I watched my wife slide the plastic cock into Marlene and I made her look me in the eye as we double penetrated the bitch. I could see the pain in her eyes when she saw me fucking Marlene's mouth and when I came, Marline climaxed with me. Helen didn't, I think it was too degrading for her to watch me get it off with another woman. After a short rest I made Marlene straddle my lap facing me. I played with her tits and pinched her nipple until she was getting aroused and started moaning. 

"I told you were a slut, Marlene. Are you my slut now?"

She didn't answer so I pinched her nipple hard.

She screamed and said, 

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I am your slut.'

"Ask me to fuck you slut."

"Please, fuck me, Bob."

"Lift your self up. Helen come here and guide my cock into her cunt when she sits down."

With tears in her eyes Helen did as she was told and Marlene fucked me until we both came. We sent her home before the kids came home from school. 

Later on that night when we went to bed Helen asked,

"How often am I going to have to help you fuck other women?'

"How often did you fuck them?"

"Too many times for me to survive this."

"Now you know how I feel."

Before I fell asleep I heard her crying softly beside me.

Then I had Helen invite Sylvia to lunch. I walked in on them just as they were finishing their salads. 

"Hello Sylvia, what a pleasant surprise especially since I recently saw you in a video."

"Me, in a video? I didn't know I was in one."

"Oh yes let me show you."

When it came on she blanched. Her hands were gripping the table so hard her knuckles were white.

"Noooooooooooo."

"You said it was almost as big as Herb."

"I lied. It's bigger."

"What do you think he would say if he knew about this?"

"Oh god no. You wouldn't tell him."

"I won't if you do everything I tell you to."

She looked at me and didn't answer.

"Helen will be here with us."

"Alright."

"Helen, help her put on the strap on."

Sylvia stripped and on my command Helen did also and as she helped Sylvia insert and adjust the strap on I could see both women getting excited. I had both of them play with the others tits until were breathing hard, then I had Helen lie on her back. 

"I want you to slow fuck her Sylvia."

She knelt between Helen's thighs and slowly entered her. I went behind her and pushed her flat onto Helen, both bosoms were flattened as they kissed. Sylvia started moving her hip and Helen couldn't help but respond. Soon both women were lost in their lust and I moved behind Sylvia. I lubed my cock and then her anus; she stiffened when my fingers penetrated her. 

"Relax Sylvia; you know what's going to happen."

I slowly filled her ass with my cock and she was being double fucked. Her moans and feeble protests were inflaming my wife as well as myself and the accelerated the pace of the action. She felt me spurt into her and she came explosively and that set off Helen. Three people enjoying close to the best orgasms of their lives simultaneously. 




The Bridge Came



"Oh....my....god," said Sylvia."

Helen was mewling like a kitten and I was lying there like I was pole axed. We lay there for at least five minutes before I pulled out of her and her from Helen.

"Sylvia you liked that didn't you?"

She looked at me then at Helen then whispered,

"Yes."

"First time in double penetrated?"

"Yes."

"Has Herb ever fucked your ass?"

"No."

"You liked it didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Agree to save it only for me and herbie will never know about your so called bridge game and your ass will be mine whenever I want it."

She looked at me and then at Helen who nodded her permission. Sylvia with tears in her eyes said,

"I Agree."

So we sent her home and I said to Helen,

"One more to go." Her reply was,

"I don't think I could handle more than that."

We showed Susan the video the following week and she began crying as soon as it played.

"I couldn't have done that. I don't believe what I am seeing. I am married only a year, what would Barry think of me? Please don't ever show this to anyone."

"I won't as long as you do as you are told."

"You bought that strap-on and started the whole thing."

"It was only a joke I never thought it would lead into what it did."

"But you enjoyed what did happen and you enjoyed being fucked with it."

"Yes."

"Help Helen put it on."

She did just that and I think Helen liked the idea that she might fuck Sue, because she was wet when the reverse end went into her. I stood facing Helen with Sue between us and I instructed Sue to hold a cock in each hand. I was as big as I ever got but not as big as that dildo. I could see the hungry look in Sue's eyes. 

"You are going to get fucked with one of these, which one will it be?"

She couldn't look at Helen,

"Yours."

"Why mine."

"Because it's real and I want to feel you cum inside of me."

And fuck her I did with Helen watching through tear filled eyes. She was a noisy bitch and I told her that her secret was safe with me as long as she was available to me when I wanted her. She reluctantly agreed and we let her go home.

That night Helen asked,

"How long are you going to continue fucking my friends?" I asked, 

"How long are you going to do the same?"

"We stopped after you did Sylvia we just didn't tell Sue why."

"No more sexy Wednesday afternoons?"

"Nope, just bridge."

"So that means I can get laid on Wednesday nights?"

"All night, all day and any other time you want."

"Come here you horny little bitch, I guess you learned your lesson."

The Wednesday bridge game lasted for about six more months. Sue was pregnant (I didn't know if it was from me or Barry and I didn't want to find out) and was getting too big to be comfortable sitting so long and when Ernie got transferred to the west coast the game broke up. As far as I know Helen hasn't ever again displayed her bisexual nature and we are getting along just fine. I never fucked Sylvia or Sue again, but Helen knows that I still have the video and the option to claim my two sluts.