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Whoosh, Bang! Ch. 01

By: leBonhomme



This is my first submission. My stories are - will be - all set in the sixties and early seventies, before everyone had read "The Joy of Sex" and girls all used the pill. Maybe I will post an essay called "Erotica 101," if the title hasn't been used. It will let you know more, maybe too much, about me.

As the first line of the story suggests, this is related to another story, a whole novel from its length. The title here could be misleading, but it will make sense in the third and final chapter. 

*

Barbara was a friend of Sandy's at Sarah Lawrence and had gotten her summer job through her father's fraternity network. Over the Christmas break, she had flown down to a city in the Southeast for an interview with a bank and had been accepted. The fraternity brother had been a class or two behind her father at college and after business school had joined the bank and moved up rapidly, so he wasn't involved in hiring or managing summer interns. He did, however, invite her for dinner with his family the last night of her trip. 

It was a very pleasant evening at their home - nice home. They had two daughters, seventeen and eighteen, junior and senior in high school. At the end of the evening, the girls suggested that she could use their swimming pool during the summer, and the parents agreed. The father offered to drive her back to her hotel, which really wasn't necessary, since she still could have taken public transportation at that hour, but she didn't want to refuse his gesture.

During the drive, he easily kept the conversation going, and before she got out of the car, he offered to look for a place for her to stay during the summer, explaining that the bank had business with some apartment owners who might have a furnished apartment available during the summer: "Usually they don't want to rent short term, but if I ask them ..."

She thanked him, also again for the pleasant evening and for meeting his family. 

After Easter, he wrote that he had found studio apartment with the details about the rent and address. Barbara and her parents agreed that it was good that she didn't have to look for a place by herself in a strange city.

At the end of spring term, she flew down again and found the apartment, certainly adequate in comparison with a college room. Her first couple of days at work were fine. When she ran into him in the building, he asked if everything was going well and if she was satisfied with the apartment. Then on Friday, he called and reminded her of the invitation to use their pool, inviting her to come over on Sunday, explaining that he had to work on Saturday. She agreed: "if the sun is shining."

Saturday, she acquainted herself with the town and found out how to get to their house. Sunday, the sun did shine. Barbara wondered if she should take her bikini or her one-piece bathing suit, deciding on the latter until she knew what his wife and daughters would wear. When she rang to door bell in the early afternoon, she had to wait longer than she expected, but then he opened the door, just wearing boxer swim trunks, and apologizing for the delay: 

"I was out at the pool, as you can see. Welcome. You can use one of the girl's rooms to change, upstairs. You'll find them."

She did, finding them both very orderly - too orderly, if the girls had also changed to go swimming. She changed and found her way to the pool, expecting to find his wife and daughters there, but they weren't.

"Where's your family?"

"Oh, I guess I should have mentioned that in the letter. Anne, my wife, took them to Europe for the summer - surprise graduation present for Annette. At Christmas it was a secret. We decided she should take both of them, since maybe next year Annette will be doing something else after her first year at college. Hope you don't mind just my company."

"Not at all, just surprised. ... Lucky girls - all summer! - where are they going?"

He gestured at the other deckchair with a folded towel on it and sat down on his and started to tell her as she unfolded the towel and sat down. They chatted about Europe; Barbara had also been there. When he mentioned that they were going to the Côte d'Azur, Barbara ventured to say that they might be surprised. She hadn't been there but had heard about girls going topless there. He glanced over at her with a mild snort and agreed: 

"Maybe, if that's what you mean. ... Or maybe they won't be; I'm not sure what they wear here when I'm not around, ... or how much homework they have done for the trip."

He changed the subject and suggested that they swim. Barbara got up and dove in, and he followed her. She was a pretty good swimmer, but he was fitter than she had expected, not that his figure had suggested that he wouldn't be. The pool was big enough to really swim a few strokes. He easily kept up with her, matching her racing turns at the deep end, both taking easier turns at the other end. After a few laps, they stood up at the shallow end and looked each other appreciatively.

"Yeah, I used to swim in school, not good enough for college," he remarked as they climbed out of the pool.

"Me too," she agreed, and they exchanged smiles.

"I'm going to have a beer. May I offer you one?"

"Yes, thank you ... - maybe why I wasn't good enough at college."

"I doubt it. ... Oh, that was supposed to be compliment, not any criticism of your swimming."

"Thanks, ... I guess. ... I heard that down here girls always say 'thank you' for a compliment.

"Um-hmm, much nicer than trying to brush it off like they do up north."

"Um-hmm."

"Be right back."

Barbara watched him walk back into the house and then sat down. He returned with two opened bottles of German beer and two glasses and set them down on table between their chairs and poured the beer and handed her a glass, and took his, offering:

"Prost."

"Prost," she responded, and they drank.

"What's that mean?" she asked as he sat down.

"German, really Latin: 'prosit;' more or less: 'to your health.' Want to make the German beer feel at home here."

They both chuckled and had another drink, and since neither of them said anything, had another one before setting down their glasses.

"You speak German?" she asked.

"Not really, despite a summer there and three years in school. I used to be better at it. And you, French?"

"And Latin, but not good enough to say much. ... Hmm, just made sense of the 'prosit'."

"Um-hmm."

They smiled at each other and had another drink. Then he asked how her work was going and seemed interested to hear that it was better than she had expected, mentioning that he had once had a summer job that was just a bit more than sharpening pencils and checking that the bookkeeping machine "before computers, was doing what it couldn't do wrong."

They drank again, and then finished the bit that was still in their glasses. With nods towards the pool, they got up and dove in. This time they swam more leisurely, changing styles: backstroking a lap and then breast stroking, and then crawling again for two laps, and then he did a butterfly lap while she crawled, gasping a little for air when she caught up with him, and then they side-stroked together, facing each other, even after the turns.

As they got out of the pool, they smiled at each other again and got their towels and dried themselves.

"Another beer?" he offered, and she nodded with a smile.

"Oh, I guess I can find something to eat," he suggested: "won't be dinner, but maybe with another beer it will tide us over till breakfast."

"Good idea, thank you. Maybe I can help."

They dried off their bathing suits and went into the house.

In the large refrigerator, they found the makings for an ample cold meal, which they enjoyed at the kitchen table with still another beer, enjoying each other's company. As the sun sank lower, Barbara suggested that she should go, and he agreed, telling her to use the girls' bathroom upstairs to shower. When she returned in her street clothes, he had also showered, wearing a sport shirt and slacks, but still barefoot. As they parted at the door, she recognized that he had also used a nice aftershave lotion. As she thanked him for an enjoyable afternoon, he shook her hand and thanked her for her company, adding: 

"Come back next weekend, anytime you want."

"If the sun shines."

"I hope it does."

With smiles, they parted.

During the week, when they once passed each other, he reminded her of his invitation. She nodded and whispered - since someone could have overheard them - "If the sun shines." He nodded with a warm smile, and they went their ways.

Saturday, the sun was shining, but it looked like a thunderstorm was brewing, as one had done the previous day, breaking forth at mid afternoon. He had said "anytime," Barbara recalled and couldn't think of anything she would rather do. Their talk about the Côte d'Azur had suggested that his daughters might go topless at home - bikinis. She stuffed hers in her bag and set off, wondering on the way if she shouldn't have a guest present, but then she was there, ringing the door bell again.

This time, he opened it sooner, again wearing a shirt and slacks and looking pleased to see her. She got another whiff of his aftershave as he said:

"I was hoping you would be thinking the sun was shining. It is, ... for a while at least."

"That was what I was thinking."

"Good to see you again."

"You, too."

"Let's change while it still is. You know where."

They went their ways. When she returned in her bikini, he was waiting for her with towels in his hand, smiling and saying: 

"I like that better."

"Me too. I wanted to be on the safe side last week, not knowing what your wife and daughters might wear."

"Bikinis, too, ... at least when I'm around."

They both snorted and went out to the pool and sat down, then adjusted their chairs and lay on their stomachs. Barbara undid her top and slipped her arms out of the shoulder straps. They both already had enough tan not to worry about suntan lotion. For a while, they just lay there in silence, hardly looking at each other, turning their heads a couple of times. After about half an hour, she glanced over and saw that he was looking the other way and turned herself over, keeping her top in place. He still had his head turned away from her. After a minute or two, she asked:

"Would you mind if I went topless?"

She was as surprised at herself, as was he, quickly turning his head and seeing that she wasn't, and then turning it back. After a moment he replied: 

"If you don't mind my looking," and snorted.

"Hmm! ... I guess not, since I asked. I like to, but only have alone."

"Don't, yet," he replied and turned back to look at her, rolling on his side.

They smiled at each other wryly. She had her hand on her breast and twitched the edge of her top. He snorted and asked: 

"Then why did you decide to ask here?"

"'Cause I like to, but haven't dared with others around - the couple of time that happened - a couple of girls did - with a few people on rocks on the Maine coast. I didn't want to give the guy I was with the wrong idea. We weren't together; he was just the one in the group, but sort of pairing off, like happens on that kind of weekend."

He nodded. 

"So I wanted to try it with someone where that wouldn't happen; dare to try it, where if it felt too uncomfortable, I could change my mind without looking like a fool: doing it, and then wanting to cover up."

"Um-hmm," he agreed with a smile.

"Of course, it's comfortable. I meant, felt uncomfortable with others around.

"Like feeling that you're being looked at all the time?"

"Yeah," she replied with a grin.

"But you agreed that you wouldn't mind my looking?"

"Only way to find out."

"Um-hmm," he agreed with a chuckle, and then chuckled again and added: 

"In fact, I guess I have to look, ... for the sake of your experiment."

Barbara snickered with a nervous grin and nod and drew her top away, very aware of her aroused nipples, watching his eyes stare at them, feeling herself flush, but enjoying it.

"Uhn! Nice," he responded, and she had to smile at him, appreciating that his eyes moved up to her face, staying there. They both snorted with bemused smiles. She rubbed her forearm over her aroused nipples, not with much affect, since she saw his eyes glance down at them again. 

Then he looked back up and said: 

"Actually, my wife and I often don't wear anything out here, ... when the girls aren't around. When we first moved here, when they were little, we all didn't. But then, ... well, ... you can imagine."

"Um-hmm. ... So you think they still do?"

Probably, without their tops. ... Okay, so I've seen that that they have some tan below the edges of their tops."

"Um-hmm, like me. ... You don't mind?"

"That they do?"

"That I am?"

"If you don't."

"Not with just you, at least."

He glanced at her breasts again and smiled and then turned away from her onto his back, and for a while they both just lay there in the noonday sun, faces turned up to it, with their eyes closed.

When she heard him stir, she opened one eye and saw his far hand disappear behind his hip. She quickly closed her eye and then half opened it again, first checking that his were still closed and then glancing down to see that there was a slight bulge in his trunks. Her eye closed again, and a slight smile passed over her lips. Then she heard him moving and felt her nipples tighten. Without opening her eyes, she murmured: 

"You have very warm eyes; I feel them."

"I couldn't resist looking again; you said you didn't mind."

She turned her head and smiled at him, seeing that he was now lying on his side, the bulge at least as evident as before, and agreed: 

"Um-hmm. ... Actually, I like it, ... even though I blushed before. Nice, warm eyes."

"Yours, too," he replied softly as their eyes met, both smiling slightly.

When his eyes wandered down her body, hers glanced down at his trunks again, returning to see that his had already returned to hers. Her nipples tightened again, apparently so obviously that his eyes caught the change and glanced at them again.

"Warm eyes," she murmured with a slight snort and smile.

He returned her smile, and she closed her eyes again. After a few moments, he asked softly:

"You like to skinny dip?"

Barbara started at his question, blushing again as she felt her nipples respond as she sought for a response to his logical escalation of her initiative - her initiative!:

"You want to?! So I can see you? - 'If you don't mind my looking?' ... It won't be the first one."

"That's good. ... I guess not, since I asked."

"That's my line."

"Still just as appropriate."

"Um-hmm," and then without looking at him she added: "You didn't answer my first question."

"Or you, mine."

They both snorted, and he rolled back, both of them looking up at the sky.

There was pregnant pause. 

Then she replied:

Not since I was ten, with my sister and little brother. That was fun, ... but this is ... well, different."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Very."

"Maybe I shouldn't have asked. ... I didn't say I wanted to."

"But you were thinking about it?"

"Only if you liked to."

"Hmm! ... I don't know. ... Do I have to tell you now?"

"Of course not."

They both closed their eyes again and were silent, just enjoying the sun.

After a couple of minutes, Barbara's nipples tightened, and with a half opened eye she again glanced over at him, at his trunks, not finding the bulge that had been there before. Her eye closed, and again a slight smile passed over her lips. A few minutes later, she turned on her stomach again, and then he did, and they sunned for a while more. Then she turned her head towards him, seeing the back of his. She snorted slightly as another slight smile drew up the corners of her mouth, and then another one, almost a grin, and she said:

"I like to skinny dip," and snorted, smiling at him before he raised his head and looked at her. He snorted sharply with a smile, snorting again before he replied:

"I do too."

"We knew that," she replied with a snicker. He nodded with grin, and then asked: 

"Do we want to?"

She snorted again and remarked: 

"I guess we do, if I said that. If I survived going topless ..."

"I only looked a couple of times."

"Hm-hmm! But I survived. ... I guess if I want to ever try skinny dipping in company, this is a good time to ... experiment."

"Hmm! I'm flattered that you think so."

They both snickered with grins and turned onto their backs again. Barbara's nipples were aroused, and he noticed, but then they were again looking up at the sky. "Um-hmm," they agreed and began to push their last piece of clothing past their hips.

"I may not look like Michelangelo's David" he murmured, sounding a little apologetic, adding: 

"But you've got nice legs."

"This is a little embarrassing, ... especially if you say things like that. Hmm? ... Oh. ... Hm-hmm! If that's a compliment, thank you."

"It is," he replied with a snort.

They glanced at each other with wry grins and then were looking up at the sky again as they drew their legs up and slid their clothing up their thighs and over their knees and down to their feet.

They sat up and then looked at each other. Her breasts were a little tanned, still showing the tan line of her top, but there was a distinct line where her bottom had been. It didn't look like he had had much time sunbathing with just his wife. She couldn't see his cock between his thighs. With smirks at each other, they stood up, his cock definitely larger than David's, and both dove into the pool.

They paddled around, keeping separate, one and then the other swimming to the deep end of the pool a couple of times. When she saw his first racing turn - after hers - she realized that hers had shown just as much of her bottom, but rather enjoyed the following ones with this knowledge. Then they were just standing chest deep in the water, Barbara's nipples below the surface.

"Better than when I was a kid," she remarked with a smile.

"How?"

"They want to float, ..." she replied with smirk:

"... back then, I was as flat as my brother."

"Like my daughters ... back then."

"Hmm! Not now."

He nodded with a grin as she added: 

"My sister was twelve. That's why it was the last time we did that."

"About the same here. ... "Hm-hmm! I wonder if they will ... on the Cote d'Azur."

"Will your wife let them?"

"Hmm! Maybe, ... if she does, ... if she sees women her age going topless. ... Hm-hmm! They'll probably not want be sitting around with their mother."

"Um-hmm. But not out of sight?"

"Probably. ... Oh, we talked about that, ... - Anne with them. I don't know what they do with their boyfriends - not too much, I hope - but Anne was going to tell them about the facts of life for girls their age, about protection and give them some."

"Really?!"

Yes, we agreed that it was better ... no, ... well, that if it came to that, that they would be more likely to use protection than to obey rules about 'don't do this and don't do that.'"

"You're right," she replied with a grin.

He grinned back and then glanced up at the ominous cumulus clouds that were beginning to block out the sun and then back at Barbara and said: 

"Maybe we should get out, before it starts lightening. I think he's cooled off."

"Um-hmm," she agreed, glancing down at the water, without direct sunlight reflecting off it, able to see to see his body through the ripples, and added: 

"He has."

"Hmm!" he snorted as their eyes met again.

They climbed out of the pool and returned to their chairs, only looking at each other again after they had picked up their towels and started to dry themselves. Standing there with their towels covering them, their eyes met again, both smiling as they dried themselves, both rubbing between their thighs, she holding her towel over her breasts with her other hand. They both turned towards the pool as they continued to dry themselves, not looking at each other as they dried their backs and then their hair.


Whoosh, Bang! Ch. 01



Without looking at him, Barbara asked quietly: 

"Would you like to sleep with me?" Her nipples popped out! 

"Christ! I didn't mean to say that!" she exclaimed, blushing deeply.

He was as shocked as she was and glanced over. She was looking across the pool, standing frozen still, like a small child, one small enough to think: if I don't look, he won't be there, he can't see me. He looked at her with silent snort and replied almost jocularly: 

"I was about to say: no one ever asked me that before. ... What did you want to say?"

"I don't know. Not that!" she replied, still not looking at him.

He snorted with a smile. She turned her head and gave him a girlish smile, her nipples no longer aroused as she turned and faced him with her towel hanging from her hand, so bemused now by their exchange that her embarrassment was forgotten, at least about being naked. 

"Hmm! And I never asked any one that before," she remarked with a wry smile.

"So you don't want me to answer?"

"God, no! Bad enough that I said that! ... What was I thinking? ... Oh, of course, ... well, it's sort of obvious what I was thinking, but not as that question. ... I mean, ... how we got like this, ..." and her eyes took them both in just to underline what she meant: 

" ... and ... well, ... wondering what you were thinking, but it came out all wrong, ... wrong that it came out at all."

She looked to see if he understood, and he nodded, looking a little past her as he smiled at her turn of phrase, and she continued:

"Just wondering. ... It just seemed ..."

"Um-hmm, ... 'just seemed ...'" and he stopped looking past her, waiting for her complete her sentence. Her nipples tightened again.

"Just seemed ... It wasn't an offer. ... Just seemed ..."

"Like the question was in the air," he suggested softly.

"Um-hmm."

He stretched his hand up as though grasping for something. She snickered and nodded with a smile, and he smiled back and agreed: 

"I guess so. You're right, ... it was there, ... it is there," and he held up and opened his hand and looked at it.

They both chuckled and then laughed, enjoying the comic relief. 

At the sound of distant thunder, their eyes left each other and glanced up at the approaching black clouds, seeing another flash of lightening in the cloud and then hearing the thunder. They silently waited for the next one, feeling the air begin to stir before the cloud lit up again. 

"Maybe we should continue this inside," he suggested.

"Um-hmm," she agreed.

Without looking at each other, they each picked up their discarded apparel and went into the house, through open sliding doors to the family room. Still not facing him, she glanced over with a snort as she held up the pieces of her bikini and asked: 

"Do we put them back on again?"

"Hmm? Yeah, kind of funny. ... Not for my sake. ... You ask all the obvious questions."

"Hm-hmm! Not for mine, either."

"I haven't heard anyone pronounce 'either' like that in a long time. I used to, back up north, in college."

"Yeah, I noticed. Someone turned their head when they heard me in the bank. I try to avoid it, but I guess my accent stands out anyway."

"Probably, mine does still, though when I'm up north, people recognize that I live down here - for the first day or so."

They were still standing with their things from the pool in their hands, but now facing each other, unconcernedly nude, as Barbara continued the conversation: 

"I guess I won't get a southern drawl while I'm down here. Funny, how back home people find that especially attractive on girls."

"Um-hmm, but that doesn't make them all attractive, ... or keep girls without one from being attractive."

The glance that accompanied his remark made her nipples stand out again, apparently appreciated by him from his murmured:

"You said I could look."

"Um-hmm," she agreed with a smile, glancing down at them, herself, and then at him as she added: 

"Just said I wouldn't mind, not that I wouldn't notice."

"Um-hmm, me too, if you look like that."

He didn't look down at his cock, but it had stirred.

"Just to be fair," she murmured, and smiled as she raised her eyes to meet his, receiving a warm smile of agreement.

Suddenly there was the splatter of large rain drops on the patio and in the pool, at first the sound of individual ones and then an increasing downpour. They turned and looked out the open doors. After a few moments, he said: 

"Oh, let's go out in the rain. We can rinse off."

"Really?"

"Oh, it'll be warm, not like up north. Save a shower. I'll get some shower gel."

He went off and returned without his trunks but with fresh towels and a plastic bottle. Dropping the towels at the doorway, he led her out into the rain, advancing a couple of steps and then turning to watch her drop her towel and bikini and step from under the eaves.

"Oh, yeah, nice!" she remarked enthusiastically, holding her arms and face up to the rain and then grinning at him with her arms still outstretched. When he smiled and held out his arms, she unhesitatingly moved into them, embracing him as he put his arms around her shoulders. For several moments they stood like that with the rain pouring down on them, apparently both a little surprised at their spontaneous embrace. Her head came up just past his chin.

"Oooh, nice!" she murmured into his shoulder: "Nice and warm."

"Um-hmm, he agreed, holding her a little closer, and she held their bodies closer together. After a moment, he loosened his embrace a little and murmured: 

"Want me to wash your hair?"

She held him tighter for an instant and then loosened hers and replied: 

"That would be nice."

They released each other, and he squirted gel on her head and handed her the bottle and then began to lather her medium length hair. She just stood there, her relaxed nipples just brushing the hair on his chest.

"Just hope I get the pool water out," he murmured, explaining: 

"The rain is rinsing away all the soap."

"Fine. No one washed my hair since I was a little kid. Oh, a couple of times when I splurged at a hairdresser - for my prom and someone's wedding."

After a few moments more of washing her hair, he asked softly: 

"The rest, too?"

"If you want?"

He stepped back and smiled at her, she returned his smile, about to hand him the bottle, but then held it up and squirted it across her chest, smirking slightly with a snort at her obvious invitation for him to wash her breasts. He snorted in response and did, but not immediately: sliding the soap up and massaging her shoulders before he let his hands slide down.

"Um-hmm," she responded appreciatively as his hands slid over them, repeating her expression of appreciation when his fingers found her nipples after they had been in his palms.

"More soap," he murmured, and she squirted some in his palms, cupped under her breasts. His hands slid down and around, spreading it on her torso, holding them together as his hands moved up around her back. When his hands slid back around to her stomach, he looked at her questioningly. 

"All the rest," she murmured, not smirking as she squirted some just above her pubic hair.

"Um-hmm," he agreed, looking in her eyes as one hand found the soap and began tentatively to move down and explore in her hair.

"Um-hmm," she agreed, and his fingers became less tentative, slipping down to hold her.

"Mmmm," she responded as her hips turned up, pressing her mound into his hand. As it slid further, her thighs opened slightly, and his fingers accepted the invitation to slip between them as they looked at each other with aroused expressions, her tongue playing between her lips.

"Soap," he murmured as he held out his other hand. His soapy hand slid down in the crease of her ass, the fingers of both his hands moving, and moving closer to each other.

"As clean as you want," she murmured, and his fingers explored everywhere. She gasped slightly with an "ooh!" She looked up at him with dilated eyes and whispered:

"It wasn't just a question, ... I want you to."

"I want to, too."

He lowered his head and kissed her, began a kiss that she returned eagerly as her hand with the bottle drew them closer together again, pressing his hand between them, his aroused cock brushing her stomach. She found it with her other hand, withdrawing her tongue from his mouth to murmur: 

"Should I wash you, too."

"Um-hmm, 'as clean as you want'."

"There, too? ... No one ever touched me there."

"If you want," he murmured, sliding his hands up.

"Hmm! Felt good."

"Um-hmm."

She released him and squirted soap in her palm, and then handed the bottle to him and reached down with both hands, more fondling than washing his cock and balls.

"Don't overdo it," he remarked with a snort.

"Hmm! ... It felt like it wanted me to."

"Um-hmm!"

"Now the other," and she held out one of her hands. He squirted soap in it. With a glance up at him - she had been watching her hands - she reached around and found his cleft, sliding down in it, under his hips, feeling him shift his weight to let his muscles relax, and then her fingers slid in behind his balls - still in her other hand. She snorted as her fingers explored, and he did, too, when he felt them find his asshole, and then nodded as she did what he had done. She glanced up at him with an impish smile and murmured: 

"As clean as you want."

"As clean as can be, I think."

"You like it, too?"

"Um-hmm."

"Clean enough?"

"Let's rinse."

They stepped apart and helped rinse each other off, now unerotically touching each other, mostly his chasing any traces of soap down from her hair and shoulders and breasts. When he moved lower, Barbara unselfconsciously raised one leg, letting him catch rain in his hands and direct in between her legs - from both sides. And then she did the same to him, both of them chuckling as they watched that she could now flop his cock back and forth.

"Funny," she murmured and glanced up at him, returning his grin as he nodded and then with a snickered remarked: 

"Seems like he is confident enough about what may happen that he doesn't have to call attention to himself."

Barbara laughed and replied: 

"He's right, ... about like I feel," and she glanced down at her breasts, her nipples unaroused, even in the rain.

"I like that. That's the way it should be, ... both of us confident about it, not just carried away. ... We don't have to, if ..."

"I want to," she interrupted, looking at him earnestly. He smiled slightly and agreed:

"I do too."

They returned to the open doorway, and he reached in and picked up the towels and handed her one, and they dried themselves, smiling as they watched each other. When they were finished, she gave a surprised look when he wrapped his towel around his hips. He noticed with a wry grin and explained: 

"I'm not really accustomed to walking around the house naked, ... as I discovered before."

"Um-hmm, especially not in a strange house."

She held her towel up over her breasts, knowing it hung to her thighs and asked: 

"Everything, or just ...?"

"Hm-hmm! Whatever feels comfortable. ... Something to take off later."

Barbara giggled and lowered her towel, wrapping it around her hips.

"Um-hmm," he agreed with a smile and then offered: 

"Would you like something to drink first."

"Yes, thank you."

"What? Beer, wine, iced tea - the bottled stuff."

"Whatever you would like."

"A beer."

"Then 'prost'."

They went to the kitchen and he got two bottles from the refrigerator and found glasses, remarking as he opened the bottles and began to pour: 

"At least, we are sure this isn't some wild drunken idea."

"Nope, just me, utterly sober - but still out of my head - asking the most obvious questions."

He handed her a glass and replied: 

"But it couldn't have been nicer, more delightful. Prost."

"Prost," and they drank, smiling at each other as they lowered their glasses.

"I don't know what got into me," she murmured.

"I do. It really was just in the air. ... Hmm! While I was lying there, after seeing that you had undone your top, I was wanting you to go topless, wondering if I could just suggest that you could if you wanted to, but had to admit that it was all wrong for me to even think about suggesting it."

"That's nice, ... but didn't keep you from suggesting skinny dipping."

"When you said you wanted to ... go topless, I kind of forgot about that, ... well, after a while, after what you said that about my eyes."

"Also nice. I certainly wouldn't have suggested it."

"Hm-hmm! It was more after I saw you glance at my trunks."

"Did you expect that I wouldn't?" Barbara snorted.

"I won't answer that." 

He grinned. They both grinned and then drank. She smiled and remarked:

"It was all very delightful, our conversation and the prickle from what we were talking about, skirting around."

"Yes, very. ... You could have immediately said no."

She snorted with a grin: 

"I didn't want to."

They laughed, and he remarked: 

"That was sweet, your taking it as a compliment that I would be aroused. I was, but your remark lessened my embarrassment about it."

They drank again and were silent for a few moments. Then he replied: 

"Maybe we would have - somehow - next weekend, or the next one. It was in the air."

"Um-hmm. Yeah, I guess. If it was hidden in the back of my mind - coming out my mouth before I realized what I was saying - after a couple of more times together, it would have been hanging there like a great big balloon, just waiting to burst."

"That's a nice description. I'm sure it would have been, maybe so big that it scared us off from touching it. I like this a lot better, thank you."

"Me too."

She drank, and he did, and then she moved closer to him, and he put his arm around her shoulders.

"Um-hmm, she confirmed, and took another sip of her beer, and he did the same and then looked down at her affectionately, and she gave him a warm smile, but then looked away and said softly: 

"We need ... 'protection'. I have some in the apartment."

"We do. ... But not here, ... not that I know of. Maybe somewhere. We'll have to look."

They finished their beers, and he led her to the master bedroom, snickering before he remarked:

"Proves that neither of us planned this." 

"Um-hmm," she agreed, adding: 

"You said 'neither' like I said 'either'.

"Did I? I guess so."

"Oooh! What a nice big bed," she remarked. He glanced at her with snort and nod, and she continued with a snort:

"Only single college beds, almost fell off once."

"I remember, but now to look, maybe in my old toilet kit. Would Anne have any from back when? ... Well, I hope from back when."

He began to rummage around in the closet.

"The girls, maybe?" 

He stuck his head out of the closet with a shocked expression on his face: 

"I hope not!"

But then in a milder tone he added: 

"Well, they have boyfriends, even had them in their rooms - but not like that, I hope!"

"Your wife was going to give them some."

"But on the ship. They took the France to Europe."

"Wow!"

"Yeah. 'Wow!' that they might have some already."

"We don't know, and if you wanted them to have some, well, good if they already thought that they should."

"Hmm! Maybe. Okay, go look. Either way, I want to know."

Barbara hurried out of the room and up the stairs and entered what she assumed was the elder girl's room. After a glance at herself in the mirror, she began to search through drawers and then purses, then among things in the closet, pockets, and then found a sports bag in the corner. There were still some old gym clothes in it - clean - but between them she found a zippered pencil case. She took it out and opened it, snorting when she discovered tampons and - yes - two packets of rubbers. She quickly thrust the bag back in the corner and closed the closet door and hurried out of the room. In the hall again, she called: 

"I found some."

"Really! Where?" 

His head appeared at the top of the stairs, as he repeated: "Where?"

"Does it really matter? You wanted them both to have them ... and were assuming that they might use them. ... Hmm! I hope they - or whichever one - kept a straight face when your wife was talking to them - more than a straight face, a properly innocently surprised one."

"Hmm!" He smiled: 

"You girls stick together."

"Maybe we know what is best for parents to know. Anyway, you should be pleased to know that she's careful, or maybe just prepared to be."

"Hmm! Maybe. Did you have rubbers when you were eighteen?"

"And not when I was seventeen, but I should have - was lucky. Put a scare in me for two years."

Um-hmm, I can imagine; I was lucky once, too."

She handed him the two packets, and they went back down the stairs and returned to the bedroom. He looked at them and remarked:

"At least, they're both unopened."

"I noticed, ... so you don't have to assume anything. I've got to go to the bathroom."

"I guess not, ... just as well. Maybe you're right - some things parents shouldn't know. At least, I didn't find any where I didn't want to find them - or where I did. In there. I guess I should, too."

Barbara was already heading for the bathroom. She left the door open and unwrapped her towel - had to put the ring down - and sat down and "went." He waited until she flushed and then asked: 

"May I come in?"

"Sure."

He did, smiling at seeing her standing there without her towel. Her nipples popped out as she flushed slightly, smiling back at him as he removed his towel while saying: 

"You can use my washcloth." 

She found it and turned to the washbasin, hearing him raise the ring again as she moistened it. As she began to wipe herself, she leaned closer to the mirror and saw his yellow stream arching into the toilet, and saw him turn his head towards her and then wink as he said: 

"I don't mind if you look."

She turned and did, still holding the washcloth between her legs, and murmured: 

"Not since I saw my little brother going," and watched his stream die down to a few drops and him shake it. She held up the washcloth as he flushed, and he took it with a smile and used it. She stepped aside so that he could rinse it. When he hung it and his towel up, she hung hers on the other bar. As they returned to the bedroom, he remarked half jocularly: 

"So much for 'something to take off later'."

"Hmm! Um-hmm," she agreed as she saw that he had opened up the bed, the bedspread and top sheet neatly folded back at the foot of the bed. 

"I never did in daylight," she remarked softly.

"I can close the curtains."

"No. It just occurred to me. Sun's shining again."

"Um-hmm."

He put his hand lightly on her shoulder. She turned to him, looking up at him and then smiling, and whispered: 

"I still want to," and let her arm slip around his waist.

"Me, too." 

They embraced, not kissing immediately, just holding each other, their bodies touching from their knees to their shoulders. He waited for her to raise her head and then lowered his and they kissed, just with their lips for a second, but then their tongues met, just exploring between their lips for a few moments, and then more intensely as their mouths opened, and their tongues circled each other, first in her mouth and then in his, and then back in hers. And then he released her with one arm and swept her off her feet and carried her to the bed.

They settled down, kissing again, with their legs interlocked and his hand on her breast, and then on her other one, and then it moved lower as his mouth found one of her nipples. His fingers slid down over her soft hair, over the firm mound between her thighs. They rolled open, and his fingers slid further, just holding her. She sighed with a soft moan and rocked her hips up, pressing it up into his hand. When his fingers extended further, touching bare skin, her knees drew up a little and flopped open, and he slid his hand further so that his fingers could explore.




Whoosh, Bang! Ch. 01



"Uhmmm!" she moaned and held his head as a moist sound came from what his fingers were doing. His head slipped down from her breast, her hand following it. She snorted, her stomach drawing in sharply when his tongue found her belly button, boring into it and moving it more then circling. Then his head - and tongue - moved past it, and he drew his knees up and crouched beside her, and his tongue found her soft hair, playing in it, and his fingers moved again. "Uhnn!" His tongue explored further.

"You want to do that?" she asked softly.

"Um-hmm."

"Oh. ... You like to?"

"Um-hmm." 

His hand had slipped from between her thighs, both of them sliding around her hips as his head sank between her thighs, his hands urging her to open them wider. 

"Oooh!" she responded as his tongue slid between her lips:

"Uhnn!" and she pressed his head to her, and then enjoyed what he was doing in silence for a few moments. Then she asked hesitantly: 

"You want me to, too?" 

He raised his head slightly and murmured: 

"Not this time," and his mouth was back on her.

"Next time," she murmured. 

The way she said it could have been a question or a confirmation. 

"I never have," she added softly. He raised his head again and replied: 

"You don't have to."

Then he had his head deep between her thighs. Her hand slid onto his neck and then down his back, rubbing, and then slid over his taut bottom, her fingertips sliding into his cleft. With a snort, she let them slide further, finding his asshole, surprised to feel it tighten, and then also surprised when the fingers of one of his hands crept in to find hers as he nodded, and she knew why his had tightened under her fingers, snorting when they both did again.

Then his mouth was doing more arousing things in her pussy. Her hand slid down and found his balls, enjoying fondling them in his slack sack, enjoying the way they seemed to hang longer than when she had been washing him. But his cock wasn't hanging, her fingers discovered. She had to stretch her hand between his thighs to fondle all of it, to let her fingers find the groove around its head and then the little slit, soon discovering a slippery drop there, and another one, and enjoying rubbing it around, making his cock twitch.

He raised his head and murmured:

"Before you overdo it," and began to turn around.

He reached up under the pillow and found a rubber as her hand found his cock again. Her expression was more aroused than smiling as their eyes met, and then both watched him tear open the foil and remove the rubber. He took his cock from her hand and put it on, and then moved back between her thighs. She drew them up further as he leaned over her and with one hand guided his cock down and rubbed it on her pussy, finding her opening as he looked in her eyes. She nodded, and he pressed it into her.

"Uhnnn! Uhn-hnnn!" she moaned.

"Uhnnn!" he agreed as he pressed it deeper in her, and deeper, until it was all the way in, their loins pressed tight together. She drew his shoulders down, and they kissed, their tongues churning as he more churned than thrust his cock in her. She drew her heels up on his bottom, rocking her hips to increase the movement of his cock, letting his tongue do most of the moving. Then she held her breast, squeezing her nipple, and then retrieved her tongue and murmured: 

"Suck me," and pressed it up. He arched his back and lowered his head and found her nipple, sucking it more intensely than he had before, sucking, nibbling, almost biting. 

"Uhn! Yes, like that!" she encouraged him and squeezed her other nipple, trying to duplicate the arousing pain, that made her rock her hips harder, her thighs clutching his ribs as she clutched his cock, and she moaned, short moans following short gasps, until she cried out softly: 

"Fuck me!"

He did. They did: series of almost violent thrusting, their bodies slapping together, and then milder churning, and then moving again as hard as they could with increasingly moist sounds as her fingers raked his back, and he held her shoulders to keep her from sliding away from him under the thrust of his hips - now with wet smacks - both of them grunting and moaning from their arousing exertion. Her eyes turned up under her twitching lids, and she began to whimper, seeming to lose all control of herself, but still meeting his thrusts with sharp rocks of her hips, until finally she froze, just her thighs twitching as she whimpered like a distraught child.

He held still, deep in her until her thighs relaxed, her feet dropping down on the bed, and then she was silent, just gasping, her hands sliding from his back. Gasping, himself, he continued to hold still in her as their stomachs pressed together from their deep breaths. Finally, her eyes opened, her face expressionless, but her hands rose again and drew him down on her. He relaxed heavily on her with his head beside hers, but she just held him tighter. After a minute or two, she snorted and rocked her hips, and his flaccid cock slipped out of her. She snorted again, and then after a moment turned her head and kissed his cheek as she rubbed his back.

He raised his head and then his shoulders and kissed her, and then rolled off her, leaving his hand on her breast. They looked at each other with mild smiles.

"Um-hmm." It was almost inaudible.

"Um-hmm," he agreed, and the corners of their mouths moved.

"I don't use that word unless I mean it."

"I'll remember."

"Next time?"

"Um-hmm."

"Hmm? ... you want me to?"

"Not right now."

"Hm-hmm. That's for sure! ... I meant the other."

"Oh. ... I won't ask you to. ... If you want to."

"If you want me to. ... I guess it must be good ... for you."

"Um-hmm."

"Hmm! Of course. Silly question."

"But a very obvious one, the kind I like."

"Hm-hmm! Me too, ... if the answer turns out this good."

"Um-hmm. Very good, ... so just keep asking."

"Hmm. I'd need to ask someone who has. Don't think I know anyone who has, at least, anyone I could ask."

"Not me. I can just tell you that some do and some don't."

"That's a start. Those who do, like it?"

"Again, some do and some don't"

"And the latter still do it?"

"Maybe not all the way."

"Is that good?"

"Not as good as the others."

"I guess not. ... What about the other way?"

"Me doing it? All the way?"

"Yeah, can that happen?"

"Sometimes. ... No, some girls. ... Well, I probably shouldn't generalize, but I think that if they want to, they can. Some don't seem to want to, would rather ..."

"Not waste the time to find out, if they weren't sure. ... Oh, I guess that's a college situation, trying to do it between the end of the movie and midnight curfew."

"Hm-hmm. Sounds like it. When I was in college, I think less went on."

"I don't have that much experience, just two boyfriends, not counting the 'scare'. Oh, I probably would have had more - all the way - if that hadn't happened. Just as well, though, maybe a worse scare or emotional hang-ups. ... Hm-hmm! Lots of petting instead."

"Keep talking, I have daughters that age."

"Forget about them. Seems like they are more careful than I was, at least the one, and then probably the other one, too. ... Don't think about looking for more rubbers."

"I guess you're right. I won't - promise." 

Barbara smiled appreciatively, and he nodded with a smile. Then she said: 

"Oh, don't throw away the little carton; I have to replace them."

"Both of them?"

"That many 'next times'? Before I can?"

"Hm-hmm! That was a nice obvious question."

"Just hanging in the air."

"Um-hmm. You can spend the night, ... if you want to."

"What do you think?"

"I hope you do." He squeezed her breast

"I do, thank you." She held his hand on her breast, and they smiled at each other again.

"Oh, it's about to slip off."

They both chuckled and glanced down at his cock. It was. He reached down and caught it before it could, letting it dangle.

"Ummm! That much?" she asked.

"You made me come twice. Didn't know that could still happen."

"Hmm! I didn't know it could happen at all. Thanks for - Hmm! - sticking in there."

"My pleasure."

"At least as much mine."

He was still holding the rubber. She murmured to herself:

"And I want to swallow all that."

"Only half of it."

Hm-hmm, okay, only half of it. All that petting, lots of sticky hands and underpants. Till I was in college, I wondered if their mothers noticed."

"Don't ask me. No, rather: they probably noticed before girls were petting them."

"Hm-hmm! If you say so, probably. Girls don't usually learn how to make a mess until they have more experience - just speaking for myself and a couple of girlfriends."

"I won't ask my wife or the cleaning woman who also does the laundry."

"They probably wouldn't be surprised, having been girls, themselves. ... Anyway, ... why am I telling you this? Oh, so I know it smells kind of strange. Does it taste like that?"

"I should know?! Actually, it probably does, if I remember a couple of hot nights when we did it again, starting like I was doing. ... Yes, it does, pretty much, ... kisses afterwards."

"Hm-hmm! And you didn't mind?"

"After she'd done it that good? No, liked her sharing it with me, wanting to taste what she liked."

"She liked it?"

"Sure seemed like it."

"Only one way to find out. ... 'Next time'. ... Hm-hmm! Both ways, ... all the way, ..."

"Or I'll have to come again."

"Um-hmm, ... but I won't ask you to."

He swung the rubber and suggested that they should wash. They got up and went to the bathroom. He flushed away the rubber and wrapping, and they washed themselves, snickering a bit.

"Towels, clothes?" she asked.

"Towels. No, I guess clothes. I was thinking of calling for some food and have to be dressed - better, both of us."



Whoosh, Bang! Ch. 02



"Towels, clothes?" she asked.

"Towels. No, I guess clothes. I was thinking of calling for some food and have to be dressed - better, both of us."

They hung up their towels and returned to the bedroom. As she was about to leave, she asked where the carton for the rubbers was.

"Under the pillow with the others."

Snickering, Barbara found it as he started to get dressed, and then straightened up the sheet on the bed, tucking it in, and then feeling the wet spot with another snicker. He snickered and then nodded when she glanced at him with a smirk. Then without a word she was off, snickering again as she went up the stairs naked. 

In the room where she had changed, she smiled at herself in the mirror, looking at herself face-on and then in profile, and then face-on again, her hands sliding up under her breasts and then arousing her nipples as she smiled again with a soft "um-hmm," and looked at them in profile again. She put the carton in her purse and got her hairbrush and tried to do something with her hair. Finally, she began to get dressed, forgoing her bra. As she put it in her bag, she remembered that her bikini was still in the family room, and snickered again. She was still smiling to herself when she returned to the ground floor and went to look for it, but he had picked up the other towels and her bikini. She went back towards the bedroom and heard water running and found him rinsing their things in the washbasin.

"Thanks. I could have done that."

"I beat you to it. You can leave it here, if you want."

"What for?"

"Hm-hmm! Good question. ... Oh, I've got to go to church tomorrow morning. Everybody does around here, nine-thirty family service. Got to be seen by the other parish members, especially since the family is away."

"Oh, ... like that?"

"Probably, if you mean what I do."

"Uh, ... would you prefer me to go home?"

"Oh no, but I'll have to try not to blush during the general confession."

"Hmm, Catholic? I know something about that; I am. Just don't let yourself think about it."

"Episcopalian - about the same liturgy. ... Not think about it, after having breakfast with you?"

"Just breakfast?"

"I'm already trying not to think about it."

By now he had finished wringing out their things and hung them up in the bathroom and smirked at her after his last comment. She smirked in response, and they left the bathroom. On the way through the bedroom, he asked:

"Another beer?"

She nodded with a smile, and they went to the kitchen.

After they had had a drink of their beers, He asked: 

What would you like to eat? We can have Chinese food delivered; pizzas, of course, and Kentucky Fried. Oh, maybe they don't deliver, but they have take-away food that I could pick up. Or I could pick up something at the supermarket: frozen dinners - better - frozen something else and steaks or chops. That is about all I can cook."

"No frozen dinners. Maybe I can cook something, but I don't feel so domestic at the moment."

"Next time - next time you're here."

She smiled at him and snorted, replying: 

"Yeah, maybe I will feel more domestic without having to wonder what obvious questions to ask. This morning, before I came, I was really just thinking that it was nice to know that I could wear my bikini."

"Sometimes it's best not to think too far ahead. I wasn't either - either - just looking forward to your company. The nicest things are surprises. So what do we want to eat?"

"Chinese, since they deliver, and I like spicy food."

"Me too. Good idea. ... What shall we do about tomorrow?"

"Oh? ... Hmm? ... I bought some food for the weekend that won't keep forever - hamburger patties. Maybe we shouldn't plan for dinner tomorrow, sort of taper off."

"You are thoughtful. Right. If I want anything, I can go out, like I have been some evenings recently. Chinese, I'll find the number."

They drank again, deeply, and smiled about their agreement about more than just their choice of food. He found the phone number and suggested that she call and decide their orders, but then remarked: 

"I'm too well known around here, I better do it."

"Whatever you want to chose: pork, beef, duck, curry, sweet and sour, anything."

He called, smiling at her while he waited, and then concentrated on the conversation. She nodded to his choices, and nodded again, when he asked if he could reheat something to eat on Sunday. It seemed that he could, and he heard when it would be delivered. He hung up and commented: 

"Like I said, too well known; she kept repeating my name. It'll be a while, three quarters of an hour - busy place. What do we want to drink with the meal? Wine instead of more beer?"

"That would be nice, but nothing special, kind of wasted on spicy Chinese food - and on me."

"Probably not on you, if you know that much about it, but you're right. California red wine."

"Dry."

"Of course. You do know something about it."

They exchanged smiles, and he remarked: "No bra," and found a bottle of wine in a cabinet under the counter in the kitchen. As he opened it, he asked: 

"What do you do when you aren't sunbathing?"

"Around here, not much really. The intern program is good, including a sort of general course on banking that has some reading and homework. Last night, most of the interns went to a bar and restaurant together, so I went along."

"Not much has changed: 'Thank God it's Friday.' We did that as interns, and then later some of the new employees, but not the most serious ones. Fine for interns."

"Yeah, I think someone used that expression. Shall I set the table?"

"Sure, in the dining room, since we have clothes on. You'll find silver in the middle drawer of the sideboard."

He followed her and found placemats and glasses and plates, and they set the table in silence.

"Finish our beers?" he suggested, and they returned to the kitchen and did so. He took the bottle of wine and returned to the dining room with it, she following him.

"And in college, at home?"

"What do I do? Study, swim a little, hope someone will ask me out Friday or Saturday. ... Well, since Easter, that hasn't been a problem," and she smiled a little wryly.

"Not now, I hope?"

"Hm-hmm! Different world. No, we're not really going steady, just ..."

"Just good friends, ... doing what comes naturally?"

"Something like that, comfortable, convenient. ... Hmm! But never as good as ..., but I didn't know it could be that good."

"It isn't always."

"Um-hmm. They, really only two, ... oh, and him - not the 'scare' - but I wanted to forget him, even though we did it a couple of times. They all think it's over when they come."

"I did too, until ..., well, ... I learned."

"My good luck!"

"Mine, too."

"Actually, a couple of times, it was almost better just petting."

"Makes sense, easier for him to concentrate on you, knowing what he was doing wasn't dependent on his being able to, himself."

"Hm-hmm! Yeah, something like that. You're right, but not as good as you did it."

"As we did it."

She nodded at his correction and they smiled at each other again.

"And what do you do - when you're not sunbathing?"

"Work too much -but I like it - Rotary Club, church finance committee, fraternity alumni association - how you found me."

"Thanks for doing that."

"I never enjoyed it more," and he smiled warmly, his eyes taking her in.

She felt her nipples respond, knowing he could see them. With a smile, she attempted a curtsey and said: "Thank you."

"Thank you, not that I can tell anyone that's why they should join the alumni board."

They both chuckled and exchanged smiles that were more smirks.

"Oh, I collect things, too. Hm-hmm! No stamp collection or etchings, and no need to invite you in to show you: little Japanese ivory carvings, 'netsukes'."

"What are they?"

"I'll show you."

He led her into his den and opened a drawer under the bookshelves. She saw two or three dozen compact carved ivory pieces, all laid out on velvet. He handed her one, pointing out the little holes in it, and explained that they were for a cord attached to a container used instead of pockets in traditional Japanese men's clothing; that the netsuke was tucked under the sash to hold it. As he explained, that was why they were always a compact figure, although often very individual, sometimes scurrilous: masks, animals, humans, virtually anything. He only collected ones carved in ivory, and explained that like all collectables, the artistry, age and possibly known artist made them rarer. With modest pride, he showed her his favorite pieces until the doorbell announced that their food had arrived. As he turned to go, he added: 

"Oh, there are netsuke with sexual themes, 'shunga' they're called, some more subtle, others pretty explicit, but I resist collecting them."

Barbara nodded with a chuckle, and he went to the door and collected and paid for the food. She waited to hear the door close before joining him, and they carried the food to the table. While she opened the containers, he poured the wine, and they sat down.

"Oh, napkins," he remarked and stood back up and got his from a drawer next to the one with the silver, took out a paper napkin, but then put it back and got a cloth one for her, returning to the table and handing it to her as he said: 

"You'll be back. Oh, chopsticks?"

She nodded, and he hurried to the kitchen and returned with two pairs. They helped themselves to rice and the various dishes. As she was about to pick up her chopsticks, he raised his wine glass and said rather formally:

"To a nice meal. It's nice to have company for a change," and with a smile waited for her to find her glass. She raised it and replied:

"Thank you. It's nice to be here, and thank you for an especially nice day."

They drank, looking in each other's eyes, agreeing with a soft "um-hmm" as they set their glasses down. He was pleased that she could use chopsticks so well and explained that he learned from an aunt who had lived in Japan before the war, "who gave me two netsukes, starting my interest in them." She explained that a Chinese girl at college had taught her how, and they chuckled together about how some people seemed to have such difficulty using them, and then laughed when hers promptly slipped past each other, flipping a piece of curried pork across her plate.

The meal continued in that light vein with sips of wine. Eventually they agreed that they could leave some for a snack the next day and started to clear the table. Suddenly he glanced at his watch and said that he wanted to watch the seven-thirty news, explaining apologetically that it was a necessity of his work. She offered to finish cleaning up, and he went off with his glass, calling back that she should bring the wine when she was finished.

Barbara acquainted herself with the kitchen, finding containers for the leftovers and where the garbage went; finding the dishwasher and rinsing the plates before putting them in it. When he heard her test the garbage disposal in the sink, he called that she shouldn't do too much, but she cleaned up everything she could, chuckling to herself as she washed her hands and murmured to herself: "Starting to feel domestic." 

She took her glass and the wine bottle to the family room, cringing at the scene from Vietnam on the color TV that seemed more frightful than in black and white. He noticed and said: 

"Sorry about that," and patted the sofa next to him. Then Walter Cronkite appeared again, also apologizing for the graphic film. She sat down. He patted her knee reassuringly. She held up the bottle, and he nodded, and she poured the rest of the wine in their glasses.

When the program ended, he turned off the TV, explaining that nothing important had happened during the day, that he sometimes had to watch the other news program to get confirmation or a different view. He sat back down and picked up his glass, waiting for her to, and then they drank - more than the sips they had taken during the meal.

"Where did the time go?" he asked: "I missed an hour or two somewhere."

"Me too. I don't know. Maybe we spent more time in the sun than it seemed."

"Maybe, but it didn't seem like it, even considering that time flies in good company."

"Um-hmm, it sure does. ... You don't really want to figure it out?"

"Hm-umm."

He put his arm loosely around her shoulders, and she relaxed against it as she rested her hand on his thigh. They took a sip from their glasses, and enjoyed a comfortable silence together, eventually taking another sip, but neither of them saying anything. 

After several minutes, she snorted and said:

"Good thing my parents thought I didn't need a telephone in the apartment."

"Hm-hmm! Um-hmm. ... You want to call them?"

"And have them ask what I did all day?! ... No, they don't expect to hear from me on weekends, call me briefly at work."

"You're right."

She rubbed his thigh in response, and they had another sip of wine, and then were silent again, his arm less loosely around her shoulders. 

After a very long minute or two, she snorted again: 

"This is kind of funny, sitting here, knowing exactly what we're going to do - well, I think we do.

"Um-hmm, kind of funny," and his hand rubbed the side of her shoulder.

"Oh, ... we don't have to. ... I mean ..., if church ..., you know. We don't have to."

"You think we couldn't?"

"No. ... I could still go home - back to the apartment."

"I don't want that."

"Me neither. ... Funny, we all rhyme 'me' and 'nei', but up North say: 'Neither do I,' and rhyme 'nei' with 'I'."

"Um-hmm."

She rubbed his thigh again, and he rubbed her shoulder, and they had another sip of wine, and she rubbed his thigh again, and he held her a little closer. "Um-hmm," she agreed softly, and then they were silent again, very comfortably so, and now more confident that one or the other was going to say something in a minute or two.

This time he snorted and asked: 

"You know exactly what we're going to do?"

"I think so. ... We talked about that. Hm-hmm," and she rubbed his thigh again.

"Hm-hmm. Yeah, kind of funny."

"I never slept with anyone all night. That will be nice, ... not having to set the alarm for five minutes to twelve."

"Hm-hmm! Never did that."

They had another sip of wine, obviously the next to last one, and exchanged almost inaudible um-hmms, and then were silent again. This time the pause wasn't as long, but didn't end with a new remark. Barbara's hand left his thigh and reached across and pulled his hand from her shoulder down onto her breast, his fingers immediately holding it, but not seeking her already erect nipple in his palm.

"Um-hmm," he agreed, and she squeezed his hand, pressing it to her, and the tips of his fingers alternated pressure on the bottom of her breast.

"I've been wanting that, waiting for that," she murmured and emptied her glass. He squeezed her breast and emptied his glass and set it down and whispered: "Me too."

It had grown darker in the room. He reached out his free hand, and she gave him her glass. He set it aside. Her hand returned to his thigh as she turned her face up to him, and he drew her shoulders around, and they kissed, a little more than just affectionately, just confirmation that it was just the start. They nodded and got up. He said that he had to close the sliding doors. She took the glasses and bottle to the kitchen. 

They met on the way to the bedroom. She started to unbutton her blouse, and he, his shirt. She immediately went to the bathroom in the last light of dusk, kicking off her sandals and panties while on the toilet, and then wiping herself again with his washcloth. In her open blouse, with her sandals and panties in her hand, she returned to the bedroom, finding him in just his underpants. They exchanged quick smiles as he went towards the bathroom. She dropped her shoes on the thick carpeting and her panties on the chair and stepped out of her skirt, hanging it over the back of the chair before she slipped off her blouse and hung it over her skirt, hearing him flush the toilet. 

She got on the bed, lying on her side just past the middle of it with her lower arm outstretched. A few seconds later, he returned, now just a dark movement in the dark room, approaching the bed and then almost in slow motion getting on it, as she raised her other arm towards him, lying down between her arms, sliding his over her back. She raised her head from the pillow, and his other arm slid under it. 

"Hi," he murmured as their knees touched. "Hi," she murmured in return as they gently embraced each other. Their lips met, just nibbling, their noses overlapping with their heads both resting on the pillow. Then the tips of their tongues met. Her knee urged him to let her slide her thigh between his, and did, and they drew their bodies closer together, his full cock pressing touching her. Their lips were still only pressed together as their tongues explored as much as they could in that position. His cock wanted to move, and they let it rise and held it between them again, and then let it have its way again. She raised her head over his, and their mouths opened, their tongues almost leisurely exploring further. Then she drew her lower foot back and pressed herself towards him, and he rolled back, drawing her shoulders over him. 

There was nothing leisurely about the way they kissed now, their tongues eagerly, aggressively moving. His thigh rose up between hers, and she spread them to let it slide further, rolling her hips down when it was almost vertical. His hand found her breast, and then his other one slid down to her bottom, massaging it, encouraging her to rock her hips, to rub her pussy on his thigh.

She retrieved her tongue from his mouth and murmured: 

"I want to, ... like I said."

He nodded, and she began to turn around. Kneeling next to him, she found his cock in the dark and lowered her head, finding its head with her mouth, kissing it and then licking, her tongue exploring his little slit and then around its head, humming as it circled it, and then she lowered her head further and let it slip into her mouth, exploring further, in its groove, chuckling in her throat when it twitched. He urged her to raise her leg and straddle her, stuffing the other pillow under his head as she did. He grasped her hips and drew her to him. Her knees slid a little, and she flattened herself on him and then gave an aroused, appreciative "Uhnn!" when his mouth found her and quick nod of her head, and then nodded it more slowly on his cock, experimenting with taking it deeper and with sucking, interrupted by her reflexive responses to what he was doing, giving an appreciative hum when she felt his fingers slide in above his nose and another quick nod of approval when they found her asshole. Her own fingers reciprocated, and he nodded, too.

But after a few moments like that, she raised her head and murmured: 

"It's too good, too much all at once. I want to do it just by myself, at least this first time. Hm-hmm! This first 'next time.' Okay?"

"Of course," he replied and helped guide her knee back over himself.

As she turned around and got between his legs, she said brightly: 

Oh, it's good! I like it, and feeling you twitch in my mouth, knowing it's being good. Hm-hmm! And I want to lick you the other way, on the other side. I know that's especially good, ... there - lots of sticky hands."

He chuckled, and she did, and his cock twitched, and she giggled and held it so that it couldn't when she licked it there again.

"Oooh! You're so right."

"As if you didn't already know, but you can tell me what else is good, or how to keep from 'overdoing it,' if that's what you want."

"For a while, at least."

She already had his cock back in her mouth and nodded, and then was again enjoying experimenting with sucking his cock. Her other hand found his balls, his sack still slack after the pause. She chuckled in her throat each time his cock twitched, but tried not to overdo it, chuckling again when his sack tightened in her hand.




Whoosh, Bang! Ch. 02



"Too good," he murmured, and she held her mouth and tongue still.

"Scratch my sack, pinch it - not my balls! - and stretch it, hard. It won't hurt, ... or just a little, but good."

She nodded and did.

"Until it is slack again." 

She did.

"Good, thanks," he murmured, and she returned to arousing him. When his sack drew up again, she did it before he could ask her to.

"Good," he murmured again.

She nodded and began to move her head and tongue again, making his cock twitch more often. 

"Don't stop," he murmured, and then his hips started to twitch, and he added:

"I want to come. ... You don't have to."

She shook her head and tried to intensify what she was doing. Her fingers crept in behind his tight sack.

"Um-hmm," he encouraged and then gave up all efforts to control his hips, pumping into her mouth as he moaned, and then with a gasp started to come, gasping again and again as he did.

She gave a surprised "uhn!" at the first spurt, but then moaned appreciatively each time she felt the following ones, swallowing the first couple, that went right into the back of her throat, the rest swilling around in her mouth as she urged him to keep coming, but then he held her head still and gasped: 

"Enough!" adding a few moments later: "Oh God, you did that good!"

She raised her head with a very satisfied smile that he couldn't see in the dark, and remarked cheerfully: 

"I did? You sure did! Oh, that's good. Sure, it tastes strange, but it's worth it to feel how aroused you are." 

She leaned down and licked him again: 

"Another drop. Good. Maybe I will always think it tastes strange, but that doesn't matter. Want me to kiss you?"

She was already diving down on him before he could reply.

"I swallowed it all," she murmured apologetically, and then found his mouth, letting his tongue explore in hers. After a few moments, he retrieved his tongue, but hers followed it. He sucked on it until she withdrew it and chuckled and said: 

"Tastes familiar, not strange, ... but not as good as you do."

His hands found the cheeks of her ass, holding and moving them, and then started to push her up and pull himself down, with a little help from his feet.

Like this?" she asked as his head slipped below her shoulders. He just nodded and pushed her further. She understood and drew her knees up, rising up on her arms as he drew her hips closer to his face. Then his chin brushed her soft hair, and then his nose. She sat up, rolling her pussy down onto his mouth, moaning in anticipation as he kissed her, and then sighing as his tongue touched her, his mouth opening to let it slide up and down, already on the sensitive inner surface of her lips, and then deeper between them, finding and playing with her slippery inner lips, and between them, sweeping back to find and circle around and in her hole - "Uhmm!" - and then sweeping forward to the little knob of her clitoris - "Ooooh!" 

Her pelvis twitched, and she held her breasts, throwing her head back as he continued, gasping softly and sighing with soft, short moans as she clutched her breasts and then found her nipples, rolling and squeezing them, pulling on them. She felt his hands slid up from her hips, past her waist and up towards her breasts, letting him push her hands aside as she murmured:

"Um-hmm, hurt me."

He did, gently, but it only made her more aroused with what he was doing in her pussy.

She grasped the upholstered head board for support, her head dropping as her thighs quivered and her pelvis twitch against his mouth.

"Oh fuck!" she exclaimed softly, then immediately added:

"No! Don't stop; I want to come!"

He didn't. She did - her thighs quivering as she began to whimper, and then clutching his head as her pussy began to flow, flooding his mouth while she whimpered incessantly, her body convulsing. 

"Oh fuck!" she finally cried out again and dropped down to one side of him. He drew her inert body closer and held her.

It was minutes later before she stirred, moving down so that their heads were level and she could put her arm around him. He drew their hips together, and they embraced in silence.

"I dozed off," she murmured.

"I did, too."

"Hmm, ... I guess I use that word when I don't really mean it, but I didn't know there was such a good alternative."

"Same difference, I wasn't going to give up that quickly."

"And have to do it again."

"Hmm! I would have been delighted to try."

"Thanks, but this was at least as good, and I was right; I couldn't have enjoyed either as much, all at once."

"I couldn't have either, thank you."

She kissed him, and remarked: 

"You've got me all over your face."

"Um-hmm, the proof that it was good."

"You like that?"

"As much as you said you liked it."

"That's a lot."

"Um-hmm."

She gave him another kiss, and he returned it, and then they lay there in silence again.

"Up on the pillows?" he suggested, and they moved themselves.

"Sheet?" he asked.

"Um-hmm," she agreed sleepily.

He sat up and got it, drawing it up over them as she rolled over and drew her knees up.

He settled down behind her with his arm around her.

"Um-hmm," she agreed, drawing his hand up on her breast as she murmured: 

"It's been a wonderful day. Good night."

"Very, thank you. Good night."

When Barbara awoke at dawn, they were no longer lying together on the big bed. Before she opened her eyes, she thought she was in the apartment, and then was surprised to find that she wasn't, but then it all came back in a flash. She smiled to herself, and then clenched her eyes closed for a moment, and then frowned. After a moment's hesitation, she turned her head and looked at him, lying on his other side now, still asleep from the way he was breathing. The previous day came back again, now slower with all the details. 

When she had gotten to their saying goodnight, she summarized it in her mind: the best sex she had ever had, and two ways, but with an older man, a married older man, but there was a certain logic in that. And, from all they had said, they were going to do it again - next weekend, and ...? All the following weekends?! Oh, she had to go to the bathroom. She tried to make the feeling go away, but it only became more insistent.

She tried to slip out of the bed on her side without moving the sheet they were sharing. On the way to the bathroom, she glanced and saw that he really was still asleep, and decided to use the guestroom near the entrance. She did, not flushing, and returned to the bedroom.

He was lying on his back with his eyes opened, taking her in before he said: 

"Oh, there you are. I wondered, suddenly afraid you might have gone home - back to the apartment - but then saw your clothes."

She had stopped inside the door when he spoke, just standing there, and then smiling at his words, and then said:

"I was right about it being nice waking up together.

"You're lovely," he added as his eyes took her in again, and her nipples tightened.

"Warm eyes," she responded, smiling again with a snort, and he nodded with a smile.

"I had to go and didn't want to disturb you. Remind me to flush the guest toilet."

He nodded and drew back the sheet, leaving his sex covered - until she moved towards his side of the bed. Then he moved back to make space for her and drew the sheet further back and extend his other arm. She lay down with it under her head and said:  

"Good morning."

"Um-hmm. Good morning, now that I know you're here. ... To be honest, when I woke up, I was thinking it was just like all the other recent mornings - sorry! - but then it all came back, but you weren't there."

"And I thought I was in the apartment, until I opened my eyes, and then - flash!"

"Um-hmm. I can remember waking up on Saturday mornings and think it was another school day, but the flash of recognition that it wasn't wasn't anything nearly as nice as this."

"Um-hmm, it all went through my mind again."

"If you hadn't come back so soon, I would have done that. ... And what did you think?"

"You really want to know? Before church?

"Um-hmm. You see how fast I can forget if I just close my eyes."

"If you say so. ... What I thought after the ... 'action replay'?"

"Hm-hmm! Yes!"

"The best sex I've ever had, and two ways, and ... Oh? It's about you ..."

"That I'm an older man?"

"And married." She felt her face flush.

"That's my problem."

"But it seemed kind of logical, that ... that the best would be with someone with more experience."

He drew her to him. She willingly rolled into his arms, and he said:

"You're dear, ... and honest."

"Sometimes when I don't expect to be, ... asking questions."

"Um-hmm," he agreed, and rolled on his back, drawing her with him, and then said:

"Your 'obvious questions' are always so good. Ask one?"

She smirked and replied:

"Do you want to kiss me?"

He did, and she did, too, most obviously, and with effect; her knees slid over his thighs, clutching them together, and his cock rose, touching her, and they both moved it on her pussy, snickering at their consensus about what their hips were doing.

"Ask another obvious question?" he murmured.

"It's your turn, but the answer is yes: fuck me."

"How did you know?" he replied with a snicker and reached under the pillow and found a rubber.

"Female intuition, but the other, just to make sure. I mean it this time. ... Like this, with me on top?"

"Um-hmm."

She drew her knees up and sat up, sliding back and letting his cock spring up between them. He slipped the rubber out of the foil and put it. Barbara dropped back down over him, moving forward, his cock springing up as she murmured: 

"We never did it this way."

He reached down and guided his cock to her pussy, sliding it up and down once before he found her opening. She pressed back as he rocked his hips up, her eyes closing as she moaned softly, and his cock slid into her. It twitched, and she pressed back further, sighing with another soft moan as it went deeper, and she squeezed it.

"Do that again," he murmured.

She opened her eyes and did, with a slight smile. He nodded slightly as he returned her smile and made it twitch again. With a soft snort, she squeezed him again, smiling more broadly, and then asked: 

"Is it better without a rubber?"

"Um-hmm, ... but still very ... very good with one, ... especially if you can do that."

She did again with a chuckle and another slight smile that faded as she remarked: 

"Funny, ... not 'funny', good, ... like this, but I feel kind of wicked ... not with you, in general, admitting I want to fuck, asking for it."

His cock twitched again, and she squeezed it again with a slight smirk and then moved her hips a little. He nodded with a smile, and she continued: 

"Oh, I wanted to all the times before, but let him take the initiative - Hm-hmm! - after I had shown that I wanted to. But somehow I felt he should make the last move."

He made his cock twitch again with a chuckle, and she grinned and said: 

"The move before that."

"Hm-hmm! Sort of like: nice girls don't say they want to fuck?"

"Um-hmm! ... But this one does." 

She rocked her pelvis to prove it, and he rocked his hips up with a grin, both doing it again with appreciative humming chuckles. Then she grinned again and said: 

"Maybe I'm not a nice girl."

"Oh, you are, just now more honest about it."

"Um-hmm."

She sat up, and aroused "oooh!" escaped between her pursed lips as he went deeper, and her pussy clutched him. Then she began to rock her hips, her eyes closing again as he squeezed her breasts. "Uhnn!" she exhaled softly as she moved his cock in her and then experimented with a circular movement, mouthing another soft "Oooh!" and smiling to herself. His thumbs rubbed her tight nipples, flipping them. "Um-hmm," she encouraged, opening her eyes again and looking at what he was doing before she looked up at his face and shared a smile with him, sitting still for a moment as she murmured: 

"Nice or not, I want it, ... and like the little wicked feeling of admitting it and saying it. ... I want to fuck. I want you to fuck me."

She snorted softly at her having said it.

"And I want you to fuck me," he rejoined as his cock twitched in her.

With just the slightest smile and nod, she began to move her hips again, her eyes half closed, nodding as he rolled and squeezed her nipples. 

"Uhn-hnnn!" she sighed as they continued; at intervals, repeating expression of her arousal a couple of times.

"Suck them," she murmured and dropped down over him, approving with an aroused "Uhn-hnn!" when he did, rocking her pelvis to and fro, now only a reflex. He found her other one. 

"Harder," she murmured, approving again with a sharp "Uhn-hnn!" and her hips churned on his cock, and his hips rocked up once, and then again, and then again.

"Fuck me!" he demanded softly, and she did: at first rising tentatively a few times, a little further each time, and then with more confidence. He began to meet her down-strokes with thrusts, his hands moving down to her taut buttocks, encouraging her. Then on an up-stroke, his cock sprang out of her. He quickly guided it back into her now slippery wet hole, and they continued, both moaning as he went deep in her. His fingers slid into her cleft, sliding further. When they found her asshole, she nodded once. They both had their eyes closed, but he felt her temple move on his cheek and rubbed her more firmly. 

She raised her head and found his mouth with hers, immediately thrusting her tongue aggressively in it, letting him suck it as his tongue and his finger moved, and her asshole tightened and then relaxed, and then she was fucking him with her tongue, responding to his fingertip's entering her slightly with an "Uhn!" as she continued to fuck him with her hips and tongue, her asshole and pussy clutching and relaxing again, both wanting to draw him deeper. "Uhnn!" she gasped again, her tongue still for a moment at the new sensation, and then encouraging him again. Their hips were coming together with wet slaps. And then she couldn't kiss any more, just gasping and moaning and beginning to whimper again, as he grunted with each thrust up into her, her thighs quivering and twitching against his sides, until her whole body convulsed, clutching with her knees, her fingernails biting into his shoulders as her whimpers reached a climax, her pussy spasming on his cock and flooding his balls.

Her whimpers died down as her body relaxed, returning to soft moans as he embraced her, and then to silent sighs as she managed to straighten out her legs, his cock slipping out of her, and then just lay heavy on him.

Finally, she rolled off him, rolling onto her back and just looking up at the ceiling, then finding his hand with hers, exchanging clasps. After a few more moments of silence, still looking at the ceiling, she spoke: 

"God, how do you do that?" 

"Him or me?" 

"You, of course," and she clasped his hand again and turned her head to him with a smile.

"Why do you keep blaming me? We did it, ... like I said: 'very, very good'. You did it; I asked you this time."

"Hm-hmm! ... Um-hmm. ... Hmm! ... I am happy to take the blame. ... Uh, ... if you can't forget ... this morning, you can remember that I take the blame, ... or remember that you just did something 'very, very good'."

"Thanks, but I'm not sure that makes it better."

"It couldn't have been better."

"It sure couldn't have been! But I don't know if that makes it good."

"For me, it does. ... You made ..., hmm! You make me real good. Making someone good can't be bad."

"Try to tell that to your priest."

"Hm-umm! ... Not unless he's young and handsome."

They both laughed, clasping hands, and then he said:

"Oooh, it's about to slip off again, and I've got to go."

He sat up and slipped the rubber off and got up.

"Let me have it."

He handed it to her, moving his legs like a little boy who had "to go potty". She looked at the rubber, more at its content, and murmured: 

"Do I really like it?"

He looked at her with a bemused expression, now holding his flaccid cock to keep from leaking. She glanced up at him and then held the rubber to her mouth and squeezed the white contents into her mouth. She wrinkled her nose with a wry expression and remarked to herself:

"Strange, stranger," and then glanced up at him, snickering when she noticed how he was standing, shuffling his feet, and said: 

"Maybe the Chinese food?" and wrinkled her nose again.

"Don't know, ..." he replied as he stepped towards the bathroom: "maybe," and disappeared.

She wrinkled her nose again and smiled wryly to herself, then found the foil wrapping and followed him, able to drop them in the toilet before he finished.

"Shower?" he asked as he flushed.

"Swim first? What time is it? ... Before we lose an hour or two somewhere."

"Um-hmm," and he looked at his watch: "Not yet seven."

"Time for a swim?"

"Good idea."

On the way to the family room, he said: 

"Don't talk or splash too much; we do have neighbors on the other side of the hedges. During the day, it doesn't matter, but on a quiet Sunday morning, or at night ..." 

Barbara nodded as he opened the sliding doors, letting in the only slightly cooler morning air. They went out and slipped into the pool. She let him crawl alone, just breast-stroking to avoid splashing. After several laps - fewer for her - when he was behind her on one, he surprised her by catching up with her under water, coming up under her and grasping her breasts. She spluttered as he stopped her progress and then came up in front of her, still holding her breasts as he tread water. She was about to say something, but remembered his warning and just put her arms around him. They kissed, forgetting to tread water, slowly sinking down to their chins in the water, both taking a deep breath and then kissing again and sinking lower, until they had to come up for air, treading water again with their arms and legs.

"I shouldn't have done that," he murmured with a little frown.

"Why not?"

"Too much like ..." He left his answer unfinished. After a pause, she said quietly:

"Like, ... too much ... affection?"

"Um-hmm, ... something like that," he whispered with both a frown and slight smile. She nodded with just the faintest smile and whispered: 

"It's called, 'making love', but I know it doesn't have to be."

"Opportunity makes thieves."

"I started it all, ... my questions. ... I'm the thief."

"Not the only one."

"Hm-umm, you've only given."

"And you, too."

"Let's talk about it under the shower."

He nodded, and they slipped out of the pool and then realized that they had no towels. They stood in the early, already warm sunlight and brushed the water off each other in silence, affectionately, but no more than that. Then they stood there in silence, exchanging smiles of different types: bemused, wry, warm. When one of his ones made her nipples tighten, she smiled and whispered: 

"Warm eyes." 

He frowned, but smiled again. Then they were dry enough to return to the house.

"Where were we?" he asked on the way to the bedroom.

"Agreeing that we have both only 'given' - not thieves - given each other affection."

"Made love."

"Made me real good,'" she replied with a cheerful chuckle as they got in the shower.

He also chuckled as he turned on the water, intentionally letting the cold water run, not that it was really cold in that climate, but she reacted: 

"Oooh! I don't want a cold shower ... of any kind."

"Me neither, to be honest," he agreed and added hot water.

They began to wash each other, affectionately, as thoroughly as in the rain the day before, but without getting too aroused as they continued their conversation.




Whoosh, Bang! Ch. 02



"We don't have to do this again," she suggested quietly; when he didn't reply, adding: 

"You don't have to invite me back, ... I can disappear this morning."

"I don't want that, ... if only to tell you how I survived church."

"I'll be curious."

"You'll stay?"

"Of course. ... I want to."

"Even if I decide to change my mind?"

"Like about minding my wanting to go topless?"

"Not if that were all you wanted."

"I don't know. ... Would we have to start there all over again?"

"I don't think that would work. We talked about that yesterday: the big balloon."

"Um-hmm, and some saying about having once been there, not being able not to return."

"Um-hmm. That wouldn't work. We want to ..., would want to."

"Um-hmm. ... So we have to settle it now, ... or after church. ... Geez! I hope the sermon isn't about ..., is about racial relations or the third world or something."

"Me too. ... Are we finished? I've got to shave."

"I noticed, ... last night, too."

"Sorry. Next time, I'll remember."

"Next time?"

"Oh! I guess so, ... if I said that, ... and the sermon isn't about the Sixth Commandment."

"I hope not!"

"Me too. ... Does he post the sermon topic in one of those glass-front boards most of the churches here seem to have?"

"You mean, I should ...? That would be cheating, besides our church is too upmarket to advertise like that."

"We're going to leave it up to him?"

"And hope he talks about why 'they're rioting in Africa' or why 'I don't like anybody very much,' to borrow from Peter Paul and Mary."

By now they had already started to dry themselves. They both laughed at his choice of topics, and she remarked cheerfully:

"I like the second one, maybe some reasons why it's good to like other people."

"We don't need any," he replied as he lathered his face, smiling at her in the mirror.

"Hm-umm, but maybe we'd feel better to know that we should treat everyone like brothers and sisters. No, that's going too far, ..."

"Just, like kissing cousins?" he interjected.

"Yeah, I had one once - just kissing, though, when we were fifteen, more wanting to find out what it was about."

"And did you?"

"Not really. He'd heard about French kissing, but I thought it sounded yucky: licking each other's tongues? ... Eeee! Let him put his tongue in my mouth?!"

She laughed, and he snickered with a nod, about to take another pass with his razor.

"I might have let him hold my breast, but that didn't occur to him, and I wasn't going to ask him to."

"Might have changed your mind about French kissing."

"For sure, did later. I guess it was the other way around, not so 'yucky' kissing first and then wanting him to touch me."

"Sounds normal. If boys knew what girls wanted to do ..." He took another pass.

"Who told you?"

"You just did, but someone else, when we were older than that."

He took another pass at an area that he had already shaved, and then looked at her in the mirror: 

"Shit! Oh, sorry! I've got girls that age - were that age!"

"Forget it! And don't check. You promised."

"Um-hmm. Good thing I forgot about that - what she said - until now; might have become one of those fathers who lock their daughters up and then ... the worst happens."

"Um-hmm. But we know they're already beyond that. The worst won't happen, and you've accepted that they might - may - ..."

"Yeah, I guess. Anne did at their age - lucky, too. Not many marry as virgins these days - or back when."

He washed the soap off his face and splashed on some aftershave lotion, the same she had smelled the previous week and when she arrived the morning before. She raised her nose closer to his cheek and said: 

"You smell good."

They smiled and returned to the bedroom and got dressed. He got out a dress shirt and suit. She was already dressed and asked what she could do in the kitchen.

"Coffee or tea, as you like."

"Coffee."

"You'll find the rest. Eggs?"

"Yes, please."

"You can stir up three to scramble - my only specialty in the kitchen. I'll season them. ... Oh, you can fry some bacon."

"Sounds good," she replied and went off

She started the coffee and set the table with what seemed to be breakfast food, and then fried the bacon she had found while she stirred the eggs with a dash of milk. He joined her with the box of cereal from the table, explaining that only the girls sometimes had cereal, approving of all else she had done, especially that she had already added milk to the eggs. He seasoned them with salt and paper and a dash of Worcestershire sauce and added a crumbled slice of the bacon. He poured the eggs in the skillet - as he called it - that she had melted butter in, and then glanced at the dining table again, and said that he would also like a glass of milk She did, too, and poured two glasses and put them on the table while he tended his eggs. 

Then they had a very leisurely and enjoyable breakfast, although they didn't talk much, more just exchanging smiles. When a pause became too long, she ventured with a smile to ask:

"Worried about the sermon?"

"Um-hmm, now more than about the General Confession," and they both chuckled.

"All the others have something to confess; we all do."

"Um-hmm! Good thought; some of my customers, ... and some other stuff that goes on around town ... among the 'good parishioners'. Thanks."

He grinned at her, and she grinned back. He looked at his watch and said it wouldn't hurt if he were at church a little early: "as long as I don't meet any of those, now that I've thought about that," and smirked.

She nodded with a smile, and they quickly finished their breakfast. She said she would clean up, adding something about working at being domestic, and he chuckled and said something about that not being necessary with one of his smiles that made her respond with an appreciative "warm eyes." They chuckled. Then he was off.

But then he opened the door again and gave her the Sunday newspaper. Before he could close it again, she asked:

"When will you be back?"

"Hmm, coffee after church - eleven-thirty, maybe later."

"Not before eleven-thirty."

"Why?"

"I want to sunbathe, but want to be dressed when you come back, in case ..."

"I won't tell you. ... I'll stop listening and make up my own, ... about brotherly love, ... fraternity brothers, and their dau... - and their families."

They both snickered, almost laughing.

"I'll still be dressed, just in case."

"If need be, we can start all over."

"That would be nice, too."

He snorted with a grin and was gone again.



Whoosh, Bang! Ch. 03



"I'll still be dressed, just in case."

"If need be, we can start all over."

"That would be nice, too."

He snorted with a grin and was gone again. 

She chuckled contentedly and returned to the dining room and started clearing the table. After she had cleared it, in the kitchen, she chuckled again and took off her clothes, smiling to herself, and then began to put things away; enjoying how the cool air from the refrigerator made her nipples tighten; and then put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, aware of the movement of her breasts when she leaned down, looking at them, twitching her shoulders and appreciating how they moved - that they were full enough to move a little, but firm enough that they didn't as soon as she held still. She tried it again with a pleased chuckle. She did that again the next time she leaned down over dishwasher, trying to shake her shoulders more, and then looked past her breasts, wondering if she could see anything but hair - not really, even when she dug her fingers in above her pelvis and tried to pull the skin and hair up a bit. 

She just snorted as she stood up again and closed the dishwasher and went about wiping up.

Finished in the kitchen, she got the newspaper, and then thought to find a clock to know when he would be back, taking the alarm clock from the bedroom and setting it for eleven twenty-five, chuckling again as she recalled telling him about having to get up at five before twelve in college - his college, not hers. Then she remembered to flush the guest toilet. Finally ready for sunbathing, she realized that he had put the pool towels somewhere else, and went to find them, discovering a laundry room - and the towels. She was about to take them both, but then only took one, not wanting to tempt fate with too much anticipation. Then she really had everything together.

But then her curiosity got the best of her. He had promised not to check on his daughters - the other one - but she could. Barbara had a bit of a guilty conscious as she went up the stairs, then tried to justify her curiosity with the thought that maybe if she knew, she could fend off his curiosity, not really believing herself. A glance at the school books in the room in which she had found the rubbers confirmed that it was Annette's, the older girl's. She had changed in the other room, her bag was still there. She had a better idea of what she was looking for, and mentally congratulated Annette for the idea to hide tampons in a pencil case - wishing she had dared to start using them as soon as she could have. Anne, Annette, what was the other daughter's name? His mother's? She should remember it, having met her. 

She started searching, looking for another sports bag. She found one, but nothing in it, also nothing in any other bags. She felt sure that she wouldn't find anything in drawers, but looked anyway, finding what she expected. When she opened the drawer with underwear, she couldn't resist checking the size of the bras, a little chagrined to see it was larger than hers. She tried it on - yes, definitely, not just a different brand's more flattering size. She put it back and then leaned down and looked at her breasts again for reassurance, snorting to herself. Then she found a drawer full of old mementos: a mini teddy bear, old Valentine's day cards, birthday cards, bows and ribbons, a school pennant, and so on, and a silly paper hat and a New Year's eve popper. 

When she picked it up, she knew it wasn't empty, and tampons immediately slid out through the crêpe paper at the end of the tube. She snickered at her success and shook the tube. A rubber slid out, and then three more when she tilted the tube down and shook it again. Apparently they had been caught by the ridge of crêpe paper around the mouth of the tube.

"Oh!" she said out loud without snickering at her discovery. As she picked them back up, she noticed that they were a different brand and snorted. Putting them and the tampons back in the popper, she wondered to herself:

So the girls didn't share their supply, but four? They came in packets of three, like she had found in Annette's room, like those she had back in the apartment. Two used?! Well, she probably would have looked at one the first time she had them, maybe given her sister one to play with? The younger sister having them first? The one with bigger breasts than her own?

Barbara snorted again, recalling that she had starting petting and more before her year-older sister had. As she squeezed the crêpe paper back together, it occurred to her that neither girl's hiding place for tampons was big enough for the number of tampons in the usual carton. She carefully replaced the popper and closed the drawer. 

As she was returning down the stairs, the thought suddenly came to her that if the girls used tampons and had to hide them, they had a problem during their trip with their mother; and then, that if they had rubbers, they would have taken them along; that the ones she had found were a reserve, more than they could imagine they could need. She snickered at her logic, recalling her own supply of six, smiling with a snort at the thought that they now seemed inadequate. But she dismissed the thought and suppressed her smile for fear that she was anticipating too much.

Downstairs again, she picked up her towel and the paper and alarm clock. When she saw that it was already past nine-thirty, she wished him luck in church, snorting when she recognized that her wish wasn't selfless. 

She went out on the patio and spread her towel and sat down, lay down, closing her eyes and enjoying the warmth of the sunlight with the nice, slightly wicked knowledge that she was naked, which made it feel even warmer. She felt her nipples popped up and thought: warm eyes, and enjoyed the recollection of how that had become a leitmotif between them. Then it occurred to her that he could also make her assumption about the girls' supply of rubbers - more reason to avoid that subject. But that sort of justified her having found the popper, since the thought about the rubbers wouldn't otherwise have come to her. She smiled to herself. After a minute or two, she drew her knees up and let them flop open, feeling a little wicked about exposing herself that way, but the sun felt good. Wondering if she would get a sunburn, she dozed off.

When she awakened, she got up and checked the time, relieved to see that she had only been lying there like that for a several minutes. She went for a swim, remembering not to dive in the pool, and then lay back down again, this time on her stomach, thinking: I'm going to have a sunburned fanny, but liking the idea, sort of as proof or punishment for what she was doing, not wondering too long about what that meant: proof or punishment for what, the same thing? Proof that I'm enjoying something very - too - pleasurable; punishment that it is definitely too pleasurable, from a Puritan point of view, from anyone else's point of view? She didn't care and dozed off again.

The sound of the front door closing awoke her. She tried to see the alarm clock, but hadn't bothered to place it so that she could see its dial. 

Had it gone off? 

Hadn't it? 

Wasn't it yet time for it to? 

Who had come in and almost slammed the door?! 

Her clothes were still in the kitchen! 

At least, she had managed to sit up and could cover herself with the towel, but it didn't matter that she was naked, just being there was bad enough. As she was about to decide to try to hide, she heard him call:

"I came home early," and then he appeared without his jacket, taking off his tie:

"For two reasons: one to surprise you, ... Oh, sorry!" he apologized when he saw her flustered look and that she was holding up one end of the towel she was still sitting on.

"Sorry," he repeated but then grinned and added: 

"But I wanted to see you like that, ... well, not so flustered, sunbathing."

She giggled in her relief and let the towel drop and grinned, replying:

"Look! Warm eyes."

"I am."

"And 'two'?"

"A couple invited me for dinner this evening; you were right about tapering off. So I excused myself, saying that I had to get some work done this afternoon if I spent the evening with them. Didn't want hang around and have someone ask what I was doing this afternoon.

"Um-hmm, but they will this evening."

"Oh, I always have something that should be done.

"And the sermon?"

He was taking of his shirt and hung it on the handle of one of the sliding doors before he replied:

"Oh, it was fine, ... well, everyone at coffee said so. I hardly heard it after I heard the Bible verse and knew it wouldn't be a problem."

He stripped off his undershirt and sat down on his chair and continued as he started to take of his shoes:

"I was thinking about you and the girls ... not the same way, of course. I was thinking ... about them: if they - if one - had rubbers, why didn't she take them with her?

"Hmm! That occurred to me, too. Maybe she did, ... so many that she didn't think she needed those. Our good luck!"

"I didn't want to think that, but it occurred to me.

"Or maybe she assumed that she couldn't need any, travelling with her mother and sister."

"I like that better, ... not much better."

He stood up and took off his trousers. She looked at him in his boxer shorts and snickered and replied:

"Well, she's - they've - got them now, if your wife didn't chicken out."

"I doubt it. Remember, she was lucky once, older, but ..."

"So they have them."

"Let me hang up my clothes. You found a towel."

"Yeah, where you put them, but I didn't want to anticipate too much by bringing one for you."

"Be right back."

He grabbed his shoes and then his shirt and disappeared. She thought to turn off the alarm clock. A couple of minutes later, he returned without his shorts but with his towel, and spread it out and sat down and asked:

"Where were we?"

"So they have them."

"Hmm! Sounds like we're aiding and abetting ..."

"No. They're going to do what they do, one way or the other, like we did, and really, the chance that they do anything in Europe is pretty small, unless they can run around nights like they probably can't at home."

"I doubt that. ... Maybe we assumed too much, anticipated too much."

"It doesn't matter, they already have had them, whether they need them or not. I assume if one has them, the other does, or knows where she can get them. It'll just make things easier, for them and you, over there or back here, their knowing that you ... well, maybe not approve, but accept that they might. Annette is going to college, and we know what will eventually happen there."

He smiled with a nod and replied softly:

"Thanks. That's a great help. I'm glad you found the rubbers ... to use, too, of course, but we could have gotten around that, but if you hadn't, we'd never have talked about this. Fathers need a little help getting their thoughts together. ... Oh, I didn't mean to ..., you know, ... 'fathers'. I don't like to feel like one with you."

He looked a little puzzled with his last remark.

"You aren't ... with me, even though we're talking about this. I like it. Another woman could have told you the same. ... Hnn? ... That's the first time I referred to myself as a woman."

"You are one. ... You want a beer, ... before ...?"

"Yes, thank you, ... before we tell each other ... how much we ... enjoy each other's company."

As he got up, he said:

"You don't just ask the right questions," and went off.

He returned with the beer bottles and glasses, snickering when he saw her again. She snickered, too, and with a grin said:

"I don't have your hang-up about going around the house naked."

"I noticed. I'm losing mine."

As he poured the beer, she replied with another grin:

"I'll take the blame for that, too."

"Aren't I to blame for anything? Here, prost."

"Prost," and they drank with smiles and she returned to his question:

"Oh sure, lots, but I've got to think hard to find something."

"Try."

"Oh, ... you taught a young girl ..."

"A young woman."

"... a young woman some things she shouldn't know until she got married."

"You're being very old-fashioned."

"I said I had to think hard, ... some things some people think no one should do."

"That's true, ... in this state."

"But she loved it."

"Even worse. I am to blame."

"Um-hmm. ... And ..."

"And?"

"You make her want to do it again."

"Oh, a serial offender, very blameable."

"Um-hmm, very! ... And you're just going to sit there and let her, instead of jumping up and running away."

"Am I? Not like Joseph with Potipher's wife?"

"I hope so, so I can blame you."

"If you insist."

"If I did that, you wouldn't be to blame."

"I have to ask you to? But I said I wouldn't do that."

"What about saying you want her to? No, that is about the same as asking her to; maybe that you want to, yourself?"

"Right now?"

"Not before you've finished your beer."

Smirking, she drank from her glass.

"Oh, that's good," he replied with his own smirk, and took just a sip of his beer, grinning at her again as he looked at her more intently than before, with effect.

"Warm eyes," she responded with a twinkle in her own.

"Can I be blamed for them?"

"Hm-umm."

"Pity. ... But I can for serving a minor alcohol."

"Oh, that's good; enough blame to say we're sharing it, I think."

"Like we share other things?"

"Good things."

"Um-hmm." 

They drank again, smiling, sitting facing each other. Their eyes met, and then glanced elsewhere, returning to each other's eyes, just the corners of their lips moving, and then wandering over the other's body, so that her nipples tightened, but she didn't say anything. They were both just taking soft short breaths. Their eyes met again, their lips twitching, and then wandered again, now unable to leave the other's figure, even when they took another sip of their beers. She licked a drop of beer from her lips, and her nipples tightened again, and she stared down in his lap, and then looked up to his face again, seeing his eyes moving on her and then finding hers, and she let him see her glance down again and saw his cock move slightly, and glanced back up, her lips moving as their eyes met again, and she glanced down again, seeing that his cock had grown longer. Her thighs moved slightly. and when she looked back up, his lips twitched as he nodded slightly and let her see his eyes glance down and back up at her breasts, and they both smiled slightly, but their eyes didn't meet, because she was looking back down at his cock, that had since moved, and moved again as she watched.

"You've got warm eyes, too," he murmured, and their eyes met as they exchanged just hints of a smile and drank again, and then their eyes couldn't leave the other's, both taking short, shallow breaths, and they drank again, their view of each other obstructed as they raised their glasses up and emptied them, but then their eyes met again, and they both licked their lips once, slowly, their lips still parted when the tips of their tongues has disappeared, as they almost panted shallowly through their mouths. They nodded simultaneously, just the slightest quick movement of their heads, and both stood up. Her nipples were now permanently aroused. Without her eyes leaving his, she was aware that his cock was standing out. Silently, they moved toward the door. 

It seemed as though they were afraid to touch each other; that if they got too close, a spark would spring between them and set them on fire before they found a place to let it burn. 

She let him precede her into the bedroom and watched him lie down on his side with his feet towards the head of the bed. She lay down the other way, and then they touched. There was no visible spark, but obvious burning desire. This time she let it consume her while she consumed him, the fire in their loins finally quenched by the flood of their orgasms. 

They lay there, no longer drawing short shallow breaths, now with long, deep, audible sighs. When their breathing returned to normal, she rolled on her back, just looking at the ceiling. Then she asked: 

"How did you learn that? When was the first time?"

He also rolled onto his back, talking to the ceiling:

"Someone who shouldn't have, ... my older cousin, married, ... when I was nineteen. ... I was visiting them for Thanksgiving - nearest relatives to college. ... They had a fight; ... the marriage wasn't good; they later broke up. ... Yeah, the fight was about his having an affair, and he stormed out of the house to spend the night with the other woman. I tried to be consoling; we had always liked each other despite the years' difference in ages. ... And, well, ... one thing led to another, kisses, then petting, and then she told me what she would really like, since we both shied away from suggesting intercourse."

"Um-hmm. ... It's nice to be able to learn from someone with more experience."

"Um-hmm, ... and vice versa, ... very nice."

"Yes, but not any nicer."

"I hope not."

Their hands found each other on the bed, not clasping, their fingers just exploring. Then she asked: 

"And the other? ... First time?"

"Hmm? You do ask the most obvious questions," but his fingers indicated that he wasn't displeased. 

"Um-hmm, but you don't have to tell me."

"Both kinds of first times?"

"Hadn't thought of that. ... If you want to?"

"Hm-hmm! I didn't really care for her, and shouldn't have; everyone knew she was fast and ... - yeah - it was said that she did it. She did, ... when it was my turn. No, that sounds like a wild party. I mean, when it was my turn to date her. ... Still wrong. Anyway, I got to date her, and she was easy, and did, but not all the way, but that was exciting enough, back then. ... Hmm! And she liked that I did." 

"I bet!"

"But not all the way with her, 'cause she wanted to finish the other way."

"Of course."

"About the same with all the others back then, for that reason, except my cousin."

"Your doing it?"

"Um-hmm, of course; the other girls I went with didn't do that, and I wouldn't have considered suggesting that they did. A couple didn't want me to."

"Sorry about that, ... for you and them."

"Back then, I just took that for granted, especially appreciating those who let me."

"And ones who really wanted you to?"

"Like my cousin? ... I should have told her later."

"Not just your cousin."

"There weren't many - weren't even several. Maybe that's why I married Anne. ... No, that was just a joke; we're married for all the right reasons, but she was one of the very few who really wanted me to, ... all the way."

"Not to save her virginity, I hope?"

"Oh no, just to save us from having to get married."

"I really shouldn't have asked."

"No, that's all right, good actually; I wanted to mention that."

"I heard you ... and am glad you are."

Their hands clasped in confirmation of this understanding, and then he took the initiative to continue: 

"And she liked to do it, but not all the way, but I never expected that back then."

"Who did?"

"Hmm! ... Hm-hmm! ... Only three, ... four, including you."

"I thought there were more; you told about some liking to and some not, but doing it."

"I read that somewhere, and it made a lot of sense, considering that the ones back then didn't want to go all the way, but things have become more liberal - maybe competitive - now, so maybe some of those are doing it, even if they don't like it."

"Does make sense. ... I was thinking you had more experience, sorry, but also, since you were married."

"Maybe I wanted you to think that, ... and like that."

"Oh. ... Why? ... So I could think ...?"

"Maybe, ... yeah, I guess, ... Let's not say it; I think you understand."




Whoosh, Bang! Ch. 03



"I think I do. ... I didn't want to be the first one," she replied hesitantly, but then added more confidently: 

"But I really didn't want there to be too many, and didn't think there had been 'too many'."

"You do understand, and you aren't, either way, and Anne is one of the three."

"Oh, that's good!" 

She squeezed his hand and raised her head to smile at him, and he did the same.

"Come here, on the pillows, its more fun to be able to look at you, ... and feel your warm eyes."

"And you, too," he agreed in a much more cheerful tone and sat up and joined her with their heads on the pillows, their hands finding each other again.

He smiled and then scowled slightly and said:

"Funny how those few words about that can be misunderstood."

"Um-hmm, my wilful inference and your unintentional implication."

"You use the language well. Maybe it was unintentional when I said it, but the implication occurred too, when I heard myself."

"Maybe just recognized that I could make the inference?"

"About the same thing; I could have footnoted my information."

"Hm-hm-hmm! If we'd been doing that, there would have had to have been lots of them."

"It would have been number sixty-nine, of course."

They both laughed, and she replied:

"I wanted you to say that."

"I'm putty in your hands."

"But not for long," she responded with a smirk and glanced down at his cock."

He snickered with a nod, and she grinned and asked: 

"You want me to knead you? You can spell that however you wish."

He snickered again and replied:

"Not with a K right now, but when I do, I'll knead your breasts."

"Thanks. I'm sure I'll feel like they need that."

"And then I'll need something else."

"But not to be kneed," and she drew her leg up and gently touched him where it could hurt. 

"Oooh! I didn't think of that, but it would be all right if you need me a little, ... just two or three times a day."

"Like this?" and she touched him with her knee a couple of times more."

His delighted expression during their play on words became more serious, and he replied: 

"I'd rather you need me one of the other ways."

"Me, too," she agreed, and their hands clasped as they smiled again. 

She extended her foot over his leg and urged him to draw it up, and they rolled their hips forward, her leg then resting comfortably on his. After a few moments enjoying the increased contact, she returned to their previous discussion:

"Only three? Anne and your cousin, and ...?" 

Before he could reply, she said:

"Oh, I'm asking too many questions."

"Hm-hmm, and they've all been good, for different reasons. Besides, I want to tell you, since it was so good ... in a couple of ways, ... three - to keep you from being the first one."

"Um-hmm?"

"A couple of years after we moved here, we had a French au pair for the girls, finished her baccalaureate and one year at university, but wanted to perfect her English. Hm-hmm! I hope she didn't too much; her accent was charming. ... Well, that didn't occur to me until later. 

"At Christmas, Anne took the girls to spend it with her parents for a few days, over New Year's, but I could only get away from Christmas Eve until a day after Christmas. 

"So there we were, Yvonne and I. Oh, she wore glasses, which didn't do anything for her looks. She was to prepare supper for us two while Anne was away and did. The first evening was fine - I mean, sort of neutral - but the meal was better than I had expected, and I complimented her on it, and she looked pleased. Oh, she had asked if we could have wine with it, which we don't do during the week, but I agreed, thinking she was accustomed to having wine with her meals, and it was her meal, so we did ..." 

"Which made things a little friendlier," Barbara interjected.

"Um-hmm, a little easier to talk. I had hardly talked with her till then. And the next evening ... - well, you can imagine, knowing what's going to happen - it was the same way, the talking a little easier, and it was a Friday, and when we had finished our meal and the wine, she suggested making coffee, so I helped her clear the table, which surprised her, but she seemed to like my helping her, and for the first time, I noticed what she was wearing, not anything revealing or whatever, just that I noticed. And we had coffee, and for some reason - I guess to show my worldly ways, and being Friday - I suggested that we could have cognac with it."

"Hm-hmm! You said I know where this is leading."

"Um-hmm! You want the short version? I never told anyone this before."

"Oh no! I want to enjoy the long version."

"Me, too, kind of fun recalling it."

"I hope so."

"So there we were, having coffee and cognac at the dinner table."

"By candle light?"

"Hm-hmm! That was all that was missing. No, but the lights in the dining room aren't too bright. And we finished our coffee and cognac. Oh, maybe she thought my offering cognac suggested something."

"It didn't?"

"Somehow, I think we went through this before."

"Um-hmm, sort of, but then you were young and innocent about how girls ..."

"Young women"

"... can think."

"Very, ... still am, ... at least until a little while ago."

"Forget it; knowing too much would take the fun out of it." 

"I think you're right, but I am sure I can't forget now, now that you've told me."

"Sorry. I guess I'll have to take the blame again."

"You've more than made up for my loss of innocence."

"You, too, ... and it's been - being - more than fun."

"Um-hmm. ... Anyway, so there we were, again clearing the table and in the kitchen - with just the light over the stove on - and she was standing closer to me than necessary, and I wasn't minding ..."

"You're good about 'not minding'. Nice things happen."

"I'll try to remember that. And I looked down at her - she was petit - and saw that her nipples were aroused - not so petit nipples, ... nor her breasts, for that matter - and she was looking up at me with big brown eyes, suddenly without her glasses, and lips that looked like they wanted to be kissed, leaning closer with a sleepy look ..."

"Bedroom eyes?"

"Very, and 'warm eyes' too, if you know what I mean."

"Hm-hmm, very!"

"So I did what any man would in that situation, and she didn't seem surprised or in the least offended, on the contrary! So we ended up in her room, in the dark, in bed, and when I started to do what I wanted, she immediately ... Oh, I was wanting her too, lying so that she could, and she did, and I was so aroused that I came before I could think about whether she might not want me to, but she wasn't minding, only wanting me to make her come, and I did.

"Funny, she said something in French and then remembered to use English and said: 'Tastes strange,' and I was thinking it was her first time, if she said that - not that it had seemed like it - but she always said it, I discovered later."

"Hmm! It does, of course. Hm-hmm! Maybe different from in France, and she had so much experience there, that it was always a surprise with you."

"Hmm! Well, she did have more experience than I expected - and than I had - ways to do it, that and otherwise."

"Like?"

"You would ask. Like wanting to sit on my face ..."

"That's real good! Thanks, Yvonne."

"Um-hmm, and wanting to do it standing up, me carrying her."

"Also good? Easier, her being petit."

"Yeah, both times. Anyway, of course, it was a little funny in the morning, but we managed that, and I still had a couple of rubbers from earlier, and she had 'condoms'. We used them, when we weren't doing it the other way."

"Sure seems to confirm the stories that all French girls do it."

"Um-hmm. She did, at least. Oh, and then later, when we talked about it, I did get the impression that it was very common in France. Hmm! She even admitted that a lot of girls - well, 'a lot' from the way she told it, did it with each other."

"Oh! Slept with each other?"

"Um-hmm. Don't remember how we got to talking about that, but she didn't seem to be bothered about telling me - oh, said something about girls ..."

"Young women"

"... young women enjoying doing what men did with them."

"Oooh! ... I guess if you like it ... If they don't have a hang-up about it ...?"

"That's what I was thinking, after I got over the first shock when she told me that. ... 

So, anyway, we had a good few days. Of course, it was more than a bit strange when the family returned, but Yvonne dealt with that better than I did, not showing the least interest - until Anne was away for a weekend. Yvonne immediately indicated that we could again, also the next time we had a chance, a couple of times.

"Maybe it was the difference in languages, cultures. It was very easy - except for my conscience - but because she just turned it off when Anne was there, that made that easier. 

Funny, she always called me 'monsieur' when we were in her room. She addressed me as Mister elsewhere in the house, even those first days, when we were alone. I said she could use my first name, but she explained that it might slip out at the wrong time."

"Clever, and probably right."

"Um-hmm. And the end of the story is that she had a 'naughty' French novel. Oh, I did tell her that she was the first gir... young woman to do it that good. She was very surprised, especially that Anne didn't. When I saw the novel in her room, even I - without French - could see that it was 'naughty,' and she told me as much, not even snickering when she told me what she used it for. That was some time in the spring.

"Did she or I suggest that she leave it for Anne to find? She reads French, speaks it quite well, too, but might have had to look up a few words in the book. Anyway, Yvonne left it in her bedside table, and Anne did find it - never told me, but it wasn't there later. And then Anne surprised me by going all the way. Luckily, she liked it, even said that she wished she had dared to much earlier."

"Think she suspected anything? ... No, I shouldn't ask that."

"Pretty sure she didn't; always spoke nicely about Yvonne, and I played dumb, of course."

"That's nice, actually real good, that Anne found the book and dared to."

"I like to think so."

"Oh, it is!"

They clasped hand again, with smiles.

"And French girls like to do it with each other," Barbara mused softly.

"Seemed so. I used to think about it, thinking that it must be good to know just what it was feeling like for each other."

"Um-hmm, that occurred to me, too. ... Hmm?!"

"Have a good girlfriend?"

"Don't ask! ... Not one that I could ask about that."

She snickered, smiling wryly at the admission that she had thought about the possibility.

"Pool?" he suggested.

"And beer, if I may."

"Good idea."

They got up and went to the kitchen, snickering again about her clothes there. Before he could open the beer bottles, she felt the urge to go to bathroom, and they both went back to the bedroom, to the bathroom there, and then returned to the kitchen and started on their beers with "prost," and went out on the patio, agreeing to finish their beers first. They sat back down again and enjoyed the sun. After another sip, Barbara mused:

"I wonder what would have happened if it had been raining yesterday morning, if I had then decided to come this morning, and you'd been at church."

"I'm glad it didn't. Maybe - just maybe - I would have thought to leave a note for you at the door. In any case, I would have given you a rain check for next weekend."

"But by then, maybe the interns would have planned something for Saturday, after another Friday evening. Someone was already talking about that."

"My bad luck, ... but the sun did shine."

"My good luck, ... and then it did rain," and she turned her head and smiled at him.

"And mine," he replied with a smile, and they drank to that.

They remained silent while they unhurriedly finished their beers and then stood up. She dove in; he slipped more quietly into the water. After only a couple of leisurely laps, they stopped swimming in chest-deep water, looking at each other and then smiling slightly.

"Warm eyes," she murmured, and he reached out and brushed her erect nipple with the back of his fingers.

"Remember what you said this morning," she added quietly.

"Um-hmm," he agreed with a nod.

They swam to the steps and got out and dried themselves. 

"Shower?" he asked.

They went back to the bedroom. As they were entering the bathroom, she murmured:

"Maybe two showers," and looked up at him. He nodded and gestured for her to go first, replying: 

"Or we might need another one."

"Um-hmm."

He handed her his washcloth before she closed the shower curtain and sat down on the toilet. After she had turned on the water and begun to wash herself, she said: 

"I guess I should go home soon, so that you can get some work done."

"At least think about it, ... try to."

"All the more reason, before this evening with your friends."

"Um-hmm. ... Hmm? What did I do all weekend, if they ask?"

"Hm-hmm! I can think of an answer that might be construed two ways, one correct, the other a bit flippant."

"Hm-hmm! ... Too flippant, ... and too correct."

"Some work, reading the paper, swimming, feeling lonely, ... No, that could suggest you might do something about it ..."

"Too true!" he interjected.

"Missing your family, wondering what they're doing."

"Um-hmm, good, ... but not telling about wondering how they'll sunbathe on the Côte d'Azur?"

She pulled back the curtain, and he handed her her towel, and she began to dry herself: 

"Not unless your friends ask you."

"He might, but not at home with his wife. I will have to read the papers."

She stepped out of the tub, and he got up and took her place, closing the curtain again.

She continued to dry herself, while he turned on the water, and there was a pause in the conversation. Then he asked her something softly, that the sound of the shower obscured. She stopped drying her hair and asked what he had said. Louder, but still tentatively, he repeated it: 

"You do want to come back, don't you?"

"Very much, ... if you want me to."

"Otherwise, I wouldn't have asked. I do."

After a pause, he asked hesitantly:

"More than just on the weekend? ... I would like you to."

"I don't know. ... Can we handle that?"

"You do ask the obvious question, the right question. I want to think we can."

"It will be easier for me."

"'Will', ... or 'would'?"

"It should have been 'would', but I said 'will'."

"Oh, you couldn't just move in completely; the cleaning woman comes on Thurdays, before I go to work. ... It would be sort of back and forth."

"That might make it easier, ... and if it didn't work, just 'back'."

"Um-hmm." 

He pulled back the curtain and smiled at her a little quizzically, and she handed him his towel, with the same expression, then asking: 

"Does she do the beds and kitchen?" She glanced at her towel and added: "And laundry."

"Not the beds, but you're right, we couldn't leave her a dishwasher full of two sets of everything."

"Or too many towels."

"I can tell her that friends were over to swim on the weekend."

"We'll just have to be sure there aren't too many in the wrong place, ... or long hairs."

He smiled at her acceptance that they would try it, and she smiled back with a soft snort and said: 

"I guess we will," and they smiled again, exchanging nods.

She went back to drying her hair, and he stepped out of the tub and finished drying himself, snorting as he murmured to himself: 

"Too many towels already. I wonder who was here this weekend."

"No one she also cleans for."

"Oooh, you're right; she does clean for people we know."

"Do we need a checklist?"

"Of unacceptable guests?"

"I was thinking more of what she does and what to avoid. Of course, I can do my laundry at the laundromat, even a towel or two."

"Good idea. We have a couple of days to think about that." 

When he hung up his towel, she held hers up with a questioning look.

"She doesn't come till Thursday," he responded, and she hung it up and followed him out of the bathroom. 

As he began to get dressed, she went to the kitchen and found her things, just putting on her panties and skirt and sandals and carrying her blouse as she went upstairs. In the younger girl's bedroom again, she looked at herself in the mirror, grinning at seeing herself with only a skirt on, and then found her bra and put it and then her blouse on, and brushed her hair. Then she returned to the ground floor with her bag, finding him bringing in the things they had left on the patio, and reminded him that he had to reset the alarm clock. When he returned, he said: 

"I've been thinking: I have a meeting tomorrow evening - I guess I have to go to one about every week - and I could pick you up after the meeting - if you still want to?"

She nodded.

"How big a bag do you need for a few days' clothing? I guess it would be best if you went back to the apartment on Wednesdays, probably easier if you went from work."

She nodded again and said: 

"I found an empty sports bag in one of the girls' rooms that would do."

"I feel bad about planning all this. Are you all right with it?"

"It has to be, as we discussed before. Yeah, but it's best. Maybe I shouldn't come back until Friday evening after drinking with the interns: a couple of evenings for laundry and stuff."

"Um-hmm, that's good. I'll probably be passed around for Friday dinners; a colleague invited me over last - no - two weeks ago. I'll give you a key, so if I'm not home yet, you can get in. ... Are you sure this is all right?"

"Um-hmm, but it doesn't have the charm of spontaneity."

"It sure doesn't."

"I'll get the bag," and she went off and returned with it and asked: 

"Where can I get those rubbers - and some more?"

They both snorted, and he replied:

"Try Long's Drugstore at the shopping center. Wonder where they got them."

"Me too, probably not there. This will be a first; glad it's not at home."

"Thanks for handling it. ... Oh, if you want a gynaecologist, my wife likes hers, an understanding lady. She told Anne that she would prescribe the pill for Annette before she goes off to college, if we wanted her to. I'll get you her name and phone number."

He hurried off and returned and gave her slip of paper. She put it in her bag and that one in the sports bag, and they looked at each other with slightly disappointed looking expressions. 

"We only have to do this once, getting organized," she said quietly.

"Um-hmm, but I still didn't like it."

"If it doesn't work out, then we've already had the best of it."

"I hope not, not that I can imagine it getting better."

"Just 'very very good' will be all right."

He smiled at her having quoted his words and taken the sting out their previous conversation, and she smiled back, pleased that she had been able to. He accompanied her to the door and offered her his hand, his nice warm hand, as they looked in each other's eyes, only smiling slightly. Then her smile broadened a little, and she said:

"Warm eyes, even if you can't see them."

He smiled more broadly with a snort and nodded, replying: 

"Till tomorrow evening," and she was off.

It did work out.

He picked her up, and she settled in, hiding her clothes and personal things in Annette's room and using the upstairs bathroom for everything but showers, to make sure they didn't overlook something of hers downstairs. The first Wednesday evening, she joined him again, just to help make sure they didn't miss anything before the cleaning woman came. He joked about the "four-eyes principle" she had learned in the bank. He gave her a key to the house, and then she went back to her apartment. 




Whoosh, Bang! Ch. 03



She had already made an appointment with the gynaecologist for Thursday, and did get a prescription for the pill. Friday evening, she remembered her own supply of rubbers, but still went to the drugstore with some trepidation, but there was a woman druggist on duty, who didn't ask any questions and had the right brand. He was already home when she arrived and was as please to see her as she was pleased to see him again. She put away her clothes and replaced Annette's hidden supply of rubbers, and returned to find him preparing supper. Even though they still had one of Annette's, he was pleased that she had already been able to replenish their supply, enjoying her story about how she had felt buying them.

And so it went. She didn't tell him that she was on the pill until they could forego rubbers, and he was very pleased. That also allowed a new type of spontaneity, since on the weekends and in the evenings after a swim, they usually didn't wear anything. A week before her period, she warned him, but that also worked out very well; he had a business trip the first part of that week and hadn't yet told her, and the next month he managed to plan a trip to coincide.

Of course, they didn't make love every night and seldom as often as that first weekend together, and sometimes it was only very good. They just let it happen when it became evident that they were both wanting to. Friday evenings, of course, they usually did, often in the pool, if he didn't come home too late. He had been right about his being invited to dinner by colleagues. After the first round of these, however, he could excuse himself earlier, sometimes calling as he opened the door: "Let's go swimming." After the first time he said that and what transpired, it became a sure indication that they would, so sure, that one of them sometimes would tease the other: he maybe insisting that he really wanted to take a long swim; or she demurring: "Oh, I don't know. Do we really want to do it out here again?" They always did, and sometimes on the kitchen table after breakfast on Saturday - never in the dining room, where they only ate when they were clothed. But one evening she did crawl under the dining room table and get her dessert. He got his later.

They took a weekend trip to a lake in the hills, two hours from the city, arriving late Friday evening. She had great trepidations, worrying what the motel keeper would think and more worried about his reputation, but he assured her that only he would have to go and check in, telling her with a chuckle: 

"I don't know the place, but I do know that a couple of the 'good parishioners' joked about it at an after-game party." 

He was right; there were no problems. They didn't just make love in the motel room; they hiked in the hills, both tacitly understanding that they wanted to find a nice secluded spot and did - and a different one the next day, Sunday, still in the forenoon. They were able to joke about hoping he was missing the sermon that could have been problematic.

They managed to avoid interpersonal problems by respecting their understanding about not showing affection when sex wasn't involved, and not too much then, always pleased with themselves when they had managed to keep it in check, even able to joke about it as another big balloon, one they didn't want to burst, just deflate before it got too big. 

When one of them disarmed a show of affection, the other would punch a finger up and say "whoosh!" and they would smile and retreat a little. After a couple of times that way, the one who felt the situation called for disarming would just point a finger, and the other would say "whoosh." That happened often enough; the affection was there, but they contained it. 

Once, when she was sitting on him in the bedroom, their favorite position, they tested the limit - sex was involved. Looking at her, as she moved her hips on him, he murmured: 

"I love to do this with you."

Barbara smiled slightly with a nod and squeezed him in confirmation, but then frowned slightly and held up her finger. He shook his head and said: "No 'whoosh' ... like this," glancing over to the mirror, where they both could see themselves. Their eyes met there. She smiled again with a soft "uhn" as he twitched in her and agreed softly: 

"I love to feel you do that."

"I love the way you make me have to."

"Um-hmm," she agreed with a stronger smile and churned her hips, making him twitch again as she clutched him.

"I love you to do that," he murmured with just the slightest pause after "you."

"Like I love you deep in me."

He rocked his hips up sharply, holding them there. Her stomach drew in as she exhaled with a moan, her eyes closing as she clutched him, and then murmured - her eyes still closed: 

"Like that, there." 

Her eyes opened as he relaxed his hips, and she sat very still on him as they looked in each other's eyes, hardly smiling; his action and her response having tilted the ambiguity of her remark away from off-limit interpretation. She felt a reflexive twitch in her and couldn't suppress her reflex to clutch him again, clenching her eyes closed. She opened her eyes, biting her lip. That happened again, less intensely, and she managed to keep her eyes open. 

For a few moments more, she sat there, but that didn't happen again. Without smiling, they each held up a finger: 

"Whoosh," he said.

"Whoosh, ... whooshy-whoosh-whoosh!" she agreed, eliciting a grin from him that she returned.

Their grins faded to mild smiles. Their "whooshes" seemed to have reduced their arousal; they remained still, just looking in each other's eyes as their grins faded. When she rose up, his cock dropped down, and they went for a swim.

They never repeated that experiment, but occasionally - apropos of nothing - she repeated her "whoosh, whooshy-whoosh-whoosh," and smiled at him. He would return her smile with a "whoosh," and they would return to what they were doing after this veiled exchange of affection, deflated before it was expressed. The first time she did that was when they were putting fresh sheets on the bed the next morning. 

After a close call with no sex involved, and an especially loud "whoosh" - they had different levels of them by then - they agreed that if their balloon ever went "Bang!" it would be all over. They didn't discuss whether that meant their affair would be all over, or whether it meant it they would have admitted that they couldn't control expression their affection - with whatever other consequence. 

He got letters and cards from his wife and daughters, sharing the girls' with Barbara and passages about them from his wife's letters. They all did go topless on the Côte d'Azur. One of the girls even alluded to it, writing on a postcard with view of the beach: "... and you should have seen us on the beach!"

His wife's letter - obviously written after she had read the card - said: 

"YOU shouldn't have seen them, but everybody else sure did -- saw me too, eventually. Almost all the women did, some who made me look real good in comparison. The girls must have talked about it before. When we got on the beach, they went off a bit and just looked around, as if to assure themselves that what they'd heard (where?) was true (it was) and glanced at each other and "whoops!" our big girls popped their tops off! Didn't ask their Mom or even give her a glance. What would mine have been? What should it have been? They probably knew, but it was too late then. Actually, they have very nice figures, in case you haven't noticed (not too much, I hope). So I took mine off with less aplomb and more embarrassment than they showed, but no one seemed to notice. Oh they did, nodding with smirks. It looked like they had been practicing in the sun at home more than I knew, but that kept them from standing out like the other Americans here. OH! I must have been one of those!"

He and Barbara laughed, and she said: "Now we know."

"Um-hmm," he agreed and added with a chuckle: 

"She continued the letter the next evening and admitted that someone had noticed her. I think she was a little pleased, yeah, that she had enjoyed using her French."

They smiled at each other a little quizzically and changed the subject. 

Then they had to think about what would happen when his family returned, a week before Barbara's job ended. Obviously, she would be invited for dinner again, maybe even to swim. That would be a real problem, since by then she had an obviously seamless tan, one she was looking forward to impressing classmates with, although she wasn't sure how she was going to explain how she got it. She decided that she would beg off swimming with a remark women would understand. He told her about the public pool where she could have worked on her tan, but then said that he would say that he had given her guest membership at the country club - as compensation for her not being able to use their pool during the summer, which led to a discussion about whether she had visited him or not. They agreed - with some chuckles - that he had just invited her the first weekend and that they had ageed - no, that she had suggested - that it was inappropriate for her to use their pool when just he was there.

At the end of their last day together, one so filled with latent affection that they didn't dare touch each other, he gave Barbara a pearl necklace, a very nice pearl necklace, one that could only be explained to friends as an heirloom - and hidden from family. She had tears in her eyes, and the balloon almost burst. He even said softly: 

"Don't burst it with a bang." 

She managed a smile through her tears, and pointed a finger and whispered:

"Whooooosh," and more tears flowed.

He had to put his arm around her, and had tears in his own eyes, and they embrace each other very tightly and shared a last kiss, just an affectionate kiss, a very affectionate kiss, too affectionate, but neither wanted to disarm it or hear the other say "whoosh."

In bed that night, Barbara wondered if she had actually thanked him for necklace, something that bothered her every time she wore it - every time with a pang of emotion, even years later - until she gave it to her daughter. She told her the story of how it was given to her, and then the necklace was an heirloom, one with a nice a romantic story, but she still felt a slight pang when she saw her daughter wearing it.

The meeting with his family also worked out.

There was no pool invitation, and when she arrived for dinner, she really managed to see the interior of the house with fresh eyes. With fresh enthusiasm, he showed her his netsukes again, both of them successfully avoiding any innuendoes. At the table, of course, the conversation centered on the trip to Europe, and the younger daughter even alluded to their having gone topless, which Barbara heard with feigned surprise. He took the wind out of her sails by remarking that her mother had written him all about it. 

"Really?" she replied, looking a bit crestfallen, and then changed the subject by asking Barbara if she had used their pool. He said that he had invited her the first weekend and told their story. His wife approved, saying that they both had done the correct thing, and the conversation returned to the trip.

When the evening ended, he again offered to drive her to her apartment. Of course, she couldn't refuse, although they both recognized that being alone together was last thing they needed. The scent of his now so familiar aftershave filled her nose. As soon as the car was out of the driveway, she said: 

"Whoosh."

"Um-hmm, whoosh," he agreed, and they continued at intervals to exchange "whooshes."

"Triple needs," he said, but she responded immediate:

"Don't!"

"Whoosh!" 

They managed to keep their balloon deflated with more "whooshes" until they arrived at her building. When she had opened the car door, they shook hands in the dark, hardly able to see each other's face. After a moment, she murmured:

"Warm eyes, ... but I can't feel them," and slipped her hand from his and almost ran to door of the building, sniffling as she found her key and then tried to find the keyhole.

He watched her until she had opened and closed the door without looking back, and murmured a final "whoosh" to himself. He leaned across and closed the car door and sat there for a few moments and then said softly: "No. ... Bang."