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Frost

By: Feotakahari



A note to the general audience: this is an oddball, and I'm not entirely sure it belongs in Sci-Fi and Fantasy (though it would probably fit even worse in any other category.) Don't worry, though, as unlike my last story this contains no masochism--it's closer to the "transformation" end of things.

A note to those like Mack: I tried to research your lore, but you don't seem to have a unified mythology. No one can agree on where you lived or what you were like, from the most important aspects to the simplest details. I consider this a reason not to believe, but many ages have passed, after all, and memories can no longer be expected to be clear. Thus, if this story does not match the feelings inside you, treat it as an alternate view, subject to exaggeration and lies, but perhaps with a core of truth.

"Frost?"

The man spoke with a note of bemusement, drawing Trisha out of her thoughts more effectively than the many drunks who'd tried to flirt with her. She turned around on her barstool and looked him in the eye, trying to gauge his intentions.

He looked away in apparent embarrassment. "I'm sorry--I thought you were someone else." But it was too late for him. She looked him over--his tall, muscular frame and Nordic face, so different from her smaller, darker self--and she decided she liked what she saw. "Wait. I'm not Frost, but you look like you need a friendly ear. Sit down, and tell me what's on your mind." He sat down on the stool and took a moment to settle in, and then he talked. For an hour, he talked.

She listened without interrupting, apart from occasionally ordering drinks for him, and at the end of that hour she knew his name (Mack), his job (construction worker), his favorite color (white), and even what he ate for breakfast (plain oatmeal, every day.) It was obvious to her long before the outpouring finished that there was something he was hiding, but she was hardly the type to pry. When he was done, she told him her name and the bare minimum of information about herself, and they exchanged phone numbers. She hid her smile until he was out the door.

---

"He's adorable," Trisha told her friend Betty. They were on lunch break at the office where they both worked, and Betty, as usual, had turned the topic to Trisha's love life. "He acts like he's a superhero or something, but he's so scared inside. I'm not sure whether I want to comfort him or drag him into bed by his ankles."

"You'll pick the ankles, I just know it," Betty responded.

"He looks like he stepped off a plinth in the park! It would be immoral of me not to take advantage of him before someone else does. But I've got to wonder what he's so afraid of. He never mentioned any friends, any family, or anyone he trusts at all--it's like he doesn't want to get close to anyone."

"You were doing just fine before those last couple sentences. Give it a few years, and you'll be just like me."

They had a good laugh at that. Both of them knew that no matter how low Trisha sunk, she would never be like Betty. Then the topic turned to the latest unfortunate man Betty had her hooks in, and Trisha put herself on autopilot, saying as little as possible and thinking about Mack.

---

Their second date was a proper one, with flowers and a meal at a nice restaurant, but Mack's limited budget and Trisha's dislike of fancy food soon had them realizing they were better off keeping things informal. They met for the third time at his apartment, where they sat down on his bed and had themselves another talk. When he exhausted his discussion of the present (and showed no willingness to talk of his past), she found herself filling the gap in the conversation, telling him more and more about herself. Something in him invited trust, and she told him things she'd only said before to Betty, and even a few things she'd never told anyone before. When she, too, finished, they just sat there for a minute, close in body and feeling closer in mind.

"Who was Frost?" She didn't realize she'd asked him the question until a second after she'd done so, and then only from his startled expression.

Within five seconds, he was fully composed again, and his voice was neutral as he responded "Just someone I knew, a long time ago."

"I remember the way you said her name the other night. I can tell you've got some issue with her, something you can't forgive yourself for." She chuckled. "Confession is good for the soul, and who better to confess to than me? I don't know you well enough to blame you or judge you--it'll be like talking to a wall, unless you want me to talk back."

He eyed her for a long moment, and she could tell he was debating how much to tell her. Then he slumped forward and looked off into space.

"We called her Frost because she looked like she'd been snowed on, pale and strange, with funny-colored eyes that could never see very far ahead. None of us had ever seen an albino before, and the older folks told me her birth caused quite an uproar, though I was too young then to remember it. Half of us thought she was cursed. Even her parents wanted her abandoned to die. But my father thought she deserved a chance, and he was the closest thing we had to a leader. He and my mother wound up raising her alongside me."

"She was always a sickly girl. I don't know much about medicine, but I think something went wrong before she was born, something bigger than just albinism. She was never very strong or very fast, and she got tired so quickly. But she tried--believe me, she tried--and over time she strengthened up."

"The other kids thought she was an easy target, but only when I wasn't around. And I was around most of the time. There was something about her that made me want to protect her. It wasn't that she was different, or even that she was weak. It was that she didn't seem to care. There was something in the way she held herself that showed that she wanted to be more than she was; that someday she might be greater than all the rest of us. You have that something too--that's why you reminded me of her, even though you don't look anything like her."

"And then . . ." He trailed off.

"If you're not ready to talk about all of it yet, I'll understand," Trisha said.

Mack didn't respond directly. "It's getting late."

Before she ushered herself out, she asked him one last question. "How long ago was this?"

He only said, "A lifetime."

---

"You asked him about his ex? What were you thinking, Trisha?"

"It seemed like the right thing to do. I think he only trusts me because he thinks of me as her. I need to know what she was like so I don't scare him off. I've already found out that I need to act like I want to be 'greater than all the rest of us,' because she acted that way."

"The goal here is to get him to think of you instead of his ex! A guy who's fucking a memory makes a lousy lay. Trust, me, I know a lot about it."

"I don't know. It's so strange. Sometimes I feel like I've met him before . . ."

"Oh no you don't! You're trying to get laid! Don't start getting all weird and romantic!"

Trisha was silent for a moment. "Yes. I'll try to remember that."

---

Neither Trisha nor Mack brought up the subject of sex, instead gradually approaching it through touching and petting during their time at his apartment. The night she finally "got laid" was simply one where she took the initiative in trying to remove his clothes, and he took no initiative in stopping her.

Shirtless, he was magnificent, toned by the labors of his job. Pantless . . . She barely stopped herself from laughing at how embarrassed he looked. "Don't worry, it's perfectly normal for it to be that size. You're no porn star, but you'll do."

For a moment, he seemed very far off. "I could do better."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you trust me?"

She, too, was briefly distant. "Yes, I trust you. Why do you ask?"

In response, he leaned in close to her, and he whispered.

She wasn't sure what he said. She remained mostly unsure even as his voice grew louder and he leaned away. She couldn't tell whether he was speaking or singing, and whether it was in English or another language altogether. And then she couldn't tell what she was seeing, either--there were two of him at once, mirror images in the same space.

His words turned into a hiss, and black scales rippled across the cheek of one image. They spread across its face, then along its body. The duplicate grew and grew, till it was half again her height, and wings unfurled from its back. A tail hung low behind it, and its face pushed out into a reptilian snout as its fingers grew into claws. A snake's tongue poked out between its lips, tasting the air.

Are you afraid? the dragon asked, or words to that effect, at least. Part of her wanted to scream in terror. Another part could still see Mack's human body, and knew this wasn't real. But a third part of her repeated "I trust you" and waited for its response.

It reached for her shirt, but she gently pushed its claws away. "You'll tear it." She removed her clothes, then lay back on the bed with her legs spread wide, a maiden sacrificed to the wicked dragon. It extended its tongue, longer than she would have thought possible, and took a taste of one of her breasts.

Then it feasted.

Its tongue seemed to be everywhere at once, tasting, touching, bringing ecstasy. That part of her mind that was still rational noted that Mack was using his hands as well as his tongue, but when both Mack's and the dragon's tongue found their way between her legs, she ceased to care about the distinction. She rocked, and she screamed, and she hoped she wasn't waking up Mack's neighbors, because how could she ever explain about this wonderful dragon?

Sated at last, she lay still for a moment, basking in the feeling. Then she got up off the bed and took a good long look at the creature before her. "Turnabout is fair play, dragon."

Bringing her eyes to the part upon which she might direct this fair play, she found it too large to fit comfortably inside her. Too wrapped up in the illusion to even see Mack anymore, she wrapped one hand around the dragon's member, barely able to touch her forefinger to her thumb around its mass, and moved her hand up and down it, delighting in the strangeness of the scales. She bent over and licked the tip as her hand worked at the length, unable to provide as much pleasure to the dragon as it provided to her, but determined to try.

She ran her other hand down the dragon's back, disappointed to find no ridges like she had expected, then paused in disbelief as her hand encountered resistance. The scales were one thing, but her fingers should have gone right through the tail! But she didn't question it for long--she stroked the dragon's tail and penis together, trying to match both rhythms to her tongue's licking, and a satisfied hiss told her she'd made the right choice.

It didn't take long for the dragon's back to arch, and for a bitter taste to fill her mouth as a familiar fluid spattered her lips. Then she came back to herself, kneeling before Mack, with one hand on his dick and the other in empty air. She rushed to the bathroom and spat into the sink, then washed her face as Mack quietly laughed. "I almost feel insulted."

As she returned to the room, he stopped laughing. "So . . . now you know."

"I don't think I do," she responded. "What was that?"

"The last bit of magic I have left, one that makes me a bit like what I was in another life. Not as impressive, of course. Back then I could have wrapped you three times in one wing!"

"Then Frost . . ."

"Yes, she was a dragon too."

---

"That must have been one hell of a lay, Trisha."

"How could you tell?"

"You know the way those young guys walk when they've just gotten laid for the first time, like God just came down and congratulated them for it? I hardly ever see girls walk like that, and never an old hand like you."

Trisha did not, in fact, know what Betty was talking about, having significantly exaggerated her sexual exploits in an attempt to compete with her, but she did not feel like admitting it. "I'm not sure he's human."

"I've had a couple of guys like that. Just wait till he's leaving his dirty socks in the middle of the floor--he'll be human enough."

Whatever her faults, Betty had always been able to keep a secret, even one as big as Mack's. "I mean I'm not sure he's human. If it had happened to someone else, I'd have called it really, really good hypnotism, but . . ."

"What, a vampire? Did he suck your blood?" Betty was almost laughing.

"A dragon. I'm not joking. I can still feel the scales."

Betty gave Trisha a long, hard look. Then she relaxed. "Whoo-ee! He must really have fucked your brains out!"

---

Over the next few weeks, Trisha and Mack met almost every day. Sometimes she talked about her day-to-day grind, and Mack shared his stories of abusive supervisors and unsatisfiable clients, but the topic always turned to dragons.

He could not tell her where or when they had lived, only that there was water on three sides of their rocky aerie, and that snow covered the region in the winter. But he could tell her of the time he had spent there, of his friends and foes as he grew up, and even of some of the stories that the eldest dragons had told him. A few times he mentioned his father, stern, proud, and never quite as wise as anyone thought. Many times he talked about Frost, and the closeness the two had once shared.

By day, she never believed a word of it. By night, how could she deny it, when a dragon's long tongue licked her face as its tail penetrated her and its claws dug into her skin? She learned to enjoy the dual life, and not to wonder or worry.

But at last she had to ask the question. "How did Frost die?"

"What?"

"She must have died. That's the only way it all makes sense. If you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to, but . . ."

For a moment he looked very old. He looked straight forward, away from her, and spoke quietly. "Men came."

"We didn't know what they wanted. We'd never even seen their kind before. But the first of us to go and talk to them was spitted on their spears."

"Father called together all the best hunters, then led them off to fight the invaders. I was among them, though I asked to stay behind. I was worried about leaving the aerie unguarded. But Father was certain there was no danger. There was no way the humans could reach the aerie without passing by us."

"Father was an idiot. I broke ranks halfway to the invaders' camp, and avoided the ambush that killed him and everyone with him. I don't know how the humans got up the cliffs, but by the time I'd gotten back, the aerie was in ruins as well--I guess they knew that if someone escaped the ambush and got back, everyone else would flee."

"Frost was mostly in the hatchery, though parts of her were outside it. She'd tried to block the way to the eggs, which were stolen long before I got back. Some of her hide was gone--I think they wanted to see if it could be made into armor."

"You know the legends. A dragon can't go to its final rest until all of its hide has been burned to ashes. When the invaders left, I burned the dead in the aerie and at the ambush. Then I stuck the end of my tail in my mouth, and I bit down hard. I hid it on top of the tallest peak in the aerie--the flesh inside might have decayed, but I think the hide is still there."

"So many years searching for the last piece of Frost's hide, with no idea where to look. A shield, a helmet, a wall decoration? I searched as a dragon, until at last the humans killed me too. I think I searched as a man, though I can't remember any lives between then and now. I'm still searching, even though I don't know if the hide still exists. If I can find it, or find proof that it was destroyed, then I can look for the aerie again, and maybe I can rest."

"Or maybe there's another way." He leaned closer to her. "Maybe I can find Frost . . ."

She stared at him. "You still think I'm her?"

He smiled. "I don't know what to think. Some days I'm certain you're her. Some days I'm certain you're not. But I'm not sure I care. You're you, and I love you. Even if I hate the humans, I love you. I'm not going to give up on finding that hide, but Frost can wait for the end of this life."

---

"How're you and dragon-boy doing?"

"I think I know now why he's so afraid of people. I think I can fix everything."

"Sheesh! It's not like he's a broken vase! And you don't owe him anything, remember."

"He needs help from somebody. I might as well be the one to give it to him."

"You always were a bleeding heart. I'll roast popcorn in the dragon-flames when this goes wrong."

---

That night, like so many others, Trisha and Mack undressed themselves for bed. Mack transformed as soon as he'd finished taking off his pants, and Trisha was as aroused as ever. But before casting her shed jeans aside, she took a condom out of a pocket and waved it in front of the dragon. "See this?" she asked.

It'll never fit, replied the dragon.

"Oh yes it will. Do you trust me?"

As the dragon nodded, she leaned in and whispered to it. Then she leaned back, and spoke, or maybe sang.

Kneel, she told it, and its eyes widened as it obeyed.

Are you afraid? She ran her fingers across its cheek, and the scales vanished, replaced with soft pink skin that spread across its body.

You are human, she said as she pressed down on its shoulders, compacting it into a more manageable size. It stood again, but found itself no longer tall enough to escape her ministrations.

The dragons are long since dead, as she massaged its snout into a face.

You can never bring them back, as she touched its claws, then kissed its now-human hands.

Tell their stories, as she folded in its wings.

But let your rage die, as its tail vanished in her hands.

Lock your memories inside a corner of your heart. With that her words stopped. Her tongue was occupied with the dragon's penis, which softened and diminished under her care, becoming a still-serviceable human erection.

At last Mack stood before her, staring at her in disbelief. "You're Frost," he said, and it was not a question.

She looked up at his face. Does it matter?

She slipped the condom on him, and their sex was fumbling and awkward and human. They lay there together, and she whispered a few more words to him before they both fell asleep.

You will never again live as a dragon. But maybe you could still be a man.

---

"It's over now. He could probably still be a dragon in bed, but I don't think he's a dragon at heart."

"And they say you can't change a man. Sometimes you amaze me, Trisha."

"I don't know. I just don't know. I thought I saw a way to give him a happier life. I still can't be sure whether any of it was real, and I don't know whether we'll be able to stay together. He's got too many issues for me to treat all of them. But he tapped into something."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I don't know if it was hypnotism, or magic, or if we really were both dragons. But I did something last night that I shouldn't have been able to do. And it won't go away. The feelings won't go away."

"Earth to Trisha. You're a soulless hedonist, and you're talking to another soulless hedonist."

Trisha leaned close to Betty, and whispered a few words. As she leaned back, she spoke, or maybe sang, and for just a moment white scales rippled across her dark face. Then she drew silent, and they vanished as if they'd never been there. Betty and Trisha stared at each other, neither speaking for several seconds.

Are you afraid? I am.

Frost Heaves



...

Chapter One: Signs

As the houses and barns became more and more spread out along the countryside, the road beneath me got rougher. I began to relax as I distanced myself from the debacle that was this last weekend, and let my foot lean on the accelerator a little harder.

Road narrows. That sign was accurate, as the shoulders of the two lane highway gradually disappeared, and made me back off of the gas pedal a little.

Bump. That one always made me smile, as I wondered why they just didn't fix the thing instead of putting a sign to commemorate it. It wasn't even worth mentioning most of the time, and this one was no exception, as I wouldn't even have noticed it otherwise.

Frost heaves. Now that was an interesting one, I remember thinking as I leaned into the gently curving road just before the car became airborne and the gravel disappeared. I remember flying past a sizable oak tree just prior to the front end of the Saturn connecting with the side of the hill. Then everything went blank as my life passed before me in my mind.

...

Chapter Two: My life.

It wasn't exactly my life that flashed before me at that moment, but more a rehash of the last weekend, and I couldn't help but think that those couple of days would be a fitting ending to what had become a very sad existence.

I had traveled out to Buffalo to attend the graduation of my - our youngest daughter from college. My heart swelled with pride as I watched Chelsea stride across the stage to accept an award, and marvelled at how much she looked like her mom did at her age.

That was long ago, when her mom was a lot different than the woman she had become. Truth be told, I bore little resemblance to the person I had been back then myself. The difference was I hadn't become shrill and pretentious as the years went on. What had I become? Besides bitter and depressed, that is.

Jane was my wife for almost 20 years, and we had managed to produce 2 wonderful daughters. Young women so magnificent that it made the union worthwhile, although there were times when I wouldn't admit that.

Great in the early years, when we were both idealistic and naive, our relationship had become less and less about each other and more about our daughters, which was understandable. Soon, there was practically no relationship at all, and we had become roommates instead of husband and wife.

Jane's life became all about things. Jewelry and clothing. Social climbing and keeping up with the neighbors. Our incomes allowed a certain degree of this lifestyle, but apparently not to the extent Jane wanted. She always wanted more, and better than what we had. 

I grew to despise her materialistic ways, and longed for her to go back to being the wide eyed party girl I had fallen in love with back in our teenage years.

What she longed for, I couldn't say. I was not the person I was either, and in the end had become the person Jane did not want any more. In the end, when she finally pulled the plug on our marriage, it was an act of mercy. To her credit, she did what I could not get myself to do. Walk away. What she didn't expect was my reaction to her declaration, which was pretty much a nod and a shrug. I couldn't even work up any emotion over it.

Two years after our divorce, she had remarried. Jane had found her ideal mate; a doctor who could obviously afford to give her all the things she wanted. More things, and better things than I could ever provide. 

Jane was now very happy, and she took pains to tell me that at every opportunity during the past weekend. She paraded her entire jewelry collection during the time we spent with Chelsea at the various functions we attended. I fought to keep the smile plastered on my face as Jane flicked the verbal jabs in my direction in her subtle and sometimes not-so-subtle manner, and I counted the minutes until I could tactfully flee the scene.

That's how I found myself on some hillbilly road that morning, driving way too fast and thinking far too much. Getting off the interstate and roaring away on the back-roads had been my way of letting off steam and frustration in recent years, and had usually proven to be cathartic as well as infinitely more interesting than the tedium of the Thruway.

After the car flew off the road upon hitting the sizable swell halfway around the bend, and I watched the imminent collision unfold, I felt no terror, or even remorse. It was almost as if I found it better it to end this way than to live the life I had been living, and not taking anybody else with me made it all the more acceptable.

...

Chapter Three: Still ticking.

The burning stench of the air bag was the first thing I remember as I began to regain my senses. My upper torso was embedded in the device that had employed precisely as advertised, and had apparently saved my life.

I wasn't even hurt, I discovered to my amazement. Nothing serious at least. My shoulders throbbed, as did my wrists, which had the skin torn off of their insides. The top of my head hurt, possibly as a result of hitting the visor. I seemed to remember reaching to flick the shield down to block the sun just before the car had become an unsuccessful airplane.

As I reached up through the inflated pillow to feel the bump on my head, my shoulders protested with a searing pain of amazing intensity. From outside the car, I heard a voice, but it was so far away, it seemed like a dream. 

Pushing the airbag away as best I could, I saw the face of a woman looking into the passenger side window. With the sun behind her head, she had an angelic look about her, almost like she glowed. Maybe I was dead after all.

"Hello," I said lamely. "Mind if I park here?"

"Can't believe you're still alive," the woman said. "How bad you hurt?"

"I'm okay," I said as I tried to open my door.

"Want me to go call for help?" she asked, and then added, "You'll never get out that way."

I looked to my left and saw the reason that the door wouldn't open. The tree that I had noticed during my flight was wedged against the door. Luckily, I had missed it by about a foot, although I wasn't sure whether it was good luck or bad. One thing was certain; if I had met that tree head on, all the safety devices in the world wouldn't have saved me. The tree was probably twice my age, and looked like it would have brushed me and my Saturn off like a leaf.

"No, I'm okay," I said as I tried to climb over the stick shift while getting my face away from that raunchy smelling airbag. "Just need to get out."

The passenger door opened and I felt the woman grab me under my arms and pull me toward her. I grimaced from the pain as she managed to get me over the obstacle, and I wiggled my way out of the car to survey the damage.

"Good grief," I said as I looked at the crumpled front of the car, and the steam that billowed out of the hood was not a good sign either.

"Heard you crash from down my place," the woman said as she waved down the road to a farmhouse.

I looked over to where she was pointing and felt the earth spin as my head turned.

"Hey buddy, you don't look so good," the woman said, as I fell back against the side of the car. "Why don't I take you over to the hospital? It's only about 25 miles away."

"Hospital? No - no thanks," I said as I reached into my pocket for my cell phone. "Triple A can pull this thing off your property and take me into town."

I punched the buttons on my phone for a few seconds but heard nothing but silence, even after I walked around and went to a higher piece of ground.

"I don't think you'll have much luck with that thing," the woman said as she watched me with an amused look on her face.

"No towers around here I suppose?" I asked in resignation as I angrily flipped the phone closed. "Where am I anyway?"

"Darnell," the woman answered. "Population 145, I figured you weren't from around here."

"Darnell?" I asked as my head began to throb. "Never heard of him, but he should do something with this damn road of his."

I looked back over at the huge swell at the top of the hill, and shook my head slowly. It looked like a ski jump, and I was not surprised at the result of my hitting it, especially at the speed I had been traveling.

"I'll tell Darnell next time I see him," the woman answered with a chuckle. "Maybe he should put up a new speed limit sign back at the town line. Guess some people can't tell that some kids spray painted the 30 into an 80."

She was having a little fun at my expense, and for a minute I got a little irritated. Would every interaction with a woman have to be painful? 

I didn't get mad, for two reasons. One was that she was being very nice to me, and the other was the realization that the accident had been my fault, not Darnell's or anybody else's. 

"Guess I was going too fast to see the speed limit sign too," I admitted.

"Can't blame you for that, my friend," the woman said. "Most people in their right mind keep the pedal to the metal when they hit Darnell and don't let up until it's in the rear view mirror."

"No offense meant against your town," I said.

"None taken, Mister..."

"David. David is fine."

"Pleasure to meet you David. I'm Callie."

We lightly shook hands, as Callie took my wrists into consideration, and I actually looked into her very pale blue eyes for the first time.

"Is there a service station around here?" I asked hopefully.

"There's a guy in Earlton - Jeff's Garage - he does good work, and he's the closest. About 8 miles east. I can get you to the hospital and then call him to get your car."

"I'm really okay," I insisted, my hatred of doctors and hospitals legendary among friends and relatives. "Maybe you could take me to the service station and then I could get myself a room in a motel for the night. A little rest is all I need."

"A motel? I don't think there's anyplace closer than Starkville, about 15 miles away," Callie said. "They've got these little cabins that are so darn small you can't swing a cat inside."

I looked around at the miles and miles of rolling hills and fields spread out around me as far as the eye could see. I had really done it this time, I thought, and looked longingly at the barely missed tree. 

"Look, that's my place down there," Callie said, pointing to a farmhouse about a 1/4 mile down the road. "Why don't you come down and we can call to get your car taken care of? Can't make you go to the hospital, but at least you need to get those scrapes taken care of. What say you come down and clean yourself up. No sense in standing up here all day."

"Hate to be a bother," I said, knowing that there were few alternatives.

"No bother at all," she said.

That was how I met Callie.

...

Chapter Four: Callie's farm.

I climbed into the beat-up pickup truck on unsteady legs, and as Callie coaxed the engine to start, I began to question the wisdom of not getting medical attention. My head throbbed with every jerk and bounce of the truck, and my wrists were raw and burning. As for my shoulders, even getting the door closed was a painful experience.

Luckily it was a short drive to the weather-beaten farmhouse that stood at the bottom of the hill. A two story house that had been painted white a very long time ago, with a expansive porch in front and a big barn in the rear.

I could see a horse looking at me with curiosity as I labored to get out of the truck, and the protesting sound the hinges made as I closed the door got a cow mooing from somewhere out of sight. What was that show I used to watch so long ago? Green Acres? Well here I was, broken down in Hooterville.

Callie kept watching me with with a look that could safely be considered wary, and I managed to give her a grim smile as I followed her up the steps of the porch. I noted that Callie certainly did fill out a pair of jeans well. They were a faded and worn out pair of Levi's, and I chuckled silently when I realized that they had likely become that way through wearing, not bought in the store like that, so I guess that made them unfashionable.

Inside, the house was neat and even though the furnishings had seen better days, it looked nice enough. We passed a photo of a grinning man and Callie, likely taken about ten years ago. Her husband, I assumed, as we passed another photo of the two of them. I wondered what the guy thought about his wife taking in guys like me into his house, and pictured what my reaction might be if the situation was reversed. Even more interesting was imagining my ex going to fetch somebody in need and bringing them home. Fat chance of that.

The bathroom was very utilitarian, with a old tub and sink that must have come with the house. A tiny lighted mirror above the sink was the only admission to modern times, and after I followed her over to the sink, Callie turned on the water and had me put my wrists under the tap.

"Ahhh!" I groaned as the cool spray hit my raw wrists.

Callie chuckled as she grabbed a bar of soap and lathered it up between her hands. Her hands looked strong and muscular, much like the rest of her appeared to be, although with the bulky red flannel shirt it was tough to tell. Her fingernails were neatly trimmed and without polish, and when her soapy hands began softly scrubbing my wounds, the pain was eased somewhat by the pleasant feeling of being pampered like this.

"Boy, that bag really took off some layers of skin, didn't it?" Callie asked. 

"Quite an experience having that thing go off in your face," I said. "Although I guess bloody wrists are better than a fractured skull."

"I heard the crash from down here," Callie said as her strong hands cleaned the wounds as gently as she could. "That and the horn going off got my attention alright."

"Gee, I hope your husband doesn't get the wrong idea," I said, trying out my famous sense of humor on Callie. "Us being in here like this."

"Well, if you hear the screen door open and a man's voice call out for me, I suggest you head for the door and run like the devil," Callie said dryly. "Of course, I'll be way ahead of you."

"Oh gee, is he the jealous type?" I asked.

"No, he's been dead going on seven years."

...

Chapter Five: Open mouth, remove foot.

The silence hung in the air for what seemed like forever, as I tried to figure out a way to extricate myself from the awkward position I had put myself in.

"I - I'm sorry," I said lamely. "I saw the pictures and I had no idea."

"Don't worry about it," Callie said in a matter-of-fact manner, not even blinking as she reached for the towel beside the sink. "No way of you knowing, and besides, I egged you on."

Callie dried my wrists with care, even though I wouldn't have blamed her if she hadn't. There were a couple of open shelves next to the sink, and Callie grabbed a bottle of something, shaking it as she opened it, directing me to put out my hands.

"Gonna sting some," Callie warned just a second before drenching my wrists with hydrogen peroxide.

I let out a howl as the stuff bubbled on my open flesh, the stinging making my eyes water as the disinfectant did its job. Callie dried the unaffected parts of my hands and grabbed a roll of cotton bandage.

"You should be a nurse," I said as I watched Callie expertly wrap my left wrist before going to the right.

"Should have been something," Callie noted cryptically, although that little wry smile appeared in the corner of her mouth.

As Callie worked, I looked at her face, which was gently weathered and lined in a way that made it impossible to guess her age. 35 or 55, or someplace in between, I figured. Maybe older too. Possibly younger. Hell, I was never good at guessing ages anyway.

Her complexion was flawless though. Ruddy might be the word I was looking for. A few freckles around her nose and forehead, full lips and sparkling teeth, and strawberry blonde hair that was cut short of her shoulders. I hadn't thought of my Florence Nightingale as beautiful when I first saw her, but the more I looked at her, the more pleasant looking she became.

"There!" Callie said, as she looked up at me, having finished wrapping my wrists.

Catching me staring at her made her a little flustered for a second, but she quickly regained her composure and tidied up the mess she had made.

"Anything else I can doctor up for you?" Callie asked.

"Do you have any Advil or something like that?" I asked, hoping for relief from the pain in my head and my shoulders.

"Got some aspirin," Callie said, and poured me a glass of water before getting them. "Why don't you come in and sit on the couch before you fall down. Still don't look right to me."

"I never did," I admitted glumly as I followed her into the living room, and her resulting chuckle made me smile through the pain.

I eased myself into the couch while Callie returned with the aspirin.

"I'm gonna call the garage, even though I doubt if anybody is there, it being Sunday and all," Callie said. "You just rest, but don't fall asleep. I think you're supposed to stay awake after something like this. Are you hungry?"

I shook my head no, very carefully.

"Of course, if you went to the hospital like I suggested..."

Callie's voice trailed off as she went out to the kitchen, suspecting that her advice was going to be unheeded. While I knew she was right, I was always the stubborn type, and so decided to grit it out. Maybe just rest my eyes a bit.

...

Chapter Six: I'm awake.

That was what I said in response to having my eyelid raised. Although my brain was a bit foggy, I immediately deduced that this wasn't Callie looking into my eyes, but some old coot.

"Relax David," I heard Callie say from behind me. "He's a doctor."

"Retired," the old guy said.

"I got nervous when I couldn't wake you up, so I went and got Dr. Nelson," Callie said.

"Good thing Callie did, son," the doctor said. "Better safe than sorry."

My body relaxed as I let him peek around my eyes and head, being too sore and tired to fight it. He had me take off my shirt when Callie mentioned that I had told her my shoulders hurt, and they had to help me off with it because I couldn't manage.

The doctor tested my range of motion, lifting and stretching my arms in every way possible, and I bit my lip rather than let on how much it hurt. Finally, the old guy straightened up and delivered his diagnosis.

"Best thing would be to go to the hospital, but Callie said you're dead set against that," Dr. Nelson said. "You probably have a slight concussion, and some muscle damage in your shoulders, but you'll live despite yourself. Saw where your car landed, and I'd say you made out pretty good."

I agreed with his assessment, if only to end the conversation, and thanked him for his time. Callie walked out to the kitchen with him while I tried to keep my temper in check. When Callie returned, I let her know how much I appreciated her disregard for my wishes.

"Thought I said no doctor," I said bluntly.

"Tough turds," Callie snapped. "My house, my rules. Rather deal with you surly and alive than quiet and dead. What would I do with a corpse on my couch? Now come with me."

Callie helped me get to my feet and led me down the hall. I was brought into a bedroom that had a slight air of disuse. It was sparsely furnished, and when I looked at the clock I couldn't believe my eyes.

"8 o'clock?" I asked in confusion.

"Like I said, you were out quite a while," Callie said, pulling down the bedsheets on a bed that looked very inviting. "I was nervous."

"My suitcase?" I asked, looking at my travel bag that had been in the trunk of my car.

"Went up and got it," Callie said with a look on her face that indicated she was a lot more upset than I had been. "Couldn't get a hold of the garage so I left a note on the car in case the county sheriff came by and saw the wreck. Figured you'd need your stuff."




Frost Heaves



"Look... I'm sorry," I said sheepishly. "Didn't mean to come off so miserable. Guess I'm a little more messed up than I thought."

"If you need anything, I'm down the hall," Callie said. "Bathroom is to the left and I'm to the right."

Callie headed out the door but I reached out and tried to grab her. Even though my weak reach didn't stop her, she paused at the doorway.

"Callie please," I said meekly. "I'm really sorry. You've been so nice to me - guess I'm not used to it. Thank you."

"Want to show appreciation, lift the seat when you go," Callie said gruffly, but that little smirk appeared in the corner of her mouth, making me feel better immediately.

I let my pants fall to the floor, kicking them over to the side, and even though I had pajamas in the suitcase, I was too tired and aching to bother. Instead, I eased myself into the soft bedding and pulled the sheet up, smelling the freshness of the pillow as I fell asleep almost the second my head made contact with it.

...

Chapter Seven: Nature calls.

I awoke with a start, for the moment forgetting exactly where I was. In the semi-darkness, things began to make sense to me, and I propped myself up on my elbow. From somewhere down the hallway, I heard the sound of water being turned off, the loud thump of the pipes reverberating throughout the house.

The reason for my waking up became clear to me, as my kidneys were sending me that familiar signal, but it was not at a crisis point yet so my head went back down onto the pillow. I waited for an appropriate amount of time to pass before heading out to use the facilities, and may have even dropped back to sleep for a moment, before coaxing my sore body up out of bed.

Treading quietly down the hallway, I saw the door that must be Callie's bedroom open on the right side. The light was on, and so I didn't do more than just peek into the room as I passed by it, my objective being a few steps past and to the left.

I stopped abruptly at the doorway, frozen at seeing the room occupied, despite the door being wide open. Part of me wanted to quickly turn away and head back to my own room until Callie was through. The other part of me refused to cooperate, and so I stood there and stared.

Callie was at the other end of the bathroom, brushing her hair with a vigorous intensity as she looked in the tiny mirror. The brush crackled with static electricity as it sped through her short strawberry blonde locks with quick strokes. I spent little time watching her brush her hair, however, as I found other areas to occupy my attention.

Callie was naked.

With her back to me, I was treated to a sight that I found enthralling. Could this be the same women I had spent the conscious parts of my day with? 

Callie's body glistened with moisture from the bath she had emerged from, and her skin was smooth and pale, except for her calves and her arms from her biceps down, which were lightly tanned.

Callie was no dainty little flower, and that was something I already knew even through her bulky clothing. If I had spent any time picturing her naked, and I admit to have invested a few moments in that endeavor, just I did most women I came in contact with, this was not exactly what I had expected.

Callie's shoulders were broad, and as she moved the brush through her hair I marveled at the way the muscles over her upper back and shoulders rippled with the movements, and her biceps bulged with definition. Not outrageously like a weightlifter, but more like a woman in great physical condition, and the sprinkling of freckles on her shoulders gave a nice feminine touch.

From her broad shoulders and back, my eyes traveled downward, enjoying the way her waist tapered down rather dramatically. From there, her hips flared out nicely, and although I have never been that big of a derriere aficionado, it was difficult not to appreciate Callie's full yet firm looking buttocks.

Finishing my visual inspection after admiring her shapely legs and the calf muscles that exposed themselves as she moved from side to side, for a moment I longed to have her turn around so I could fully appreciate her beauty.

Then I abruptly came to my senses, wheeling around quickly and padding quietly back down the hall to my room. While my description certainly took up more time than the actual event, it was still way more than an accidental glance, and it would not be very proper to have a guest caught drooling at his hostess like a pervert.

Therefore, I went back and sat on the edge of my bed and drooled in private. After hearing Callie moving around and the sound of a door clicking shut, I peeked around the corner of the doorway, and after seeing her bedroom door closed and the bathroom door open, with the light considerately still on, I ventured back to do my duty.

I lacked a whole lot of dexterity, what with my wrists being rather useless, and as I tugged my underwear down, there was a noticeable problem that made a successful process impossible. Waiting for moment, I tried to think of things besides Callie, so that my equipment would not be staring upwards toward me.

At least that still worked, I thought to myself, after the mental rehashing of a conversation with my ex brought my excitement level down considerably. For whatever that was worth, I added in a whisper to myself while flushing the commode. 

...

Chapter Eight: The rooster crows.

Not exactly a rooster, although that would have made for better story. More like the sound of a tractor in the distance, and as my eyes adjusted to the sunlight streaming through the curtains, I noticed the clock.

Ten thirty? I was usually up at six every morning, and my head reminded me that these hadn't been much of a usual 24 hours that had just passed. My body ached as I struggled to put on my pants, and I hobbled to find the bottle of aspirin at the best speed I could muster.

Out in the kitchen, I squinted out and saw Callie riding a tractor, doing something to part of the field close to the house. She looked so different to me now as I watched her bobbing slightly up and down on the seat. Guess that's what happens after you've seen somebody naked, or at least naked from behind.

There was a coffee pot still on, with a clean cup next to it that I took for an invitation. The coffee was strong but tasted great to me, and I felt my stomach grumble as the coffee woke it up. I poked around a little bit, hoping to find something to snack on, like a pop tart or something quick, but came up empty.

I did find the bread box, and threw a couple of slices in a toaster that was almost as old as I was, hoping Callie didn't mind me making myself at home like this. The toast came out as perfectly browned as I had ever seen, and tasted even better than it looked, so I patted the toaster apologetically before cleaning up after myself.

I wandered into the living room and saw the television set in the corner. A brief look around for the remote proved fruitless, and when I saw the rabbit ears on top of the set, I figured out that there was no cable TV. No dish either.

I turned on the set, and judging by the age of the set I wasn't sure what would appear; Shari Lewis, Sid Caesar, or maybe Kukla, Fran and Ollie. Instead, I found a blurry image of Bob Barker coaxing people to bid on a showcase filled with goodies. A manual trip around the dial led me to stop at Andy Griffith taking Opie down to the fishin' hole, and since the picture was relatively clear I decided to sit down and relax.

I woke up to the sound of pots and pans rattling out in the kitchen. My shoulders screamed as I lifted myself out of the comfy old chair, and I waddled out to see what was going on.

"Hi," I said to Callie, who was busy cooking at the stove. "What's for lunch?"

"Tomorrow, you mean?" Callie said.

As my eyes began to focus I looked at the clock on the wall.

"Six o'clock?" I said in shock.

"Always do this much napping?" Callie said as she looked at me cautiously, almost as if I looked as woozy as I felt.

"Like to get all my naps in before I go to sleep," I told her, and in reality I felt like going to bed again.

"Hope you like meat loaf," Callie said.

"Sure," I told her, and tried to be of some help by setting the table for her. Not an easy thing to do when you don't know where anything is, and when you have to keep asking it takes as lot of the help factor out of the equation, but Cassie was good natured about it.

Callie could surely cook, and her meat loaf was something like I hadn't had in years, and my appetite was apparently back in full force. Callie seemed to enjoy watching me wolf down her cooking.

"Been quite a while since I had a meal as good as that," I told Callie as I helped her clean up.

Doing the dishes by hand was also a nostalgic experience, and as I awkwardly dried them with immobile wrists, I began to think of ways I could repay Callie for her kindness. Maybe a dishwasher would be something she'd appreciate. That or a television set. I knew I would have to get her something for all she had done for me.

"The garage called," Callie said. "They came and got the car, and Jeff said that the insurance company is coming by there tomorrow to get a look at what's left. He thinks they might total it, but it's hard to be sure because the car's so new. He said he would call and let you know when they tell him."

"Figures," I said. "Look, I can't be putting you out like this while they play around with my car. I've got to be back to work tomorrow, or call them up and let them know what happened. Maybe you could take me to the garage tomorrow and I could rent a car from the guy."

"Be glad to take you," Callie said. "Don't know as if he's in the rental car business though. If it's worrying about getting in my way that's bothering you, don't. Couldn't even tell you were here today at all, except when you ate. You're welcome to stay here David, until whatever happens, happens. Maybe I'll put you to work when you feel better."

"Okay... well, I'll call work tomorrow and extend my vacation a bit then," I thought aloud.

"Good," Callie said. "Kinda nice to have somebody around the house anyway. Makes me feel less weird than talking to myself. I'm going out on the porch. Grab another glass of lemonade if you'd like, and if you want to join me outside, feel free."

....

Chapter Nine: Callie's life.

Callie was sitting in a tattered old chair at the end of the porch, which was as big a porch as I'd ever seen, easily thirty feet long and half that wide. She looked tiny sitting down there with her drink on the railing, looking out at the sun which was sinking fast in the sky.

"Quiet out here" I said softly after settling into an old but surprisingly comfy sofa that creaked in protest at being used.

"Not like the city I suppose," Callie said, never taking her eyes off the sunset.

"No, but this is nice," I admitted.

I supposed that a little bit of this quiet and solitude would be refreshing, but I couldn't imagine a lifetime of this seclusion, and wondered how Callie could.

"Seems like it would get a little lonely out here though," I said tentatively.

"It does," Callie said after a minute. "Of course, I've got Gordon and Ellie and all the others to keep me company."

Gordon was the horse I had seen on the way in yesterday, and Ellie was the cow I hadn't met yet. Callie explained this all to me after I gave her my puzzled look. 

"I can't believe you take care of this farm all by yourself."

"Well, when the corn's ready I get a couple of kids from Starkville to help me," Callie explained. "Frankly, there ain't much farming done on this farm anymore. Least, not like it once was... before Carl passed."

"Your husband?" I asked, and Callie nodded. 

The darkness had enveloped us almost like someone had hit a switch, and the chirping sounds grew louder and louder with each second. It had started with a solitary chirp, and within seconds it had become a symphony. 

"Wow!" I said as the noise enveloped us.

"Peepers," Callie explained. "They really get going, don't they?"

"He seemed young... your husband," I said. 

"Thirty seven," Callie said. "He had a heart problem since he was young, and one day it stopped being a problem."

"Oh God."

"One minute he's out there on the tractor waving at me, and the next minute he's slumped over the wheel with the tractor going in a circle and his leg jammed up on the gas." Callie said with a weary shake of her head.

"Gee."

"Carl would have gotten a kick out of it himself, if he had seen it," Callie said, tossing her head back. "What would you call that - a metaphor of our life? Always going and going and never getting anywhere."

I didn't know what to say and so just sat there and sipped my lemonade while Callie continued.

"I didn't really know what else to do, so I decided to try and stick it out here. What else could I do? High school diploma doesn't get you anywhere these days, and all I really knew was farm life. It's how I grew up, and how we had always lived."

I jumped a little bit as a cat rubbed up against my leg from out of nowhere, and I reached down and scratched his head as Callie continued.

"I didn't know half as much as Carl did, but what I didn't know I learned. Carl had some insurance from his days in the service, so I could at least pay off the mortgage and keep up with the taxes, but there was no money for hiring anybody or getting things fixed, so I had to learn it myself."

"Amazing," I said in admiration. "Seems like it would have been real easy to just quit."

"I did, many times," Callie admitted. "I'd sit here and cry my eyes out at night, hurting and tired and scared, and swear that I'd put the place up for sale and move out the next day. Then, come morning, I'd be up with the sun, doing what had to be done." 

"There aren't many people like that these days," I said ruefully.

I wasn't, I said to myself. I had quit on life when things went bad, and felt ashamed after listening to Callie.

"People do what they have to do," Callie said.

....

Chapter Ten: Helping out.

I had started to feel really guilty about watching Callie doing all the work, and me just laying around like a piece of furniture. My shoulders still ached, but the pain had dulled somewhat, becoming more of a constant throbbing. My wrists were still a bit of a mess though, and I hated using my hands for anything.

Still, when I saw Callie working on the fence and struggling a bit, I couldn't just look out the window, so I hustled out to join her and see what I could do.

Callie was trying to do three things at once; lifting up the top rail of the fence and holding it up while trying to tie wire around it to keep it in place.

"Hey, let me give you a hand," I said as I joined her at the fence.

It was a warm afternoon, but not unpleasantly so, and the sun was refreshing to feel. Callie was wearing her jeans and a red flannel shirt that had the sleeves torn off, or worn off.

"I've got it," Callie said as she struggled to hold up the wooden slat, which wasn't so much heavy as it was awkward to deal with.

"I know you do, but it's got to be easier with an extra pair of hands."

"You'll get your bandages all messed up, and I'm not sure if I have any more or not," Callie protested, but I was intent on doing something - anything, to help, so I grabbed the slat of wood and held it up. It hurt, but not as much as standing idly by would have.

"Can't just keep laying around here watching you work," I said as Callie finally released her hold on the plank to me and began to secure it with the wire.

My eyes took in Callie as she worked intensely. She could have - would have, done this by herself, but I think that more than being a help I found myself just wanting to be around her. Something about being around her made me feel better.

My eyes admired her forearms, bronzed and beautiful, with the veins bulging slightly with her exertion. Traveling further up, her pale biceps also showed the signs of her struggle, as the muscles tensed with each movement.

I was startled when, as I was giving Callie my visual inspection, I noticed a little spray of golden brown hair nestled in her exposed armpit. Why this surprised me, I don't know. The modest wisp of hair was both perfectly natural and rather attractive on her.

As my attention was focused under Callie's arm, my mind went back in time to my teen-aged years, recalling with fondness the girl who took my virginity that night in 1970. Back then, the sight of an unshaven armpit was not startling, but more an expression of one's independence. What had happened to Doreen? What had happened to me?

"You do like to watch."

I woke up from my daydream at the sound of Callie's voice. She was staring at me with an amused look on her face as I tried to pretend that I hadn't been staring at her underarm while she worked.

"Uh - sorry," I said, looking out over her shoulder at the field. Anywhere but at her face.

"See a whole lot of things out here that you don't see in the city," Callie said with a chuckle, clearly enjoying my discomfort. 

"Guess I was daydreaming," I said sheepishly.

"Curiosity killed the cat," Callie noted.

"Didn't something bring it back though?" I asked hopefully.

"First nine times, probably," Callie noted. "Don't know about after that. I think he ran out of luck."

I chuckled at that, and followed along as she moved on down to the next section of fence, as Callie became resigned to the fact that I was going to help her no matter what.

"You staring off like that," Callie continued as I held up the next piece of wood for her. "Maybe that accident did more damage than you thought."

"Actually, I feel better today. Much better."

"Maybe that's just your nature, being curious. I noticed you doing some staring the other night. In the hallway."

I felt my face flush as I figured out what Callie was referring to. Me staring at her in the bathroom.

"Sorry," I said, my embarrassment level rising once again, and I shook my head at my repeated apologizing. "I say that a lot these days."

"No need to be sorry," Callie said with a big grin. "Now, if you had gotten sick, or screamed out in horror, that would have been something to apologize for. Even now, you can always say that you are still in shock after the accident and don't even remember what I'm talking about."

"No, I said slowly, not wanting to be sounding too forward, but unable to resist a little additional comment. "I remember that quite well."

"Just having fun with you, David. My fault for leaving the door open. It's tough to get used to closing doors after all this time."

"I didn't realize you had noticed me," I told Callie, enjoying the playful conversation as her Ivory soap freshness caressed my nostrils.

"You stared just long enough to make me feel good," Callie said. "And speaking of baths, you're going to need one yourself."

I had begun getting dirty from the little work I was doing, and had to agree.

"We'll take care of that tonight," Callie said. "Maybe I'll get to watch this time."

....

Chapter Eleven: Bath time.

I looked at the ancient bathtub warily, towel in hand. There was a curtain that was hung on a metal frame around the perimeter of the tub, and a portable shower head that could be connected to the faucet. While I stood there and figured out the options, Callie tapped on the door.

"I'm decent," I called out, wrapping the towel around my midsection quickly.

"Figured you might need some help," Callie said as she came into the room with another towel and soap.

"Trying to figure out how I'm going to manage this," I said. "Tough to manage without getting these bandages wet."

The bandages on my wrists had just been changed by Callie that morning, and I had noticed that she had used the last of the gauze bandages to do it.




Frost Heaves



"Why don't you just hop in the tub and take a bath," Callie suggested. "I can do the scrubbing for you so your wrists stay dry."

"Uh... gee," I said.

"Course, if you're ashamed or embarrassed," Callie said.

"It's not that, it's just..."

"Nothing I haven't seen before, I suspect," Callie said. "Used to give my husband baths all the time."

"If you wanted to, you could hop in with me," I offered.

"You already got your peeking done last night."

"Didn't get a real good look though," I answered quietly.

"Maybe you're better off that way. Here, I'll draw the bath and get you set up. Then I'll turn my head while you get in the tub so I don't see anything I shouldn't."

Callie got the tub filled with comfortably warm water, and even threw in some bubble bath to boot, saying that it would give me extra protection from her prying eyes.

"I don't mind if you look," I told Callie as I gingerly climbed into the tub.

My knees and shoulders still ached, but a little less with every passing day, and the soothing warmth of the water made me feel even better as I sunk into it.

"Not a bad looking guy for a man your age," Callie commented, having apparently observed my backside as I had climbed in the bath.

"And what age might you take me for?"

"I don't know - 75 maybe?" Callie said, and chuckled as I groaned in reaction.

"I'll have you know that I just turned fifty," I informed her. "My sorry appearance is the result of a lifetime of being rode hard and put away wet."

"Only kidding, David," Callie said as she hooked up the hose and ran it over my head before squirting a little shampoo into her palm. "I figured you for middle 40's."

"I guess it would be rude to ask you your age," I said.

"It sure would. I'm 45."

"Really? You don't look it."

"Okay, let me have it," Callie chirped. "Give me the punch line."

"No punch line," I said as Callie began working the shampoo into my hair. "I wouldn't have even hazarded a guess, because you have a natural beauty that transcends time."

"Oh brother."

"Well, if you got in here with me I could make a more complete appraisal."

My head got hosed down in response, as Callie gave me the old rinse and repeat treatment, and as her fingers worked into my scalp again I gripped the sides of the tub as best I could, keeping the wrist bandages dry.

"This is incredible," I said. "The girl who cuts my hair back home washes it beforehand, but somehow it never feels as good as this. You say you used to give your husband this treatment?"

"Of course," Callie said. "We used to give each other baths all the time. Why, didn't you and your ex?"

I laughed at that thought, trying to remember the last time Jane and I would have experienced this kind of thing, and realized that my memory must not go back that far.

"No, not that I remember, although I'm pretty sure her doctor hubby isn't getting this kind of caring either," I replied. "That's why I'm not much into believing the higher power thing."

"How so?"

"Because if there was any justice or any degree of fairness in the world, I'd have been wrapped around that tree out there and your husband would still be..."

I turned my head away as my emotions overwhelmed me, fighting to keep the tears from flowing as my body betrayed me. Callie kept scrubbing my hair, although much slower now, as I struggled to regain my composure.

"Sorry," I sniffed. "Don't know where that came from. Guess I really should go to the hospital and get my head examined."

My eyes were blurry from the tears, which I blamed in part on the shampoo, but I could see clearly enough to tell that Callie's eyes were watery as well. Nice going, David, I thought to myself. Make everybody as depressed as I was.

"Boy," Callie said as she rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes before grabbing the soap. "You're as hairy as a bear."

I smiled as Callie scrubbed the pelt of hair that covered my chest, not cringing on contact like Jane had seemed to do on occasion, and I shivered a bit as my back got the same treatment. After lifting my arms and letting Cassie soap my armpits, I looked down to see that my cock was fully erect and had reared his head above the bubbles, much like a periscope.

Moving my hips slightly to try and arrange the bubbles did nothing to camouflage my condition, and despite my best efforts to think of unpleasant thoughts, the touch of Callie overwhelmed everything. Her scent - her touch - just looking at her was too much. Even when I saw that Cassie had become aware of my condition, my staff still waved around without shame.

Cassie was now down at the other end of the tub, washing my feet and between the toes. The muscles in her arms rippled as she worked the soap up and down my calves, and as Cassie made small talk I couldn't help noticing her eyes were alternating between looking at me and at the scene below.

When Callie reached the point where she had meticulously scrubbed every inch of my body with the exception of one very obvious area, she looked at me with a perplexed look on her face.

"Uh... I..." 

That was Callie's only comment before giving her shoulders a little shrug and lathering up her hand. Reaching down between my legs, I raised my hips up slightly to allow her access to the crack between my butt cheeks.

Callie's hand crept upwards before pausing to knead my scrotum with her soapy hand, doing a very thorough job of rolling my balls around and getting into every crack and crevice. Suddenly, I let out a gasp as I realized what was about to take place. I think the back of her hand may have rubbed against the underside of my cock just before it happened, but I suspect that it was going to erupt with or without that touch.

I let out an involuntary whimper as I felt my groin tingle just before I orgasmed. Not an easily ignorable orgasm either, to my embarrassment, as I watched to horror as my seed spurted out like it were a geyser. At least three jets of cum spouted up in the air before our eyes before splashing down into the tub.

I vaguely recall feeling Callie's hand pull on my cock a few times as my orgasm continued to wind down, my hands clenched onto the rim of the tub while my body shook. 

It felt so incredible while it happened, but it paled in comparison with my humiliation after it ended. Unable to look at Callie, I kept my head down as she eventually pulled the plug in the tub, letting the soapy water run out. For my part, I wished that I could have followed the water down the drain, feeling just about pathetic as you could imagine.

I stood up while Callie asked, and let her hose off the soap that clung to my body, and then let her help me out of the tub. She dried me off without comment or further spectacle, although I felt that no matter how ashamed I might have felt, had she continued drying much longer, a revival might have been possible.

"Here you go - all bright and shiny," Callie announced as she put a robe around my shoulders and walked me out the door and toward my room.

Not my fault. I think you're very attractive. It's been a long time. It's been years since any hand but my own had been around there. It's been forever since I've felt this way about somebody else. 

All of those thoughts and excuses ran through my brain as we neared my door. I had to say something; after all I had just ejaculated all over both of us as a result of an intimate bathing and an innocent touch.

"You okay, David?" Callie said as she opened the door for me.

"Me? Yeah - uh, Callie..."

"I'm sorry about that David," Callie said, and tight lipped smile on her slightly colored face. "That wasn't very nice. My fault, okay?"

Callie reached up and gave me a kiss on the cheek and headed back down the hall to her own bedroom. SHE was sorry?

"Callie?" I called out. "Don't be - I mean, I enjoyed it."

"I noticed," Callie said with a smile and a twinkle in her eye, just before going in. "Good night David."

....

Chapter Twelve: Act like nothing happened.

The next morning, I was rather reluctant to show my face in the kitchen while Callie puttered around, but finally worked up enough courage to go out and get it over with. To my relief, Callie greeted me with a smile, almost as if nothing had happened the night before.

"I'm ready for work," I announced. "What do we need done around here?"

Callie handed me a steaming cup of coffee and gave me a choice of tasks that she warned would be thankless, and I happily accepted, announcing that my wrists were much improved.

"After today, I'm not going to need the bandages anymore," I said, figuring that they had healed sufficiently so that the air would help things along.

"Well, if you want them bandaged tonight, let me know," Callie informed me. "There's a roll in the drawer next to the fridge.

I nodded, and then did a double take, seeing Callie smirk as she turned away.

"Hmmm..." I mused. "Thought you were out of bandages."

"You said that, I didn't. I said I wasn't sure."

I chuckled, realizing that she had given me a bath because she wanted to.

"I can blame the accident for how I feel, but you have no excuse," I said, but Callie was long out the door, the creaking as it opened and the slamming as it closed effectively drowning out her reply.

Callie had given me tasks that even an idiot couldn't mess up, and I did them happily, trying to do them in an order which allowed me to be as close to her as possible. Somehow, just looking at her make my heart skip a beat. Why I was feeling like a kid was beyond me, especially since my car would be fixed soon and I would head back to my real life.

My real life seemed so far away that it hardly existed. In my office, stuff would be piling up on my desk, and people would be screwing things up royally until I returned. To my surprise, not only didn't I care, the image only stayed in mind for an instant before I forgot about it.

I had explained to the powers that be at work about my accident, and took the rest of the week off, pledging to call back by the end of the week when I had a better grasp of the situation.

The car situation had been decided by the insurance company, the guy at the garage had told me earlier. They were happy to shell out damn near the price of the car to have this Jeff guy repair it, so I would have the pleasure of driving an almost totally rebuilt car with a few thousand miles on it, instead of them just junking the thing.

Besides, who knows what kind of a job this Jeff character would do with it, I thought to myself before giving him the okay to do it. It would be at least a week, depending on how fast they got the parts to him. Another week here with Callie, out here in the middle of nowhere, playing farmer and doing things that I never even considered before.

"Go ahead," I told him, as I looked out at Callie feeding Gordon the horse a carrot. "I guess I'll be out here at Mrs. Parks' place if you need to get in contact with me."

"Who? Oh, Callie's? Gotcha!" Jeff replied.

I resisted the urge to throw in an "I reckon" at the end of my sentence, figuring it wasn't a good idea to make fun of somebody fixing your car, and went out to break the news to Callie.

"You really should just take me to a motel, because this is taking advantage of your generosity," I said after telling her that I would be without a car for about a week more, and that would mean a week more of my mooching.

"I should," Callie said, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand as she shielded her eyes from the sun. "Maybe I will."

That startled me, until I realized Callie was playing around with me. Better watch that, I cautioned myself. It wasn't smart to be going around making offers that you pray don't get taken up on.

"Better still, why don't you give Gordon a brushing," Callie suggested, handing me a couple of bristle brushes and giving me a brief instructional before leaving me and big old Gordon alone. 

"He'll let you know if you don't do a good job," Callie warned me, and when Gordon turned his head and gave me a wary look, I tried to reassure him that he was in good hands.

"How's this, Gordo my man?" I asked him while working the brush into his coat with a circular motion as directed. 

"You smell very horsey, if you don't mind my saying sir," I said, and chuckling at Gordon's snort of a reply.

"I know, you'd rather have Callie doing this," I told him while continuing the brushing along with the conversation. "She does have a way about it, you've got to admit."

I became so engrossed in what I was doing that, that I was almost sad to be done with it. Gordon was a good listener, and I had really gotten into it. He actually looked good after I got done with him, I noted with pride, and told him so as I put the finishing touches on his mane.

A chuckle from behind startled me, and I looked around to see Callie watching me, or should I say us, and she laughed as she walked over to us.

"How long have you been there?" I asked, patting Gordon's head.

"Long enough to catch some of your snappy patter. Conversation was a bit one-sided, but Gordon's a good listener, aren't you boy?"

Gordon nodded his head while Callie scratched him behind his ear, and she complimented me on the job I had done.

"Gordon would have let you know if you screwed up. He would have kicked you in the shins."

"How come you didn't tell me that beforehand?" I asked.

"Didn't want to make you nervous. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I have to go into town for supplies," Callie said while turning away from me. "Won't be long."

"Hey, can I come with you?" I offered, and Callie shrugged and motioned me to follow.

I assumed that my sudden appearance had depleted her pantry, and maybe if I paid for the groceries I would feel less guilty about my stay. Besides, it would give me a chance to be with Callie some more, and that was what I really wanted.

....

Chapter Thirteen: The bustle of the town.

Callie pulled out of the driveway, and as we drove past the house, I noticed once more how badly the house needed a coat of paint. It was in good shape otherwise, but a fresh paint job would not only protect her investment but make a world of difference in the way it looked.

Wonder what something like that would cost? I had to do something for this woman after all she had done for me, I thought to myself as we headed down the gravel road. I had thought about other things I could buy her, like a new TV or some modern appliances. Things she could really use. Hiring somebody to paint the old farmhouse? Now that was something practical and something she couldn't refuse or return.

"That's the Hayes place," Callie noted, beeping the horn as she pulled into the drive of a smaller version of her own place that was about a half mile down from hers. "Her husband died, the kids are grown and moved away, and she's going to end up selling, because she's way too old to keep the place up alone."

"That's sad." I said, looking at the twisted, rusting remnants of a swing set in the backyard, a sad reminder of part of a family's history.

The kids that played on that were now adults, with kids of their own, and now only the decaying metal remained to mark the memory of their being here.

"Hey Edna!" Callie called out as a frail looking woman came out onto the porch.

"Hi Callie!" the woman said, coming down the steps at a rather quick pace, displaying a remarkable agility for a senior citizen. 

"Going into town and wanted to know if you needed anything," Callie said. "This here's David, a new friend of mine."

I looked around Callie and waved at the woman, who smiled and returned the greeting.

"This must be the boy that smashed up his car the other day!" Edna remarked with a cluck. "Saw them tow the car past here. You're a lucky fellow!"

"Don't I know it," I responded, happy to be part of the local news, such as it was.

"Of course, you got double lucky when you got Callie to mend you up," she said with a wink and a grin. "Most fellas would be happy to tussle with a tree for a chance at having a nurse like her."

"Oh Edna, guys have run into trees trying to get away from me," Callie said, blushing a little at the elderly woman's teasing. "What can I get you?"

"Could you get me some Tide?" Edna asked, reaching into the pocket of the apron she was wearing and pulling out a few bills.

"Thank you honey," Edna said after Callie told her she'd be back soon.

"Nice meeting you too, young man," she said as we pulled out and back down the road.

"Been a long time since I've been called a young man," I noted while the countryside rolled by the car windows.

"Enjoy it while you can," Callie suggested, as we made a turn and headed into the business district, as she called it. "Downtown Darnell, here we are!" 

"This is it?" I asked as we entered town. An Agway and a little square building that claimed to be a supermarket facing each other on a two lane road that had been paved at one time. That, outside of a field with an overgrown baseball diamond and a perilously leaning backstop a hundred yards past the grocery, was it.

"Kinda makes your head spin, don't it?" Callie asked as we climbed out of the truck and walked into the store.

The grocery was about the size of the produce section of the supermarket I frequented back home. They seemed to have just about everything you would need, but not the variety of brands you'd have to choose from in a larger store.

Two people were working in the store, and I assumed they were the owners. They greeted Callie warmly as we entered, and I figured that these people were likely husband and wife, and since they were around Callie's age, they had probably been friends all their lives. Right on both counts.

"You must been the man in the flying Saturn!" the woman exclaimed as Callie began to introduce me. "Boy, that poor car of yours was really something to see. You must lead a charmed life to be still walking after that collision."

"I seem to be the talk of the town," I said, figuring that in this area, some city guy slamming into a tree was big news. "Did they have a parade when they towed the thing down the road?"

"Just about," the man said, a big fellow who had come out from behind the meat counter to join in the conversation. "It's summertime, and all the television shows are repeats, so you are big news."

"Hey, I think you're in The Pennysaver!" the woman exclaimed, reaching around and pulling a folded newspaper off of the counter and leafing through it quickly.

"Here it is!" she proclaimed, folding the paper over to show us the picture, which took up considerable space on Page 7 of the Oneida County Pennysaver.

The picture was of my Saturn, hanging on the hook of the tow truck, right in front of the "Jeff's Garage" sign. Great advertising for Jeff, I figured as I looked at the twisted hunk of metal that Jeff was supposed to turn back into a motor vehicle.

"Man Cheats Death On County Rout 48," I read aloud, chuckling at the misspelling of the word route. "An Albany man narrowly escaped serious injury when his car went off the road last weekend. The sheriff's office said that imprudent speed was likely the cause of the one-car accident, but no tickets were issued."

"You're a real celebrity," Callie noted.

"Doesn't mention my name," I noted, but then after reading further, got a bit of a shock. "It says that the accident occurred near the Parks farm, and that the driver is recovering there. What kind of newspaper is this? Putting that in there like that."

"That's The Pennysaver for you," the woman said. "Not exactly the New York Times, but they get a little pressed to fill space sometimes."

"You got mentioned to the top of page 7, and the news about the 4H cow milking contest is underneath you," the man said, suggesting that I really had something to crow about. "You pushed the story about Beatrice Hennigan's sister coming to spend the summer with her clear back to Page 9."




Frost Heaves



"She won't like that," the woman remarked. "Of course, she's spent the summer here every year for the last five, so it's not exactly earthshaking news."

"I have to buy a couple of these," I mentioned, grabbing a few from the display. "Show my daughters how big a man I am here in Darnell."

"Buy them? Heck, they're free, and half time we can't give them away. Take all you want." 

I thanked them and stuck a few in our cart, while Callie started shopping. I couldn't stop laughing as we moved up and down the aisles, and Callie seemed amused by my amusement.

"I can't help it," I said as Callie started filling the cart. "I can't believe they put that in there - that I'm staying with you."

"What's wrong with that?" Callie asked. 

"It just seems intrusive, that's all," I answered. 'I mean, what will your neighbors think - or your friends?"

"They already know," Callie replied. "There aren't many secrets around here, as you can see."

"I don't care what they think about me, but I didn't want you to be embarrassed about my staying with you."

"I'm not ashamed of anything, David," Callie said as toilet paper bounced into the cart. "I'm way too old to care about what people think about me. Besides, maybe I'll get a reputation as a swinging widow. What do you like to eat? Anything special?"

"I'm fine with anything," I told Callie as she surveyed the selection of meats.

"You like chicken? Burgers? Pork chops?" 

"Sure. Fine. Dandy."

"You're no help," Callie said, so I picked up a package of chicken breasts and a few other things and pitched them into the cart.

"There!" I said proudly. "I like all of that. I like you too."

I don't know why I said that, because it was obvious that I did, but I wanted to say something about how I felt about her.

"I know you do," Callie said. "I like you too, or else you would have been at the Dew Drop Inn over at Starkville by now. Just don't get fresh in public, unless you want to end up on the cover of next week's Pennysaver."

"I'll keep that in mind," I answered, and wasn't sure if she was serious about that or not, but it took me a minute to start to analyze what she meant about not getting fresh in public. Did that mean I could get fresh in private?

We had managed to fill the cart in short order, and while Callie moved up to the register, I reached in my back pocket for my wallet.

"That's alright," Callie said as we put the stuff on the counter and moved it along manually. "You're company."

"I'm paying, or I don't go back with you - I mean that," I said, not willing to sponge around any longer. "Hope they take VISA."

I didn't have much cash on me, not really expecting to have been away from home this long.

"VISA? What's that?"

Callie was looking at me with a quizzical expression on her face, and after I chuckled, she continued to look at me oddly.

"You're kidding, right?" I asked, and after I took the card out of my wallet and held it in front of her, she looked at it like it was something alien. "VISA. The credit card? You buy stuff today and pay for it for the rest of your life?"

"Marie," Callie called to the cashier. "You ever hear of something called a VISA card?"

"Must be one of those fancy city things," the woman said as she rang up the groceries with a poker face.

I looked over at the front door and saw the faded decal of the credit card on the glass and shook my head, laughing at myself for falling for everybody's little joke at my expense.

"Okay, you win, I'm an idiot," I said as I handed the woman the card.

"We're in the sticks, but still part of the civilized world," the woman said as she swiped the card.

"Just barely," Callie added dryly.

"If your friend is still going to be around this weekend, you ought to get him to take you to the dance," the cashier told Callie while I signed my name.

"Is that this weekend?" Callie asked.

"Saturday night - first Saturday of the month like always, Callie," the man added as he bagged our order. "You ought to go - you never used to miss them."

"You should," the woman urged her as I tried to follow the conversation. The Stony Creek Band is playing."

"I don't know if David will be up to that or not," Callie said as she thanked the couple and maneuvered the cart toward the door. "We'll see."

"What's that all about?" I asked Callie as we pushed the cart out of the store and toward the truck. "A dance?"

"It's something they have at the Grange Hall every month," Callie explained. "See?" she said, motioning to a poster on the outside wall of the store with the all the particulars.

"Probably not something you'd be interested in," Callie said.

"7 p.m. to?" I read aloud. "The question mark is probably 10, when the sidewalks get rolled up. The Stony Creek Band?"

"Local group."

"They get ten bucks a head, so they must be great," I said sarcastically.

"You get free beer and stuff like chips and snacks are included too," Callie explained.

"Wow!" I said, chortling loudly. "They play both kinds of music too, I'll bet. Country and Western. Does the band play behind chicken wire too?"

"Like I said, it's not really anything you'd care for," Callie said without a smile, pushing the cart over to the back of her pickup and dropping the back down.

"Maybe I could get a pair of those bib overalls," I continued. "Find myself a jug that I can blow into and jam with the band. Maybe I could..."

"You've made your point, David. I get it."

I was on a roll and feeling pretty full of myself as my comedy routine went into full gear, so I was a bit shocked when Callie was not bent over in laughter, but instead rather pissed off. Worse than that, her expression showed another emotion along with the anger, and that was the last thing I wanted to see.

As Callie went around the side of the truck and got in, I hustled back into the store. I took care of the business I went in for and hurried outside, hoping that Callie hadn't taken off on me.

"Uh... we forgot your friend's detergent," I said cautiously, holding up the yellow plastic jug of Tide before getting into the truck alongside Callie.

"Oh, right," Callie said. "Thanks."

"Look," I said as Callie pulled back onto the road and headed back home. "Sometimes I think I'm a helluva lot funnier than I really am. Bad habit of mine. It helped make a wife an ex, I think."

"We've all got bad habits," Callie said curtly, not taking her eyes off the road.

"It's not one I want to hang onto. I'm fond of blaming Jane for our marriage failing, but I deserve a lot of credit for that as well," I confessed. 

"It must get old after a time - having somebody answering you with wisecracks instead of answers. I also have a habit of making fun of things I don't understand, and things that I don't feel a part of. I guess it's more a case of my being jealous of other people. People with lives - lives that have a purpose and a reason. It's been so long since I've had that pleasure, that seeing other people happy brings out that in me. I was wrong, but I really didn't mean anything by it. Feel free to kick me in the ass if I do it again."

"Now that will be a pleasure," Callie announced in a more chipper tone, and a bit of a smile appeared on the side of her mouth.

"This dance," I continued, holding the two pink postcard-sized tickets that I had bought in the store. "I have to warn you that I'm not much of a hoofer. I've got two left feet."

"We'll do fine," Callie replied, now smiling for real.

....

Chapter Fourteen: Harmonizing.

After another amazing dinner - the taste and texture of actual mashed potatoes making me giddy after years and years of dried flakes mixed with water - we made another team effort of doing the dishes.

This night was a little bit different, and it wasn't just my imagination either. Callie was more bubbly than usual, and we made more incidental contact around the sink. It may have been just a brief touch or the slight bumping of our hips, but each time we grazed against each other I felt a rush of adrenaline surge through me. Could I be growing on her like she had on me?

"Done!" Callie announced as the last of the silverware went back into place.

"Another great meal," I proclaimed, and impulsively leaned over and kissed Callie on the cheek. "Thank you chef."

I wasn't sure how that was going to go over. Callie seemed a bit startled at first, but as a touch of color rose on her cheeks, she reached up and kissed me back. On the lips.

"Thanks for eating it," Callie replied.

It was just a peck, but it was the most wonderful kiss I could remember since my first one decades ago. After looking at each other for a minute, Callie tossed the dish towel over the handle of the cabinet.

"You like music, don't you?"

"Sure," I answered. "Who doesn't?"

"We'll see how you feel after we get done," Callie cackled as we headed toward the porch.

We had spent each evening outside on the porch, and I relished the time out there. Just watching the daylight fade, and experiencing the ensuing blackness of these country nights, was so cathartic to me that I found myself not even noticing that I hadn't gone near the television since that first day here.

I no longer cared who was getting thrown off what island, or what the score of the Mets game was. Just being out on that spacious porch and breathing the fresh air, and enjoying the sounds of the nocturnal creatures, was way more entertaining than any game show could be.

"You could sit out here without clothes on and nobody would notice," I had mentioned to Callie earlier, because it was such a rarity for a car to go by or a bicyclist to sail past, especially after the sun began to set.

"Maybe we'll do that some night," Callie suggested. "If it gets really muggy, we'll come out here naked."

I had prayed for muggy conditions since that conversation, but tonight was very pleasant, although while we were eating Callie said that she thought it would rain.

"Just a feeling," Callie had said at the time, but it seemed like her forecast might be a bit off.

I was out on the porch when I realized that Callie was not behind me, but was still in the house. When she emerged, she was carrying an acoustic guitar, and blowing imaginary dust off of it.

"You said you liked music, but I'm going to change all that," Callie announced as she sat on the sofa next to me.

On the sofa next to me. I had taken to sitting there a couple of nights earlier, in hopes that she would join me, but Callie had kept going over to her favorite chair in the corner, until tonight.

"Oh wow, a Martin," I said in awe.

"You a musician, David?" Callie asked.

"Up until my accident, I was, but now with my wrists all damaged..." I said in jest, waving the fading scars in the air. "No, I used to tinker around but I'm no musician. I do know a nice guitar when I see one though."

"Carl bought this for me when he got out of the service," Callie explained, strumming and trying to get the tuning right. "Had a little money so he bought me this for my birthday, because he liked to hear me play. I'm not a good player, but I like to hack around with it. Been awhile though."

This was how the most amazing evening of my life began. Callie strumming and me watching. She played 'Greensleeves', and quite well all things considered, and when I told her how good she was, she kept going.

Maybe I wasn't the most objective listener in the world, but as I watched Callie's hands glide over the guitar I was captivated. She just kept playing, going from song to song, and started singing as she got more into it. Her voice had a raspy and comfortable tone that blended nicely into her playing.

I joined in when she came to a song that I knew the words to, dropping out when my memory failed me and then rejoining at the chorus. We sounded ragged but right together, and while we weren't likely going to hit the stage any time soon, it was more fun than I could remember having in a long time.

Me and Bobby McGee was my favorite, as Callie did a nice Janis turn on the Kristofferson tune, and when I applauded at the end, she fell into me, her head resting on my shoulder for a second that I wanted to last forever. I inhaled the sweet freshness of her strawberry blonde hair while allowing my lips to graze against it for a brief second, before backing off a bit.

"Let me give you a break and show you how it isn't done," I said, taking the pick and guitar from Callie, who flexed her fingers and rubbed some feeling into them.

It had to be more than two decades since I had touched a guitar, and it showed. I groaned as I tried to make something remotely musical from this glorious instrument, but Callie stuck with me as I searched my memory for something I could remember.

"Surprised you haven't mentioned something about this being like an episode of Andy Griffith," Callie chided me, and although the thought had crossed my mind earlier, I wasn't going down the wise guy comedy road again.

"I suspect it's quite a walk to the service station for a bottle of pop," I did say, and it occurred to me that I hadn't had a drink since leaving my daughter graduation party. The thought of going almost a week without alcohol was unheard of in my recent life, and now I realized that I hadn't missed it. Callie's lemonade was all I needed to get by.

Finally, something came into my mind - a song that I might remember half of the words to. My guitar playing was primitive and my singing forgettable, but I was happy when Callie not only recognized what I was playing, but joined in.

"Yesterday a child came out to wonder," was the first line of the Joni Mitchell song, and Callie was harmonizing by the time I got to, "Caught a dragonfly inside a jar."

Joni would have cringed and so would Tom Rush and anyone else who had covered it over the years had they heard our rendition, but to my ears it sounded magical. We both botched a line a couple of times, but it mattered little. By the time we had come to dragging our feet to slow the circles down, we were in tune.

As we ended, with Callie's hand clutching my thigh, I noticed the gentle sound of raindrops on the porch roof, and looking beyond Callie I could see the drops hitting the railing.

"It's raining," I noted, and judging by how damp the ground was, it had been raining since the beginning of The Circle Game.

"Told you," Callie said, her eyes as dewy as mine felt like.

I set her guitar safely on the other end of the couch, and when I turned back around to face her, Callie was already moving toward me, doing precisely what I had planned to do. Her arms came up around my neck as mine came around her. This time when our lips met, it was nothing resembling a peck.

We practically devoured each other - our hands clutching and grabbing as our tongues slid around one another. It was so primal and so feral that it was almost frightening in a way. We were two people so starved for affection - for release - that this was nothing remotely resembling some love scene in a Lifetime network movie.

Without words, we worked our way inside the house, with me having the sense to grab her guitar to keep it out of the dampness. I ended up setting it somewhere inside, but where I don't remember.

We never let go of each other as we worked our way down the hall toward her bedroom. Flushed and sweating, our clothes were coming off, and that didn't necessarily mean in the conventional ways. The sound of buttons bouncing on the wood floor added to the atmosphere, and almost as if on cue, thunder clapped loudly as we reached her bedroom doorway.

"No!" Callie gasped as I tried to move us into the room, and before I could react, I felt her moving me further down the hall, to the spare bedroom I had been using.

By the time we got into the room we were almost naked, having left a trail of garments in our wake. Our bodies were hot and dripping with perspiration as we got to the side of the bed, and once we had gotten rid of her panties and my briefs we fell onto the mattress.

I knew that I was ready, my erection had been throbbing ever since our hallway dance had begun, but I was concerned that Callie wasn't. My concerns were answered when she seized my cock and pulled it toward her, and the rest of my body followed.

I felt the head of my cock slide between her lips of her sex, and from then on it was simply two people acting like animals. My cock drove into her pussy - so wet, yet so tight it was almost like taking a virgin. Callie grabbed my ass cheeks and pulled me all the way inside her, crying out as I fully penetrated her.

Nothing sweet or tender - this was two people thrusting themselves into each other with all of their might. I felt her contract around my cock as she came the first time, and fought back the urge to join her as Callie clawed at my shoulders.

Lightning lit up the room and the thunder that followed shook the house, and the power seemed to go out just as nature let loose outside. Maybe we were causing it, because I had never experienced anything like this. Suddenly, we were somehow sitting and facing each other, still joined and still grinding. 

Callie's breasts were in my hands, nice full globes with nipples that were thick and hard against my palms as I kneaded them roughly. Callie's hands covered mine - pushing them as if to tell me to squeeze them harder.

It was pitch black except for the times when lightning flashed, filling the room with an eerie glow for a few seconds at a time. It was like making love under a strobe light, albeit a slow one.

Callie pushed me onto my back, somehow managing to keep us enjoined as she slid up on top of me, and she began to ride me slowly, her body undulating as her pussy inhaled my tool.

The lightning flashed, and Callie was silhouetted in the brilliance, her hands clutching at her breasts as her mouth opened wide, letting out a guttural howl as my cock got savagely crushed again by her vaginal muscles. It felt like the roof was leaking, as Callie's sweat flew all over me while she rode out her orgasm.

Now it was my turn, as I rolled Callie off of me and mounted her once more. She was no longer tight when I re-entered her, but still very wet. I knew I couldn't last much longer, so I just thrust into her as hard and as fast as I could. Callie's hands squeezed my butt cheeks, imploring and encouraging me, and when my orgasm surged through me, I stopped moving, making the sensation last as long as I could, before crying out as my cock erupted inside of her.

....

Chapter Fifteen: Secrets out.

We stayed together for as long as we could, just wrapped around each other drenched in our various fluids, nibbling on each other's necks and shoulders. When my deflated member finally wormed out of Callie, she made a sad little sound.

"I like sex," Callie said after several more moments of silence, broken only by the faint claps of thunder now in the distance and the staccato of rain still peppering the roof. "A lot."

"Your secret is safe with me," I assured her.

"Been a long time," Callie said softly. "Just not the same when you're having it alone."

"I've been doing it alone for longer than you," I informed her. "Nothing worse that making love with someone that isn't there."

"I suppose," Callie said, leaning on an elbow, facing me as her hand reached down and found my very flaccid member. "I like this guy here."

"He isn't much, but he tries," I said, enjoying the attention and affection my tool was getting.

"He's perfect," Callie said, leaning down and kissing the head of my dick. 

"Much more of that, and he'll get back at attention."

"I hope so," Callie answered. "Much as I like talking to you, I've got someone better to do with my mouth, if you don't mind."

Callie's lips slid down my flaccid and gooey member, pulling it upwards while her tongue danced around the tender opening. How I wished I was 30 years longer. Back then I would have been ready instantly, and now I hoped I could recapture some of those rapid recovery skills, because there was nothing I wanted more than to be inside of Callie once again.




Frost Heaves



Her mouth sucked harder as a little blood began to flow in my cock, and the way her hands worked on my balls made my groan with pleasure. Callie's butt was within reach, and so my hand reached down and squeezed her remarkably tight buttocks.

When my hand slid down the crack, I felt the wetness between her legs, as my seed oozed out of her while she knelt. The backs of her thighs were sprinkled with the softest and finest down imaginable, and while my hand glided up and down her legs, I felt my cock surge.

Cassie made a sound that I interpreted as being happy that she was able to revive me, and as I got fully engorged, I slid out from under her, not wanting to risk losing it. Once I got back into that incredibly tight pussy, I knew that I would be fine.

This time we went slower. Cassie reaching up and cupping my face in her hands, whispering as her breathing quickened.

"Oh god David - so good - so good - please don't cum yet - close," 

"Won't," I grunted, and as I continued my slow and deep thrusts, I saw the whites of her eyes.

Callie arched her head off the bed, raising the entire upper half of her body as she screamed, and my member was seized violently as she writhed around under me. How incredible she was! How responsive! I was unable to hold back my own orgasm while watching and listening to her, but I had lasted long enough so that she was back down on the bedding while I came.

"Did I scare you?" Callie laughed.

"No, it's just that I have a weakness for the sound of a woman having an orgasm, especially if I have something to do with it" I admitted. "You did, I assume?"

"Several times so far, my good man," Callie announced. "The last one was a whopper. I have a tendency to get a little loud at times."

"I love it. Absolutely love it!" I told Callie, and it had been so long since I had heard the sound of a woman totally unrestrained and just enjoying sex without inhibition, that I had forgotten how magnificent it sounded.

"You were making some noise of your own," Callie informed me. "I like that too."

"I was having an out of body experience. I don't remember what I said. Probably speaking in tongues or something."

"I was able to make out something though," Callie said.

Did I say it? The thought had gone through my mind. Had I actually said it without knowing it? Three words that I felt, yet was to afraid to say. How do you tell someone that you've known less than a week that you love her?

....

Chapter Sixteen: Morning.

We weren't done that night. Not by a long shot. We held each other - kissing and hugging and exploring with our hands and mouths. We talked. I'd talked to Cassie more in the short time we had been together, than Jane and I had in the last ten years of our marriage, and there was still so much to say and hear.

When we weren't talking, we were making love. I kept getting hard time and time again. It was like some sort of magical night, because I had never been one of those marathon men, at least not since my much younger days. 

It was almost three in the morning when we finally fell asleep, and even then it wasn't anything resembling real sleep. I was far too excited for that, no matter how tired I felt. I wanted to get out and climb on top of the roof and tell the world exactly how crazy I was about this woman.

I was awake when the sun came up, and as the light began to fill the room, I got to enjoy the beauty of Callie with my eyes for really the first time.

Callie was sprawled on her back, legs and arms akimbo, and I managed to coax off the bed-sheet that was hiding only a part of her to begin with. She was breathing like she was asleep, her chest rising dramatically with each breath.

What a chest it was. Her breasts were larger and fuller than I had pictured in my mind, and they had a firmness that I didn't believe possible for a 45 year old woman. The areolas were reddish brown and slightly larger than silver dollars, and her nipples were thick pegs that stuck up proudly from their pebbled surroundings.

My eyes went down below her breasts and down to her stomach, where a cute shallow navel begged to have my tongue explore it. Her pubic hair was a very light brown, a slightly darker hue than her scalp, and the bush was compact, the fine hairs silky soft to the touch.

I had noticed the light down on her thighs, and the sunlight made the fuzz sparkle as it began to creep up her body. Her calves were smooth and hairless, which was something I had noticed earlier, and the discovery neither pleased or displeased me.

The hair under her arms was something else altogether. Callie had only modest wisps of exquisitely downy hair in those softly sloped armpits, but I had to admit that I found it incredibly erotic, and had lavished the areas with considerable affection throughout the evening.

To my delight, Callie did not only not think me weird, but enjoyed what I did, finding the kissing, stroking and nibbling a real turn-on. As I blew my breath into the fine fur, hoping to "accidentlly" wake her up, a glance over to her face showed that she was already awake, and looking at me with a fake stern expression.

"Oh, sorry. Did I wake you up?" I said sheepishly.

"I've been awake," Callie informed me. "Just watching you examining me. Trying to see what you would do to a defenseless sleeping woman."

"How did I do?" I asked.

"Okay I guess. I'll check you out when you fall asleep sometime."

"Trust me, I'm nowhere near as interesting and gorgeous as you are," I said, kissing her exposed and defenseless underarm.

"I'm glad I didn't shave them," Callie said, her body shivering a bit. "I took a chance - chickened out on the legs though, just in case, but I did remember you peeking earlier in the week so I figured that since you hadn't run away by now you must have liked it."

"Everything about you makes me hot. Don't shave anything on my account. But - wait a minute. That means that you expected for this to happen, didn't you?"

"Expected? I don't know about that. Hoped? Of course. Didn't you?"

"Naturally. I thought it was obvious how crazy I am about you."

"You're only the second man I've ever been with," Callie said softly. "I never though there would be a second."

"I think I'm incredibly lucky."

"That's not all you are," Callie said, her eyes rolling back as she felt my erection against her thigh.

"Hey, I was just staring at you for the last ten minutes," I protested. "What do you expect?"

"We do have to get out of bed soon," Callie said as she slithered down to take care of my swelling. "Ellie needs milking and her pal Gordon gets insistent about his morning visit as well."

Callie brought me to a quick and delightful climax with her considerable oral talents, just seconds before Ellie began to moo. As I came, I watched Callie, who was looking up at me through my pubes, and that ever-present twinkle in her eyes made my orgasm all the sweeter. 

....

Chapter Seventeen: The Grange Hall.

"You look spectacular," I said as Callie emerged from the bedroom, wearing a cute pink dress with short lacy sleeves and a scoop neck that showed a respectable amount of cleavage.

"Haven't worn this in years," Callie said, scrunching her face up. "It was probably out of style back then, so who knows? Maybe it's back in fashion. You don't look so bad yourself."

Given the fact that I only had three sets of clothes with me and no clothing stores within a reasonable distance I had little choice in what I wore. Callie had talked me out of the suit and tie look and suggested a more casual approach, which I accepted.

As we were leaving the house, I noticed something was different. Looking back around the living room, it took me another minute to figure it out. The pictures. Pictures of Callie and her husband that I had noticed when I first came into the house were gone.

What did that mean? Was she putting her past life behind her because of me, or did she feel guilty having Carl looking at her - at us - while we frolicked around the place.

Frolicking might not have been the right word. Fornicating fit better. For the past few days we had taken every opportunity to start taking off each other's clothes and going at it. We had managed to do something in every room of the house, and while they weren't the most productive days in the history of the Callie Parks farm, they were certainly among the most fun.

"Don't even know why I bother putting clothes on," Callie had muttered after I had put her up on the kitchen counter and made love, my balls slapping against the drawer handle with each thrust.

"This was your fault," I had admonished her, noting for the record that I had just simply come in for a drink, and she had followed me in and lewdly groped my genitals.

My face hurt from smiling, my throat was sore from talking, and every joint in my body was howling in protest over the way I had abused muscles that had laid dormant for so very long. I felt fantastic! 

This dance though - now this was something that I had mixed feelings about. It sounded like nothing I had ever been to before, or had ever wanted to go to for that matter. A bunch of good old boys listening to country music and drinking beer was what I thought it would be, but I vowed to make the best of it and keep my opinions to myself.

As it turned out, I was right. It was exactly what I expected, and we had a blast.

When Callie walked into the hall, it was like the Queen had entered. There had to be a couple hundred people there and Callie knew half of them. They seemed surprised and delighted to see her again after so long an absence, and as they introduced themselves to me, made me feel as welcome as somebody could be.

By the end of the night I was a good old boy myself; pounding down cups of Genesee and re-telling the story of my now-infamous crash that was still the talk of the area. I got to show my faded battle scars on my wrists to one and all, and got told by more than one person how lucky I was to be alive.

"Callie's good people," the county highway superintendent told me as we waited for beer refills. "We all think the world of her. She's a spunky lady."

It was a sentiment that I heard several times that night. People who told me how much they respected what she had done, and how she had managed to keep the farm going despite it all. How she did things for other people without ever being asked or asking for anything in return.

I got another message throughout the night. It was more of an unspoken one, but one that registered just as well. They really wouldn't like it if somebody were to hurt Callie, or take advantage of her good nature. Wouldn't like it at all. For my part, I tried to make it very clear that I wouldn't even think of it.

Mostly, the night was Callie. Dancing, and trying to teach me how to dance, was a full time job in itself, and while it was clear that it was going to take more than one lesson to get me competent, I did try my best, and that seemed to make Callie happy.

The band was alright too. It was more of a southern rock sound than country, and they did it pretty well. We were among the last to leave the hall. Drenched in sweat and beer, I was glad that Callie had been a moderate drinker, because I wasn't too confident about my driving ability.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Callie asked as I leaned her against the door of her truck and nuzzled into her neck.

"It was great!" I assured her, my hands groping her backside.

"Let's get out of here before we get crazy," Callie said, and directed me over to the passenger side.

"What's wrong with crazy?" I asked, while Callie pulled out of the field that had served as a parking lot.

"Nothing," Callie said. "You just have to wait about a minute and a half, and then you can get as crazy as you want you."

"A minute and a half?" I whined. "That's a long time. Wait - it took us five minutes to get here. Where..."

Callie took a sharp left onto a dirt road, sending me falling over against the car door, and quickly stopped the car a few yards down.

"Come on big boy!" Callie cackled as she jumped out of the car, skipping over to the nearby woods.

"Where are you going?" I asked, stumbling out of the truck and trying to see where I was walking in the darkness.

I soon lost interest in where I was going, as I saw Callie's dress flying in the air as she waited for me under a massive oak tree. She was giggling as she bounced from foot to foot while I tried to keep walking while getting undressed myself, and not doing it nearly as gracefully as Callie had.

"You're drunk," Callie laughed as I caught up to her. "You'd better not be too - oh hell, I should know better. He's always pointing at me!"

Although my mind was foggy, my cock was as interested as ever, as Callie's hand discovered. She pulled me down onto the cool damp grass and guided me inside of her. To the side, I could hear the sounds of a babbling brook, and the moonlight provided just enough illumination for me to see the joy in Callie's eyes while we made love. A happiness that was only matched by my own.

When it was over, we were caked in dirt and grass. Callie led me down a little embankment which led to a little stream that couldn't have been more than 20 feet across and less than two feet deep.

"Shit!" I yelped as I stepped into the frigid water, only to get rewarded my Callie splashing me.

Of course, this started a war, and it was a war that I was destined to lose. I was having enough trouble standing up on the slippery rocks, and the Genesee was no help, so I sat down and let Callie have her fun, offering only token resistance until she declared victory and sat down with me.

"Feels nice," Callie said while she cuddled up with me, paddling at the water that went gurgling past us. "By the end of summer, this is usually down to a trickle."

"I don't want to think about the end of summer," I told Callie.

I didn't want to think about the end of anything. I wanted to drag my feet and slow the circle down. I wanted to freeze time in place and live the last week of my life over and over again. I almost dreaded the phone call that I knew would come early next week.

....

Chapter Eighteen: The phone call.

The call came Tuesday afternoon. I was mowing the grass out front when I heard the phone ringing, and I hustled inside to answer it, since Callie was out in the field tending to the corn.

It was Jeff, of Jeff's Garage fame, where my car had been housed for the last week and a half. I had met Jeff at the Grange Hall dance, and he had told me that he expected to be done with the car around mid-week.

"I warned them they would be better off junking it, because when the damage is that bad, you always end up finding more wrong once you get working on it. It's gonna cost them as much as a new car would have. I'm almost done with the repairs, and my body guy will have it good as new by Wednesday."

"That's fine," I told him then. "There's no rush, if you've got other work to do."

"You sound just like Callie now," Jeff laughed, slapping me on the shoulder. "That's exactly what she said."

Now Jeff was on the phone telling me that the car was done, and I could pick it up anytime.

"Uh - would it be okay if I picked it up tomorrow morning?" I asked, noticing Callie standing outside on the back porch, looking at me through the screen, while Jeff assured me that would be fine.

"Okay then, see you tomorrow," I said, hanging up the phone.

Callie turned away when I looked back up at her after the call, and her face was nothing like the radiant and vibrant one I had grown so accustomed to. She looked drained - like someone had pulled the plug on her, but when I caught up with her outside, she put on a smile that looked forced.

"The car..." I started to say, but Callie cut off me off.

"I know. I figured that much," Callie said, letting me put my arm around her shoulder ass he walked back toward the corn. "You'll be glad to get back home, just so you don't have to wear out that shirt from washing and wearing it every day."

I laughed, giving her a little squeeze.

"Hey! I told you that we aren't over, at least not until you say we are," I reminded her. "You aren't getting rid of me that easy."

"I know. We're only 200 miles away, and you're going to come visit every chance you get. You told me that."

"That's right. You're going to get sick of seeing me. That's how often I'm coming out here. Plus, you could come out and stay with me too!"

"Now that's an idea!" Callie said excitedly. "Let's see, I'll jump on Gordon and I'll tie a rope around Ellie, and we'll head out for a road trip. They don't allow horses on the Thruway, so we won't make very good time on the side roads. Plus, you'll have to take into account the fact that Ellie's slow even by cow standards."

"I just thought..."

"You didn't think, David. You don't get it. You've been here a week and a half and you still don't get it. Farming is not a job. It's a life. It's a commitment you make - to the land and to the animals and to yourself."

"I'm sorry. I though maybe somebody could stop by and tend to them for a couple of days. I know you've done that for others," I suggested.

"When they're sick, or dying!" Callie snapped. "If I was sick or something, I could count on a lot of help if I asked, but to ask somebody to come over so I can go visit you? That isn't done. You don't call in favors for reasons like that! Hey, come milk my cow and tend my field so I can go jump my buddy Dave's bones? I know what they'd say, and it's the same thing I'd say."

I let Callie walk ahead of me, figuring that I was not making much of a case, and realizing that I was sounding stupid as well. I really didn't understand. What the hell did I know about any of this?

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, David," Callie said, turning and pausing before heading back to her work. "It's not your fault. This is another world to you, and there's no reason you should understand it. Half the time I don't understand it myself. Not many of us do. That's why every time a rumor starts that the state's going to build a prison around here, everybody gets excited, figuring that might be a way to sell, get a little money and get the hell out."

"But..."

"That's why you have it made, David. Do your job and go home. Personal days off. Sick days. Snow days. Mental health days. Don't feel like getting out of bed days. None of that crap out here, babe."

"I get it," I said softly after Callie had walked away, her cute bottom wiggling in those faded denims that I first saw her in. I surely was no farmer, and had no desire to be one. Farms were something that you drove past at top speed on the Thruway, which was where I would be headed the next day.

....

Chapter Nineteen: The last night.

Any illusion I had that my last night with Callie would be filled with spectacular lovemaking and fun, quickly evaporated. Callie was friendly enough, but there was a unmistakable distance between us now.

Our last night on the porch was much shorter than the others, and when we went to bed, Callie kissed me and rolled over. I rolled up against her, cuddling and stroking her arm, but got no response.

"I love you, Callie," I whispered.

I heard a little sniffle, but other than that, nothing. Eventually, I fell asleep, but it took a long time. As for Callie, I don't know.

Callie was up before me, as usual, and I gathered my belongings while she tended to Gordon and Ellie. I had grown to love this old house, and all the worn and weathered furnishings. 

The toast. I'll even miss the toast, I thought while dropping a couple of slices of bread in the ancient device, as I looked around the kitchen. No microwave. No dishwasher. Soon I would be back in civilization. Back to a life of Hot Pockets and digital cable. The sound of the toaster made me come back to earth, as it popped up toast looking perfect like always.




Frost on the Pumpkin



When the weather is hot and sticky,That's no time for dunkin dickey.

When the frost is on the pumpkin, That's the time for dickey dunkin.

I have no idea who the originator of this limerick is. I do know that my Grandmother taught it to me around the time I was able to fully appreciate my first dirty joke. As I think back, she loved dirty jokes and could laugh as hard at them as anyone I have ever met.

She stood every inch of five feet and had her father's steel blue eyes that could see into a person's soul and judge their worth. The rest of her features and a loving heart came from her mother. The proud chiseled face, long raven hair and ramrod straight back. She was the daughter of a Yankee horse trader and an American Indian from the Tupper Lake region of New York State.

My Grandmother had liberal ideas on sex. Especially when you consider her era, a time when an exposed female knee would throw a community into frenzy. Her views on life, love and sex were handed down to her from her mother, a woman who viewed life with a practical and honest eye.

My aunt was born two months before me. Not only did her age start tongues wagging, but; Grandmas' husband had died two years earlier and no, she had not remarried. Perhaps this is not so noteworthy today, but back then, it was considered scandalous.

You would not have known that my mother had been raised by this woman. Dear Mom was a prude, among other uncomplimentary things that I believed her to be. I am sure, that if she had been there for Hester Prim's trial, she would have voted for the boiled in oil option.

I think Dad got laid once a year. Kind of like a Christmas gift. I say this because I am an only child and was born on the twenty-third of September. 

Even as a young child, I preferred staying at my Grandmothers small farm. It was infinitely better than spending time with my mother or my father, who seemed to me like a lost man, with no purpose in life. Don't get the wrong impression; my Dad was a good provider. He was a pharmacist as was his father. When Grandpa Tucker died, Dad took over, not out of love for the work, but for no other reason than that's what was expected of him.

The older I got, the less time I spent at home. I'm sure to my mothers liking. As she would express a continuing dissatisfaction with me.

"You are an unruly and ungrateful child," she would chide me.

"One of these days I'm going to ship you off. Get you out of my mother's wicked grasp. Then you will see that life is not the fun and games that she has filled your head with."

I, like my father, found it easier to allow her to rant and rave, though unlike my father, when she was done, I was free to go where I felt loved and wanted.

Holidays at my home were perfunctory, celebrated for the sole purpose of meeting societies minimum requirements. However at Grandma's, every holiday was a celebration of life, joy and a giving of thanks.

There were three holidays that we, Grandma Holt, my Aunt and I celebrated, that the town's people did not. 

On the first full moon after mid April, we would celebrate with a firelight ritual dance. We would express our thanks and joy at the season of new birth. There was a similar event for the summer solstice. The third took place each fall on the night of Halloween, giving thanks for the harvest and as a remembrance of love for those that had departed.

-----

My Aunt Mariah and I where approaching the end of our freshman year of high school. We were more like brother and sister, despite the teasing of kids at school about her being my Aunt.

We were sitting side by side on the bus ride home. "Well, are you excited about tonight?"

She didn't look at me when she replied, "Why, what's tonight?"

"Don't give me that. You know perfectly well. It's the twentieth, full moon, now do you remember?"

In a mundane voice, she answered. "Oh yeah, that."

"I'm excited, aren't you?"

She looked at me and lowered her voice as she said, "You're excited because this is the first year I have tits and you think you're going to get to see them if my old buckskin shirt rides up while I'm dancing. That's the only reason you're excited."

"No Aunty, it isn't."

She hates when I call her Aunty and she glared at me as I continued.

"I'm excited because I want to see what happens to your tits on a cold night. Don't groan. Wearing your too tight buckskins is part of the ceremony."

"In your dreams. I'm not dancing and I'm going to talk to Mom."

"You know, I think you're turning more like your older sister every day."

She gave me a hard punch to the arm, but I figured it was worth it. There was no way that she'd back out of tonight's celebration now.

When we walked into Grandma's kitchen, she was busy, putting the wheat bread in the oven.

"Glad you're home, Tim, I need you to change then go down to the field. You need to build the fire this year."

"But, Grandma. You usually do it and I help."

"Not this year. The fire is a man's job. This is the first year that you qualify. You've seen me do it enough. The hearth is the woman's joy and pride. This year, Mariah is a woman. She and I will prepare the feast and talk woman's talk. Now, go. We have a lot to do before the moon rises."

There was still a chill in the spring air as the sun set and we ate our celebration feast.

"Tim, light the fire, it will warm the earth and air for us while we eat and give thanks to our provider and the earth's creator."

We ate our small feast of warm whole-wheat loaves, hunters stew, and baked apples, with warm mulled applejack. Scant food from the remainder of the winter's stores never tasted so good. No doubt, that the seasoning of love added a flavor and zest to these most meager of dishes, turning them into a true feast.

When we were done, the crest of the moon was just appearing above the line of birch trees.

My Grandmother spoke, "It is time to prepare our selves for the dance of vernal life."

She was the first to remove her jacket and expose her hide-covered torso to the cool spring breeze. At age fifty-seven, soon to be fifty-eight, my grandmother was a healthy figure of a woman as she stood there, silhouetted in the moon light.

Even in my early teens, her beauty was not lost on me.

I turned to Maria, just in time to see her tug the heavy sweatshirt that she was wearing, over her head. The shirt pulling her buckskin top up, revealing her breasts. My mouth opened in shock. Her breasts were almost the size of her mothers, only there was no sag to them. They were beautiful.

Despite a tiny twinge of shame for the lust I was feeling for my Aunt, I watched, spellbound as the perfect round mounds came into view. The cool air hardening her nipples. When she noticed me staring, she brought her shirt back down to cover them.

A moment later, my grandmother spoke. "Mariah, no shame; remember?"

"Yes Mom, I remember, but why does he have to stare at me."

"Tim, shouldn't you be removing your jacket?"

"I am Grandma; I just wanted to see if Maria needed any help."

"Tim, you're always thinking of others, you're so sweet. If that's the case, come over here and take my jacket and fold it for me, then put it beside Mariah's."

When I looked back a Mariah, she was standing, top neatly pulled back in place. Oh well, I thought; let's see what happens when she starts the dance. My hopes were high.

My grandmother was about to begin when the high beam headlights of my fathers new 1966 Buick La Saber blinded us.

We stood, motionless, as my mothers screeching voice drowned out the sound of the crackling wood fire.

"Tim! You get over here this instant. Get away from those tramps. I knew they would have you devil worshiping out here with them.

"You; crazy woman," she screamed at her mother. "I'm going to call the police and have you arrested for perverting my son."

Mariah moved faster than I had ever seen her. In a single leap, she was at the table and grabbed a sharp knife. Then in a sprint, she was at her sister's side, knife in her hand. Her muscles rippling with tension.

"Mariah," I shouted as I ran to her. "Don't."

When I got close all I could hear was. "...I'll skin you like the snake you are."

My mother was all too happy to take her eyes off Mariah and as she move toward the car, she snapped at me.

"Get in the car, before I have you all arrested. And don't get any of that filth from those things you're wearing on the interior. -- Don't you understand! Move when I tell you."

I got in the back and positioned myself on the edge of the seat behind my mute father. I looked out the front window and for the first time in my fifteen years, I saw my Grandmother, slouched, shoulders down and head bent. She was still standing in front of the yellow and orange flames, but now she looked broken, defeated by her eldest daughter.

-----

My mother made good on her long time threat. The one where she promised to send me away. Away from the place that I knew and loved, with its green hills, clear lakes and talking trees, the proud home of the Algonquin. Tears filled my eyes and hatred my heart, for what my mother was taking from me.

I was sent to live with my aunt, on my father's side. Their home was in the Back Bay area of Boston. Dr. Vincent and Mary Giatino. These people were far happier than my parents and being childless, took me in to their hearts. They were good people, loving and kind. They just weren't my people.

Time may not truly heal all wounds, but it lessens their importance. So it was that I began to blend in to my school. By the time I graduated from Boston Latin, I had a new and far more sophisticated group of friends.

Three of us were continuing together to attend Tufts. During my time in Boston, I had written to Mariah and my grandmother less each month, until now, three years later, I was only sending them birthday and Christmas cards. Once in a while, I would miss home and the nostalgia of the little town of Sarnac, New York would fill my heart with love and longing for the beauty and peace of that sleepy town. On those occasions, I would write a note or short letter to them.

As for my mother and father, I refused to open the few cards or gifts they sent. When they made their monthly phone call, I refused to speak to them. My Aunt was wonderful about the letters and the calls. She never pressed me to speak to them, and often made excuses for me. My parent's letters were kept in a box beside the entry door coat rack.

From Mariah and my grandmother, there was nothing. No cards, no calls. I was sure that my mother had threatened them with something in an effort to prevent them from contacting me, but it hurt none the less.

-----

My Aunt and Uncle paid for my tuition at Tufts and I was determined to get high grades in an effort to show them my appreciation for their gift.

I was swamped with schoolwork and the late summer and early fall flitted by quickly. One cool October afternoon, I walked in and found my Aunt sitting in the foyer entry, crying like a newly widowed woman. She was clutching a letter in her hand, at the sight of me she jumped up, and rushed to me.

"Aunt Mary, what's wrong, what's happened?"

"Oh, Tim, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to do it but your mother made me promise. I'm so ashamed. Tim, Can you ever forgive me."

"Aunt Mary, what's wrong?"

She thrust the open letter into my hand and fled the foyer. I looked at the envelope and recognized the hand writing instantly, despite not having seen it since we were in school together. It was a special delivery letter. I felt queasiness in the pit of my stomach and my hand trembled as I pulled the thin paper from its envelope.

"Dear Tim

I hope and pray that this letter gets thru to you. Mom is very ill and to be honest she seems to have lost the will to remain here, among the living.

I know that you have a new life there in Boston and I do not ask this lightly.

You Grandmother is calling for you. Tim, for her sake, I am begging you to come home. I know you can't stay but this may be the last chance you have to see your grandmother alive.

Love, Aunt Mariah"

When I looked up, Aunt Mary was standing there, wringing her hands, tears still in her eyes. At her feet was a wire milk crate, full of letters.

She blurted out, "Tim I'm so very sorry. I only did it because your mother told us it was best for you not to have any contact with your other Aunt and your Grandmother.

"Tim, please tell me that you can forgive me," she sputtered between sobs.

Her pain was so obvious that I felt compelled to comfort her.

"Aunt Mary, you had no way of knowing."

"Oh Tim," she wailed. "I should have known. I've seem what she has done to my brother. It's just that we, your Uncle and I were so happy when you came to us. To my shame, I would have done anything to keep you here. We love you Tim. We couldn't love you more if you were our own son."

From some where in her, she summoned a burst of strength that was reflected in her stature and words.

"But now, Now you need to go," she swallowed hard. "Your Grandmother needs you. Here is enough money to get you thru, until you return here to finish your schooling.

"Don't worry, I'll call the dean personally and explain the family crises to him. Now, go get packed. I'll call a taxi service that will take you to the buss station. Go. Hurry."

-----

Sitting in the bus and looking out the window at the Adirondacks, I felt a shiver of exhilaration run thru my body. It was a late fall this year. The Oaks still had some color in their leaves and today promised to be one of the last few days of an Indian summer.

When I stepped off the bus, I heard the crunch of leaves under my feet. A sound that was only heard in Boston if you walked thru the Commons. The smell of autumn air, the clean lake water, was like a narcotic. I couldn't pull enough of it into my lungs to quench my needs.

It was four miles from the Greyhound bus stop to my grandmother's farm. I use to be able to walk it in well under an hour. With that thought in mind, I set off. I walked past my father's pharmacy and caught a glimpse of him, standing behind the fountain counter, with its four swivel stools. I didn't stop, though my anger towards him had changed to pity, I still had no respect for the man.

By the time I made it to the post box at the junction of the paved road and the long rutted dirt drive that lead to my grandmothers farm, my legs were about to give out.

As I looked up the drive towards the house, I saw a beat up 57 Buick Electra coming down at a breakneck speed. I could see the woman behind the wheel, and my brain began to question my vision. "Was that Mariah?"

The car skidded to a halt in the dirt, not five feet from me. The driver's door was thrown open and Mariah rushed to me, wrapping her arms around me as tears came to her eyes.

"I knew you'd come. I knew that some how my letter would get thru to you. And, and you're here now."

I dropped my small suitcase and embraced her, feeling her breasts push into my chest as she nuzzled her face into my neck. We held each other like that for several moments. Mariah broke the embrace suddenly; I'm guessing that the feel of my growing erection against her belly had something to do with it.

She pulled back and I watched as her eyes went to the bulge in the front of my pants.

"Mariah," I said. "You have certainly changed. I don't remember you being this beautiful."

My words got me a punch to the shoulder.

"Ouch, I guess you haven't changed that much."

My words now made her hug me again but only briefly.

"So have you. You're no longer the spindly boy that ogled my breasts."

Her words made me blush, because now I had a definite desire to do more than ogle her breasts.

What was I thinking? This was my Aunt. I shook my head to clear those terrible thoughts out of my brain.

"Come on my Mom is waiting for you."

We got in the car, but before Mariah put it in gear, she looked at me.

"Tim, you need to know. Mom has not been the same since you left. I don't want you to be surprised when you see her.

"She can barely get out of bed Tim. The Doctors say she has a blood disease, Luciamia. 

"Tim, she's dying and doesn't seem to care. I'm afraid that she is holding on to life for the sole purpose of seeing you one last time. I'm so afraid that once she sees you that she will just let go and..."

She couldn't finish her thoughts before she broke down and tears streamed down her cheek as sobs racked her body.

I scooted across the seat to put my arm around her, "Mariah, Grandma always had a will of her own. Neither you nor I could make her sway from what she wants to do.

"I do know this. Grandma has a reason for everything that she does.

"Mariah, if she decides to let go of life, you can bet she has a reason. Now, you and I need to buck up and go in there."

Mariah wiped the tears away, though her eyes were still red. She put the car in reverse and with a heavy foot, she propelled us back up the winding drive.

-----

"Tim," was the soft word spoken with joy from my grandmother's lips.

"Grandma!"

I rushed to her, sitting on the edge of her bed. It took all my reserve strength to put a mask of happiness on my face, when I felt the shock of seeing this once vibrant healthy woman now reduced to a mere shadow of her former self. Even Mariah's words had not prepared me for this.

She tried to sit, but I stopped her. I leaned over, slid my hands under her back, and pulled her into my arms.

"I love you Grandma," I managed to choke out.

I found my body rhythmically rocking as I held her, just as she had done with me, whenever I'd come to her, hurt or in pain. There was so little of her now. My heart broke as I remembered the last time I felt her body. It seemed incredible that only three years ago, her skin was lithe with muscles under the surface.

Mariah's voice broke my thoughts, "I need to go to your father's pharmacy for Mom's medicine. He gives it to us. He has never charged us a cent, Tim. Some times, he will hand me a box of the hard candies that he knows she likes. He's a good man Tim. He just needs someone to appreciate him."

I found my throat choked with emotion for my grandmother and now, as my Aunt Mary's words came back to me, my estimation of my father's worth increased. All I could do was nod to Mariah.

"Mom, I'll be right back."

I felt her move her arm in a wave, "Yes dear, I know. Don't worry; I'll be waiting for you."

I turned to Mariah and could see the first sign of tears as she quickly turned and ran to the car.

I felt my grandmother pat my back, "There, there. Are you alright now."

I let her lay back and looked into her eyes. Deep in the steel blue, I could still make out the spark that was once so brilliant.

"Yes Grandma," I said. "I am now, now that I'm back with you."

"Now, Now. None of that sappy stuff. I get enough of it with Mariah.

"Tim, I have things to tell you, I need to finish putting my affairs together. Now that you're here I can close everything up in a nice neat package."

"Grandma, I don't..."

She put a finger to my lips. "I'll do the talking, you listen.

"The house and land around it will go to Mariah. The farmland will be split between Mariah and Lilly. There is a stipulation, the land can not be sold for fifty years after my death and should something happen to either your mother or Mariah, the land is to go to you."

"Grandma, you're tired, why don't you rest, you can tell me all this later."

"There is plenty of time for me to rest later. Now, time is precious."

There was the sound of car tires, and a car door being slammed. I was thinking it couldn't be Mariah, not that fast.

The front door was pushed open and there with a scowl on her face, was my mother.




Frost on the Pumpkin



"There you are. You ungrateful little child. I sent you to Boston to stay there, not come back here. What, did that tramp of a so-called sister lure you back with the promise of sex?"

She spoke with more venom in her voice than usual, and I could see that it was affecting my grandmother.

Nineteen years of pent up hurt and anger exploded from me.

"You are no fit mother, wife or daughter. You get your pleasure out of making everyone else's life more miserable than yours."

"Tim, that's enough," My grandmother barked at me with what strength she had.

I went to her side, "I'm sorry Grandma, I didn't mean to upset you."

My mother interrupted. "Out of my way, child."

She pushed me aside and stood leering down at her mother. For my grandmother's sake, I didn't respond as I would have liked to.

"I am getting everything, aren't I? After all I am your flesh and blood daughter."

My grandmother spoke, "Tim, leave us alone for a minute."

"Stay here," my mother commanded. "He should know all about that little tramp who has been masquerading as my sister.

"So tell me mother, do I get everything or do I take this to court and expose that little fraud of yours. Oh and MOTHER, If I don't get everything," once again there was venom in her voice. "I'll burn this place to the ground."

She spun around and walked out of the house, leaving the front door open.

"Lilly," my grandmother called out, to no avail.

I had never seen a tear in her eye till this very moment.

"Grandma, what is she saying," I asked in a panic.

She sighed before beginning. "My best laid plans are not working. I had hoped that Lilly and Mariah would be forced to work together in order to run the farm."

"What did my mother, that bitch mean about..."

I never got to finish before she slapped my face, not hard, but it was a slap.

"Don't ever say that about your mother. She is my daughter. Good or bad I can not help but love her."

"I'm sorry Grandma, but what did she mean about Mariah."

She closed her eyes in thought, before speaking. "Tim, before I tell you anything, I need you to answer me honestly, from your heart, even if the answer would embarrass you. I need your complete honesty."

"Grandma, except for the time I lied about breaking your bone china tea cup, I have always been honest with you."

"How do you feel about Mariah? Woe, don't answer yet, hear me out. I need to know if you feel love for her, in a stronger way than brother and sister or nephew and aunt."

"Of course I love her. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for her."

"Tim, you're not making this easy. Do you feel sexually attracted to her, would you bed her?"

"What?" There was shock on my face and a nervous twitch in my stomach, because I knew the answer was yes.

"I can see in your face and eyes, the answer is yes."

I sputtered, "I could never..."

"Tim, I asked for honesty."

I paused and looked down at my feet. "Yes Grandma, I have had urges for her of a sexual nature."

"Boy, you have been in Boston way too long. If I tell you that she has sexual thoughts about you, would that loosen your tongue?"

"She does," I asked in an excited voice.

"I don't know," she said slyly, "But your reaction tells me everything I want to know.

"Now I can tell you that Mariah is not your blood aunt."

I was confused over my mother's words, now I was shocked over what my grandmother just revealed to me, and it was taking me a moment to grasp all the ramifications of my aunt not being a true blood aunt.

Then, in a snap, all my thoughts turned to Mariah, "She doesn't know, does she Grandma."

"No, Tim. I never told her. My reasoning at the time seemed sound. She was borne on the res. Her mother died in childbirth and she was left, a bastard child of mix blood, not Indian, not white. She was just like me. Because of that, my heart went out to her. If things were difficult for me, a mix, born in wedlock, her shame would be doubled.

"Once I had her in my home, I planted seeds in people's heads. Little things, like why I hadn't been seen much, because I had been pregnant. The area people were quick to believe that the strange old Holt woman played around with men and wound up paying the price.

"I even thought your mother believed it, though how she found out, I don't know and now it doesn't matter."

"For that reason, I can't tell her. But Tim, she needs to know. After I am gone, I need you to tell her. She has to be told and warned. I am not going to change my will. And I fear that your mother may do something and strike out at Mariah, before I can try and help your mother."

Her last words confused me completely.

"How are you going to help my mother," the puzzlement clear on my face.

She began to speak when we heard Mariah's voice, "I'm back."

-----

Mariah and I sat at Grandma's bedside. Mostly we listened to her tell stories of her youth and stories that her mother had told her. Both Mariah and I could see that the story telling was taking a toll on her strength and we urged her to stop until tomorrow. 

"Is my story-telling so dire that you two are looking for an excuse to get me to stop?"

"No Mother, it's just that we are concerned for your health. You need to conserve your strength."

"My wonderful, caring child," my grandmother crooned, as she reached her hand out to take Mariah's. "The end of my life's road is quickly approaching and soon the new road of my spirit, my soul, will be upon me. I am asking both of you to indulge me and hear the stories of my life. I will tell you when I must stop.

"When I am gone, cry and grieve for your personal loss but do not fret over my fate. Know that I am at peace and content with what lies before me. Now, where was I? Ahh yes, World War Two. We counted ourselves lucky..."

She continued with her stories for more than another hour, before stopping and saying. "I'm very tired now. Please, let me rest."

We kissed her good night, left her room as she settled back, and closed her eyes. Mariah and I moved to the living room, where we sat together on the old spring cushioned sofa.

We sat side by side, while she curled her legs under her and took my arm, hugging it to her as she rested her head on my shoulder. My mind was racing as I felt the softness of her breasts as she pulled my arm against her chest, my hand resting on her thigh. The warn work cloths she wore could not mask her bodies pulse or the heat emanating from her. My new knowledge of her true relationship to me made my blood race as her closeness pulled my suppressed desires for her to the surface.

I let my hand move further back until it rested on her denim covered mound. My thoughts of lust for her fanned hotter as I felt her push her hips forward against my hand. I turned my head and kissed her forehead, holding my lips against it while I felt her squeeze my arm tighter.

"Hold me Tim," she whispered in a weak voice. "Please hold me."

I regrettably withdrew my hand from her crotch and wrapped my arms around her as she softly spoke again.

"Don't let go of me Tim, I've needed you. Don't ever let go of me," she said as her body began to shake with sobs and tears.

This was the first time that I ever sensed fear in Mariah or that I had ever seen or felt that she needed someone to comfort her. So it was that I held her that night, as her sobs subsided and her breathing slowed as she drifted off into the sleep of exhaustion.

I dozed off and on while holding Mariah in my arms. A cushion spring sticking into my left buttock, my back aching slightly and my neck very stiff. If my discomfort had been three times this, I would have considered it a small price to pay for the chance to comfort her and to feel her woman's body against mine.

-----

The false dawn had just begun when I felt Mariah give a slight lurch in my arms and in a panicked voice say, "Mom! -- Tim hurry."

We were at my grandmother's side in seconds. When I first saw her, I thought she had left us, but as Mariah took her hand and held it to her cheek, her eyes opened.

"There you are," she said. "I knew you'd come to say good bye. I love you both and do not worry. I promise to keep you both safe."

Tears spread from Mariah's eyes to her mothers hand as she softly kissed it. "I love you Mom. You are the best mother any child could have."

She patted Mariah's cheek as a week smile came to her lips. When her eyes shifted to look at me as I stood behind Mariah, I said. "I love you so very much Grandma. I need you..."

She cut my words off. "I will always be there to protect you. This is now your time. To both of you I say, the frost is on the pumpkin."

With her last words, a bright spark filled her eyes, the same spark that I remembered seeing in them when she was at her happiest.

Her eyes closed and her body seemed to deflate as if she had just exhaled and I found myself waiting, hoping to see her chest rise as she drew in a breath.

A mournful wail from Mariah put an end to my waiting and the sadness at our loss over took me, causing me to keen along with her.

As I noticed true dawns first light, I felt Mariah next to me as we knelt side by side. Each of us holding the same lifeless hand. The since of her made me gain control over my grief as I realized that Mariah needed to be comforted.

Releasing my grasp on her now cool hand, I stood. The words of comfort that I knew I must share with Mariah, rushed into my head. It was as if my grandmother had put them there.

I pulled Mariah to her feet, making her let go of her mother's hand. She struggled to regain the lost contact, even as I began to speak.

"Let go Mariah. Your mother's spirit has moved on. You and I will grieve for our loss. We will cherish our memories, tell stories and we will fulfill her wishes.

"I love you Mariah. It is time to let go and for us to do what must be done."

She looked at me oddly for only a moment, and then threw her arms around me as I encircled her with mine.

She kissed my neck softly, then she whispered. "Your words were exactly what Mom would have said."

-----

Two days later, in accordance with her wishes, she was cremated. Aside from Mariah and me, the only other people in attendance were my mother and father.

I was standing out side the crematorium after the ceremony. Mariah was still talking to the director of the facility, when my father came up to me. It was an unexpected shock to hear him say more than I had ever heard come out of his mouth before. "Son, I am so very sorry. Your grandmother was a rear breed of woman, with her honesty, hard work, a loving heart and her beauty. I know how much she meant to you and I am so happy that you had her there to give you the things that I did not.

"Son, I hope some day you can forgive me. I do love you son. It's sad that it takes the loss of someone's life to make you realize how little time we really have on this earth..."

His words were cut short by my mother. "Very touching Harold. However, my dear Tim, he would have no idea of when your birthday is if I didn't tell him. I doubt he realizes that you have graduated from High School."

Her cutting words made my father shrink in stature as he stepped back to stand behind her. My mother had not yet finished spraying her venom.

"I see that my hormone driven son is staying at the farm with his aunt. I trust that she is keeping you warm at night Tim. No matter, after the reading of my mothers will, the little tart will find herself homeless."

She paused for a moment before continuing, a smile on her face and a sharper edge to her voice.

"Tim. You of all people should know that I make good on my promises, all my promises. Come Harold, we have things to do."

My temper rose to unexpected heights. I could feel the heat in my neck and face as I restrained myself from physically lashing out against my own mother.

When Mariah came out, she saw the anger still etched into my face. She knew instantly what must have happened, and without a pause said, "Your grandmother would expect you to always be respectful to your mother."

Her words made me recall the weak slap she delivered to me when I verbally lashed out against her. My hand now went reflexively to my cheek. Not to sooth any pain but in an effort to recapture one of her last touches.

"Tim."

Mariah's' voice brought me out of my reverie and reminded me that I had a responsibility to perform. My mind now tried to work thru possibilities of how to best tell my aunt that she wasn't a blood aunt.

"We have to go to Mom's attorney tomorrow morning. After that, we can pick up her ashes. - She told me how she wants them disposed of. - Tim, Tim. Are you listening to me?"

"Sorry Mariah, I was..." She didn't let me finish.

"I know Tim. I feel the pain of our loss too. -- Tim, we need to go home. I want to talk about Mom and us."

"Mariah," I called out to her. "There is something..."

Once again, she cut me off.

"This is not the place Tim. It's best we talk and grieve at home."

-----

We arrived back at my grandmother's home. Tomorrow, it and half the farm would belong to Mariah. My thoughts of my grandmother and the request she made of me filled my mind. How would I tell this woman that she was not the birth daughter of my grandmother and not my aunt. How would she accept it? Would she feel wronged because she had been lied to all these years?

"I Love you Tim. I think I always have."

Her words were unexpected and the embrace from her even more so.

"Mariah," I said as my heart raced. "I Love you too, but I must tell you something."

I stepped back from her slightly so I could look into her eyes. They were so deep brown they almost looked black.

"This may be hard for you to hear, but you must. I just want you to know that my grandmother was a mother to you in every way that a woman could be, except that she did not give birth to you. She was afraid to tell you. When you left to get the medicine for her, she asked me to tell you after she died. Mariah, until then I did not know. To me you were my blood aunt."

I tried to hurry my words.

"She loved you Mariah. No daughter could have been wanted or loved more."

"Tim. Tim, stop. I know. I've known for almost three years. I never wanted Mom to know that I found out. - You see your mother was the one that made me curious, by constantly calling me her bastard sister. One day I went to a tribal meeting and asked if I had been adopted. Several women were more than willing to tell the story, as they knew it.

"To me, she was my real mother whither she gave birth to me or not. The knowledge that I was not your true aunt was a comfort to me as well. I had deep feelings for you. Feelings that use to worry me, because as your aunt, I wasn't suppose to get tingles when I was near you or when I would have certain dreams about you."

"Mariah," my arms reached out and encircled her. "Ever since I found out I wanted to hold you, and, and kiss you."

Her lips were on mine and as my initial shock ebbed, I began to kiss her back as my arms pulled her closer into me. I could feel the warmth of her body, the pressure of her breasts against my chest and I felt her push her hips against me.

There was no controlling my reaction. My manhood burst to life, straining against my pants as it pressed against her belly.

Mariah's hands moved down to my ass and pulled it into her as her tongue worked its way between my lips. Until that moment, I had never French kissed a girl before. The thrill made me thrust my hips forward, now pushing my cock harder into her.

A moan escaped her lips as she stopped our kiss. Her breathing was heavy and her voice husky with want as she spoke.

"Tim, come with me to the barn. Just like Mom said, 'The Frost is on the Pumpkin' and it's our time. - Mom told me of her first time. Tim, I want my first time to be like hers. Quick Tim, before I loose my nerve while Mom's words are still fresh in my mind. I have no shame, no shame Tim."

Her words reminded me of my grandmother's words to Mariah that night with the fire blazing and Mariah's tits were exposed to me. My mind filled with the image of them illuminated in the flickering fire light, as her nipples grew hard as I watched. That thought made me feel the first drop of clear lubricant leak from the tiny opening at my cocks head.

"Are you sure you want to do this Mariah?"

She paused and looked into my eyes, as I saw sadness and fear fill hers.

"I'm asking, because I want you Mariah, I've wanted you since we started high school. I need to make sure that you are all right with this."

Her eyes brightened. "Tim I want you. I want to feel you in me, to feel your body on top of mine. Yes Tim, I even want to feel the hay against my bare flesh. Now, come with me.

The two of us loped out the door ad toward the small barn. The sun was low on the horizon and a chill was now creeping into the small valley. Mariah dragged me to the back of the barn and a thick pile of loose hay. Normally the hay was kept in small bails neatly stacked for winter use. It wasn't hard to tell that Mariah had set the stage for a reenactment of my grandmother's first sexual experience.

My pondering was cut short when Mariah pushed me back into the deeply piled hay. As I fell, I reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her down with me.

We lay there, side by side, looking at each other, knowing what was about to happen and wanting it to happen.

"Tim, you know that I have never been with a man before, not this way, not having, having gone all the way."

"Mariah," I said, excitement filling my voice. "I want more from you than just this one time. I know I'm young, we're both young, but even before we do this, I want this, us, to be forever."

She looked into my eyes as she undid the buttons on her blouse. My gaze was fastened to her white bra covered breasts.

"Reach around me and unfasten my bra."

I reached around and felt the clasp. I had seen movies where with a small twist the bra would pop off. It didn't happen for me. Very unromantically, I had to roll her over and raise the back of her shirt to unhook a clasp that must have been made by the same guy who made chastity belts. With help from Mariah, the romantic first time could finally begin.

I rolled her on to her back; the bra still covered her breasts. Mariah sensing that I was about to screw things up again, sat up and removed her shirt and bra.

The sight of her firm light tan breasts with their dark tan areolas and protruding buds made me dive for them. I pushed her back into the straw as my lips latched on to her right breast and my fingers captured the nipple on her other tit.

Her hands flew to the back of my head and began caressing it and my neck as moans of pleasure flowed from her.

"Oh God, Tim, I love it. Please, suck more in. Yes Tim, Yes."

Her moan and words of encouragement made me feel like an experienced lover. Giving me the confidence I needed, along with a desire to make every thing good for her.

After only a few minutes had passed, she spoke again. "Enough Tim. Strip me. Make me naked so you can look at my whole body. I want you to like it. To look at it the same way you did when you saw my breasts on the night you left."

I didn't want to give up sucking on her beautiful tit. It felt so good in my mouth as my tongue caressed her swollen nipple. However, the thought of seeing her most secret parts was a temptation to big to ignore.

I fumbled with her small belt and got the buckle undone. Next was the clasp and zipper on her side. I began to push her pants down from her waist.

"Tim, please, pull from the bottom of the legs, I'll do the rest."

With my ego a little dented, I moved to her feet, removed her flats. Then, with a steady pull, her pants came off. Like a true man, I folded them, kind of, and put them out of the way, on top of her discarded shoes. It was difficult to do because my eyes couldn't leave the crotch area of her pink panties. I could see the mound in front and black hair patch that darkened the area.




Frost on the Pumpkin



"Do you like what you see so far? - When I lift up, pull my panties down and the nylons will come with them."

She lifted and I pulled from the waistband. She had to spread her legs a little, so I could free them from her crotch. Once free, she let her ass fall back onto the hay and raised her legs, while I continued to pull until her feet were bare.

As with her breasts, I couldn't resist her thick black patch. With the same zeal, I dove between her legs. Burying my face into her wet folds. I treated her pussy just like her tits. I sucked her labia and clit into my mouth and let my tongue begin its exploration.

She began to raise her hips and she grabbed a hand full of my hair. As her movements became more erratic, she became wetter and wetter. Several times, I had to swallow her juices. Her cries and thrusts made me continue licking and sucking until she froze. Her entire body went rigid and then, just as fast she clamped her legs around my head and squeezed as she cried out. It almost sounded like a wail of agony, followed by Oh God, Oh God, for a half dozen times. When she finally released me, I had to let go and gulp for air, like a drowning man, a happily drowning man.

I was now ready to explode. I knew that the moment my cock even got close to her pussy, it would be over in seconds. But, my inner drive didn't care.

I never had intercourse before, but instinctively I knew what I had to do and what went where.

While Mariah laid their, her eyes still wide and her breathing labored, I quickly undid the buttons of my shirt, struggled with the tight cuffs, then in record time kicked my shoes off and dropped my pants. My underwear coming down with them. I wasted no time.

As I began to position myself, Mariah was just coming down from the after shocks of her orgasm. "Wait," she panted out. "Mom told me about this. Lay back Tim. We both want this to last."

Like a child being led, I followed her directions. My rigid aching cock needed release, and it almost happened when I felt Mariah's hand take hold of me.

"Tim, you're beautiful," she said as her hand now began caressing my shaft. "I've never done this, so if I hurt you, tell me. I'll do the best I can Tim."

At the conclusion of those words, her head move down and I watched as she took my cock into her mouth. More and more she took until her lips were at the base. That's when I felt it. Her throat constricted around it. I couldn't believe the sensation. Another second of this and I was going to cum. I heard her gag and wretch. I watched as tears filled her eyes and there was a puff of air that rushed around my cock and made her cheeks blow out. The next second her mouth was open. My cock was again in her grasp as she sucked in air. Two breaths and once again I felt the tightness of her throat around my cock. This time, it brought me over the edge. I began to pulse and squirt my cum down her throat. She pulled away once she felt my first large shot. My cock, now out of her mouth but I couldn't stop. The next bolt struck her chin and lips. Instantly she took it back into her mouth, but only the head. As she sucked and stroked my shaft with her hand, I shot three more times.

I had no control over my body as I trembled and my limbs shook. I now understood why Mariah cried out and her body convulsed. I had never felt anything feel so good.

Even the times that I masturbated never came close to this.

Mariah was still sucking on my cock as it began to soften, her tongue working on my tip trying to coax more cum out of me.

"Come up here," I called to her.

She released my member and wiped my cum from her chin. There was still a small remnant of it on her lower lip. I pulled her to me and began kissing her. There was a momentary salty tang as my mouth covered hers and our tongues began to intertwine. As they did, I began to feel heat and my cock began to fill with life.

I gently pushed her back and moved between her legs. My cock pushed against her stomach as I lay on top of her. My hand cradled the back of her neck as I began kissing her throat. As I began to suck she lifted her chin, exposing more of the tender flesh to me. Almost as if she was begging to be devoured.

As I sucked and kissed, I moved my hips up and back, allowing my cock to slide into position. She was so very wet that with just the slightest move forward, I pushed the head between her folds and brought it into her tight opening.

"Mariah, I will take it very slow. Tell me if I'm hurting you."

She gave no verbal response. She just looked into my eyes and threw her arms around my neck. In one swift move, she pulled me down on top of her as she pushed her hips up. My cock now buried deep in her as our bellies slapped together.

She gave a loud groan of pain. I felt her body tense and then relax. Her cry sent a bolt of fear thru me and I went to pull out of her. As soon as she felt me move, she wrapped her legs around me and held me tight.

"Don't move Tim. Not yet" she panted the words out in an obvious effort to control the pain she was still feeling.

"God, I didn't expect it to be like this. I can feel my insides still stretching. I feel so full. - The pain is slowly leaving Tim. But you feel so very good in me. Just give me another minute to adjust."

I didn't know what to think of her words. I did know that my first shock had left and my mind was now consumed with the feel of my cock, fully encased by rippling muscles. My urge to begin a wild thrusting was only calmed by Mariah's request that I just stay in her. I wasn't sure how much longer I could control what seemed like an automatic muscle response as even now I felt myself pushing harder against her. It was as if I wanted to fill more of her, to go deeper.

The first movement of her hips set me off. I raised my hips and my cock began its withdrawal. When I felt the head reach the outer edge of her pussy, I began a slow push forward. This first slow thrust brought groans of pleasure from both of us. My second thrust was an equally slow out and in. By my third push, I felt Mariah meeting me and as we pushed against each other, I couldn't help but make the exclamation.

"Oh Fuck, this feels so good."

My words came as a shock to me and I stopped my movement as l looked into Mariah's eyes, expecting to see disapproval.

Instead, what I got was a small smile as she said. "Yes Tim. It does feel so fucking good. I want you to tell me, tell me how your cock feels in my virgin pussy. Tim fuck me and tell me how you love it."

Her words inflamed my desire and I began fucking her with hard heavy thrusts. Her groans and moans were occasionally interrupted by "Yes, fuck me Tim."

I was close to cumming when I felt the sharp pain of her fingernails being raked down my back and her legs once again wrapped around me, preventing me from having full thrusts into her. Not that it mattered. The feel of her contractions on my cock was all it took for me to begin to cum.

"Shit, Mariah, I'm cumming in you."

Her response was a loud a long groan of, "YeeeeeAAAA", as her hips pushed forward. If she had not been holding me in her with her legs, my cock would have been pushed out of her as her body shook and strained in a wild convulsion. Much of which I missed because my body was doing much the same as I instinctively fought to push deeper into her to insure that my seed was well placed.

I was spent as her orgasm was just beginning to calm. Once she began to relax and release her leg hold on me, I collapsed on top of her. Our labored breathing would not allow either of us to speak but a feeling of complete love washed over me.

Her insides were still throwing off periodic pulses that would squeeze my cock. I lay on her until one of those pulses pushed my softened cock out of her.

I moved off and lay on my side facing her. The cold night air was working its way into the barn and I felt a non-sexual shiver travel thru me.

Mariah turned away from me and when she rolled back, she had two blankets. She was definitely prepared for this.

She covered us as I watched, fascinated by the way each of her movements made her breasts jiggle and sway.

Once we were covered, she snuggled down next to me and we held each other. Happiness beaming from both our faces, we were glad to be young and alive in the arms of the person that we loved.

-----

The barn was warming and the sun was high when we woke.

"Shit," Mariah exclaimed. "The lawyer. We have the reading this morning."

She grabbed her things. "Hurry," she exclaimed as I began to pull my pants on.

"There isn't time," she exclaimed as she ran naked from the barn to the house.

I finished putting my pants on, grabbed my shirt and shoes, and then ran after her. In my younger days, I use to run barefoot all around the barn and house. They must have added all these stones to the ground over the past three years. I found myself limping and in pain by the time I made it to the front porch.

I was still blurry eyed from the night. We didn't get much sleep. Our newly discovered apatite for sex left little time for such mundane things.

I made breakfast while Mariah cleaned herself and got ready. It was a big temptation to molest her when I saw her leave the bathroom naked and walk to her room. However, other things were weighing on my mind. Like my mothers threat. I needed to do something, but I had no ideas.

By the time Mariah came out, I had finished eating and took my turn getting ready. I finished with just enough time for us to make the appointment. As we started to go, I stopped Mariah.

"I want you to know that I love you and no matter what happens I'll do my best to protect you."

"Tim, have faith. Mom told both you and I that she would be here to help. I trust her now, just as I did when she was alive. Think Tim. She knew what she was doing when she told us it was our time and when she used her favorite expression for sex, that the frost was on the pumpkin. You have to give her credit. To the end she was all Indian with a touch of Yankee horse trader in her."

Mariah's words didn't do much to quell my fears of what my mother might do. Though she was right about grandma insuring that Mariah and I would find each other.

-----

"Good. Now that the principal parties are here, we can begin."

My mothers face was tight and her anger showed thru as Grandma's attorney read the will, almost exactly as she had told it to me, except for a clause.

The attorney went on, "Should either of the receiving parties contest the will, that would be considered an act of disrespect and the inheritance will be forfeited to my Grand-Son."

With those words, my mother sprang to her feet, causing the chair to fall back as she spat out, "The old senile bitch. She can't do this to me. That little bastard whore isn't her blood or my sister. She was a poor excuse of a mother to me. I tell you the old bitch was crazy and that will means nothing."

The attorney drew himself to full height and glared at her. "I assure you Mrs. Tucker, your loving mother was one of the sanest people in this town. Should you attempt to besmirch her and her request I have the power as her attorney to present before a judge that you, Mrs. Tucker are in disrespect of your mother's final wishes. Your outburst here today would be enough for me to begin. Do I make myself clear Mrs. Tucker?"

My mother never answered him. She stormed from the office, slamming the door behind her.

The attorney now turned to Mariah. "I am terribly sorry for your loss Miss Holt. Your mother was a wonderful woman."

"Mr. Samuels, to me she was my mother. However, the facts are that she took me in from an unmarried Indian woman who died giving me life. In part Mrs. Tucker is correct I'm not her sister and I am a bastard child and legally Jenny Holt is not my mother."

A confused look crossed the Attorneys face. "I must disagree, Miss Holt. Legally she is your mother. I have Legal court and tribal adoption documents to prove that you are one of the two daughters of Jenny Holt. Just as I have similar documents on your mother young man."

"What? - I don't understand," I sputtered.

Once again, the attorney looked puzzled. "Didn't you know that your grandmother adopted your mother?"

"No, I didn't and I don't think she knows."

The attorney's face when white. "Oh, my. So she thinks that she is..."

I didn't need to hear the end of the sentence in order to answer. "Probably. It would explain a few things."

"Oh Dear," the attorney went on. "She never left me any directions on whither to tell either of you or not."

Mariah now spoke calmly. "Don't worry Mr. Samuels, I'll tell her, that will relieve you of the responsibility and if she wants to see the documentation, well I assume it is part of my mothers estate."

Relief filled his face," Yes, Why yes it is."

-----

When we left the office, I was excited. I knew that this information would destroy my mother.

"So Mariah do you want to tell my mother the good news now or save it for a real confrontation."

"I can't and won't do that Tim."

"But she wants to destroy you. You can stop her now."

"No Tim. If Mom had wanted her to know, she would have arranged for her to find out. Just like she made sure I would know, by asking you to tell me. I think she thought that by you telling me it would help with the bond between us. As I think back, Mom always was a matchmaker."

"So what do we do?"

"We go and get Mom's ashes. Then we abide by her private wishes. She told me Tim, did she tell you as well?"

"No, she had so much to say and she and I had so very little time alone."

She looked at me questioningly. "Tim don't you realize, that tonight is the night of Halloween when we celebrate the harvest and."

She paused, waiting for me to finish her sentence. It didn't take long before it came to me.

"A night of remembrance for loved ones that have departed. - She couldn't have planned this, could she?"

"Tim I don't know, but her request was that her ashes be thrown into a celebration fire so she could give back to the earth, air and water what she had taken in life." 

We got the urn that contained my grandmother's ashes. Mariah held it as if she were cradling a baby as I drove home, to the home that Mariah now owned.

She was quiet on the way, but once we got there, she turned into her mother.

"Tim you need to change and go down to the field and prepare the fire. I'll begin the wheat bread, I think we have a small capon in the frig and I'll make her Indian pudding. - Hurry Tim there is lots to do before the moon begins to rise. Oh, check in the barn and see if you can find some applejack. If not I'll do what I can with the apples we have."

With a smile and no comment, I went in and changed.

When I was done with my assigned chores, I went back to the house. I had just opened the door to the kitchen and the familiar smells of Mariah's cooking rocketed me back in time and for an instant, I thought I saw my Grandmother standing behind Mariah.

I shook my head to clear my vision and when my eyes, once again fell upon her, I felt my heart swell. A second later, more than my heart was swelling. She was wearing new buckskins. No longer, the pants and shirt of her old set. This was a one-piece dress that hugged her hips and ass. Her long raven hair hung down her back in a ponytail.

With no further hesitation, I moved behind her and brought my lips to the side of her neck as my arms encircled her and my hands clamped over her breasts.

"Oh Tim," she sighed as she tilted her head back and pushed her ass back into me.

"The bread," she gasped and pulled away from me, rushing to the oven. She opened the oven door and gave an audible sigh of relief before she turned and spoke to me.

"Now go and get cleaned up and change, before you make me burn something else. I put out your new skins. I hope they fit. I made them for you two years ago and with Mom's help guessed at the size."

-----

Mariah and I sat side by side eating our small feast of celebration, as the fire kept the chill away from us.

The pink glow in the west was almost gone when Mariah announced, just as her mother would have. "It's time."

She stood and picked up the urn that contained the ashes of the woman that we both loved and knew as Mother and Grandmother. With her knife, she broke the seal and with the reverence due this sole that gave so very much of her to us, we slowly walked hand in hand to the flickering fire.

"Help me with this Tim. I don't want to let go of even her ashes."

"Mariah, this is what she wanted. Let go of her my love. Honor her wish."

I took Mariah's hand that held the urn and together we turned it and emptied its contents into the flames. We both watched as a shower of sparks, still glowing brightly leapt into the night sky and rose far above the flame and heat before disappearing.

Mariah cast the empty vessel into the fire and began a slow steady beat with her foot on the ground. I followed suit and we began our slow dance around the fire as Mariah wailed a rhythmic chant that I had never heard before.

I was almost lost in the dance when my Grandmothers voice rang out in my head. "Go Tim, stop her."

It took me a moment before I noticed the fiery glow coming from the area of the house.

"No," I screamed as I ran towards the house.

As I got closer, I could see flames now leaping high into the sky as the barn burnt. I didn't have to get any closer to know that the dark figure standing in front of the fire was my mother.

I continued running toward her, screaming, "Why, Why. She loved you. She took you in."

As I got closer, I could see her face illuminated by the flames. The flickering fire light gave it a distorted demonic appearance that made me pause.

Slowly and deliberately, she turned and looking at me, spat, "I told you I'd make good on my promises. That little bastard whore of yours will have nothing."

The faint sound of distant sirens could be heard as I began to speak to her. I was surprised and a little shocked at how calm I now felt. There was no desire to physically attack her or be verbally angry.

"You are my mother, no matter what. Grandma loved you, and you had no idea that you are just like Mariah."

Her face was contorted as she screamed back at me, "I am not like that little bitch."

"Mom, you are. You were adopted just as she was. You were loved just like she was."

"NO, NO, NO. These are lies!"

The sirens were getting closer and my mother knew that her time to act was limited. She turned and ran to her car, opened the door and removed a metal gas can.

I froze in place, not from fear of my mother torching the house, but of the specter of my Grandmother.

My mothers face turned ashen as she too saw her adopted mother.

"Lilly. It is true. I did not give birth to either you or Mariah. You both have much in common. - Lilly, come to me and I can save you."

"No, No! This isn't real. This is all your doing. You're the one I hate."

She was looking in my direction and I thought she was talking to me until I felt Mariah's hand slip into mine.

I was still in shock at seeing my Grandmother, but Mariah's face was calm and serene as she too saw her mother.

"Lilly," I heard my grandmothers voice again. "Lilly, this isn't you. Come to me, I can help."

The sirens were close; I could see the lights at the beginning of the dirt drive.

As the specter of my grandmother began to approach my mother, she shrieked a horrible sounding, "NOooo," as she turned and ran.

Mariah's voice now rang out, "Lilly, DON'T!"

Her cry of warning was too late. In her fear and panic, my mother ran in front of a slow moving pickup driven by one of the volunteer firemen. She seemed to just lightly bounce off the hood, and then she fell under the wheel of the city's only large fire engine.




Frost on the Pumpkin



There was no scream as I watched her fall. Only a flash of light as I saw my grandmother's specter enveloped my mothers body and it was over.

Though it is cruel to say, no one mourned the passing of my mother. In death, she freed a man from his self-made chains and a boy from his hate.

I am now a pharmacist and have taken over the family business. Mariah and I have three children, Jenny, Mary and Tim Jr. We still live at the farm where we both grew up and our children experience the three feasts that keep Grandma Jenny Holt alive in our hearts.

----------

please vote - any and all comments are welcome

Thank You Old_Blue



Frostbite



Frostbite

A Silky Adventure

"Silky?" George's warm breath whispered me awake.

"Wha...huh?" I'm generally very articulate in the mornings, but after my medications.

"We've had a winter storm. Not usual at all, but they called me and said some pipes froze and burst at the office. I've got to run check on it, but I'll be back. You and the Viking Princess can stay in bed, everything's closed today. Stay safe," his words proved to be vatic.

Normally in Alabama even in December one rarely needs more than a light coat. In 2010-11 a lot of low temperature records were broken and we had a bunch of days in the 20s and even the teens with ice and snow and everything.

Big blonde Jessica always likes to sleep late. In fact she would sleep at least 12 hours every day if she could get away with it. Since I rarely sleep at all I do morning things; for example I take the dogs out at 6 AM. Jess does the evening drill, as she is more likely to be conscious at that time.

So that's why I was packed up like an Eskimo with two dog leashes and two wild toy poodles seeing the first snow of their lives, tromping around the outside when it was barely daylight. Occasional flashes of my green eyes, sparkling like the ice, were all you could see of me. The back door opened and slammed hard enough for me to hear it with earmuffs and a muffler and a knit cap over my red hair, under my hoody.

"Silky! It snowed!" Jessica came running across the backyard with her robe tied tightly around her waist and her little bunny slippers on her bare feet.

I was in shock. I'm not sure I've ever seen Jessica awake before noon! Besides that, she had on exactly a Foil Federation Crest Tee she got from Rue 21, our favorite store, the bunny slippers and the robe.

"Jess you're gonna freeze!"

"No problem I'm going right back inside. But this is just great!"

She was not as convinced it was great when the snowball I threw whopped aside her head. Then of course there was some running around with her trying to throw one at me, general giggling, and rambunctious barking tiny dogs.

Finally my sister had had enough and headed back inside. I was right behind her, it was freezing! That's when I learned that she had locked the door accidentally behind herself.

"Jess, baby what are we going to do?"

"I'll just ring the bell. George will come let us in. But I hope he hurries I'm really getting cold!"

"Jessie, George isn't here! He's already left." By that time her teeth were starting to chatter so I had to take off some of my well-thought-out warm clothing to keep my silly sister from freezing to death.

"W-w-w-we h-h-h-have a k-k-key in the f-f-f-flower pot," she reminded me. We both knew there were no neighbors for miles.

I dug down with my heavy gloves on which didn't work. So I pulled them off and gave them to the Elvin icicle. But guess what? The flowerpot was frozen solid!

"I can't get it out. It's all ice!"

"Melt the ice. Run water on it."

That didn't take long. In Alabama we're not used to outside faucets freezing.

"Use the gas grill." She could barely talk by this point so I had to give up more clothing. We were both getting really hypothermic.

I tried to lift the pot. Not a chance! So she tried it, but she couldn't do it either. Figuring out how to both get our hands around it took more icy seconds. Once we both got a grip, we heaved, and managed to lift it two inches. I was losing the feeling in my hands, and I knew Jess was even worse.

For a second time, we hugged the slippery frozen terracotta, and with much praying, alternating with cursing that probably lowered the temperature another 5°, we managed to get it on the grill. Jessie cursed more than I did, just for the record, if our frozen bodies are found here someday by archeologists from the future.

Of course we had no matches and no lighters. The grill did have a piezo electric starter but those always look cool and stop working after a week. 

Now we were to the point that we had to take turns trying to keep each other warm. We wrapped ourselves in the robe and my coat, put dogs between our breasts, and put our hands between each other's legs.

"Damn, Silky, I may never have sex again! You fingers are turning my pussy to ice!"

"If someone with blond hair had worn one tiny little jacket, I wouldn't be trying to get heat out of a radish...or whatever that saying is. And your long old fingers have me frozen from knees to asshole!"

We kept our faces close, not quite kissing, but trying to save every bit of warmth in our breath. This led to whispering, somehow, as we alternated in damning each other and promising our undying love if we survived.

"Silky, It's all my fault, I know. You should keep the coats and let me freeze, I deserve it."

"I love you far too much to let you be a Jessica-sickle; besides, where would I get a stick big enough to shove up your ass?"

She kissed me then, a gentle, loving kiss that said a million words about our closeness. It lingered, and it gave the illusion at least, of heat.

"You little slut! Your pussy is getting wet!"

"I couldn't help it, you were just so serious and all. I love you Jess."

"And I love you, with my dying breath."

"So let's do this!" I roared with fear, and we pulled out of our cocoon and tried again.

We got the gas turned on, after four tries, and then took turns pushing the starter button. The one pushing did it barehanded, the watcher wore the gloves. There was some grousing about how many tries before we changed turns, but we both knew we had to get it done.

"Push it harder, bitch! It has to snap!"

"I'm gonna push your face in the snow if you don't quit trying to be the boss of me!"

"You and what army? Fine, I'll just keep the gloves and you push the button your way, and Hell will freeze over....you don't think this is Hell, do you?"

"Silky, can we just focus on getting the damn grill lit?"

"You did it! Jess, you've saved us!" I said, perhaps a little prematurely.

Now we could at least hold hands up to the fire but they were numb enough that we really couldn't tell if it was safe. We looked like second graders in line for the restroom as we danced and shuffled trying to keep warm. 

Who knows how long we capered and caracoled? Suddenly a gun-shot -- or actually the flower pot shattering from the heat; I guess it wasn't built to be oven proof. I handed Jess the gloves, poor baby, and frantically dug into the dirt. My numbed digits barely understood the meaning when they clasped a hard object, and finally I was able to retrieve the key. This was of course, not only the literal key to the door, but the symbolic.... Ok, get rid of the mental clutter.....

All four of us were really cold; the two tiny ones shivering almost as much as the two bipedal ones. We scooped them up and held them in our arms while we ran for the bathroom with the big hot tub. 

"Silky, we can't just jump in a hot tub!"

"Why in shit not? I'm freezing!"

"Survival 101, baby girl. You have to warm up a little at a time."

We turned on the lukewarm water and started rubbing our hands in it. It stung like fire! The dogs were happy to curl up in front of the fire so we let them take care of themselves. We stripped completely and eased ourselves into the water-or perhaps forced is a better term. 

"Oww! Ouuo!"

"Damn this hurts!"

"Ouch ouch ouch"

"Quit kicking me!"

"Don't try to hog the whole tub!"

"Shit! Shit! Shit!"

After a while we realized we had escaped amputation and death in the backyard. We felt safe in adding a little more hot water, and then a little more, and then eased back into a comfortable soak.

Now our hot tub is not one of those sybaritic swimming pools for 10 people: two can fit in it; three if you're desperate. So there should be enough room for a tiny muscular redhead and a somewhat gargantuan blonde. It seems however, that the legs of a certain blonde needed more than their fair share of the tub and so the feet attached to them kept poking the heroic redhead in red-haired areas that were below the water.

"You toe is in my kootchie! And when did you last get a pedicure, anyway? Have you been to that Korean lady at Nails Plus? Damnit, are you trying to fuck me or are you just clumsy?"

"My toe is still really cold, I can hardly feel it. And you're the one who started getting wet in the middle of us dying by exposure."

"Why do they call it exposure anyway? We covered up everything we possibly could. Ha! We didn't expose anything like what we do in the summertime. And don't think that I'm not noticing your big ole scabrous toe still trying to get some!"

"Why don't you return the favor?"

"You think I won't? At least my nails are smooth and French Polished. Do you think French Polished and French Kissed and French Fried have anything to do with each other? Or Kentucky Fried?"

"Silky, you haven't had your meds today yet, right? I hate to take advantage of a mentally challenged person."

'Take advantage? You think I'd be letting you toe my pussy if I didn't like it?" I then stretched my leg down to do her, but no fair! Her legs are so damn long, I think my toes only rubbed her knees!

Then she leaned forward, sorta trapping me at my end (of the tub) and pulled my face close.

"You saved my life Silky," was all she said. 

Her lips closed on mine and I could barely think of Denmark or butterflies or mitosis, or the other clutter generally in my head. Her toe was further in me than I would have thought possible anatomically, but I certainly enjoyed the sensation. At some point, she scooted close enough that even my legs could reach her opening, and I began my life as a toe-sex expert. 

The warmth inside her lips was much hotter than the tub, just as my loins flamed beneath the waves. I began to toy with her nipples, the one with the ring (her right) and the impoverished left one. Since it is totally devoid of adornment I would call it flat broke, but even though my breasts surpass hers, she comes nowhere near flat. Anyway....

She chose the route of pulling on my decorated nipple (Italian Silver) and used her other hand to augment her submarine excursions. I wonder if Jules Verne thought of these kinds; she is very good at touching me, she always has been, and this was no exception.

Soon the tempest in the tub sloshed water everywhere, but we two could not have cared; Saved from a frozen death, we warmed each other to the gates of Heaven, and then beyond. 

Jess began to defame saints, and then reached Gesú bambino, the words my Achates always reaches at the brink of cumming. Then with sforzando I lost track of her words, as I drowned under my own feelings and soared free of this Earth. 

Our responses led to surcease, and we added more hot water and chillaxed in our mutual muliebrity. 

George returned to a house with sleeping dogs, sleeping daughters, and a flooded bathroom. 

"Anyone want to explain the flooding? Did you two have a naval engagement? Jess, what are you doing awake, it's only 10 am?"

"Snort! You sound like Silky! So many questions!"

I thought that was funny, myself, and soon our convulsive laughter dumped more water on the floor. 

"Ok, time for drying off. I don't want prunes for daughters." 

So George helped us out of the tub, and helped dry us off, and in the course of doing so managed to get himself soaked, naked, and erect. To be totally honest, I really don't know how that happened, I really didn't do anything. Honest.

He urged us to the bedroom, which seemed a wonderful destination for two discalced girls eager to have tmesis with blankets. We crawled to either side of our owner, and dutifully explained our near-death experience. (Or experiences?) Anyway, we told him we almost got frozified. When I said I couldn't figure out a stick big enough to shove into Jess to make her a Popsicle, George put his finger over my lips.

"Silky, you did a good job. Both of you. You willingly shared your clothes to protect Jessica, and the two of you together figured out a good plan. You still have to mop the bathroom, but that's not a rush. Everything is closed, so we're stuck here."

"A horrible fate!" Murmured Jess.

"I think that Silky is the heroine here, and we'll do what she decides."

"What if I decide y'all should mop the bathroom?"

"No chance. But other things, you choose."

"You'll do whatever I want?"

"Yes"

"Both of you. Whatever I want?" I got two affirmative nods to that, so I took a deep breath, rolled my head around to bounce the though one more time, and said, "George, I want you to fuck me in the ass."

"What?"

"You promised!"

"I'm not saying no, I'm just amazed! Why that?"

"I was having eschatological thoughts as we froze, and I thought about how one thing I regretted was that I never offer it up to you, so I wanted to do that."

"No problem. I'm good with your sweet baby ass anytime." His eyes glowed with lickerish emotions.

"But I want to do it differently."

"How differently can you do it, Silk?"

Exercising obscurantism, I insisted that I would explain as we went.

"Jess will be my assistant."

I then dived under the covers and in that caliginous space inhaled the frowsty odor of a cock too long hard and waiting. I could feel Jess lean over, and assumed they started kissing, as his erection made a perceptible surge. 

I put my little hand around his shaft and pulled his abergined head against my lips. I toyed with him, placing light kisses on it, and then quick kitten licks, and slowly eased him into my mouth. I slid back and forth several times, fletcherizing every inch, but not giving him release. That, I prayed, would come my way... and then I giggled at my own pun.

I resurfaced to spy the blonde crawling past George's tonsils. I slapped her bared cheek, not that a little whipping would ever slow her down. "Jess, I need your help."

"In response to our near- cothurnal morning, I am your slave." That was hyperbole, Jess is a shitty slave.

"I want you to go fill a big bowl with crushed ice."

"What?"

"No questions, lousy slave, just do it. And bring it back here."

While she spent like hours doing that one simple task, I allowed George to sedulously tongue my labia and swollen little clit. I wouldn't let him make me cum, that would make the next step too easy.

So when the daughter of Shylock returned with her burden, I began to issue instructions. First, I got into a comfortable knee chest position. That is probably a pleonasm, as I love to kneel like that, with my perineum open to the world. I'm afraid my tight little asshole had become eremite; she had been so long hidden away.

The next instruction left Jessie openmouthed; I told her to stuff my rectum with ice chips. After a brief wait for George's nod, she fed freezing shards of ice into my anus, perhaps with more asperity than necessary, but I always have been sensitive about my private little rosebud. 

The internal chill froze my guts. It was as if I shat backwards, and cold is not a strong enough word. I wanted so badly to laager my back door, but I had decided to do this, and I never give up. When my evil twin announced she could stuff no more, I spread my knees one last millimeter, and asked George to put his adamantine shaft at my dripping adscititious adit. He complied.

"Fuck me, George. Fuck my cold tight ass. Fuck me until your heat melts me!" I said in a precatory moan.

Already stretched, my anal ring could bear the push of his rigid glans. My fear that the cold would wilt him evaporated as the frisson of his entrance made him frozen, so to speak. I was so full already that I felt as if he were entering my throat from the back, certainly at least my gall bladder or somewhere near there.

His fucking melted my ice and ass by stages. Gallons of hiemal arctic water flushed with every back stroke, and harmonizing, he gained a little more space with each thrust. Soon the heat from his manhood had melted my ass and my heart, and the only sensations were of my tight ring paralleling his penis, lengthening when he withdrew, folding into itself when he forged ahead.

Jess could not stand to be left out, so she shoved herself under me, to pay umbrage to my clitoris with her magic lavations, and when I felt George pouring scalding porridge into me, I allowed myself to melt in turn, to sear the frozen fears from my brain and my cunt, and to be blasted into unconsciousness.



Frostburg



Frostburg, Ohio, is well named. A small town, consisting of a single, tree-lined street alongside of which are neat, two-story clapboard houses with screened-in porches, small mom-and-pop shops, a church, a post office, a small public library, a park, and a couple of bars, it could have been the model for Disneyland's Main Street, USA, the inspiration for a Norman Rockwell painting, or the setting of a Ray Bradbury novel. It was winter when George, who is my chauffeur, and I drove through the town, on our way to points east, and a blizzard overtook us. The town's benches, awnings, rooftops, fire hydrants, mailboxes, vehicles, windowsills, sidewalks, roads, and everything else was blanketed in drifting snow, and the branches of trees and shrubs were encased in shimmering sleeves of ice. Frostburg was a winter wonderland.

Since my childhood in a similar town in the Midwest, I haven't been to many places like Frostburg. Like most wealthy men, I prefer the glamour and sophistication of the big city. My homes are in New York City, Key West, and Los Angeles. I am considering the purchase of an estate in Lake Tahoe and another in a London suburbs. Never once have I thought of buying a home in a place like Frostburg. To be frank, I wouldn't even have considered spending a night in such a town. However, the blizzard left me no choice. I booked a room in the Frostburg Inn, which was the only hotel in town. It contained only four rooms, and three of them were occupied, so George and I had to room together. In fact, since the room had only one bed, a king, we had to sleep together as well. There were only two consolations: the chamber boasted its own bath, complete with shower, and we had to endure the arrangement for only a night or two, until the snow stopped falling and the road crews cleared the streets and highways.

While I paid for our accommodations, George parked the limousine. Then, we had dinner at the Wine and Dine, a cozy, if pretentious, Italian joint across the street from our hotel. It served acceptable linguini and terrible wine. Sated, we repaired to our room. While George took a shower, I stripped to my skivvies, donned my robe, and read a tawdry science fiction novel featuring an inane utopia in which wealthy aristocrats lived parasitic lives on the backs of the working poor, whom they kept sedated, if not fulfilled, by plenty of sex, drugs, and the novel's version of rock and roll. The so-called utopia was so depressing that it made my employees' cubicle lives seem good by comparison. Once again, I thanked my lucky stars that, as an only child whose mother had died in childbirth, I'd inherited both my father's business and his entire fortune, which is--well, considerable.

I was just about to toss the idiotic narrative aside when I heard a crash from the bathroom, followed by a moan. George! I thought. Somehow, he'd hurt himself. At least it would be the hotel, not me, who was liable if he sued, I consoled myself, as I hurried to his assistance.

Fortunately, he hadn't locked the door. Opening it, I stepped over the threshold, and froze, shocked.

My chauffeur lay on the floor, nude, bleeding profusely from a nasty gash over his right eye. Part of his towel lay near his upper body. He was moaning.

"George?" I cried. "Are you all right?"

"Uh."

My eyes swept over his body. Blond of hair and blue of eye, George was a handsome man and, at thirty, young--and strong. During his leisure time, when he was not in the gym, working out with weights and performing a battery of exercises, he was lying on the beach, soaking up the rays. Consequently, he was muscular and tan, with wide shoulders, a deep chest, six-pack abs, sinewy legs, firm biceps, compact buttocks, and a sculpted back. I couldn't help but observe that he also had a long, thick cock, even when it was flaccid, as now.

"Uh."

George's moan stirred me from my reverie. I hastened to him, kneeling beside his fallen form on the cold, hard tile.

"George? Can you hear me?"

He turned his head toward me, grimaced, and nodded. "I tripped over the shower stall's doorsill."

"Are you all right? Should I call 9-1-1?"

He shook his head, before wincing again. "No. I'm okay."

"What can I do?"

Grimacing, he tried to sit, but failed. "Help me up," he said.

"I'm not sure I should move you," I replied, hesitating.

"Help me," he entreated. "Please."

I sighed, telling myself not to do so. I should call 9-1-1 and let the professionals assist him--and bear the financial liability if anything should go wrong. Instead, I took his wrists in my hands, pulling, and helped him to gain his feet. I put one of his arms over my shoulder and walked him to the bed we shared, easing him down, onto the mattress.

"What else can I do?" I asked him.

He winced. "Stop the bleeding."

Of course, I told myself. What a fool I was. I hastened to the bathroom and snatched a fresh towel from the rack. Hurrying back to George, who lay upon his back, his cock lolling upon his golden thighs, I seated myself on the edge of the bed, beside him, and staunched the bleeding. Thereafter, I cleaned the wound, which, although it had bled copiously, was not serious, after all. Then, I found a Band-aid in George's suitcase and dressed the cut.

"How's that?" I asked him.

"Great."

I started to rise.

George took my hand in his.

I paused, giving him a quizzical look.

"There's something else you can do for me," he said, smiling.

That's how our relationship had become one involving lovers rather than one involving simply an employer and an employee.

Since then, we have been intimate many times. I especially enjoy making love to George in the parked limousine. The vehicle's windows are heavily tinted. In addition, the glass allows the limousine's occupants to see out, but no one can see inside. Sometimes, when we are on a long-distance drive and I become bored with the newspaper, my cache of financial magazines, and various books on tedious business topics, I open the privacy partition between the driver's and the passengers' compartments and invite George to pull over, park, and join me. We have a drink or two over a bit of small talk. Then, we undress, neatly folding our clothes and stacking them out of the way.

Although I have seen George naked many times since that first night that I saw him lying naked upon our hotel room lavatory, wet from his shower and bleeding from the gash he'd received in his forehead after tripping on the shower stall's doorsill and falling, I enjoy seeing his brawny, tanned physique again each time that he reveals his wide shoulders, powerful chest, washboard abs, bulging thighs, chiseled back, compact buttocks, sinewy arms, thick cock, and big balls. The sight of his nude body always enflames my passions. We start kissing, and our hands caress one another's nakedness. Sometimes, George is the more active and aggressive, or masculine, partner; other times, he is the more passive and submissive, or feminine, partner. We are both "versatile," as the sex ads put it, able to give or receive pleasure--and, occasionally, pain.

I love trading roles with George. He has a lovely ass. Smooth as silk, the arching mounds of his buttocks are soft, but firm, and it is a delight to flatten them before the rapid, forward thrusts of my hips as I repeatedly drive my thick, hard penis through the tiny ring of his anus, deep into his rectum. At the same time, I usually toy with his cock and balls, masturbating him as I lunge and plunge into his bottom. When orgasm seizes me, I withdraw my lurching, straining cock from his bowels to let it spew its thick, warm, white seed over George's back and buttocks. It's wonderful to see my brand upon his flesh. Of course, I also enjoy it when he is the aggressor, as it were, and I am his prey. George is young and strong, vigorous and robust, with seemingly inexhaustible stamina. Once he skewers my asshole with his nine inches, I know that I am in for a fantastic, merciless fuck. His glans presses at my anus. Although my sphincter offers stout resistance, it widens before the mounting force of his unrelenting member, opening, slowly but surely, to admit his manhood, and I feel an inch or two penetrate the ring of muscle and slide into my bowels. Sometimes, my asshole flutters frantically about his invading organ, as if to evict this rude trespasser. Usually, when this happens, George waits patiently, enjoying the frenzied spasms. When the contractions subside, he feeds another inch or two of his cock through my impaled anus, slowly filling my backside with his thick, hard prick, and, after what seems forever, I finally feel the bump of his scrotum as he squashes his balls against the lower curves of my ass. He rides me slowly at first, pulling out until only the purple tip of his reddened cock remains within the circle of my anus, pausing for a moment, and then plunging the full length of his rigid penis into my rectum and flattening my buttocks before his driving pubes. Again and again, he rams his cock into the wide-stretched asshole between the sleek mounds of my buttocks, burying his organ inside my posterior all the way to his balls. His rhythm increases each time that he again slams his cock into my behind until he is fucking me with the intensity of a piston pumping inside an automobile's engine. Eventually, he is gripped in the throes of passion, and he empties his balls inside my ass, filling me with the warm pulses of his thick, viscid semen. He remains inside me until his cock, still oozing sperm, dwindles, softening and shrinking, and eases its way out of my gaping anus, trailing his seed along the cleavage of my buttocks and over my perineum and thighs.

More and more often, it seems, I am taking a hiatus from the pressing demands of my career in favor of joining my chauffeur on a long road trip. New sights, fresh scenery, and unfamiliar faces are always pleasant, but, most of all, I enjoy having sex with George as we park under the stars, deep in a mountain forest; among the drifting dunes of a remote desert; or alongside a coastal highway, near the eternal ebb and flow of the great, wide sea. I have begun to recount these adventures, treasuring them not only in my heart but also as entries to a journal that, in accordance with my will, shall be published upon my demise, so that all men who love other men may share these wonderful escapades.

At such times, I am always thankful of the blizzard that interrupted our journey east and forced George and me to stay the night together in Frostburg.



Frosting



It was the lure of excitement and adventure, as well as a very generous scholarship, that led me to attend college in Alaska. I wanted to get as far away from my hometown in the South as possible, and far away I got. But what I didn't count on, what no one had remembered to mention to me, was that men outnumber women in Alaska. There are an average of 106 men for every 100 women throughout the entire State, with the numbers even worse in certain areas.

I'm a reasonably good-looking guy, almost six feet tall, with light brown hair, brown eyes, and a wiry build, and I never had a problem getting girls interested in me back home. But now I was horny as Hell and I hadn't gotten a chick in months. Worse yet, my 19th birthday was coming up. I'd lost my virginity on my 18th birthday courtesy of a neighbor who wanted to help me come of age (heh, heh) and had been looking forward to my 19th. I didn't exactly know what I expected to happen, but I was sure it had to be at least as good as the year before. Now all I saw was the Alaskan tundra putting my dreams and my sexual needs on ice. Deep ice.

My roommate, Reed, was a year older than me and felt my pain. However, he also said he'd found other ways to release his pent-up sexual tension. I was dubious, but when he invited me to come with him to his buddies' place on the night of my birthday, a Saturday, I accepted. I figured that while the night wouldn't even come close to what I'd hoped for, at least it would be better than sulking in an empty dorm room.

Reed's buddies rented a rustic-looking cabin on the fringes of town, and they looked completely in place living there. Kevin and Joe were both 22 and although neither was much over six feet tall, they looked much larger because of their girth. They were built like lumberjacks, with huge muscles and barrel chests. An entire room of the cabin was exclusively devoted to their gym, and now I knew how Reed kept himself so fit, though he wasn't as big as these guys. Reed was about my height and build, with blond hair and hazel eyes. Kevin was light-skinned and had flaming red hair and blue eyes; Joe was half-Eskimo and had darker skin, black hair, and very dark brown eyes.

Two very large dogs that looked like they hadn't missed many meals had the run of the cabin, and I played with them while Reed, Kevin, and Joe caught up on things. After a few minutes, Kevin approached me. "Hey there, birthday boy," he said, giving me a quick slap on the ass.

I'd never had another guy touch my butt before and it kind of startled me, but Joe and Reed were looking on and didn't seem like they thought anything of it, so I played it cool. "So what's going on tonight?"

"Well, Reed told us about your problem and all of us have been there, buddy. We can't even get women for ourselves, so we couldn't get you one. But we did think you'd like watching some of these." He led me into the living area and pointed to a stack of porno videos sitting on a rack.

I smiled. We didn't have a VCR in our dorm and I hadn't seen a good sex flick in awhile. Plus, Kevin and Joe had a great set-up, a big-screen stereo television connected to top-of-the line speakers. They must have spent thousands of dollars on their entertainment center, I thought. Then it made sense to me: What the Hell else was there to do in the middle of Alaska except watch television and videos? "Thanks, guys."

I sat down on the couch, while Reed and Joe took the loveseat. Kevin popped the tape in, then joined me on the couch. He sat very close to me, another odd thing, but then again Reed and Joe were sitting really close together, too. Maybe everyone is just really friendly here, I thought. The movie started and two guys and a hot-looking blonde appeared on-screen. I could hardly wait until the sex started, leaning forward expectantly. What surprised me was that when the clothes started to come off, I felt just as turned on seeing the guys as I did seeing the girl. I wrote it off as me putting myself in the guys' place. The guys and the chick started banging and I sat back, trying to relax so that I didn't get a massive hard-on in front of my friends.

It didn't work. My dick started saluting and it wouldn't stand down. I was too embarrassed to look around and see what the other guys were doing, but I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and turned towards it out of instinct. My jaw dropped. Reed had unzipped his pants and pulled out a big boner, stroking it in full view of the rest of us. More shocking, Joe was watching him with more than just a little interest. The next thing I knew, Joe had his cock out and he and Reed were beating each other off. I had stopped watching the movie. I was completely focused on Reed and Joe, and I couldn't believe what was happening to my heart rate. I felt every beat of my pulse as it pushed blood through my body. I reached for my crotch and caressed the hard bump showing through my jeans.

Joe stood up and I refused to believe what was happening until he kneeled down in front of Reed and took my roommate's cock into his mouth, engulfing it to the balls as Reed sighed contentedly. Suddenly, I felt a hand that wasn't my own on my crotch. I whirled around to find Kevin, pants at his ankles, with one hand on his engorged shaft and the other between my legs.

"What the..." I started to say, though I did nothing to remove the hand from my crotch.

"There's hardly any women up here," Kevin explained, "so we had to find other ways to get satisfied."

"But I'm not gay!"

"Neither were we, until we came up here and found out about 'frosting.'"

"Found out about what?"

"Frosting," Kevin repeated. "That's what we call it up here when straight guys have sex with each other because there aren't any women around." He motioned with his head to Reed and Joe, then started undoing my pants. I didn't stop him. "You like watching them do that, right? It looks like it feels real good, right? If it feels good, who cares if it's a man or a woman doing it?" I whimpered but didn't move a muscle as Kevin pulled down my jeans and shorts, then kneeled in front of me. I felt his warm, wet mouth enclose my dick and I let out a satisfied moan. My dick hadn't been sucked in months and I'd almost forgotten how good it really felt.

Kevin released my dick and started in on my balls, licking them all around, then gently taking the nuts in his mouth and suckling them. I had my eyes closed, but opened them in surprise when I felt a second mouth on my cock. I saw Reed's head moving up and down on my shaft, moaning and hungrily sucking me as he knelt on all fours on the couch while Joe knelt behind him, his face buried in Reed's ass cheeks. I tried valiantly to hold back, but it had been too long since I'd been laid. With a groan, I came in Reed's mouth. To my surprise, he swallowed as much as he could, then licked up the rest from my dick until it was clean, with Kevin catching the few drops that escaped to the base of my organ. "Happy birthday," Reed whispered, then groaned as he pushed his ass into Joe's face.

My friends' cocks were looking good to me, really good. I wondered how it felt to suck a cock. I'd never cared for eating pussy, I hated the taste, but a cock looked a lot better. We all got down on the floor, me on all fours. Kevin got in front of me and I took my first taste of a man. God, it was so much better than pussy! Kevin was a big guy and it took me a few minutes to take the entire piece of meat in all the way, so that the head hit the back of my throat and made Kevin moan with delight. Meanwhile, Reed took his place behind me and parted my ass cheeks. I wasn't sure about being fucked in the ass, but that wasn't Reed's idea, not yet. Instead I felt his tongue touch the puckered skin that guarded the entrance to my asshole.

I had no idea that having my asshole licked could feel that fucking good. Now I knew why Reed's face had been contorted in ecstasy when Joe was rimming him. After a few minutes of lubing me, Reed took one finger and slowly probed my hole, gently slipping it in and out and driving me to new heights of pleasure, which got even more intense when a second finger joined the first. I could feel my cock getting hard again and Reed reached around to jerk it while he finger-fucked my ass and Joe, behind him, stroked his cock.

I felt Kevin's cock twitch and knew he was about to let loose. Since he had eaten some of my cum, I figured I'd better return the favor. Kevin moaned and I tasted something like warm saltwater, only much more pleasant. I did my best to swallow all of it, but some dribbled down my face. Joe had emerged from the end of our daisy chain and he bent down to lick the cum off my chin before kissing me and turning to Kevin. Kevin got down on all fours and Joe took a few minutes to lube him up with a rim job before plunging his cock into Kevin's waiting asshole. Kevin cried out, but it definitely wasn't in pain, and the men humped like rabbits before my eyes.

My apprehensions about anal sex melted away; I was pushing my ass against Reed's face. Reed pulled his head up from between my buns and mounted me. He teased the entrance of my asshole with the head of his dick before slowly pushing it in. I felt a sharp pain; a cock was a lot bigger than two fingers! Reed let his dick head sit there for a few moments so I could get used to it, then pushed the rest of his shaft in. My face contorted in pain, but I said nothing. Still, Reed must have sensed my discomfort because he took slow, short thrusts at first. Soon the pain melted away, to be replaced by a wonderful feeling of fullness as Reed popped my anal cherry, and soon I was bucking against him the same way Kevin bucked against Joe. Reed kept groaning about how tight I was, and he soon came, hard, spurting load after load of hot liquid into my chute. I could see that Joe was cumming, too, filling Kevin with his jizz. But Kevin and I were hard again from our fucking.

No problem. Reed laid down on the couch and I gave him a quick rim job, using the techniques he'd used on my asshole to get him nice and lubed. Then I entered him, rather clumsily I thought but Reed seemed to enjoy it. I did, too, because the warm tightness of an asshole is far superior to any pussy. After my dick was firmly implanted in Reed's ass and moving back and forth in a steady rhythm, Kevin climbed atop me and pushed his cock into my hole, well-lubed from Reed's cum. Our fuck-chain felt incredible. I couldn't believe I had my dick in someone's ass while my own ass was being pumped. Since Kevin and I had cum before, we lasted longer, and about 3/4 of the way through it Joe stood beside us, stroking his brand-new erection with fervor. I felt my nuts tighten and my cock spasm, spewing its contents into Reed's ass. Kevin came a few moments later, thoroughly drenching my already-cum-soaked love tunnel. As the three of us lay still, exhausted and satisfied, Joe finished jerking off and made sure that each of us got some of his cum on our faces.

Reed was right; frosting was a great way to release pent-up sexual tension. In fact, I enjoyed our frosting session so much that after that night I found myself a lot more attracted to men than women. Maybe living in a state where males outnumber females isn't such a bad thing after all!