It was the second year that the six of us had come
up here to spend a long weekend together. Jeff and his wife Becky, Bucksy
Becky, a tall very buxom brunette.
Then there s Pete, and "Repeat", as we
called her, Susan; because she looked more like his sister than his wife, each
of them with dirty blonde hair, hazel eyes, and short in stature at not even
five and a half feet, though again Susan too had fairly large tits. Though not
as large as my wife's were, more noticeable because of her short size perhaps,
almost looking top heavy.
The wait was excruciating for Robert
Carson. He and his wife, Stella, have been waiting in the doctor's office for
nearly half an hour, waiting for the results of his medical tests. Robert
hasn't been feeling well for several months. No other doctor has been able to
figure out what was wrong with him. The other doctors were able to determine
that it was not cancer or a heart condition, which Robert was grateful to hear,
but still couldn't come up with any other explanation for what was wrong with
him.
Two of Stella’s lady friends recently
lost their husbands, and Robert’s condition seems very similar to those men.
The widows weren’t as helpful as Stella hoped. Connie just said; “I guess I
knew Bill was going downhill. It’s one thing to prolong living, but why prolong
dying, Stella?”
Finally, they were sent to Dr.
Morris, a specialist on men’s health and geriatrics; to determine what might be
wrong with him. Patients from all over the country came to see him for medical
problems no other doctor could solve. Robert and Stella were lucky that they
were able to get an appointment with him. When Stella mentioned to Carol about
the appointment with Dr. Morris, Carol just said; “He’s an asshole.“ But Carol
refused to talk about it anymore.
Last week, Connie asked Stella if
Robert could come by and change the furnace filters. But Stella thought it was
just because Connie was lonely, and maybe desperate for a man’s attention.
“Sorry, Connie, Robert’s doing a long
list of chores and is not available.” She suggested finding a handyman.
‘Damn if I’ll let that hottie
anywhere near my man!’ Stella resolved.
At The Men’s Clinic.
After several days of tests, where
every aspect of his body was thoroughly examined, they were asked to come in,
to go over the final results.
Dr. Morris finally arrived. He was an
older man with thin-rimmed glasses and a big smile on his face. He greeted
Robert and Stella, apologized for being late, and sat down behind his desk.
"So, I've got good news for you,
Robert. You should be just fine," said Dr. Morris.
Robert and Stella both let out a big
sigh of relief. After having to wait so long in the office, they were both
worried that it meant bad news.
"So, what's going on with me,
Doc?" Robert asked. "Why do I feel sick all the time?"
The doctor answered. "It's a
progressive neurological condition that's throwing off your biological
functions. It should be easy to take care of with a simple set of treatment
regimens. There are no medical out-of-pocket costs, under your health
insurance. You'll have to keep up with the treatments for the rest of your
life, but other than that, you'll live a long, happy, and healthy life."
“What do I have to give up, Doc?”
Robert braced himself for a lecture.
“Dr. Morris chuckled; “Robert, if the
treatment is implemented, not only will you improve, you’ll also love the
treatments.”
"That's great to hear,
doctor," said Stella very happily. "I've been worried sick about
Robert for months now."
"That brings me to you,
Stella," said Dr. Morris. "I need to talk to you in private, if you
don't mind."
Robert and Stella gave each other a
concerning look, then looked back at Dr. Morris.
"Is something wrong?"
Stella asked.
"I just want to talk to you
about some simple things you can do, to help make Robert feel better, Mrs.
Carson," Dr. Morris assured her. "Robert, you don't need to wait
around and listen to these lengthy, boring details. You should probably wait in
the lobby. She’ll go over the process with you, when we’re done."
"He's probably right, honey,"
said Stella. "In fact; get yourself some fresh air. I'll meet you at the
café next door, a little later."
Robert agreed to leave. He was tired
of all these damned doctor visits, and was glad to be out of there. He was sick
of Stella nagging him about going to the doctors for stupid stuff. Now he heard
the first good news about his condition in months, and couldn't wait to finally
be done with doctors. Robert shook the doctor's hand, thanked him for his help,
and left the office.
When Dr. Morris was sure that Robert
was gone, he turned his attention to Stella.
"Mrs. Carson; Stella, your
husband is chronically ill," Dr. Morris revealed. "His condition is
much more serious than I let on."
"What?" Stella asked, with
a shocked expression. "How much time does he have left."
"A few weeks, at the most."
Stella was now trembling and
breathing heavily. She could feel her heart pounding hard in her chest. She had
never felt so scared about anything in her life. Several of her lady friends
were already widows. She and Robert were just beginning retirement and she had
so many plans for him.
"This is unbelievable. Why the
hell did you tell him that he was going to live?" she asked.
"Because I needed him out of the
office, So I could talk to you about his condition, and how you're the only one
who could help him. I've seen this situation before. This is deeply personal
stuff. I need to talk to you about things that usually are better said, when I
talk to the wife about it in private."
The Treatment Plan.
"Okay, I think I
understand." said Stella, as she began to calm down a little. "I need
my husband! I'll do anything to help my husband. Tell me what I need to
do."
"First, you need to know that
there are both physical and psychological impairments that are progressing
rapidly. We need to aggressively treat everything, and all at once. The
treatment needs to be applied with cheerful enthusiasm and It’s most successful
when the wife has processed the plan fully, and details it to her ailing
husband. “
“But what is this treatment? What
does it involve?”
We cannot risk Robert hearing your
negative responses, but to be fair; you will need to let yourself process this
information honestly and openly, without hurting Robert any more than he’s
already suffering.”
“I see.” Stella said, nervously. “I’m
already feeling some anxiety about what you’re going to tell me.”
Let's start with his diet. I
understand you got him on a vegan diet. Is that right?"
"Yes, it's much healthier,"
said Stella.
"Stop that immediately; that
diet is killing him," he told her.
"But it's a healthier lifestyle
and Robert loves it."
Dr. Morris continued. "It is
healthier for most people, but not for people with Robert's condition. That
diet is throwing off the neurological functions of his brain, and that's
affecting his entire body. He needs to start eating meat immediately. He needs
iron and protein from beef. Pork and poultry are okay, but beef is especially
therapeutic."
Stella was stunned by the revelation.
She was sure being a vegan was a healthy way to live, but she had no idea that
it was hurting Robert. She would not have pushed him to do it if she knew what
it was doing to him.
"Okay, I'll start getting him on
all kinds of meat right away," she assured the doctor.
"It's not just meat he needs to
start eating. You need to cook for him whatever he likes as well. If he
suggests it, you can't question it. Just cook it for him, no matter what it is.
Don’t trust restaurants to do this. You need to know what’s in the food he
consumes. And you must be punctual with his regular mealtimes."
"Yes, of course I will,"
Stella replied nervously.
"That's good to hear. Now that
brings me to my next subject. He shouldn't be doing so much physical labor
around the house. He's too weak to be doing this stuff, so it needs to all be
done by you. At least for the first months, and then he might bounce back
enough to do a little more. Yardwork, moving furniture, plumbing, painting,
electrical problems, and so on. Anything you expect a husband should be doing
around the house now needs to be done by you alone."
"But I already do all the
traditional duties of a housewife. Do I have to do that stuff as well?"
she asked, perplexed.
"Yes, you have to do it
all," Dr. Morris continued. "And don't pay anybody to do this stuff
either, it all needs to be done by you. He specifically told me that he's been
really stressed about money lately. So, having to spend more money on people to
do work around the house would be very stressful for him. And that stress could
have a terrible effect on his neurological disorder. You being so needy, is a
huge part of the neurological decline he’s facing."
"Um, Okay, I'll try my
best," said Stella. "I'll do all of his chores, and I think I can get
one or two people who could help me for free, so no money will be
involved."
"Excellent, this is going much
better than I hoped. Most wives I've had to tell this to, are not as agreeable
as you’re being. Now, I must emphasize this next part. Don’t criticize or
hen-peck him. Any more. It emasculates him. His testosterone is so low, But
fake testosterone shots don’t fix this set of complications. Too many men turn
to androgen and end up with prostate cancer."
"As I said, I am willing to do
anything to help Robert."
"That brings me to my next
subject, and this is where it gets very personal," the doctor began to
say. "You need to be more sexually available for him."
"Are you sure? We already have a
very good sex life as it is," Stella revealed. "Even with his
illness, we try to be sexual once a week, sometimes more, if I straddle his
face."
Dr. Morris continued. "Well, it
needs to be a lot more than that. As much sex as you two are having right now,
he has not been getting as much sex as he needs. You need to double, even
triple the amount of sex you two are already having."
"What?" she asked, very
confused.
"His libido needs to be in
overdrive, because of his neurological disorder, and by not fulfilling those
sexual needs, it's hurting his body and weakening his immune system."
"He never told me he needed more
sex."
"He told me specifically that.
Out of concern for you, he didn't want to pressure you for more sex. So, I'm
telling you for him; that you need to copulate with your husband a lot more, if
you want him to live. Nagging him is a big part of what’s killing him. And
never use sex as a bargaining device, ever! He needs to know that you just
can’t wait for your next romp."
"Oh, wow," Stella said,
very shocked at what she had just heard. "I always thought we had plenty
of sex already. My girlfriends are jealous of me for it. But Okay, if I have
to, I'll give him more sex."
Stella began to wonder when she would
have time to triple the amount of sex she already had with Robert when the
doctor had already told her she had to do so much more around the house for
him.
"That brings me to the different
acts of sex you have. How often do you give him fellatio? You know? Oral?"
Stella began to feel embarrassed. She
had no idea of how personal this was all going to be.
"Occasionally, well, one his
birthday, or if I feel guilty about something," she replied.
"But do you bring him to
completion?" Dr. Morris asked.
"Sometimes."
"And when you do, do you
swallow; or let him cum on you?"
"A little of both, I
guess."
"You need to start swallowing his
cum every single time," said Dr. Morris. "And I don't just mean only
whatever shoots out into your mouth. You must suck out whatever remains in his
penis after he has finished ejaculating. Leaving any cum inside of his dick
after a blowjob could be detrimental to his already compromised psyche."
Swallowing his ejaculate is a powerful way of showing him how desirable he
still is. He must see himself as a desirable man.”
"Um; sure, whatever you
say."
Stella didn't mind swallowing her
husband's cum, she just didn't like to do it every single time. She preferred
that he cums on her face or tits, after a blowjob, or that he waits to cum in
her vaginally. But she told herself that she was willing to swallow every drop
of cum, if it meant helping Robert.
"And you need to fondle his
testicles a little, while you're blowing him."
"Huh?" she asked, very
confused.
"His testicles are very
problematic right now, and a good massage with your tongue could be very
helpful. The circulation improves, and is essential to production of both sperm
and natural testosterone."
Stella sat there, wide-eyed from
having to listen to all of this. She wanted to question the doctor about the
reasoning for all of this. But she decided that he was the expert, and she
should probably listen to what he had to say, even if she didn't entirely
understand any of it.
"Is there anything else?"
she asked, feeling a little worried about what she might hear next.
"Yes, he needs to stop providing
you with oral sex as well."
"What?" Stella snapped at him.
"It's not good for him. He says
you’re using estrogen cream. Is that accurate?”
“Yes, I apply it vaginally, once a
week. “
“You need to apply it at least 4
times a week. It helps your vagina restore firm and ridged walls. That is
essential to aiding Robert’s sexual stimulation. He’s developing some
neuropathy of his glans penis. But the cream, while essential to the lifesaving
treatment regimen; is contraindicated for his testosterone levels. You need to
coat his penis with a massage oil prior to intercourse, so that his skin does
not absorb your estrogen. The oil also aides his sensory functions. Quadrupling
the estrogen will also make your sexual tasks much, much more pleasant, and
even help you be more enthusiastic about his needs.”
“Do I need a prescription oil?”
“No, Sweet Almond oil is odorless and
inexpensive. The neurological disorder is causing his body much stress, both
physically and psychologically. But back to the matter of orally arousing you.
He needs to focus on pleasure, not stress. Worrying about getting you off, will
only exacerbate this situation even more."
"Can he at least finger
me?" she choked back her tears, hoping for a positive answer.
"Only lightly, and never to get
you to orgasm. Your body needs to be optimal for aiding his vaginal copulation.
If you orgasm before he’s ready to, the withdrawal which your vagina goes
through, will thwart his treatment success."
"You have got to be fucking
kidding me?" Stella said, as she was starting to get angry at the doctor.
Dr. Morris continued his explanation.
"In fact, he also shouldn't be working to get you to orgasm during vaginal
sex, either. It would stress out his neurological disorder if he had to
concentrate on getting you off. You should just let him have sex with you,
focus on getting his own orgasm, and focus on the relaxation he derives from
accomplishing it. And you need to be happy about it; to make him happy, so he
won't stress out about having to get you off as well."
Stella was seriously getting pissed
off right now. She was being asked to give up so much for her husband already,
and now she was being asked to give up all of her own sexual priorities.
"Is there anything else I should
know about?" She asked, trying to keep herself from screaming at him.
"Okay, let’s move on to the next
part of his treatment objectives. Do you have any attractive friends?"
Stella was afraid of where this was
going, but she thought she needed to be honest with the doctor.
"Yes, a few of them are very
attractive," she answered. She almost audibly added, ‘with sexier bodies
than mine.’
"Can you refer me to one of
them?"
A Team Effort.
Stella felt confused, but also a
little relieved. She was afraid he was going to suggest that also Robert fuck
her girlfriends, for the betterment of his health. Asking her if she could hook
him up with one of her attractive friends, was still very strange and probably
unethical, but it was still better than what she had thought.
"No, I'm sorry, doctor. I'm not
comfortable with hooking you up with any of my friends."
"That's no problem," said
Dr. Morris. "But it's probably best that you get your friends to fuck
Robert as much as possible."
"Dammit!" Stella screamed.
"You can't be serious."
"It's for the betterment of his
health," Dr. Morris assured her. "By having sexual relations with
other women;"
"That's it, I'm calling bullshit
on all of this!" Stella yelled at him. "This has got to either be a
messed-up joke or some kind of fucking scam you're pulling. There's no way all
this needs to be done for my husband's health."
"I assure you, Stella, this is
all real. He'll be dead very soon if you don't."
"No way. You're lying about all
of this. In fact, I think Robert is probably in on all of this, too; so he
could get whatever he wants, even more sex from me and other women."
To prove he was telling the truth,
Dr. Morris spent the next hour providing Stella with absolute proof of Robert's
condition. He not only showed Robert's medical results, but also documentation
and studies of Robert's condition, provided by hundreds of doctors over the
last 50 years; to show the methods of treating his condition. He even showed
her online interviews of women who had to do the same exact things that Dr.
Morris suggested, for their own husbands; and how it helped save their
husbands' lives.
Stella was dumbfounded when she saw
all this evidence. She looked over every detail, trying to find something to
suggest the doctor was wrong, or lying to her about everything.
Eventually, Stella had no choice but
to concede that not only was Dr. Morris telling the truth, but also that Robert
needed all of those things that the doctor told her to do for him, in order for
him to live.
“Mrs. Carson; your husband is a
devoted man. Perhaps to a fault. He perceives that he’s no longer sufficient
for you. And it registers as rejection, in his psyche. Rather than fooling
around behind your back, he has man you too influential. You control his self-esteem.
Your libido is waning, but he really believes that you’re less than satisfied,
and he subconsciously translates that as his becoming less and less of a man.
He won’t ask for more, because he fears rejection, and the crushing effect it
would have on his fragile self-image.”
“His emotional damages are now
becoming physiological impairments. As you fully and earnestly implement these
therapies; and I mean all of them; Robert will come alive, again. Psychologically,
he’s become very emasculated. Psychiatrists often mis-diagnose this as clinical
depression. But their psychotropic drugs only make the condition worse. He’d
become completely impotent, and probably suicidal. But we’re not done going
over the treatment plan, yet. Shall we continue?”
"Okay, I concede that everything
you're telling me is absolutely true," said Stella. "I'm sorry I
didn't believe you before. I'll do everything you say, and I'll see what I can
do to get my attractive girlfriends to fuck Robert. If any of them say no, I'll
help him get sexual satisfaction from other women, no matter what. I just can’t
see how sharing him with other women will save his life?"
"Mrs. Carson; the treatment
protocols will reset his self-image, impressing upon him that you know he’s a
very desirable man. Your love will manifest as selflessness and self-reflection.
It will impress upon him that he’s so amazing and desirable to all women.”
“I'm sure this is not going to be
easy for you, since you're being asked to do a lot to help Robert," said
Dr. Morris. "But you'll be doing a great thing for him, and he can live a
long and happy life. He admits that he’s been cranky and impatient, Mrs.
Carson. I can encourage you by saying that women who adopt these changes, all
say that their husbands are so much more pleasant to be around. Some of them
even return to more recreation and entertainment, eventually."
"As long as he gets to live,
that's all that matters," said Stella.
"That's good to hear," said
the doctor. "Inviting a girlfriend to join your sexual treatments, will be
a way of dealing with your own orgasms, so long as one of you two ladies save
yourselves for Robert, first. If a girlfriend stimulates you to orgasm, it must
be in Robert’s presence, and You have to let him have his way with your
girlfriend, before she has an orgasm by your ministrations.”
“Do I have to be there while he fucks
my girlfriend? I don’t think I can bear to watch him fuck another woman,
especially one of my floozy friends?”
“Yes! He needs to see her as a gift
from you, for his healthy recovery. The stress of feeling like he’s cheating on
you; could kill him. Trust me. Men die during sex, because of the stress they
undergo. We just don’t report that the death was from sex-related stress. The
survivors are simply told that they died in their sleep.”
“Oh! Two of my girlfriends said their
husbands died in bed. This really is serious, isn’t it, Doctor?” Stella thought
about Carol, her friend from the Bridge Club.
Carol used to gripe about how
disgusting her husband would be about sex. But last spring, Carol said she came
home from brunch and errands, only to find Carl lying lifeless and naked in
bed, at 1:30 in the afternoon. Carol claims it was his heart condition and
stress, that killed him. Now Carol is angry with Carl for disserting her, and
now she’s miserable.
“By the way, you also need to let him
copulate anally, with you, especially early on, while his sensory nerves are
limited by penile neuropathy. Your vagina will restore it’s tight and ridged
attributes after a few weeks of regular Estrogen cream therapy. Then Robert
will find your vagina sufficient to arouse and stimulate his glans nerves, and
he’ll have much better sexual response. But until then, Use a lube and utilize
the attributes of your anal muscles, to achieve the immediate outcomes he needs
right away."
"Sure, why not?" Stella
replied sullenly.
"Also, when he has sex with
other women involved, I emphasize that you always be there, and join them. And
definitely let him sit back and watch you ladies have sexual pleasures. Don’t
allow him to further shame himself by thinking he’s not faithful to you. He
will always be faithful to you, Mrs. Carson. It may kill him, but he will
always be faithful. That’s who he is. If you arrange the events and keep a
happy attitude about it, He will see it as a complimentary dynamic, and not a
competitive threat. Do you want me to explain to you why that's
important?"
"No need. I'm sure there's a
good reason for all of that as well."
When they were finally done, Dr.
Morris walked her out to the nurse’s station and handed her a written directive
for treatment. They shook hands and said their goodbyes. Stella left the
doctor's office, thinking about all the humiliating tasks she was directed to
provide. She put the 6 pages of directives in her purse, and went to the café,
next door, where Robert was waiting for her at a corner table. She sat in the
chair in front of him, and he handed her the coffee that he had ready for her.
"You were with the doctor for a
long time. Is everything alright?" Robert asked.
"Robert,” Stella paused. The
prospect of no more of his skilled cunnilingus, overwhelmed her.
“There's no easy way for me to
tell you this, Robert.” Stella thought about the anal sex they once tried, some
25 years ago. It was so degrading to her.
Trembling, she blurted out; “Robert.
you're going to die."
"What?" Robert shouted.
"Doc said he was confident that I was going to be just fine."
"He lied! He just didn't want to
be the one to tell you, so he wanted me to tell you for him. He's a fucking
coward. He was crying like a little bitch after you left. We’re never going
back to him, again! I’m so sorry, Robert, but that’s how it is."
"How much time do I have
left?"
"A few weeks; at the most."
Robert was hyperventilating. He had
never felt so scared in his life.
"Oh my God. Is there anything
that can be done to save me?" Robert asked.
"Absolutely nothing," she
replied. “I don’t know how I’m going to go on, after you’re gone, Robert. Hold
me, please!
Dan
pulled the keyboard towards him and banged out a quick email to Kira with the
measurements and the details of where to get the secure credentials. He
maintained an online repository for such details and he knew she had the
credentials to access that. Once that was sent he pushed back his chair and
stood up with Willow in his arms. She snuggled her face into his neck. He
carried her into the kitchen and checked on the timer for the pizza. It was
almost ready. Dan walked over to the kitchen table and set Willow down on a
chair. She seemed reluctant to let go but when he asked her to she did
immediately.
Once
they were both clean they were breathing hard and standing facing each other.
The moment he leaned towards her lips she surged forward to press hers against
his. His tongue slipped forward to brush against hers and suddenly she was
sucking at his tongue. His hands came up and cupped her breasts and he gently
took her nipples between his thumb and finger, feeling the little gold barbells
and rings dangle from them. Willow gasped into his mouth and he felt Willow's
legs buckle a little. She was beginning to make those needy yips as she rolled
her hips. She tugged, but he jolted back.
Willow
let go of Dan Bishop s sleeve and he left her in the bathroom so she could
shower in privacy. He quickly gathered up new clothes for her. He got one of
his tight t-shirts that would likely be a little big on her but might be tight
enough to assist with supporting her breasts. Another pair of draw string track
pants, socks, and another flannel shirt to cover up her amazing tits. Gah! He
had to stop thinking about her that way! He set the new clothes on the edge of
the counter by the door without entering the room. He heard the water running
and the sounds of movement so she seemed to have that under control. He walked
to the guest bedroom and added the clothes she'd been wearing yesterday to the
laundry bag. He brought the load to the small laundry room and dropped all of
the dirty closed into the washer with the soap. He'd turn it on when she was
done with her shower.
The early
winter storm raged and thrashed across the mountain range. It seemed especially
angry with the narrow mountainside road Dan was cautiously driving his jeep on.
The fierce winds fought to push the jeep across the icy road into the deep
ravine below. If it wasn't for the heavy tire chains he'd installed at the base
of the mountain he'd already be tumbling down that cliff.
Psyche’s other sister had gotten married and she was coming to visit her. Psyche wore a cloak over her dress, careful to cover the marks scattered over her body.
Psyche’s sister, Free, had become very unhappy with her life, but she relished in the fact that her beautiful and more popular sister had yet to be married. She wished that Psyche would be cursed with a barren life or a wretched husband.
As Psyche poured tea for her sister, her cloak had slightly fallen away from her skin, and Free had caught a glimpse of the bites on her skin.
Psyche wore a black peasant dress that fell just above her knees and threw on a black cloak to hide her face to conceal her identity.
As she expertly climbed the castle walls to leave, she made sure to keep quiet as to not awaken any of the guards. If they were to find her escaping, she would be chained to her room. The king had forbidden his three daughters from leaving the confines of the kingdom as an attempt to keep their beauty pure. The three sisters who had previously been able to roam the kingdom were now kept in the dark with the exception of making marriage alliances.
I got a temp
job a few months later with a firm near to my old college and I still popped in
to see Amy for lunch and the occasional meal, and I started to date more
seriously. I'd had a few girlfriends, nothing that ever reached the 'serious
relationship' status.
Other Ladies.
I moved back
home and got into the same rut. Nothing long term but I made sure that I did
what Amy told me and gave more than I got. I got some of my dates into bed, and
I always tried to give them an orgasm, several if they'd let me, but nothing
serious; or that lasted over a few months.
I can't say
that my schooling was exceptional, over and above some reasonable exam results
I did Okay and wasn't in too much shit with either teachers or other pupils. I
had a couple of girlfriends, none of which went past the making out in the park
after school.
I went to
college, on the basis of those results I got a good job in Engineering which
would sponsor me through University and after a few years was looking for the
right girl, or at least the wrong girl in the right place.
I can't say
that my schooling was exceptional, over and above some reasonable exam results
I did Okay and wasn't in too much shit with either teachers or other pupils. I
had a couple of girlfriends, none of which went past the making out in the park
after school.
I went to
college, on the basis of those results I got a good job in Engineering which
would sponsor me through University and after a few years was looking for the
right girl, or at least the wrong girl in the right place.
She stood there, waiting impatiently for the delicious meat to slide
into her eager hands. She looked forward to having it in her mouth
later, I could tell. She continued to caress her belly and nibble on a
fingernail as she waited impatiently.
The con has been fairly packed this year. And now that they're getting some big name guests, like
Doctor Who's Matt Smith and Alex Kingston are here. I think it's going to
give Fan Expo Boston a run for its money. Hell, maybe even New York ComiCon. I
think the fact that the convention center is connected to the hotel is a huge
advantage.It was worth my drive down from Portland, Maine.
Sam's eyes grew wide as he grinned.
"You really did think of everything, didn't you?"
"Yep." I placed the box on
the table beside the couch, then stood before Sam and slowly took off my dress.
I was trembling with excitement, and as his hungry stare moved over me, I felt
my nipples harden beneath my stretch lace underwire bra.
"You're beautiful, Iris," he
whispered.
I grinned and went to Sam, leaning
forward so I could give him a deep kiss. Then I climbed onto the couch,
kneeling beside him. Without speaking, I began trying to unfasten his pants,
but my hands were shaking so much, I struggled with the simple task.
On a beautiful late October afternoon, Sam and I decided to eat lunch outside the
call center where we worked. Sitting on a wooden bench near the building
entrance, we dug into the sandwiches we'd brought from home.
An aristocrat has an exciting encounter with a highwayman
It is the Year of Our Lord 1760, and the roads leading to
and from London be the most perilous for any traveler. Hounslow Heath being a
favorite haunt of the highwayman and footpad. Folly indeed, for the unwary to
wander alone. And London be a very wicked place, so it hath been told, with
whores, beggars and cutpurses on every street corner,
Dirk was halfway through another of his wandering road trips,
this time to see an old biker buddy of his who had moved two states away when
he was transferred by his company. Dirk had known Hal Jenkins since high
school; he was one of the few people that Dirk got along with, and they had
been friends ever since. When Hal got into motorcycles Dirk had approached him
about joining the MC, but Hal said he just wasn’t into it so he didn’t. That
didn’t matter to Dirk as Hal was a true biker in every sense of the word, and
the two of them had gone through some pretty interesting times and some pretty
interesting women before Hal was transferred.
It was a simply beautiful day, just perfect for riding; bright sunlight,
clear sky, not too hot, no wind to speak of, absolutely perfect. Dirk had been
on the road riding with his club since early morning, and now it was very late
in the afternoon, and he was headed home.
He had spent the last two hours at the clubhouse with his brothers,
having a few cold ones after a long and enjoyable day on the road, and now he
was heading for his house with the sun setting behind him. The brotherhood of
his club and the pleasure of riding the roads with them was the reason he
joined the club in the first place, and he was already looking forward to the
next ride with them.
Dirk was standing in his garage next to his bike, a cold bottle of beer in
his hand, taking a break from working on it. He was looking out of the open
door of his garage and across the street, watching his new neighbors as they
were talking in their driveway, standing next to their two cars.
They d moved in about a month ago and Dirk hadn t had the chance to
talk to either one of them, but he had a feeling from what he d seen so far
that he wasn t going to like the guy very much. And he wasn t so sure about the
woman, either.
(be sure to catch part 1, before continuing this episode)
The look in her eyes had changed from timid to tigress, and
Dirk was now her prey.
She rose up on her knees and lunged at him, grabbing his
cock and shoving her mouth down on it. Then she grabbed him by the hips and
pushed her head forward, shoving his entire cock as deep into her mouth as she
could. She held it there for just a moment, then started sliding her mouth up
and down his shaft like a woman possessed, twisting his jeans in her fists as
she tightened her grip on them for support. She sucked him hard, fast and deep,
her hair and the spit flying. Dirk looked down in amazement, his body rocking
back and forth from the effort she was putting into sucking his cock. He
watched her go at him for a full minute before she finally slid her mouth from
his cock, looking up at him with shiny, watery eyes and a big smile on her face
as she spoke.
“You want me to do what?” Dirk asked, one eyebrow cocked up,
a quizzical look on his face. He was raising his beer to his lips when Wally,
one of his best friends from high school, had said something that made his hand
stop halfway up to his face, the beer suspended in mid-air. Dirk was so surprised
that he half expected the bar to go quiet at this revelation, but of course it
didn’t. They were sitting at a small round table in the center of the dark
biker bar, and no one paid any attention to them except the waitress whenever
they needed a refill. She had already been there twice, and Dirk was now sure
she would be coming back again very soon.
Dirk travels to an MC biker party and scores well.
His suspicions about how the evening was going to go were confirmed when Amy
slid her hand down his stomach to his crotch, massaging the lump of his cock
firmly and then gripping it in her hand. She squeezed gently, but firmly, and
both of them, could feel Dirk's cock, began to respond.
I can't wait to give you a blowjob, she said into his ear.
The day was bright and clear without a cloud in the sky, the weather was
warm without being hot, and there was little if any wind. Traffic was minimal
at best, and this enabled Dirk to relax as he rode his Harley down the highway
at 70MPH, a black duffel bag full of his clothing and gear strapped across the
rear seat. Riding his bike in conditions like this was one of the things that
Dirk loved most in the world, and like most bikers this was a kind of therapy
for him that couldn t be found anywhere else. Whenever life s concerns and
distractions got to be too much for him, Dirk would fire up the bike and hit
the road, not going anywhere in particular but just going until either the bike
needed gas or he needed food, or both.
The sun was lying low on the horizon, full dark not more
than an hour off, when Dirk pulled his Harley into a parking space in front of
the small general store in the center of town. He’d been on the road for two
days and was halfway through a four-day trip, and this was just one of a dozen
small Midwestern towns he’d passed through in the past 24 hours. They all
looked the same after a while, like something out of “The Andy Griffith Show,”
but he figured that wasn’t really so bad after all. This town was smaller than
most with no more than a dozen buildings lining each side of what he thought
was Main Street, and as he looked around he didn’t see what he was looking for.
Dirk walked into the bar a little past midnight, well past the prime grazing
period for the singles that usually haunted bars on Friday and Saturday nights.
On most nights he d be out there competing for female companionship with the
best of them, and he could count on one hand the number of times he d gone home
alone after closing time. He had his favorite bars to hang out in, and this bar
wasn t one of them. Hell, he wasn t even in his own town. He d just gotten in
from a long road trip on his Harley-Davidson and had finished unpacking at his
motel when he got the urge for a beer, so he headed for the nearest bar to get
one.
On the drive home, I felt good, like really good. I felt
like things were actually going to start changing for the better. Reveling in
this feeling, I made a spur-of-the-moment decision. I stopped my car in a
random parking lot and pulled out my phone.
One of the guys that I used to work with, Carl, liked to go
to this little bar in Superior to hang out with friends and have a few drinks.
There was a whole group of guys from work that would go regularly, but Carl was
the only one who never stopped asking. For one reason or another, I never took
him up on it, and I haven't seen any of them since I stopped being able to go
to work.
"Hmm" Melissa said, her face still buried in the
pillow.
She shifted and turned her head, and I moved to her side
with one arm and a leg still draped over so we could look into each other's
eyes.
"Wow. That was..." She sighed.
"...Wonderful."
I smiled and kissed her cheek. "I'm glad you enjoyed it
as much as I did."
She squinted at me. "Are you sure I'm not dreaming, and
you're just a figment of my imagination?" She said playfully, though I
could tell there was something serious behind the question.
"I'm real, and I'm right here, in your bed, and I love
you."
We sat on the couch, as she didn't have a table we could
both sit at and ate hungrily. We had both worked up quite an appetite. When we
had finished eating, Melissa leaned over the back of the couch, and set our
empty plates on the island counter, then cuddled up against me.
"That hit the spot." She said with a sigh.
"There's been a lot of that recently."
Melissa giggled. "Yeah, there has, hasn't there?"
We sat in silence for quite a while, just enjoying being
near each other.
Finally, Melissa sat up and said. "Come on, I'll show
you our costumes."
I followed her back to her bedroom, and she started pulling
things out of a big paper bag next to her dresser.
"This is yours." She said, handing me a blue
police shirt and hat. "And the final touches, handcuffs, and a
mustache." She handed me a pair of fuzzy pink novelty handcuffs and a fake
mustache that looked like it was straight out of a seventies porn video.
I pressed the green 'send' button and put my phone to my ear
as it began to ring. It rang only once before the clear voice of an angel
excitedly asked, "Hello?".
"Hi, Melissa! I made it home safe," I replied with
an equal amount of excitement.
"I miss you already," Melissa said with a sigh.
"I miss you too."
Hearing her voice and remembering the events of the last
couple of days, made me hard. As we talked, about nothing in particular, I
absently rubbed my erection through my jeans. We talked for about an hour,
before we were both running out of things to say.
"When can we see each other again?" She asked the
question I know she had been dying to ask since she first said hello."
Walking up into the cabin yard, we could see that we had
missed dinner. My mom and older sisters were busy bringing the leftovers and
supplies back into the cabin.
"You two were gone all day, where did you go?" My
mom asked.
"We went all the way out to the pine grove." I
said sheepishly, forgetting for a moment that I was an adult now, and not a
little kid that adults needed to look after.
"That's a long ways! We were getting worried."
"We had a picnic in the clearing, and we lost track of
time. Sorry." Said Melissa.
Which I guess was an accurate, if vague and incomplete,
account of what happened.
