les histoires de chrislebo

"I hear you!" I gasped.

He let loose of my hair, put his hand back on my
throat, and held his redy fingers in front of my eyes
again. His lips curled back in a snarl as he said, "I
ought to make you red for this, cunt."

If he was expecting me to beg, I wasn't going to give
him the satisfaction. I was terrified, yes, but I was
too angry and too damned proud to think of giving in to
him. I just stared back with sheer hostility and stayed
silent.

"You could have put out my fucking eye," he fumed, and
then he rubbed the sticky red on my face. I closed my
eyes and felt it on my skin, but my expression stayed
hard and angry. He huffed again... and then he grabbed
a fist full of the front of my tee shirt and pulled,
hard. My body lifted up with it but his hand around my
neck held me down, and I was sure I was going to fetish
– but then he gave a hard yank and I heard cloth tear,
and suddenly the shirt was a rag in his hand. He hurled
it to the side, then put his hand on my bra. Another
tug and the fasteners popped; he ripped me out of it
and left me naked from the waist up beneath him.

By now I knew he wasn't going to ******* me, which was
what the look on his face threatened at first, and I
was pretty sure he wasn't even going to hurt me badly,
except incidentally, because if that was what he'd
wanted to do he'd have done it in the first flush of
rage after I clawed him. However, it was just about
this time that I started thinking he was going to ****
me.

This wasn't like Saturday night, when he'd made me so
horny and so loving for him that if he'd have taken me
to bed I'd have only put up token resistance; I was
still sexually worked up from the day and my failure
with Charlie, yes, but that had been brushed to the
side by my fury. Now if he'd have tried to take me I'd
have fought him tooth and nail, and one or the other of
us would end up in the hospital or dead. So I just
opened my eyes and let him see the contempt there as he
looked down at my naked breasts.

With his free hand he took my right nipple between his
fingers, gave it a gentle tug – and then a hard twist
that sent a ripple of pain through me. I didn't yell
out; I didn't even wince. Instead I just loathed him.
"Why do you do this, mom?" he asked me disgustedly.
"Why do you make me put you in your place? Don't you
realize what I can do to you? Don't you know that you
belong to me now?"

"You're cuckolds brownie," I hissed.

His lips tightened into a crease, but he didn't hit me;
I confess I was half expecting a slap across the face
at least for that. Instead he reached down and opened
my jeans. I didn't bother to fight him because there
was no point; besides, I had to save myself for when he
tried to take me. He had to let go of my throat to pull
my jeans down over my hips, and I suppose I could have
tried to get away then, but he wouldn't have let me so
I didn't bother. I let him strip my jeans off, and
though I aimed a hard kick at his head he grabbed my
ankle, powerd my leg down and cocked his fist like he
was going to hit me.

I flinched – he's strong and his hands are huge – but
he didn't follow through with the punch. Instead he
took my panties in his hands (I was wearing one of the
new pair, a red thong) and ripped the string holding
them onto my right hip. A second tug and the string
broke over the left hip, and he yanked them away with a
single sharp movement. Then he was over me again, face
inches from mine, and I could feel his erection against
my thigh, hard in his pants. I kept my legs firmly
shut; if he wanted them open he would need to pry them.
I wasn't giving him a thing.

"I'm sick of this cuckolds brownie, mom," he told me, his voice
calm but dangerous. "I'm sick of you putting up a fight
when I try to take what's mine. I'm sick of you acting
like you somehow don't know the score. You're a smart
woman. That's one of the reamisters I love you –"

"Ha!"

He ignored my outburst. "It's one of the reamisters I love
you, and I don't want you to resist this. I want you to
take hold of it and make it yours. You wonder how I can
treat you like one of my sluts? Don't you understand
that I want you to *want* to be one of my sluts?"

"Get used to disappointment," I snapped.

He shook his head like I had just said something
remarkably foolish and short sighted. "I can give you
things you've never had. I can give you things you've
always wanted and needed. All you have to do is give
yourself to me and I can make you happy like you've
never been happy before."

"You just want to use me, David, so cut the cuckolds brownie."

He shook his head again and then, unexpectedly, climbed
off of me and stood. "Get up," he said tiredly, waving
his arm in a vague gesture. "Laurel will be home pretty
soon. Get your ass up and get dressed." With that he
turned and headed for the bathroom to bandage his face.

I laid there for a moment, naked and trembling with
rage. I hated him so very much at that moment, and I
hated myself because I knew that what he told me at the
end was true. He had made me feel like no one else ever
had. He had made me feel sexy and beautiful and
desired. And more than that, he had accepted and
embraced a deep, dark secret I couldn't tell anyone
else, and he had helped me explore that secret. I knew
he hadn't done it for unselfish reamisters, but still he
had done it and I knew he would do it again if I let
him. The reamister I hated myself is that there was a tiny
part of me, deep down, that wanted to let him. I felt
as cuckolds browniety as he was.

Laurel got home at her regular time, but I was in too
black a mood to do more than pass some perfunctory
chitchat. I guess she figured I was still sick because
she offered to make dinner, and I let her do just that.
I took her suggestion and went to lie down; I hoped it
would clear my head before Tim got home, but instead
the frustrations of the situation just kept getting to
me more and more, and I was edgy, miserable, and very
touchy by the time my husband came up to check on me.
He was very solicitous, but I was in no mood and my
answers were brief and curt.

The four of us gathered for the dinner Laurel cooked
(well, the five of us if you count Charlie). She had
done a very nice job on some cod fillets and rosemary
potatoes with a green salad, but she and Tim were
mostly focused at first on the enormous band aid that
covered David's cheek. I'd really done a number on him,
and I immediately felt a pang of guilt in spite of
everything (which just made me angrier). "What the heck
happened to you?" Laurel asked. "You didn't have that
in school today."

David glanced at me and then shrugged. "I was playing
with Charlie and he scratched my face. I think we need
to get his claws clipped."

"I'll take him in to the vet later in the week," I said
quickly.

Laurel looked up at me and made a scissor motion with
her fingers. "Gonna get him...?"

I blushed furiously and shot a glance at David. David
hid his smirk by looking down at his plate. I was sure
that the truth was written all over my face, but I
tried to keep cool. "Nnnooooo, I think we'll let him be
a while. We may want to let him breed."

"As long as he doesn't get at Nosey," Tim said,
apparently oblivious to my discomfort (and thankfully
so). "I'd hate to have their prize dog knocked up with
a litter of mongrels."

"Oh, I know," David piped up cheerfully, and I felt the
dread settle into my bones. "How about we have a bitch
around the house to keep him occupied? If he's all worn
out from that, he won' go chasing down the street."

I thought perhaps I might die.

"Well we'd like to breed him maybe once or twice," Tim
explained to our mister, "but we wouldn't want all the
puppies that would come from having a bitch here. We
don't want to be breeders, necessarily."

David turned his smile on me. "What do you think, mom?
Maybe if we had a bitch that couldn't have puppies?"

I stared at him in pretty much exactly the same way
that a bug stares at the scientist who's just pinned
him to an index card. My throat was bone dry and my
tongue felt like a fish in my mouth, but before I could
make a sound Laurel jumped in. "That's stupid," she
replied authoritatively. "Everybody knows that female
dogs only do it when they're in heat, and if you get
them fixed then they don't go into heat and they won't
do it. No puppies, no doing it. Doofus."

"Honey, don't call your brother a doofus," Tim
interjected. "We all have to respect each other."

"It's all right, Dad," David said happily. "Maybe we
can find another solution for Charlie's problems. Maybe
we can –"

"Can we PLEASE change the subject?" I interjected so
powerfully that everyone looked at me; only my mister's
look was knowing. After a moment I added, a bit lamely,
"I just don't think this is appropriate conversation
for the dinner table. Um...Tim, how was your day?"

I barely listened to the resulting discussion. Few
things make a permister madder than being embarrassed, and
I was hideously embarrassed. In other words, by the
time dinner ended I was pissed off like I seldom had
been in my entire life. Betrayed, frustrated, mortified
– it was a hell of a mix. David took off before I had a
chance to berate him, but he did manage to give me a
smirk that enraged me even more. Afterward Tim and
Laurel went to work on her homework and I stayed
downstairs and cleaned and baked.

I should explain: my lady always told me that he two
best ways for a woman to calm down and work out anger
were cooking and cleaning. I've found it to be pretty
true, most of the time anyway, and so I made a pan of
brownies, cleaned the kitchen until it glowed in the
dark, and then went down the basement and did all he
wash. Unfortunately, this time my home remedy failed
entirely. I was just as upset when I headed up to bed
as I had been at the end of dinner.

Tim was already in bed when I got upstairs. He was
marking up some papers for work when I walked in and
began to undress. I was wearing some of the sexiest
underwear David had made me buy – a frilly black see-
through bra and lacy thong – and it was so different
from what I normally wore (and so much more
provocative) that I thought I had a right to a reaction
from my husband, or at least a comment, but he didn't
even look up from his work. I even paraded around the
room a bit, trying to get him to notice, but no dice.
By the time I put on my nightgown I was ready to
explode.

Now, I have to explain something. Tim and I had never
really argued about sex, or rather the lack of it. His
interest in me had never been all that high and after
Laurel was born it was pretty much zero, but aside from
a few failed passes back then I had just let it be. I
was absorbed in raising the kids and I guess...well, to
be honest, I assumed I wasn't all that attractive
anymore. I knew I wasn't attractive to my husband, and
aside from my brief affair I didn't feel attractive to
anyone until a week before this night.

But then everything changed. I got on this terrifying
roller coaster and for all that I was in a spot I
didn't want to be in, at least I no longer felt
unattractive. My gorgeous teenaged mister wanted to fuck
my brains out. A teenaged girl had practically worryed
me in a changing room and another girl only slightly
older wanted to screw me silly tomorrow; yes I still
wasn't planning to do it, but I knew I could and that
fact made me feel very sexy. I felt like I should be
desirable, and if Tim didn't desire me then I knew, for
maybe the first time, that it wasn't my fault – it was
his. It was his fault he didn't want me every damned
night like I deserved.

I wasn't just a sexless mom the way I had thought of
myself for most of my adult life. I was a woman, damn
it, and I had needs that my husband was most definitely
not fulfilling; the fact that he wasn't Charlie (or,
God forbid, David) and therefore didn't have what it
took to fulfill me didn't even enter my mind at the
moment.

On most days, that thought would have gotten me a bit
irritated but I would have simply talked to Tim about
it in a rational way (or at least I hope that's what
would have happened). But tonight I was so angry, so
frustrated, and so easily upset that being ignored as I
displayed myself was all it took to send me over the
edge. I'm not proud of the fact, God knows, but in
simple truth, I lost it. I rounded on Tim, hands on my
hips, and demanded, "What's wrong with me?"

The tone of my voice was so angry and my question was
so unexpected that Tim gave me a baffled look as he
lifted his eyes to me. "What?"

"What. Is. Wrong. With. Me?" I demanded again, lifting
my arms up like a mannequin. "Am I ugly?"

Poor Tim. He had no clue what had prompted this and
even less how to react. He was holding his papers in
his hands and looking so adorably at sea that at any
other time I would have just laughed and gone in for a
cuddle. This was not any other time, though, and
instead I glared daggers. All he could say was, "Um..."

In all honesty, nothing he said at that moment could
have mollified me, but a monosyllabic bit of
nothingness certainly wasn't going to calm me down.
"Answer me!" I snarled like a wildcat. "What is wrong
with me, Tim?"

His eyes were wide, like I was a tornado that dropped
out of a clear blue sky. "I...don't know what you mean,
honey..."

"No, you don't know what I mean! Of course not! Why
would you?" He didn't answer, which was maybe the
wisest thing, so I roared on. "Something is obviously
wrong with me! I mean I must be just completely
horrible!"

Charlie whimpered, put his ears back, and climbed off
the bed to huddle by the door. They say naturals can
sense disasters before they happen.

Tim shifted very uneasily. "I'm not sure what you
mean..."

I reached behind me and undid my bra – or at least I
tried to. I was going for a grand gesture, something
elegant and muscular and cinematic, but the goddamned
clasp caught, or else my fingers were fumbly with rage.
Either way I struggled with it for several long,
painful seconds that increased my embarrassment and
anger, even as Tim watched uncomprehendingly. Finally I
got it undone, ripped off the bra and hurled it into
Tim's chest. He looked down at it in complete
mystification, then back up at me as I spread my arms.
Fiercely I demanded, "Are my tits ugly?"

He blinked and stammered, "I – I never said they
were..."

"No! No you never did! Do you want to say it now?"

"No!"

"But you don't want to touch them!" I yelled
triumphantly, as though he had just proven my point.
"You don't want aaaaaaaanything to do with them, do
you? You don't even look up when I'm parading them
around in front of you! You have no reaction at all!"

"Look, honey..."

I shucked out of my thong and hurled it across the
room, standing naked in front of my husband, hands on
my hips in a belligerent posture. "And here's something
else you don't want! No, don't want anything to do with
this pussy, do you?"

Poor Tim was starting to look like an overmatched
prizefighter who realizes too late that he doesn't have
the s*******s to deal with his opponent and he's in for a
vulgar beating (hey, I love boxing and especially MMA –
I think it's sexy as hell to watch two mostly-naked,
sweaty guys beat the crap out of each other, so sue
me). "Angela..."

"Don't Angela me! Don't you dare Angela me!" I snapped,
pointing my finger at him like a weapon. "I shaved my
cunt and what reaction do I get? Do you give me a good,
rowdy fuck? Do you put your mouth on me? Do you even
*touch* it?"

"I—"

"NO YOU DO NOT!" I yelled, and I knew I could be heard
all over the house. I didn't give a damn. "Any other
husband in the world would have shown a little
interest. Any other husband in the world would have
PRETENDED to have a little interest! But not you! Not
my Tim! So there's obviously something terribly wrong
with me! I must be ugly! I must smell funny! What is
it, Tim? Why do I make your skin crawl!"

"Now wait just a second!" he shouted, finally losing
his temper a bit. He's a marvelous, patient man, but
anyone can be pushed too far. "You don't make my skin
crawl! That's not it at all! I just have a lower drive
than you, that's all."

"A lower drive? Are you fucking KIDDING ME?" I was
screechy again now and I heard Charlie whimper again.
"You have NO DRIVE! YOU DON'T WANT TO FUCK!"

"Will you keep it down!"

"NO! I WILL NOT KEEP IT DOWN!" I shouted even louder,
pitching my voice so it could be heard by the
neighbors. Now, it was right about here that I started
to think that maybe, just maybe, I had become a tiny
bit irrational – not that it stopped me. No, the
possibility just made me angrier. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH
ME THAT YOU DON'T WANT TO FUCK ME, TIM? WHAT"

He dropped his papers and climbed out of bed,
undoubtedly in an effort to calm me, but I was not in a
mood to be calmed. "Honey, please, we can talk about
this..."

"Oh you're all talk, Tim, you're all fucking talk and
NO FUCKING!" I stepped back when he came close. "WHAT
IS WRONG WITH ME?"

"There's nothing wrong with you!" he told me. "You're
beautiful and sexy and I love you! I just...don't want
to...have sex, that's all."

I put my hands to my face and fetishd off a sound of
frustration, then shouldered past him, grabbed his
papers off the bed in crumpled handfuls, and hurled
them at him. "Get out of here, Tim! GET OUT!"

"Angela!"

"SHUT UP!" I howled, wadding the last of his work
papers and bouncing them off his chest. "If you aren't
going to fuck me then shut up and relax in the
goddamned guest room! I mean it, Tim! GO!"

He glared at me with a look that told me I was being as
unreamisterable as I suspected I was, then bent and picked
up his papers. "Unbelievable," he muttered, and I
commend his restraint that he said nothing more. He
took his work and left the room, slamming the door so
hard behind him that Charlie yelped and the walls
shook.

It was at that moment that I made up my mind to go to
XXXFantasy the next morning. I was going to go there
and I was going to fuck Petra's brains out, and I
wasn't going to leave there until she satisfied me.

That night I slept curled up with Charlie, who was
deeply worried about me, and I cried myself to relax.


May 13

To say that breakfast on Wednesday was tense would be
an understatement. Tim wouldn't even look at me, and
both David and Laurel had heard my rant last night.
Laurel was mortified at knowing so much about her
parents' (lack of) sex life, and to his credit, even
David seemed embarrassed. They all left for their
various daily tasks...and I got ready to have sex with
a woman for the first time in my life.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous, but I was
excited too. So much of my frustration over the last
couple of days was sexual, especially after my failed
attempt with Charlie yesterday, and I needed someone to
release it. I could have made myself come, or even had
Charlie lick me, but it wouldn't have been the same. I
needed touch, I needed contact, I needed reciprocation;
I've always gotten much more satisfaction from my own
orgasms when I'm giving them to others at the same
time. So even though I wasn't sure about being with a
woman I did know that I wanted to be with someone who
wanted to be with me, and Petra wanted to be with me. I
would give myself to her, and take her in return.

I spent the early morning primping. It's funny how much
time I spent getting myself to look good for Petra as
opposed to how little I spent for David. Something
about getting ready to be with a woman made me want to
look the best I could – I guess specifically it made me
want to look as good as she did, to be more accurate.
Jealousy? Competition? I don't know, I just know that
no woman ever wants to look bad for a lover, and when
that lover is a beautiful woman, it puts that much more
pressure on. And so I showered and shaved (all over)
and I powdered, and I fussed with my makeup and my
hair.

I spent half an hour picking out my clothes. The only
really sexy clothes I had were the ones I bought the
week before with Brandy and Petra, and I couldn't wear
those (they'd already seen me in the slinky little
skirt and top, and the dress was evening wear). I tried
a whole bunch of combinations before I came up with one
I liked, and it wasn't what I was expecting when I
started: a prim white blouse that buttoned to the neck,
a plain black skirt that came down to an inch above the
knee, and a proper and completely inconspicuous black
jacket with white pinstripes. When I pinned up my hair
it made me look like a school teacher... but it was
what Petra would find when she stripped it off of me
that made me smile: black thigh-highs with a Cuban
heel, a thong that barely even existed, and a sexy
little black bra that pushed up my girls and made them
dance with every step I took.

I finished it off with the sexiest shoes I owned: a
pair of black pumps with a 4" heel. I couldn't do much
walking in them without getting sore, but then I wasn't
planning on doing much to begin with. I smiled at my
reflection. I felt sexy and desirable, and if I was
nervous, well, there was no cure for that but
experience.

I got to the store at 10:12 and parked around back. I
checked myself over and I liked what I saw: I was
dressed like a proper MILF. I was anxious about what I
was doing, yes, but I was also horny and needful. More
than that, I was eager to explore something that I had
never even considered in a serious way before all this
madness began. Really I think it was that more than
lust that drove me forward; I had spent my life having
nothing, and now I suddenly realized I didn't need to
spend the rest of my life that way too. I could try
things, and if I didn't like them I didn't have to do
them again. And if I did like them...well, I'd cross
that bridge when I came to it.

When I walked into the lingerie store, I saw Petra
talking to another customer – a kind of emaciated
looking girl with bad teeth, like you see on the anti-
meth billboards – and she looked up and smiled hugely
when she saw me. Petra was wearing a red halter top
that tied behind the neck and accentuated those
enviable boobs of hers, and a shortish black skirt. I
felt my throat tighten and my pussy spasm when I saw
her – was I really going to go through with this? I
pushed the thought aside as soon as it occurred to me,
though; yes, I was going through with this. I had to.

Brandy was behind the counter when I walked in, and she
called out, "Angela! Glad you could make it!" She
crossed the room in just a few steps and hugged me in a
purely friendly way... but a clothes rack was between
me and the meth-head customer, so the woman couldn't
see that Brandy had her hand on my pussy and was
squeezing it through my skirt. I giggled and hugged her
back, and with one hand gave her crotch a squeeze
through the clingy hiphuggers she was wearing. "Pet,
I'll take over," she called. "You can have that meeting
with Angela."

"Fantastic, I've been looking forward to it!" Petra
replied. "Come on into the back room, Angela. We can
get set up there." I followed along, smiling like the
cat that ate the canary and watching Petra's luscious,
ample ass sway in her little skirt. Behind me I heard
Brandy explaining to the customer that I was a new
designer the store was considering working with, and I
couldn't help but chuckle. Oh, I had designs, all
right!

The place where Petra took me was a combination of
store room and office – there were boxes of merchandise
along two walls, a work table, a desk with a computer,
a few cabinets, a fridge, a microwave, and a little
bathroom. It was basically like every other store back
room I had ever seen... except this was the place where
I would have sex with a woman for the first time.

I didn't really have time to dwell on it, because no
sooner had Petra closed the door behind us than her
hands were on my ass and she was pulling me close. Her
breasts flattened against my ribs (she's half a foot
shorter than me) and she looked up into my eyes and
whispered, "I didn't think you were going to come."

"Neither did I," I admitted with a smile. I had to tell
my hands to move – it wasn't a natural response for me
to touch a woman this way – but once I had them moving
across her perfectly feminine hips and around to her
back, I confess I did like the feeling. David, and Tim,
and men in general are hard and angular, all planes and
muscles. Petra, though, was like Brandy only more so –
she was feminine, soft, warm, curving, yielding to the
touch. She was a woman. Even Brandy hadn't felt this
way under my hands – Brandy was a gorgeous girl, but
she was a girl. There was no doubt that Petra was a
woman through and through.

"I'm glad you did," she said as she squeezed my butt
and pulled my body to hers. "I spent a lot of time this
last week thinking about you and being jealous that
Brandy got to play with you and I didn't. She said she
was the first girl you ever played with."

"She was," I nodded, filling my hands with Petra's ass.
We were moving together, swaying very softly, as though
we were dancing to music neither of us was conscious of
hearing. "She made it easy though."

Her lips found my neck and I tilted my head back to
give her access (I adore having my neck nibred and
nuzzled and kissed) and she murmured, "I kind of got
the impression you were mostly doing it for your
boyfriend."

It took a monumental effort on my part to keep me from
correcting her that I had been doing it for my mister, but
I managed it just in time. "I was...then. But I'm not
doing this for him. I'm doing this for me. I want you
to show me what it's like, Petra. Will you do that?"

She looked up at me, eyebrow quirked, and asked, "How
far do you want to go?"

My eyes were locked with hers as I replied, "All the
way. I want your hands on me. I want your mouth on me.
I want my hands and my mouth on you. I'll do whatever
you tell me to do so long as you promise me it will
feel good for both of us. I don't want to walk out of
here wishing I'd done something I didn't do."

Her smile managed to be gentle and avaricious at once,
and she undid the belt that held my skirt in place,
then quickly lowered the zipper on the back. "Have you
imagined this a lot? Being with a woman?"

I thought, then shook my head. "No, not really. I mean,
sometimes. Everyone does sometimes. But no, mostly I'm
straight, I think."

"But you're still here now."

"Yes. I'm still here and I'm not going anywhere before
I make you come as many times as I can."

My skirt dropped to the floor. She stepped back to look
at me, and her eyes gleamed. "All kindergarten teacher
on the outside and slut underneath. I like that."

I giggled again, feeling less like a school teacher and
more like a school girl having her first sexual
experience. I pinched the fabric of her skirt and
asked, "And what do you have under here?"

"You want to know, you're just gonna have to find out."
So that was exactly what I did. I found the clasp on
her skirt and opened it, and in an instant she was
naked from the waist down. What I discovered thrilled
me: she didn't have a thing on underneath. Her muscular
thighs rose up to a lovely pussy, even darker than the
rest of her skin, with the inner lips just barely
visible between the puffy outer ones. It was shaved
bare except for a thin landing strip of curly black
pubic hair. I wasn't even aware that I licked my lips
until she chuckled. "Looks good to you?"

I nodded, my eyes wide. That was going to be the first
pussy I ever sucked. I didn't know whether to be
lustful or intimidated, so I was a bit of both.
"You're...you're really pretty."

Her big, dark eyes flashed again, and she brought a
hand down on my ass in a soft little slap. "And you're
a hot little bitch. Now get out of that top before I
put you over my knee."

Her dominant side came out so suddenly that I gasped,
but I didn't even think of saying no to her commands. I
needed to explore this, it was true, but having someone
in charge would make it so much easier. Without
hesitation I stepped back and opened my jacket, tossing
it on the desk. My black bra was plainly visible though
the white blouse, a fact which thrilled me with its
small naughtiness. I didn't pause there though, and in
another few moments I had unbuttoned the blouse with
swift fingers and dropped it on the desk. I was there
in my underwear and pumps now, and I looked up at Petra
with half-lidded eyes to see what she wanted next.

Petra stood with her hands on her tilted hips, naked
from the waist down and looking like a princess. She
pursed her lovely full lips and made a twisty motion
with her fingers. "Get rid of the rest of it, except
for the stockings and shoes. I want my horny little
sluts naked."

I shivered at the tone of command in her voice and
hurried to obey. The bra went first, my breasts
bobbling free and showing my hard nipples (I hadn't
even been aware that my nipples were hard, but they
were, as hard as rubies), and the thong came off next.
I tossed my underwear to an unseen and unheeded corner
– I didn't even care where it went at that moment.
Petra wanted me naked, and I wanted it too, and so I
stood before her with a shy sort of pride and watched
her look at me. That she liked what she saw was obvious
from the way her eyes ate me up and the smile that
crooked her mouth. "You're a hot cunt, you know that?"
she asked me. "I bet you make all the little girls'
pussies wet."

"I...I don't know," I stammered. Laurel had plenty of
friends, but I had never even considered that any of
them – the female ones especially – would be horny for
me. The thought seemed utterly bizarre.

She laughed. "Well maybe you ought to find out. You got
kids, right?"

"Yes," I nodded. "A mister who's 17 and 15 year old
flower."

"Either of them ever bring girls over to the house?"
she asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Like your
flower ever have relaxovers?"

"Yes, sometimes."

"Well next time all those 15 and 16 year old girls come
through your house, you watch them. I bet at least one
of them will be watching you too."

"I don't know..."

"I do," Petra replied with utter certainty. "You're too
fucking gorgeous not to have some girls want your mouth
on their pussies. Maybe when you notice it, you'll do
something about it now."

I had no idea what to say about that. The thought of
having sex with one of Laurel's girlfriends was
overwhelming. I can't say I found the idea as
compelling and sexually immediate as, say, the idea of
having sex with some hard-bodied high school football
player, but there was something to it that was powerful
anyway.

It's hard to explain, and I know I didn't understand it
then, but the idea of seducing a young girl – or being
seduced by one – was incredibly erotic to me on a level
very different from an imagined encounter with a
teenage boy. Teenage boys, after all, will pretty much
stick their dicks into anything that doesn't move fast
enough to get away, so having a boy want to fuck me was
no accomplishment. But a girl – a fresh young teenage
girl – now that was something else entirely, and a
feeling of sexual power rippled through me as I
imagined one or another of Laurel's friends looking up
at me with her mouth buried in my snatch.

Petra didn't give me much time to revel in the thought
though, because she quickly ordered me into action:
"Get over here and take my top off."

I've mentioned that I'm proud of my tits, but when I
took off Pet's blouse and saw hers for the first time I
felt undeniable envy. They had looked gorgeous through
her clothes, but being clothed didn't do Petra justice.
The woman was born to be naked, and her breasts were a
case in point. Bigger than mine, round and full,
perfectly proportioned, taut and perky in the way that
mine just couldn't be any more at my age, with big
round nipples so dark that they looked like ebony – to
cover those ladies up was a crime.

She put her hands on me, on my bare skin, and for the
first time in my life I marveled at the amazing,
thrilling contrast between white and black skin. I'm a
Nordic blonde, pale even when I'm tanned (and I wasn't
tanned on my belly because I hadn't worn a two-piece
bathing suit since before I got pregnant with David)
and Pet is as dark-skinned as anyone I've ever seen.

Even beyond the fact that I was being touched
intimately by a woman, and by a black permister for the
first time, there was something aesthetically very
appealing about her skin on mine. It took almost no
imagination to make the leap of visualizing my naked
pink pussy being spread by a thick black cock...

And then I had no time for imagination, because Pet put
me in motion. She surrounded me with her arms and
pushed me back with her body. Two steps and I felt the
table against the back of my thighs; I put my butt on
it and she followed, pressing me over onto my back as
she straddled me. In just a few moments I was lying
down with my legs over the end of the table and she was
above me, knees on either side of my waist, her perfect
breasts hanging down almost to mine as she leaned in to
kiss me. And this time when I felt a woman's lips on
mine I didn't even think of wavering – this was what I
was here for, and I was going to revel in every second
of it.

Our tongues met between our lips, and the kiss started
out soft and easy because that was the way Petra wanted
it. Tip on tip, our tongues moved together slowly, and
after a moment I found myself sighing into her mouth.
This was it – for the first time since my brief affair
years before, I was with someone other than my husband
because I wanted to be, of my own volition; and whereas
I had felt years of guilt from that previous dalliance,
I knew I would feel no guilt whatever from this one.
Tim was still my husband and I still loved him, but he
had no further claim on my body. From now on when I
wanted someone else, man or woman – or maybe even dog –
I would take them. It was that simple.

I remember when she lowered herself onto me and we lay,
length on length, warmth on warmth, mouth on mouth. Her
hands were on my flanks, caressing my ribs and my hips,
and after a moment I moved my hands as well. At first
they came to rest on the backs of her shoulders, my
touch gentle, but it didn't take long for them to begin
to drift down across her curved back to her tiny waist
and then further, onto her ass. Oh God, Pet has an ass
to ******* for.

I'm not ashamed of mine, especially for being in my
middle 30s, but Pet's... Pet's ass is one for the ages.
Her figure is the sort that you can't have once gravity
starts to get hold of you – broad shoulders, big firm
tits, a waist you could almost encircle with two hands,
and a big, bodacious ass that any man would love to
hold onto while taking her from behind. It was the sort
of ass that would look good in a skirt or pants that
were tight or loose, clothed or naked. It was firm and
hot and I loved the way it felt when I squeezed it and
pulled her pelvis down against mine.

Quickly enough our kissing stopped being soft and
exploratory and became something altogether more
urgent. I don't think either one of us was in the mood
to pussyfoot around for long, pardon the bad pun – she
was hotter for me than I was for her, and I was plenty
hot. Her lips were on mine hard and I was taking the
air right out of her lungs, just like she was taking
mine. Our nipples were hard, mine against hers, and my
hand crept over her ass and stroked her shaved lips at
almost the exact same moment that hers went between our
bodies and found mine.

I could feel her grin through her kiss as she slipped
her middle finger deep into me, and I followed her
lead. It was the third pussy I had ever fingered, my
own included, and it was getting so that I was getting
used to the feel. I didn't think I'd ever love it as
deeply and instinctively as I loved putting my fingers
around a hard, thick cock, but there was no doubt in my
mind that I could get to like it easily enough.

It didn't take long for us to start fucking each other
pretty good, pumping each other nice and deep. Her
pussy was tight and wet and it clasped hard on me as I
pushed into it, and sucked hard at me as I pulled back,
and the feeling was addictive. It was no wonder, I
thought, that men went bananas for pussy if they were
all as nice as Petra's and Brandy's; it was soft and
yielding, warm and moist and inviting, a pleasure to
touch just as Brandy's was. It felt smooth on the
inside and yet gently rippled, and I knew that those
little dips and variations of flesh that felt so
innocuous as I pumped my fingers – two of them now – in
and out of her body were what kept men drooling to get
their cocks into women.

I know it sounds terribly mundane, as though I was
amazed to discover that the sun is bright, but there's
a difference between intellectually knowing a fact like
that and having visceral experience with it. I didn't
have a cock and I could never know what wonders they
gave to men, but now I could imagine
the tremble in David's limbs as he pushed himself into
some neighborhood housewife and thought of me –

I stopped myself from thinking about David. I was still
fiercely pissed at him – he had betrayed me and been
unapologetic, telling me that I had been a fool to
trust him. And I HAD been, I knew... but I had wanted
to trust him, after what he had said and how he had
made me feel. I had wanted to give myself to him. I had
wanted to cross that enormous boundary and *** a
taboo that was even bigger, to me, than fucking a dog.
I had eagerly sucked his cock, and if he had just left
things there then I would have eagerly sucked his cock
the next day and the day after, and I wouldn't have put
up a fight when he finally took me to bed and shattered
the last taboo. But he had thrown that away,
deliberately and cold rededly, and now he was going
to have to pay the price for that by having to drag me
kicking and screaming every step of the way from now
on. That he would do so I had no doubt, but I would
leave scars.

But fuck David. Fuck him all to hell. He wasn't here
and I what I was doing now had nothing whatsoever to do
with him. I was doing this because it was something I
hadn't allowed myself to even want in the past, and
because I deserved to push back all the boundaries that
had kept me a hemmed-in little hausfrau all these
years. I was doing it to break free.

And suddenly I wanted to suck pussy. I mean I honestly,
truly wanted to suck pussy, not just for the fact of
knocking down a barrier but because I knew it would
taste good and feel good on my mouth, and because I
wanted to make Petra cum on my tongue, writhing and
gasping and moaning my name. I wanted sex with her for
the sake of sex with her, not because it would mean
anything but simply because it would feel good. And so
I pulled my mouth away from hers (with some difficulty)
and whispered, "I want to lick you, Petra..."

She smiled like a tiger and whispered back, "You do?"

"Yes, I do. I really do."

"Well maybe I want to do the same to you first." She
put a kiss on my nose and ran her tongue along my
cheek. "What do you think about that?"

"Will you make me cum?"

"I'll make you scream."

I swallowed hard. "Please make me scream, Petra."

Her mouth was around my right nipple then, sucking it
in and rolling her tongue over it. I noted in an
abstract sort of way that her technique was different
from Brandy's; Brandy was soft and gentle, even when
she used her teeth on my breasts. Pet wasn't. Pet was
hard, driving, and even though what she did to me felt
amazing and perfect, I knew immediately that she would
push me to my limits. She would make me dance the line
between pain and pleasure and teach me how much of one
I could take before it became the other. In normal
times the idea might have at least intimidated me, but
now I surrendered myself to it completely. I would go
where Pet took me.

She didn't linger all that long on my breasts; she was
too eager to get between my legs. And so when she began
to kiss her way down my stomach I just braced myself
and spread my thighs, my eyes closed and my hands ready
to grip the sides of the table. I still remember the
instant I first felt a woman's breath hot and close on
the wet folds of my sex and knew that her lips would
soon follow. It occurred to me then that I was leaving
something inside me behind here, that I would be
changed by this just as certainly as I had been changed
by the evening with Charlie and David, but I knew
instinctively that I couldn't both stay what I was and
become what I had to be. Something had to give, the old
skin had to peel away, the old me had to die before the
new me could be born. What would the new me be like?
There was only one way to find out.

I know most men don't like to think about how... well,
not to gross you out, I'll just use the word biological
again – how biological women's bodies, and especially
our genitals, can be. That one little area is used for
a lot of different things and sees a lot of traffic,
and it produces a lot of different aromas and, um,
fluids. To a man it's a hole to fuck, but as I was
looking between Petra's legs I saw what I had, the same
thing but in a different color (and younger than mine,
to be sure) and it was a very powerful experience to
know that I was about to give pleasure to the same
sorts of nerves as I had.

I put my mouth on her. Her skin was soft and smooth,
obviously freshly shaved or waxed. Her labia yielded to
the pressure of my lips and I felt her inner folds
against my mouth. It was official: I was going down on
a woman. I let my mouth rest against her for a second,
just feeling it, experiencing it, lips closed,
breathing her in and rolling over the sensation of a
pussy against my face. And then, gently, I parted my
lips, put out my tongue, and began to lick her. Her
lips parted before even the softest of pressure and I
tasted, for the first time, another woman's sex.

I guess the easiest thing it to say it tasted like it
smelled, but that's not a fair description. I
immediately knew it wasn't a taste I would ever love in
the same deep, vibrant way I loved semen, but I also
knew that it wasn't offensive in the least. Even if I
wouldn't long for it, I knew that I could, and would,
get used to it with very little effort.

I knew that I could, and would, put my mouth on another
woman if the mood struck me or the woman bewitched me,
and I wouldn't hesitate a moment to do so. Women...
and, as I recalled the idea Pet had put in my head of
Laurel's friends, maybe girls too. It was a savory
taste, strong but not unpleasant, female like nothing
else could ever be, perhaps just a little tangy and
salty and maybe even just a hint of metallic at the
very edge of my taste buds. It was a human taste, not
similar to a man's taste in any way but, at the same
time, identical to it: it was the taste of arousal, of
desire, of need, and soon enough it would be the taste
of a lover's release, earned as it flowed over my
tongue.

"Mmm, that's it girl," Petra told me. "Just slow and
easy. Take your time and don't rush."

I did as I was told and licked her in one long, slow
swipe from the very base of her twat where she opened
into her vagina and up, between her lips, tasting her
and feeling her and smelling her, until I came to her
clit. It was hard and peering out from its little hood,
perfect and pink and as sweet and innocent looking as a
little girl in pigtails. I was gentle as I put my lips
on it, surrounding it, and gave it a soft kiss. My lips
parted and my tongue flicked over it, just for an
instant, just the tip.

"Slow, girl, slow," she whispered. "Lick my pussy for a
while..."

I was more than willing to take guidance, not just
because this was my first time doing this but also
because I wanted Petra to cum like she'd made me cum. I
knew I couldn't do with my teeth what she'd done (I was
so inexperienced I'd draw red if I tried) and I
didn't have enough experience with getting my pussy
licked to know exactly what I liked, so anything she
could tell me was welcome. I lowered my mouth to her
opening and put my lips on it; I could feel her vagina
open before me like it wanted me inside it. My tongue
moved inside tentatively and instantly I was in a world
of Petra's flavor, of her juices, of her sex.

I didn't really think then, I just started to do what
felt natural to me: I began to lick, pushing my tongue
in as deeply as it could go and then pulling back, up
and down, in and out. She was wet when I began but she
rapidly got wetter and in a few moments she was flowing
into my mouth.

I was enough of a naïf that I didn't realize yet how
different women get wet in different amounts and that
Petra was a flooder; all I knew was that there was more
juice than I could lick up, and with every lick I made
more. The oddness and unfamiliarity of it faded almost
immediately and I became comfortable with what I was
doing, just licking deep, feeling her pelvis hard
against my cheeks and my chin, her softness and
fragrance wonderful to me.

I looked up and saw her smiling down at me, and I
smiled with my eyes. "God you look good eating pussy,
slut," she told me, running a hand along my hair. "Your
pretty white face stuck in my black cunt! I wish your
boyfriend was watching us – no, fuck that, I wish your
husband was watching us so he could see what a good
cuntlicker his wife is!"

I laughed into her body. Tim's skull would pop if he
saw me this way, naked and on my knees, eating out a
young black woman in the back room of a sleazy lingerie
store! Then again, I thought, maybe it would finally
stir his cock into life. Who knew? And at this point,
who cared? He didn't want me for the sex I needed, so I
would get it somewhere else. And right now I was
getting it from Petra. What could be complicated about
that?

"All right, now lick up to my clit. Be slow...be
gentle..." She sighed as I did just what she told me.
"That's it. Put your fingers into me. Two at first, get
me loosened up, and then give me three. Yeah... yeah
that's it... suck my clit real gentle, real soft...
mmmm... pump my pussy..yeah... yeah that's it..."

She was clamping down on my fingers, squeezing them as
I fucked her hot little hole, and she was lifting her
clit against my mouth. I didn't know much about making
women happy at this point but I knew enough to know I
was doing it for her, and I knew enough to know I was
going to make her cum. I felt absolutely fantastic,
strong and powerful and clever. I loved that feeling.

"Harder now... fuck me good, fuck me nice and
hard...squeeze on my clit a little with your lips, not
too much... tongue it..."

She was humping against my face and my hand now, her
pussy spasming on my hand, and I knew the signs of an
impending orgasm when I saw one. I didn't fool myself
into thinking it was my consummate s******* at cunnilingus
that had brought her to this place so much as the fact
that she had a straight suburban Suzy Homemaker
worshipping her cunt, but I was doing my best and
learning with every motion of my fingers and every lap
of my tongue.

"I'm almost there, honey," she told me. We had found
each other's rhythm (it took me a bit, honestly,
because I was still clumsy, but I finally got it) and
she was fucking my fingers just as much as they were
fucking her, just as she was rubbing her clit on my
lips and tongue just as much as I was sucking it. But
that's how good sex always is, isn't it? I watched her
face, her big eyes scrunched tightly shut and her lower
lip caught between her teeth, and I loved the passion,
the need, and the rapture I had put there. I loved
making love to her. "Gonna cum... keep going... gonna
cum... gonna ...gonna..."

And then she did. I didn't make her scream my name the
way I wanted to, but I did make her suck in air and
gasp adorably at the same time like she was springing a
leak (a very sweet, lovable sound), I made her whole
body shake (her tits vibrated mesmerizingly, quaking
and rolling with every quiver in her body) and I made
her thrust her pussy into my face and yank me into her
by my hair (I admit I panicked a bit at the sudden,
hard movement and the pain from my scalp, but I kept
doing what I was doing so it worked out in the end). I
mouth-rode that clit and pumped her cunt as she held
herself stiff against me – and then she dropped, limp
and spent, to the table, smiling and panting and
sweaty.

I had done it. I had made a woman cum with my mouth. I
felt like the Queen of America.

After a few moments she pulled me up into her arms and
we lay together on the table, naked, skin on skin and
earned sweat on earned sweat, tangled up with each
other. I was grinning, and she looked at me knowingly.
I was a little shy as I asked, "Did I do OK for a first
time?"

"Oh hell yeah," she laughed and put a kiss on my lips.
"You made me pop, and that's what it's about."

"I didn't really know what I was doing. I don't have a
lot of experience even on the receiving end..."

"Do you want more?"

I nodded. "I do... receiving and giving. I liked it."

"I can take you places," Petra told me, looking into my
eyes to gauge my reaction. "Places where they don't let
me in the door, where they don't even let women in the
door unless they're looking to fuck other women. Do you
want to go to places like that?"

I paused. "Like...in front of everyone?"

She laughed. "WITH everyone."

"Oh...I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet," I told her.
"I mean I like the idea, but I want to... get more
comfortable with it, I guess."

"More one on one?" she asked. I nodded, and she smiled.
"Well whenever you want, I'll get with you. If you
don't mind letting Brandy come, we could have lots of
fun together."

I smiled back, surprised at how shy I was feeling. "I
think Brandy would be all right. I know her and...and I
want to do to her what I did to you. I think it would
be good."

"I know she'll like it," Pet told me, and that was the
last we talked for a while. We lay in each other's
arms, cuddling and kissing and looking into each
other's eyes, stroking each other's skin, moving our
limbs against each other. I was just about to suggest
Round 2 when there came a knock on the door and Brandy
poked her head in. She grinned huge when she was us
tangled up like we were and said, "Hey Pet, I hate to
interrupt but I'm swamped. Can you help out?"

"Be there in a minute," Petra said, then looked back at
me and said ruefully, "Duty calls, or some cuckolds brownie like
that."

I chuckled and smacked her ass. "Well you leave me
wanting more, and that's a good thing. I'll help you
get dressed."

I did, and after a session in the bathroom to adjust my
makeup and hair I joined the other customers out front.
I picked up some more clothes – more underwear, a
couple more skirts and dresses, a few cute tops, all
very sexy and ranging from sort of classy to outright
trashy. Pet and Brandy copped feels off me when they
could do so without getting noticed and I did the same
to them, giggling as I did. I felt playfully naughty,
like a schoolgirl secretly acting up in class and half-
hoping she got spotted by the cute boy. I didn't have
time to get either Petra or Brandy alone, but I did get
both their phone numbers before I left.

I walked out of there with my head held high, feeling
strong and confident and smart.

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Chapter Six: May 13

When I walked out of the lingerie store I was on a
cloud. I felt strong, confident, sexy, like I could do
anything I put my mind to and like I had a right to
have anything I wanted. On the way home I was struck by
an irresistible craving for French fries.

Normally I don't like greasy food, but at that moment
deep fat fried anything sounded absolutely delicious. I
swung by a McDonalds, thinking I'd get a small fry, but
when I opened my mouth at the drive through microphone,
what came out was, "I'd like a 10 piece nugget meal,
please." 10 Chicken McNuggets! AND a bunch of French
fries! God, I'd be working this off my ass for the next
month. I thought of canceling the order, but I pushed
the thought away. I wanted this. I deserved this. And I
was really, really hungry for this.

As a concession to sanity, I ordered a Diet Coke. I'm
sure that balanced out the meal.

I devoured the greasy meal and strongly considered
going back for another, such was my craving, but
sensibility prevailed and I headed home with the radio
blasting and my head banging to the music. (I like
punk. I know, who'd think to look at me, right?)

When I got home, Charlie was very happy to see me and
he greeted me with the enthusiasm that only a canine
can muster when he's convinced he'd been left forever
alone and then his best buddy comes. I took him out for
our daily run, and I added six blocks to it as penance
for my indulgence at the Golden Arches.

The run cleared my mind and I got into the zone you
sometimes get into when you're exercising really good,
where you don't think of anything at all except the air
in your lungs and the way your muscles are moving
smoothly and efficiently but you feel so incredibly
good, like the best have ever.

I handled the extra mile or so easily enough, but it
kicked Charlie's furry butt, and the poor dear just
collapsed in a panting heap in front of the floor fan
when we got in the door. I got on my knees and petted
him for a good fifteen minutes, something we both
loved, then let him out the back to investigate the
yard and sit in the breeze while I took a shower.

I felt perfect when I stepped into the shower; I was
thinking about what I had done with Petra, and how sexy
and empowered it made me feel, and those thoughts
really put me on a high. But when I was rinsing the
conditioner out of my hair I suddenly started thinking
about my wedding, and how I had pledged to honor and be
faithful to Tim, and I suddenly felt incredibly,
massively guilty. Regardless of the fact that he and I
had no sex life whatsoever, I was still married to him
and I still loved him very, very much. He deserved
better from me that to be sneaking off to sleazy adult
stores to have sex with women –

My God. It hit me suddenly, hard and vulgarly, that I
had fucked a woman. What had seemed so erotic to me
just moments before suddenly felt disgusting and alien
and perverse, only a step (if that) above young
worryation. How could I have done it? What in the
world had I been thinking? And how could I have enjoyed
it? How could I have reveled in it? I was sick. I was
vile!

Tears were streaming down my face when I stepped out of
the shower, and when I saw myself naked in the full-
length mirror I almost vomited. I looked horrible. I
was old. I was wrinkly. I was sagging. I had extra
weight. What right did I have to think I was sexy? What
right did I have to want anything more than the sexless
existence Tim had given me? I broke down completely and
cried for half an hour.

When I was done crying, I felt a little better. I still
had some twinges of guilt, but not nearly as bad, and I
covered myself in jeans and a floppy shirt so I
wouldn't have to look at my gross body. I settled down
in the kitchen and called Tammy, one of the few of my
friends who is a stay at home mom like me. Her kids are
younger than mine – she has an eight year old, a six
year old, and a two year old – but her oldest, Ken,
reminds me a lot of Laurel in terms of permisterality,
while her two year Laine is a little hellion like David
was at that age, though hopefully not as downright
evil. The six year old, Martin, has fairly severe
autism unfortunately, and so Tammy has to stay home to
take care of him.

I bustled around the kitchen, preparing the ingredients
for the night's dinner (nothing fancy, just lasagna
with a salad and some Italian bread) and talking to my
friend while she cleaned. I was hoping talking to her
would make me feel better, but it had the opposite
effect because I was harboring secrets I didn't dare
share with her, or with anyone I knew – except David,
of course. David would find out what I did with Petra,
and that would only give him more ammunition to use
against me. The realization sent me into a miserable
spiral and by the time I hung up I was ready to cry
again. I fussed around a bit, doing a little cleaning,
then wrote out a few bills while Charlie laid on my
feet and kept them warm. Charlie, my sweet love.

Tim surprised me by coming home early – he was home
even before the kids. I was a little worried when I
heard his car pull up, thinking there was something
wrong, but when he came in with a hangdog expression
and two dozen roses, I just melted. I put my arms
around him, hugged him so tight it took the breath away
from both of us, and cried like a baby while I babred
about how much I loved him and how sorry I was for what
had happened the night before. He assured me it was all
right, which just made me cry harder.

I barely pulled myself together before David got home.
I know David was surprised to see Tim there before him,
which just confirmed to me that he had something
malignant planned for the afternoon that Tim had, thank
God, spoiled. That made me feel good, and I was happy
and bouncy and cuddly with Tim until Laurel got back
from school, especially because David vanished into his
bedroom after saying hello and didn't torment me at
all.

Dinner that night was fun, or at least that's how I
remember it. Initially the kids were very leery, given
what I'd yelled to Tim the night before, but Tim and I
were jokey and flirty and very comfortable so that by
the end everyone loosened up and had a good time. David
made some veiled cracks about Charlie but I didn't let
it get to me – right then, in fact, it felt like
nothing could get to me at all. I felt invulnerable. So
I did the logical thing which, was when he made a
snarky comment, I laughed and pelted him with garlic
bread (which Charlie ate when it hit the floor).

After dinner my mood crashed again, for no reamister
whatsoever. I was alone except for Charlie, washing the
dishes, and all of a sudden I was crying so hard my
chest hurt. I stayed miserable for the rest of the
night and cried myself to relax beside my confused,
worried husband and my confused, worried canine lover.

May 17

I won't bore you with the story of the next few days. I
spent most of the days in tears and hating myself for
being fat, ugly, old, faithless, feckless, lustful,
perverted and useless. Everyone except Charlie learned
to steer clear of me by Wednesday afternoon. Even David
learned the lesmister when he came into the kitchen to get
a soda when I was fixing dinner and I, for no reamister
whatsoever, spent the next ten minutes screaming at him
about... well, nothing, actually. Just screaming.

I was so angry and irrational that Laurel, of all
people, came downstairs and stepped between us.
Similarly I spent most of the nights awake, miserable
and aching in every joint in my body. I wasn't horny in
the slightest – even when Charlie tried to lick me as I
changed clothes I shooed him away. The thought of sex,
of feeling pleasure, seemed bizarre and alien and
undeserved.

If you haven't figured it out by now, I was getting my
period. I know I didn't figure it out until Friday
night when it hit me – literally. It's not that I'm
utterly dense. When I was a teenager my periods were so
regular I could mark them out on the calendar months
ahead of time. But since I was pregnant with David, and
especially after Laurel, they became very irregular. It
wasn't that uncommon for me to miss a month, or at
least be two or three weeks late. It was basically
random.

Furthermore, my PMS symptoms usually weren't that bad.
Oh I'd bloat and ache and get a little moody, but
nothing like this time. This time was some kind of a
record for me. Stress, I suppose, coupled with the
sudden increase in sexual hormones I'd been
producing... or something. I don't know, I'm not a
doctor. I've heard plenty of men complain that the
workings of women's bodies, and especially
menstruation, are a mystery to them. The fact is,
they're a mystery to a lot of women too.

Sometimes you barely red; other times you think your
heart is pumping every drop of crimmister straight out
through your cooch. Sometimes you have such mild PMS
symptoms you don't even notice; other times, like this
time, you're so miserable and volatile that you're
impossible to be around. Sometimes you're early;
sometimes you're late; sometimes you skip. Sometimes
the power of your fertility and fecundity strikes you
in a sublime, almost spiritual way and you're awed at
the majesty of your own body; other times you think
it's a huge pain in the ass and you wish you were born
without a uterus.

This was a bad one. Not only the PMS was bad, but the
period itself. Oh the reding wasn't dramatically
worse than usual (maybe a little) but the side
effect...damn. OK, there's really no beating around the
bush here: when I'm through with PMS and actually in my
period, I get horny. No, cancel that, I get HORNY. Even
when my life was sexless, I'd spend a few days with an
itch between my legs that always felt like it needed to
be scratched. This time, with the awakening I'd had, I
went into heat.

It's a vulgar way to say it, sure, but it's also
accurate. I woke up Saturday morning at about 3:00 AM
*needing* to come like I've seldom needed it before. I
lay there for a few minutes thinking fiercely sexual
thoughts about Charlie and David, Petra and Brandy, and
then I went into my bathroom and fingered myself to a
pair of shuddering orgasms in what must have been
record time. Even that didn't do more than take the
edge off though, because I barely got back to relax
before the erotic dreams came... and my, were the
erotic. The one I remember best was set in David's
second grade class.

It was Show and Tell and David brought me. Everyone in
the room was a second-grader except for me, David, and
the teacher. I was wearing a tiny little flirt skirt
that showed my ass, a see-through mesh tank top, no
underwear, red fishnet thigh-highs and these crazy
stripper shoes, and I was sitting on David's lap. We
were making out in the middle of class, kissing
fiercely while he fingered me and I stroked his cock;
nobody noticed. When it came time for him to present,
he carried me up to the teacher's desk, set me there,
dropped his pants and started fucking me long, deep and
hard with his lovely cock. He kept whispering into my
ear that if I wanted him to get an A, we'd have to put
on a really good show...

I know, I know. How sick can you get, right? I wish I
could pass it off as just a dream – after all, you
can't control your dreams – but it was so damned hot
that I masturbated to it again when I woke up. I knew
how wrong, how sick, and even more, how dangerous it
was for me to be thinking that way, but I was too hot
to stop myself...or at least too hot to want to stop
myself.

I had the luxury of masturbating then because by the
time I woke up it for good it was almost 9:30 and Tim
was long gone to the club. So I came, then I laid there
and enjoyed my afterglow, and finally dragged myself up
and out of bed a few minutes before 10. I felt great.
That's the other thing about menstruation – you spend
the better part of a week in misery with PMS, and then
when you finally get your period you feel vastly
better. Oh there are still the occasional cramps, at
least for me, and the libido rages, but other than that
it feels a world better. I pulled on a simple pair of
shorts (dark, naturally) and a tee shirt and went
downstairs.

Laurel was there, playing with Charlie in the den.
Charlie bounded to meet me, wagging his whole butt,
while Laurel eyed me warily. It had been a rough week
and I'd had everyone in the house walking on eggshells,
but she relaxed a bit when I laughed easily at
Charlie's antics. After a moment she asked, "How are
you feeling?"

"Good. Got my period."

"Oh! Well...that explains it."

I laughed. "Yeah it does. Sorry about the last week."

"I had a bet with dad about whether you were going
crazy."

"You did not!"

"Well...maybe not. But I'd have gotten good odds."

I stuck out my tongue at her. "Did you eat breakfast?"

"Sure did. I ate with dad, and then he took off. I'm
leaving in about 20 minutes."

"Oh? Where are you going?"

"I'm going shopping with Brittney, remember?"

I did then. Brittney was her friend who had just gotten
her driver's license, and this was the first time she
would be able to take a gang of girls to the mall.
"When will you be back?"

"Probably not until the afternoon, like maybe even
after dinner. Oh, and dad said he'd be late today too,
a business thing. Looks like you'll be alone with the
dork."

I paused for a bit. "David's still here?"

"David's still in bed. You know him and weekends."

I felt a flutter of panic in my breast at the idea of
spending the rest of the morning and the early
afternoon alone with David (I had a date with some
girlfriends in the afternoon myself), but I pushed it
aside. I had to deal with him sooner or later so it
might as well be sooner. Laurel was gone before I was
done with breakfast and so I was left alone with my
thoughts.

And what thoughts. I was so horny my fingernails hurt.
I was ashamed of myself for the way I'd acted over the
past week. I was ashamed of myself for getting myself
in the fix with David. Charlie kept rubbing against my
legs and when he did all I could think about was his
cock locked inside of me and the way it felt when he
pulled out and all his cum exploded from me.

I was frightened of what David would do when he finally
got out of bed. I kept thinking about David's cock and
the way his cum tasted. I wanted to run. I wanted to
fuck. I wanted...I guess I wanted something to happen,
something to break the tension, something to move me
one way or the other because I didn't know which
direction to go.

Nothing happened during breakfast, naturally enough, or
when I took Charlie out in the back yard so he could
romp. It was a clammy day, cool and humid and overcast.
Larry, my next door neighbor, was out mowing his lawn
and I waved to him as I smelled the fresh-cut grass and
watched my dog romp. I brought Charlie back inside.

David still wasn't up, but I wasn't going to wait
around for him. I went upstairs and took a nice long
shower; I tried to keep from thinking naughty thoughts
but the shower has always been an erotic place for me
and it wasn't long before I had the shower wand
spraying one particular place and I had my fourth
orgasm in about seven and a half hours. I was still
ragingly horny when I got out of the bathroom.

I have to say at this point that this level of sexual
desire wasn't normal for me, even when I was having my
period. This was something phenomenal, something wholly
other, and I didn't know how to handle it. I was
craving orgasms, craving them the same way I craved
screwy things like chocolate-covered sauerkraut when I
was pregnant; it was bone-deep, all the way through me,
always in my mind even when I was thinking about
something else. And having an orgasm didn't seem to
diminish my want for more.

My skin was tingling and wanting to be touched, my
nipples were hard and tender, I was almost panting like
a dog. I knew, in my head, that this was nothing more
than my hormones out of whack, nothing more than a mid-
30s clock-is-ticking thing. I knew it wasn't regular,
and I knew it wasn't right.

I also knew I needed to come, and come a lot, or I was
going to go nuts.

My horniness explains what I did when I got out of the
shower. I went to get dressed, and initially I grabbed
an entirely sensible outfit of long shorts and a summer
blouse – and then I stopped. The last time I went to
XXXFantasy, I had gotten a bunch of naughty clothes.
Well... not naughty, just sexy. A little revealing, a
little flirtatious, a little hot. Whatever.

They had made me feel attractive when I was trying them
on in the store, and right now I wanted, very much, to
feel attractive. And that was why, when I went
downstairs, I was wearing a tight green top that
exposed a hell of a lot of cleavage, a push-up bra that
showed my girls to advantage, a tight little black
skirt that came halfway down to my knees, a tiny black
thong that was more an insinuation of underwear than an
actual garment, and a pair of black pumps that put a
shimmy in my ass when I walked. At that moment, I loved
the way I looked and I wanted to get looked at; I
dressed accordingly.

The only permister likely to look at me for the next few
hours was David...but I could live with that. I
wouldn't like it, but I could live with it.

Charlie followed me down the stairs, and when we got to
the bottom he shoved his head up under my skirt and
gave me a sniff. I ruffed his ears and laughed, saying,
"What's the matter, boy? You know I'm horny, huh? Can't
hide anything from your nose, can I?" His answer was
simple but perfectly eloquent: he powerd his nose
between my thighs and licked along my slit, right
through my panties, and he didn't stop at one lick
either.

And suddenly I knew just exactly what I wanted to do: I
wanted to come on my dog's tongue. A few seconds later
I was seated on the sofa, exactly where I was the first
time he licked me. My skirt was up around my waist, my
panties were around my right ankle, and Charlie was
going to town on me with utter abandon. I didn't know
if he'd lick my tampon out and I didn't care.

I should explain at this point that another way that
dogs are better than men is that they have hesitation
whatsoever about going down on you when you're in your
period. In fact, they seem to love it – I guess there's
more flavor for them or more smell or something, but
whatever it is, dogs love the taste of menstruating
pussy. At any rate I was writhing grinding against him,
gasping, moaning, loving every second –

And then I heard the sound of David's door closing, and
a moment later his feet on the stairs. This is going to
sound awful, but it didn't even occur to me to stop.
Why should it? This was nothing he hadn't seen, and I
could get into no more trouble with him than I already
was. Why should I deny myself the pleasure I needed?

Besides, I'd made a habit of checking every room I went
into for hidden cameras, and the living room was clean.
A girl can't be too careful when dealing with a monster
like David.

And so that was how he found me a few seconds later,
legs splayed, Charlie lapping furiously at my twat, my
eyes half closed in passion and nearing another climax
– my fifth of the morning! David stopped when he saw me
and leaned up against the wall, a smirk on his face.
"That's quite a sight," he said. "Don't let me
interrupt."

"I won't," I gasped, spreading my legs wider and
tilting my hips to give Charlie a better angle at my
ass. In fact, I barely spared David any thought; I was
focused on Charlie, and if David wanted to watch, he
could watch. And watch was what he did, first from
across the room, and then, a few moments later, from
the couch where he sat down next to me for a closer
look. I didn't try to hide anything, and I didn't try
to keep quiet when I came. I moaned loud and long,
swore a bit, tremred and stiffened, and all the while
he just watch with a cuckolds brownie-eating grin on his face.

Charlie licked me for a while after my orgasm, but
before I could come again he lost interest and thrust
his head into David's hand for a petting. For a little
while I sat, wordlessly after-glowing, not caring to
cover myself while David petted the dog and looked at
my pussy; eventually, though, I closed my thighs,
pulled down my skirt, and looked at my mister
challengingly, as if daring him to say something.

He was grinning. "You look fantastic," he told me. "And
not just because of what you were just doing. You're
dressed really sexy. I like it a lot."

For a moment I went back and forth on how to answer. I
was still fiercely angry at him, and the sense of
betrayal hadn't faded – at the same time, though, I
knew that what I had just done, the carnal pleasure I
had just taken with Charlie, as well as what I had done
earlier with Petra and even Brandy, was nobody's
responsibility but my own. David may have pointed me in
this direction, but I was walking it myself, and I was
walking it because I suddenly needed to. That wasn't
David's fault (if fault was to be assessed), it was
mine. And so, after some mental see-sawing, I replied
with a curt, "Thank you."

His grin faltered a bit at the chill in my voice, but
it didn't disappear completely. "Still pretty pissed at
me, huh?"

"If you have to ask the question it means you wouldn't
understand the answer."

"Fair enough," he nodded, easing back in the sofa. "I
deserve that."

"I don't understand why you did it," I said suddenly,
the anger flaring up in me. "Why did you film us? And
why did you throw it in my face like that? And don't
give me that 'Because I could' crap because that isn't
any kind of answer. I was doing what you wanted. I was
doing what we wanted. I thought we had shared something
really wonderful, like I had never shared with anyone
before, and when you pulled that camera out –" I
stopped then because I could feel tears coming, and
even though they were tears of rage, not tears of
weakness, I didn't want him to misinterpret anything.
So I swallowed, got a grip, and went on while trying to
stay calmer. "When you did that, you *******ed what had
been growing between us. I hope you understand that."

"I know." He sounded sad, but I knew better than to
trust his tone. "I am sorry, for what it's worth."

"I don't believe you."

He shrugged, but not dismissively – it was more of a
hopeless kind of motion. Looking at the floor, his hand
still petting Charlie's neck, he said, "I deserve that
too. And I won't tell you I'd take it back if I could,
because that would be a lie."

"Well thank you for the honesty! So why did you do it?
Don't you understand that if you hadn't done it, I'd
have given you what you wanted? I would have, David. If
you'd have just left things where they were before you
did it, if you'd have cuddled me and helped me clean up
and told me how much you loved me, then I'd have been
on my knees for you every day since then. Do you
understand that?"

"Yeah I do."

"And if you'd have done that, treated me decently, then
I would probably be in bed with you right now."

He didn't seem as surprised as I'd hoped. In fact, he
didn't really seem surprised at all. "Yeah," was all he
said.

I wasn't quite sure what to make of that non-reaction,
but my dander was up and I didn't slow down. "Oh, I
wouldn't have asked, but I knew what you wanted. After
what you said, after the evening we shared, I wanted to
give it to you. You wouldn't have had to twist my arm
very much."

"But now I will."

I nodded. "Oh, now you will, kiddo. I'm not stupid
enough to think you're going to give up, but I'm going
to make it as hard for you as I can. I'll beat you if I
can. I want you to know and understand that."

"I understand."

"So why? Why did you do it?"

Now it was his turn to give me the infuriating line:
"Mom, if you have to ask that question it means you
wouldn't understand the answer."

I thought a harsh answer was going to come, but when I
opened my mouth I laughed instead. It was a bitter
laugh, but it was a laugh. "So, we're incomprehensible
to each other."

He shrugged again. "I don't think we are. I just think
we need to work at it."

"Oh, kiddo, I do not want to work at it."

"Yeah, I know. But I think I get you more than you get
me." Some sharp retorts came to mind, but in all
honesty it was terrifying how easily he wrapped me
around his finger when he wanted to sex me up so I just
stayed quiet. After a few seconds o silence, he added,
"You do know that I could take you up to bed right now,
right? If I wanted to. You couldn't stop me if I tried,
and you couldn't say anything to anyone about it."

Now I was the one giving a nonchalant shrug. "And if
you were going to do that you'd have done it by now.
You don't need to remind me of my situation because I
understand it perfectly well."

"What you don't understand is me."

"I guess I don't."

Charlie sniffed at my crotch again and I unashamedly
opened my legs for him, but he didn't give me more than
a cursory lick before lying down, tail thumping,
looking at us expectantly. David looked down at him,
then up at me. "So have you? With Charlie?"

"I tried," I admitted. "Didn't work. He knew what he
wanted but not how to do it, and I couldn't coax him
into position for long enough to make it happen."

"You need another pair of hands."

"Yeah. That I do."

"I'll be that pair of hands for you, mom."

A sardonic smile quirked my lips. "And now's the time I
ask about the price."

"No price."

I laughed again. "David, with you there's always a
price, so knock off the crap."

"No cameras," he told me. "And I keep my clothes on,
100%. I don't expect you to touch me and I won't touch
you any more than I have to to make it work. Not unless
you want me to."

"I wouldn't want you to."

"I didn't figure. But there's the offer mom. Straight
up. I know what you want and need and I'm willing to
help you get I with no strings."

I looked at him appraisingly, but his face – and
especially his eyes – looked honest enough. I wasn't
going to flatter myself anymore than I could read a lie
on my mister's face, but I didn't even see the slightest
hint of deception there. I didn't know what to make of
that. "I...I'm not suite sure I buy that."

"And I don't blame you. But the offer stands open."

I bit my lip. My arms were crossed in front of me and I
was looking at him like I did back when he was a tiny
boy and I caught him in an absurd lie. "And what do you
get out of it? I know you don't do anything nice for
anyone without getting something out of it."

He smiled. God, that smile. It could melt ice...or an
ice queen. "I know you won't believe it when I say it,
but I meant every single word I said to you that night.
Every single one. I meant it when I told you how
beautiful you are, and I meant it when I told you how
much I love you. I do want to see you happy, believe it
or not."

"But you're willing to make me miserable to make it
happen?"

He nodded, and this time I laughed cheerfully. "Oh
kiddo, that doesn't make any sense. You don't make any
sense."

"We'll see," he laughed back. And I'd be lying if I
said it didn't feel good to laugh with my mister. I didn't
want it to, but he's my mister – and he had made me feel
like no other man ever had or, I was starting to think,
ever could. He knew me and accepted me. He'd stabbed me
in the back, yes, but I knew that he didn't condemn me
for anything I'd done, and I knew that he would support
whatever I did along those lines in the future. He'd
use them against me, of course, but he wouldn't think I
was a pervert, and he'd almost certainly help me if he
could.

"To someone who'd spent so much of her life denying who
she was and what she wanted, that was a very, very
powerful thing. "Anyway," he went on, "the offer is
open and it will stay open. Whenever you want, I'll
help you and Charlie. I'll try to get him used to it so
he doesn't need my help – so you don't need my help.
And I won't ask for a thing in return. Just think about
it."

I nodded slowly. "I will."

He leaned in and put a loving kiss on my forehead, and
then stood up. "I gotta take a shower and get going,
I'm supposed to meet some friends."

"What's her name?"

He grinned teasingly. "What's the matter? Jealous?"

I stuck out my tongue. "You should be so lucky, kiddo."

His grin got even more teasing, and he said, "I'm
playing some extreme Frisbee with Brandy and a few of
her friends. You know, Brandy was really jealous that
Petra's was the first pussy you sucked and not hers."

"Well, let her know hers will be next."

"No kidding?"

"No kidding."

"All right, I'll tell her. You know she still wants to
get together with me and you." I gave him a "not gonna
happen" look and he laughed. "OK, OK, just saying."

He headed out of the room, then paused and turned in
the doorway. "When do you think your period will be
done?"

I was in the midst of pulling up my itty bitty panties,
but I stopped and gave him a surprised look. "How did
you know I was on my period?"

He looked at me like I was an idiot. "Mom, come on.
What other explanation could there have been for the
last week?"

"You knew I was PMSing?"

"Well of course."

"Huh. I wish you'd have told me. I was miserable.
Anyway, probably Thursday or Friday. Why?"

"Because you and I are going for dinner and dancing."

I paused. "We are?"

"Yep, and I want you to be able to enjoy it without
worrying about bodily functions."

"Where do you think we're going?"

"Sophie's, downtown Minneapolis. Do you know it?"

In spite of myself, I felt my heart quicken just a
beat. Sophie's was a 30's-style nightclub along the
river with a fantastic view of downtown. It had swing
and jazz bands, a romantically small dance floor, and
some excellent French food. I'd never been there, but
I'd heard fantastic things.

I should explain. A fine dinner followed by dancing,
especially to jazz, was one of my all-time favorite
things to do. It always made me feel sexy, clever,
glamorous – like I was in some wonderful old black and
white movie. It made me feel like a princess. Tim had
only taken me a couple of times – he loved eating at
good restaurants, but he neither liked nor had a talent
for dancing. Dancing isn't much fun with someone who
obviously doesn't want to be there – but when you're
with someone who loves it as much as you do, then it's
as close as you could get to Heaven on Earth. Damn him,
but David knew just the way to my heart. "I've heard of
it," I said cautiously. "How are you going to get in?
You aren't of age."

"I have a good fake ID," he replied with a laugh, and I
didn't doubt him for a second. "Also, the maître d'
owes me big time. Don't ask what for. I want you to
wear the slinky little red dress you got, OK?"

My head was still slightly whirling as I nodded. "OK."

"Friday night."

"OK."

He left me alone then, and it was only a few seconds
before I started to wonder how he had, in a few
seconds, defused my anger and made me actually look
forward to a date on the town with him. My mister was a
horrifically slick young man.

A couple of hours later I walked up to a table in front
of Ma Bella Passiona, a new Italian place on the
Nicollet Mall in downtown Minneapolis. I was still
wearing that same revealing outfit, and I'm sure male
eyes would have been on me if there hadn't been a
parade of barely-dressed, tight-bodied 18 year old
girls going up and down the sidewalk. Bitches. Anyway,
I was the last of our little group to arrive, and there
were jaws slack with amazement as I sat down in the
open chair between April and Tammy. I had known most of
these girls for 20 years or more, and none of them had
ever seen me dressed this way.

It was Stacey that spoke first. Stacey is a lawyer who
works in the office of the Dean of the Law School at
Hamline University. She's on her third husband (it's
not that she's not a devoted wife, it's just she has
terrible taste in men). She was so surprised she
dropped her cigarette (she'd just taken up smoking
again after a three year cold turkey period) and said,
"Um...who are you and what have you done with Angela?"

I gave her my best innocent look. "What do you mean?"

Tammy was staring at my legs. "Girl, that's the
shortest skirt I have EVER seen you in!"

I shrugged nonchalantly, though I was enjoying their
reaction immensely. "Oh, I just thought what with it
being spring and all..."

"OK, OK, OK, one strong breeze than that top is coming
off," Jen pointed out with a grin. Jen's a tiny little
thing, cute as a button, and she has the meanest,
sharpest, and funniest sense of humor of any woman I
know, not that you'd think to look at her angel-face.
"Hennepin Avenue is one block thattaway."

I stuck out my tongue, but I laughed. Hennepin Avenue
is a lot cleaner now, but it used to be notorious for
biker bars, porn shops and hookers back when we were
kids. Tom Waits even wrote a misterg about it. "I don't
think I look that bad."

"No, not bad," Patty said, still looking surprised.
"Different, but not bad."

"Who is he?" April asked.

"Who's who?"

"They guy you're having an affair with."

The girls all laughed, but I just shook my head. "Oh
no, no other men for me," I said. "Tim and David are
the only men in my life."

"Oh, Tim's obviously laying it to her good and
regular," Jen said brightly, and we all had a good
laugh about that. These girls were my best friends,
aside from my sister, and we all knew each other's
happinesses and frustrations – as far as I knew, I was
the only one at the table with a dark secret.

"No, he's still dead from the waist down," I replied.

"So what prompts this?" Tammy asked.

April arched an eyebrow. "If I didn't know better I'd
say you were looking for action."

"No, that's not it," I said. "I just decided I didn't
need anyone's permission to feel attractive. I mean,
I'm not a bad looking woman. I can pull this look off.
So why shouldn't I? Why do I need my husband's say-so
before I feel good about myself? Why do I need anyone's
say-so?"

"Hear hear!" Stacey cried, ringing her fork against her
iced tea glass. "That's the way to be!"

"Damn skippy," Patty nodded. "Sisters are doing it for
themselves."

"You are woman, hear you roar," added Tammy.

April chuckled, but the little glance she shot at me
told me she knew there was something more than I was
telling. April is nothing if not ridiculously
insightful, which has helped her career as a counselor
and intimidated a lot of men over the years; she was
still unmarried, and pretty much convinced she would
always be so. She's had plenty of relationships, of
course, but there's always something about her that
chases men off eventually. "So...no big news?"

I opened my mouth to speak, and when I did I planned to
say, "No," but at that moment the waiter came. He was
this really cute dark-haired, dark skinned boy who
looked like he hopped right out of a Greek fantasy; he
couldn't have been a day over 19. He brought me a glass
of water and stopped to see if we were ready to order,
and when his eyes locked with mine... well, sparks
flew.

I knew it, he knew it... and the girls knew it too. I
knew they were exchanging knowing looks, but I didn't
care. I looked sexy, I felt sexy, and this was
something I was reveling in. I took a quick look at the
menu and got a chicken Caesar salad and a glass of
white wine; as I did, the waiter stood over my shoulder
checking me out, and I made sure to give him the best
view I could. Once he'd gotten the order and we were
alone again, the other five girls burst out laughing.

"I guess Tim and David need to move over," Jen
observed.

"I'm not gonna fuck him," I said primly. "I'm just
gonna look. I can look and not be cheating."

"So," April repeated, "no big news?"

I don't know what possessed me, except that my hormones
were crippling my judgment and I knew that I could
trust these five women with anything, because we had
kept each other's secrets before. When Tammy had a
brief affair shortly after her marriage; when Jen was
struggling with how to deal with a lecherous boss who
kept trying to involve her in embezzlement; when
Stacey's first husband had turned out to be an user;
when April got involved with a married man in the vain
hope he would leave his emotionally frigid wife (only
to have him run off with some 19 year old who worked in
his office); when Patty got hooked on slot machines at
the casinos and needed our help to break the chain. I
hadn't told them about my brief affair years before,
but I wasn't in the mood anymore to keep everything
that was happening to me a secret. It's always more fun
to tell. And so I was very matter of fact when I picked
up my glass of water, took a sip and said, "I had sex
with a woman."

I don't think I could have caused a bigger reaction if
I'd have pulled a rabid skunk out of my purse and
dropped it on the table. There was a pause and then an
explosion of sound as five women started asking
questions all at once. It was an insane Babel as I
looked calmly from face to face, smiling a cocky little
smile. Finally Jen got them all quieted down and said,
"You're joking. You are joking. Right?"

"Nope, I went all the way with another girl," I replied
cheerfully.

"Well...when? How?" Tammy demanded.

"And why?" Stacey asked.

"I do think you owe us some details, Angela," April
told me with a smile. Of all the women at the table, it
was April who had the most experience on that side of
things. She had gone to Bryn Mawr for her undergrad
studies and had gone through a serious and lengthy
lesbian phase before deciding that she really liked men
after all. Other than that, I knew that Stacey had done
a three-way with her second husband and a gal from his
work, but I didn't think that the others had any
experience in that line besides maybe smooching other
girls in junior high.

"Well OK, it went like this..." I told the story
exactly as it happened, except I left Charlie and
David's part in it, I made shopping for lingerie my
idea, I combined the encounters with Brandy and Petra
into one and...well, I guess I didn't really tell it
exactly as it happened. What I said was that I had
decided to get some sexy things and went to a little
lingerie shop, where the sexy black salesgirl had
seduced me in the changing room and then moved me to
the stockroom for sex. I left out names and locations,
and refused to answer any questions along those lines.
The waiter came right at the end with our food, and he
took a loooooong look at my legs (which I had
conveniently placed so as to give him a good view), and
when he was gone, the questions started up again.

Patty was first. "Angela...did you like it?"

I shrugged. "It was OK. I mean, it felt good. It wasn't
unnatural or weird. She tasted good." (There were
slightly disgusted moans from Tammy and Jen there.) "It
was fun. I might do it again, but it's not like I'm gay
now. I don't think I'm even bi. I think I just like sex
and I'm willing to take what I can get." I paused, then
added as an afterthought, "Without cheating on Tim, I
mean."

"So this wasn't cheating?" Jen asked dubiously. "There
needs to be a dick involved before it's cheating?"

"I think so," Tammy said with a shrug. "I'm not even
sure it's cheating if you blow a guy who isn't your
husband. I think there needs to be penetration."

"That seems pretty literal," Jen laughed. "I mean, you
can run around sucking the high school football team
and –"

"Can we please get back to the topic?" Stacey
interrupted, holding up a hand. "Not that I don't want
to talk about 50 teenage cocks, but we were discussing
something else."

April chuckled. I knew she was feeling proud of herself
for ferreting out my skeleton in the closet. If only
she knew my real skeletons! "I think the bigger
question is whether Tim knows."

I shook my head. "Nope, this is our little secret."

"How do you think he'd react?" Stacey asked. "I mean he
might like it."

"Yeah, it might light a fire in his pants," Tammy
nodded.

"I don't think a nuclear bomb could light a fire in
that man's pants," Jen sighed. "He's a sweety, but he's
not a lover."

"Unfortunately I think that's true," I replied. My tone
was regretful, but at that point I didn't care all that
much. For the first time since I got pregnant with
David, I had options. It felt good to have options. "I
don't know if we'll ever do it again. He seems to have
lost interest in me."

"In that case it's definitely not cheating," Tammy said
firmly. "I mean, my God, people have needs. That
doesn't go away because you're married."

"Tell me about it," Patty said sourly, and I think we
all instantly felt a twinge of guilt. Patty's husband
Thomas (or Dumpface, as I like to call him) is, for
lack of a better description, a useless, cold, mean,
takesen porn addict who hasn't touched her for five
years or more even though she's just about begged him
on bended knee time and time again.

"I'm sorry, Patty," Stacey said, squeezing Patty's
hand.

"Pat, you know what I'm going to say because I've been
telling you this for years," Tammy said. "But if you're
doing your best in your marriage the your husband – or
your wife, let's be fair – just flat out refuses to
take care of your bare needs, then you have every right
to go outside and get it taken care of there. You don't
stop being human just because you say I Do."

This was a longstanding topic of discussion in our
group, especially given the...well, let's say the
volatility of the romantic lives of some of the girls.
The conversation took off on a swirl of tangents the
way it does when good friends get together, and I was
content to put my two cents in now and again.

Of course, a lot of what happened around the table was
unspoken, only noticed because we six are exquisitely
attuned to each other after decades of sharing our
triumphs and failures. Jen was riding high because, in
spite of the economy, she'd just nailed down both a
promotion and significant raise. Stacey was her usual
bubbly self, indefatigable even in the face of growing
evidence that her latest train wreck of a husband was
cheating on her, possibly with a married couple of all
things. April had finally gotten her life in order and
was just happy that things were on a stable track for
the moment.

It was Tammy and Patty I was worried about, because
they were both in the dumps and had been for a long
time. For Tammy the cause was the same as it always had
been: she's the lady of a severely autistic young. It
wasn't simply that, of course, because she adores
Martin, but caring for him is a 24-hour a day job that
leaves time for very little else, and on top of that
she has two other youngren, a husband, and a house to
take care of. As much as I empathize with her (and I
do, my God I do) I know I can't understand what she's
going through.

She's never come out and said it in these terms, but
there comes a time in most everyone's life when you
realize that the dreams you held as a teenager and
young adult, of you lighting the world on fire and
writing your name across the sky, simply aren't going
to come true. For most of us that means getting smaller
dreams, setting achievable goals that you can fulfill
and be fulfilled by as you grow older in the life
you've made for yourself.

For Tammy though, and for other parents in her
situation, the dreams died and there was nothing to
replace them because the defining fact of her life, now
and until the day either she or Martin died, was the
fact of Martin's autism. She was and had to be the
lady of an autistic young first and foremost, before
everything. Martin was almost as helpless as an *****
and required constant care, but unlike an ***** there
was no chance of him ever growing out of it. He was
what he would be, and Tammy was what she would be, and
the realization of that had been weighing on her more
and more since Martin was diagnosed.

I know that if she was given the chance to go back in
time and abort her pregnancy with him she wouldn't even
think about it – she loves him as much as she loves
herself, if not more – but the fact is that his care is
all she will accomplish for the rest of her life and
she knows it. Every other dream has not only been
deferred but canceled, and it's a lot to carry.

Patty, on the other hand, seemed to have something else
going on besides her usual neglect by Thomas and the
daily stress of being a grade school teacher. I don't
think anyone else noticed, but several times I saw, out
of the corner of her eye, that she was looking at me
like she wanted to talk to me specifically, but of
course nothing was said.

Conversation kept drifting back to me and my sexual
encounter with a woman, of course. I steadfastly
refused to provide any details of who or where. Jen
seemed curious, Tammy and Stacey kept making jokes
about it, and April looked smug every time it was
brought up. Only Patty seemed quiet about the whole
thing. The biggest question was if and when I was
planning a repeat performance, and whether it would be
with the same gal or a different one.

I just kept saying I was keeping my mind open to
possibilities, which of course provoked speculation on
the possibility, which I, of course, loved. For the
first time since I got knocked up with Laurel, my sex
life was the topic of conversation for something I'd
done rather than not done, and I was eating it up.

In fact, I have to confess it was making me horny –
well, hornier – and the fact that the gorgeous Greek
waiter kept buzzing around the table and checking me
out didn't help either. By the time lunch was over I
was very itchy for another orgasm, so I gave myself one
as I drove home. I didn't even stop playing with myself
when the bus pulled up along side on the freeway...

May 19

The rest of the weekend flew by, as weekends do.
Saturday night was dinner and cards with Tom's parents
(very nice people) and Sunday was taken up with yard
work with Tom, errands, and general business. I stayed
in an orgasmic fugue much of the time, to be honest – I
even sneaked a couple of rub-offs in my in-laws'
bathroom, and Charlie licked me again on Sunday morning
when he and I were the only ones home and awake.

Patty called Sunday when I was out, leaving me a
message to call her back. I tried but there was no
answer, and I wondered what was on her mind. She
obviously had something going on that she wanted to
talk about, but I had no idea what.

I spent Sunday night in heat – literally. I was so
horny my whole body felt like it was on fire and I
slept in just my flimsy little nightgown, without even
a sheet. I kept drifting off to relax and being
awakened by erotic dreams of such power that I would
lie, half in and half out of relax, only awake enough
to give myself an orgasm before drifting back to
dreams. I think I must have come three or four times
that night.

Monday morning I fixed breakfast for Laurel and Tim,
but my mind wasn't on it. I was thinking of sex, of
every kind and variation. I was flushed, my nipples
were hard inside my bra, my panties were soaked. By the
time Tim left, David still hadn't stirred out of his
room, so I went up to... check on him. I didn't knock
before I opened his door – I just went right in.

He was standing in the middle of his bedroom in his
underwear and socks and nothing else, preparing to pull
up his jeans. He could see on his face that he bit back
a sharp response when the door opened, instead saying,
"Yeah, I'm running late, sorry. I overslept."

My response was a saucy, conspiratorial smile as I
walked across his bedroom and put a hand to his
forehead. He was baffled as I tsk-tsked. "Uh oh," I
said, "you're burning up."

"I am?" he asked, plainly puzzled.

"Mmmm-hmmmm," I replied, looking meaningfully into his
eyes. "You're much too sick to do anything but stay
home and help Charlie fuck my brains out a couple of
times today."

Understanding dawned, and he laughed. "Oh yeah, I am
feeling pretty sick after all."

"I'll call the school," I told him with a wink, turning
and heading for the door.

"Mom?" he said before I got there, and I turned. He met
me as I did, his arms around me, pulling me to his
warm, bare skin. I barely had time to tilt my head back
before his lips were on mine. His tongue passed my lips
and found mine, and in spite of myself I felt myself
kissing back. I didn't want to give up that control to
him, but he left me no choice whatsoever. He kissed me
and I crumred into him, and that was that.

As soon as he knew I wasn't going to pull away, his
hands were sliding under the waistband of my shorts to
cup my bare ass in his hands, and before I knew it my
arms were around his neck, holding him to me. The kiss
lasted a long time, and before it was finished I was
weak in the knees from the feel of his strength and his
erection against my tummy.

"I...um...I thought you weren't...going to touch
me...unless I said it was OK," I said, quite
breathlessly, as I stepped away.

"Not while you and Charlie are going at it," he told me
with a smile. "But if you think I'm going another whole
week without kissing you, and kissing you a lot, well,
you're nuts."

"Oh," I said softly. The way he held me and kissed me
left me a tough dizzy, and I didn't react nearly as
firmly as I ought to have. I tried to think of
something to say that would let me assert some control,
but all I could come up with was, "Don't come
downstairs until Laurel is gone."

Charlie fucked me twice that day, the first time just
10 minutes after Laurel left for school. He got excited
when I put on my dog fucking outfit, prancing and
hopping with the tip of his thrilling red cock poking
out from his furry sheath. David hovered close the
first time, keeping Charlie where he was supposed to
be, and this time Charlie hit his mark in just a few
moments, sliding into me and beginning to fuck me in
the hard, savage, perfectly naturalistic way that only a
dog can.

It was blissful, wondrous, better than I remembered it
being – and I remembered it being transcendent. This
time I thought to use enough cushions and support that
I was comfortable throughout the whole thing, and
because I knew what to expect this time I enjoyed my
first orgasm when the hammering started and then played
with my clit for two more as soon as he settled down to
fill me with his come. This time, with both of us more
relaxed, he stayed tied with me for over 20 minutes.

David was as good as his word – no cameras, no
touching. I could see how badly he wanted to touch me,
and how badly he wanted to be touched, but that wasn't
what I wanted now. Wait, I have to correct myself
because in all honestly I did want it. I remembered
what his cock felt like in my hands, so thick and hard
and alive; I remembered how it felt in my mouth, with
his pulse against my tongue as he fucked my face like
the slutty whore he had made me want to be; I
remembered the taste and feel of his cum in my mouth as
I swallowed it all and how delicious it was. I did want
it.

I even wanted him to fuck my mouth while Charlie was
taking my bitch pussy, knowing that the feel of my
canine lover's cock in one end and my mister's cock in the
other would give me an orgasm without my even touching
myself. But I didn't do it. It was hard, but I stayed
strong and made him keep his clothes on. I think I
needed to do that to see if I could trust him after
all, to see if he had really learned anything from his
mistake. The way he treated me, adoringly and
respectfully and lovingly, made me believe that he had.

The poor dear was so cute with his erection stretching
his shorts. I know he wanted to come as he helped the
dog fuck me, but he was a good boy and he kept his
hands off of himself. It was only afterward, when
Charlie had pulled out of me and licked me clean and I
was lying in a pool of our juices and my sweat, that I
gave my mister a proud, happy smile, nodded at his bulge,
and said, "You'd better go take care of that, kiddo."

He smiled back and kissed me on my perspiration-dappled
brow. I suppose I was still pretty naïve, or maybe the
mind-blowing doggy-fuck I'd just experienced had left
me unable to think clearly, but I was expecting him to
head up to his bedroom to relieve himself, or at least
to the bathroom. In the light of day I can't quite
imagine why I thought that, and he certainly didn't.
Instead he pulled his shirt up over his head as he
walked to the sofa, and with a quick motion shed his
shorts and underwear. Before I knew quite what was
happening he was perfectly naked and perfect, leaning
back on the sofa with his ass on the edge of the
cushion and his ideal cock hard and erect, proud in his
hand.

"Ummmm...what are you doing?" I asked, feeling a bit of
a twitter in my stomach. "I thought you said you were
going to keep your clothes on..."

"While I was helping you and Charlie," he corrected
smugly. I'm sure he noticed my eyes were riveted to his
magnificent cock and the hand that was idly stroking
it. "But you told me to do this."

"But I didn't think you'd do it right here in front of
me," I said, suddenly nervous. Damn him but he knew
what looking at him did to me, and he knew that if he
started jerking off in front of me I wouldn't be able
to look away...or keep myself from getting turned on.
He had let me have control of the situation – or rather
he had let me think I had control of the situation –
but now he was taking it back again. I felt that old
helpless sense coming back over me, that feeling that
once more I had trapped myself, that once more I had
been beaten in a game whose rules I didn't understand
because my mister kept changing them.

David's response was to run his right hand up along his
shaft, slowly pulling his foreskin up over the head
while his left index finger teased the crease of his
balls. He was watching my face, but I had eyes only for
what he was doing to his beautiful cock.

He started jacking for real, his strokes long and firm,
and I felt my palms itch to be around him. I knew
exactly how it would feel if I closed my fingers around
his cock and felt his velvety skin and his warmth. I
knew I could feel his pulse through it, and I knew his
breathing would become rapider and shallower the faster
I stroked and the closer I brought him to orgasm. My
hands could feel it the same way an amputee can feel
his phantom limb – as though his cock was a part of me
now, and my body wanted it.

I don't know how I kept from touching myself as he
masturbated. Even though I had just been thoroughly and
savagely fucked by Charlie, I was already so horny
again that it took everything I had to keep from
putting my hand between my thighs and making myself
come right alongside my mister. I rubbed my thighs
together as I watched and felt my sore, used, stretched
pussy rub against itself, felt drizzles of dog cum
oozing out and wetting my already-wet thighs. I wanted
it, I wanted his cock in my hand, my pussy in my hand,
my climax hitting me.

I wanted to pull every last drop of David's cum out of
his balls, watch it arc in the sunlight as he came,
watch it spatter and spray on his belly, my hand, his
cock, my arm, his thighs, my face. I wanted to smell
his release as his semen flowed from him. I wanted to
feel his need grow and grow under my touch – and then
suddenly be fulfilled, his young, hard body tensing for
a blissful instant before relaxing, spent with the
rapture I had given him.

And David, of course, watched my face and read my
desires there just as surely as if I was shouting them
out. He knew what he was doing to me. He knew that I
was feeling every stroke of his cock just as much as he
did. He knew he was making me hungry for him, and all
the hungrier because I had denied him to myself to show
how much in control of the situation I was. He watched
me and he saw that I wasn't in control of a damned
thing, and I saw it too, and I couldn't stop. I
couldn't take my eyes off of him as his strokes became
faster, harder, as his cock got even stiffer and
bigger.

When he clenched his teeth and hissed, "I'm gonna cum,
mom. I'm thinking about how hot you looked getting
fucked by Charlie and it's gonna make me cum," I felt
his words in the marrow of my bones. I saw the head of
his cock go from pink to red to crimmister to purple. I
saw his fist fly. I heard his breath get ragged and
gasping and short. I saw his eyes flutter closed. I saw
his sweet, lovely balls clench against his teasing
finger...

I saw him cum. I know I gasped when I watched his cock
give that mighty jerk and a spray of glorious white
jetted forth, and I know he heard my gasp and that it
added power to his orgasm. I watched as his juices
spattered his belly and his chest, both hard and
glistening with the sweat he had given himself in his
desire (it should have been me giving him that sweat,
my mind whispered).

I saw spurt after spurt and I licked my lips because I
knew exactly how his cock felt in my mouth when it
came, that perfect and indescribable sensation of
triumph I had felt by making my own mister orgasm for me
with my lips and my tongue. I knew exactly how his seed
would feel in my mouth and how it would taste as I
swallowed, gout after hot gout flowing down my eager,
open throat...

I didn't touch myself. I don't know how I didn't touch
myself.

When he was done, he sat panting and watching me
through half-lidded eyes as I watched the light through
the window glisten on his liquid. Neither of us said a
word. I don't think I could have trusted my voice to
speak. The only sound in the living room was my
beautiful baby boy's panting and Charlie licking
himself in the corner.

I spent the rest of the morning with David. There was
nothing sexual about it. I took a shower and changed
clothes (into something skimpy so he'd have something
to look at – all right, there was a little bit sexual
about it) and he helped me rearrange the den like I'd
been wanting to do. We watched a little morning TV and
we played a game of cribbage.

We talked and laughed and teased. He made casual,
lighthearted reference to me fucking Charlie and I made
casual, lighthearted reference to him jerking off. Once
he surprised me by kissing me when I wasn't expecting
it and I simply melted into his arms and let him kiss
me as his hands and mine roamed over each other's
bodies. It was comfortable. It was easy. I was as at
home with him as I could be with anyone in the entire
world, and he was the closest thing I had to a human
male lover.

I know, and I knew then, that such familiarity was
dangerous for both of us, because he would assume it
would be permanent and it made my boundaries, the ones
that I needed to keep, weaker and less certain. But I
had never in my adult years had a lover I could simply
relax and spend time with (my earlier indiscretion
years before had been sex only, little talk) and it was
a very, very seductive thing to relax with a lover and
simply enjoy the intimacy that can only be earned
through the openness and honesty of sex. It was wrong
and stupid, I know, but it felt too good for me to deny
myself.

I was just making lunch (nothing fancy, just
sandwiches) when I got a surprise phone call from
Patty. She was at work on her break, sitting in her car
as she drove around aimlessly, and I could tell by her
voice that she needed to talk. She didn't take long to
get to the point: "Angela, I'm thinking about having an
affair."

So far it was hardly a surprise. Like I mentioned, her
husband Dump-face was the world's biggest waste of
carbon and he didn't deserve her presence at all, much
less her fidelity. I and the other girls had told her
as much for years, so my response was pretty rote when
I said, "I think you should, Patty. I think you should
leave him, in fact. Who's the temptation?"

"A new teacher here at school," she replied.

"Huh...well, workplace affairs can be dangerous. At
least that's what I've read. Not like I've ever had a
workplace..."

"I know."

"On the other hand, if you did do it, you've have a
perfect excuse for your absences."

"I know."

There was something still bothering her, I could tell,
something that hadn't come out. I figured I knew what
it was. "He's married, isn't he?"

"No," she replied. "And it's a she."

Apparently I was wrong about what was bothering her.
"She? You mean..."

"Yeah."

I bit my lip and sat down on the kitchen chair. "OK," I
said, "I think you need to start a little closer to the
beginning."

And so she did. The other teacher was named Maria. She
was a 26 year old woman from Texas who had just moved
up here and took an open teacher slot. She was a real
lesbian, no men at all, and there had been a spark from
the first time she and Patty met. Patty had spent the
whole school year trying to ignore it, and mostly she
succeeded. Except...

"Two weeks ago we were staying late to work on a
project. I don't even know how it happened, but...
well, we did some stuff. I was in it before I even knew
it."

That explained her relative silence during the lunch
when I'd brought up me and Petra...which in turn
explained why she was calling me now. "How far did you
go? Do you mind my asking?"

"Kissing," she said hesitantly. "And touching. Um,
under the clothes touching."

"Upper or lower body?"

"Upper. She...well, she wanted to do lower but I
stopped her."

"And how do you feel about it now?"

A long pause, and then, "She likes me, Angela. She
likes me just how I am. She doesn't tell me I need to
lose weight. She doesn't tell me she hates the gray in
my hair or the wrinkles around my eyes. She doesn't
tell me I'm not attractive. She likes me for who I am."

I knew how powerful that allure was, given that David
loved me for who I was (I suppose he loved me, anyway)
and he could wrap me around his finger with a little
gesture. Patty was overweight and had been since
shortly after she got married to Dump-face. She ate too
much because she was miserable and she was miserable
because she ate too much, and the wheels on the bus
went round and round. Dump-face, the cause of her
misery, never missed an opportunity to beat her with
that stick either. To have someone want her for who she
was, to have someone accept her, had to be enormous.

But. "Are you sure it's not just... well, an
infatuation? Given that she's nice to you?"

"I've thought of that. It's that that's kept me from
doing anything until now...that and the fact that she's
a she. And... if I'm being honest with myself, I know
that's part of it. I'd be a liar if I said it wasn't.
But that's not all of it. The first time we met, at the
beginning of the year, she shook my hand and I felt
sparks between us. Honest to God, Angela, I felt sparks
like she'd scuffed her feet on the carpet. I've never
felt that with anyone else, ever."

We talked for another 20 minutes until her lunch break
was over, and it all boiled down to the last thing I
said to her before she hung up: "You don't get points
for being miserable, Patty. You get one fucking life
and if you don't make yourself happy in it then you die
regretting what you didn't do. I've decided I don't
want to die regretting what I didn't do. That's the
only piece of advice I have for you."

There was another long pause. "I guess that's all the
advice I really need."

I smiled hugely and felt a surge of pride in Patty like
I hadn't felt in years. "Call me in a day or two. Let
me know how it goes."

"I will."

"Good luck, Patty."

"Thanks Angela. For everything."

I was so happy when I hung up that I could have
exploded, and I took a moment to reflect on the
strangeness of it all. David had caught me with Charlie
and blackmailed me into seeing Brandy, which had led to
my seeing Petra, which had led to Patty getting the
courage to do something she wanted and needed to do. A
butterfly's wings in the Amazon...

"What are you looking so happy about?" David asked
cheerfully as he strolled into the kitchen looking for
the sandwich I'd told him I'd bring him a half hour
before.

I smiled back at him, a beaming smile that lit up the
room and put an answering smile on my mister's face, even
if he didn't know why. Standing, I took him in my arms
and said, "Shut up and kiss me."

He kissed me. Boy did he kiss me, and I kissed him, and
before it was done my shirt was up around my neck and
my tits were in his mouth and it would have gone a lot
further had I let it. But I didn't let it, as much as I
wanted to at that moment. I halted his hands when they
went south of the border and he accepted me halting him
with a smile. "One of these days," he whispered,
"you're not going to stop me."

At that moment, in my lovely mister's strong arms, feeling
adoration and trust, love and lust, sweetness and
softness and his perfect male strength, I thought he
might be right. I thought he might be right sooner than
he knew. But I barely admitted that to myself, and I
didn't admit it at all to him. Instead I swatted his
ass hard enough to make him jump, laughed, and told
him, "Eat your sandwich. I feel a need to get fucked by
a big, wonderful dog again this afternoon."

We ate together, and when I was done I went to dress
in my dog-fucking clothes again. Charlie was with me
and he got positively frantic when I picked up the
ugly, garish shirt. He knew what it meant now and he
loved it. He almost knocked me down then and there, his
arms wrapped around my waist and his rear end already
humping. I can't even tell you how thrilled I was to
see that he wanted me as much as I wanted him!

"Let's see how much he's learned," David said as he
watched me dress. "After all, you don't want to have me
around all the time when you're doing this."

"I like having you here," I told him honestly at least
– at least it was honest for the moment, since I'd
noticed that my feelings tended to be rather changeable
of late. "I love sharing this with someone who
understands."

He smiled and squeezed my hand. "What I mean is you
don't want to only be able to do this when I'm around
and nobody else is. You want to be able to do this
whenever you have the chance and the desire. You want
to be able to do this by yourself."

My eyes got a little distant as I thought about getting
dog cock every day while the kids were at school and I
nodded. "Yeah, I do. I definitely do. But that doesn't
mean I don't want to share this with you."

"I know, mom," David replied, squeezing my hand again.
"I love sharing this with you, just like I loved you
watching me this morning." I blushed and he laughed.
"No, don't be shy about it. Do you have any idea how
many times I've done that thinking about you?"

I shook my head and grinned in spite of myself.
"No...how many?"

He grinned back. "Two or three times a day for the last
seven or eight years..."

"That's a lot of jerking off."

"You're a lot sexy."

"You're a flatterer."

"Is my flattery working?"

"You know it is."

"Well in that case," he laughed, "I'll keep it up. Now,
on your hands and knees like a good bitch and offer
that sweet little cunt to Charlie. We'll see if he can
learn a new trick."

Once more I thrilled to his vulgar and demeaning words.
It was so strange! I wanted and needed his respect and
(because he was my mister) his obedience. I needed him to
understand and acknowledge that I was the parent, the
authority, the power. And yet when he spoke to me in
that way, his voice low and rough and erotic, his words
coarse and crude, sexual and humiliating, I crumred
inside. My knees got week and my pussy spasmed. It was
like an injection of pure sexual desire into my veins.
I did exactly as I was told. I couldn't do anything
else.

"Then you'll like sex with her. Just relax, Patty. If
it happens it happens. When it does, you'll know what
to do. Just follow your heart."

"What's it like? With women?"

"Well speaking from my vast reservoir of a single
experience, I'd say it's good. I mean it's an orgasm.
Orgasms feel good."

"If you say so. I can't remember, myself."

"Well trust me on this one. She'll know what she's
doing and she'll make you feel wonderful. I mean, there
are other...well, physical aspects, like penetration,
but there are appliances that can give you that same
sensation."

"No, I know that, but...I mean, what's it like?"

I paused for a moment before speaking, then said, "It's
a body, a human body. It's someone with skin and sweat
and nerves that can feel good. It's someone who
breathes, who cries, who hopes. And if it's someone you
love – really, really love and who wants to be with you
for you, because they love you and want you to feel
good as much as you want them to feel good – then it
will be wonderful."

"I know I don't have that with Thomas. I know that's
why our sex was terrible before we stopped having it.
But you have that bond with Tim. You two adore each
other. Why isn't your sex good?"

"Ok, that's not all that's involved," I admitted. "You
have to have that spark that you talked about. Let me
ask you a question, and I need you to be honest. When
you see Maria, do you think about jumping her bones?"

She laughed. "I think about jumping her bones, her
cartilage, her soft fleshy parts..."

"Especially the soft fleshy parts."

"Oh yeah."

"And when you think about it, does it turn you on?"

"Yeah...it does. I mean when I think about doing...you
know, putting..."

"Eating pussy?"

"Yeah, that. When I think about that with just any
woman, even like Angelina Jolie or someone who's just
gorgeous, it doesn't do anything for me. It turns me on
about as much as licking an envelope. But when I think
about it with Maria...God. It makes my mouth water."

"Because it's her."

"Yeah, because it's her."

"Then I think Saturday night, you're gonna have the
best sex you've ever had."

"Really?"

"She's going to go nuts pleasing you and you're gonna
go nuts pleasing her and yeah, it'll make steam shoot
out of your ears."

"It's not my ears I want steam to shoot out of."

"It'll make steam shoot out of there too."

We talked for another half an hour, mostly about her
date, what she should wear, how she should act, all the
stuff that when you're a teenager you just assume will
get easier but never does, and by the time we were done
she was calmer and more eager. I told her to call me
sometime Sunday and tell me how it went; I didn't tell
her, but I had a feeling that she might just be calling
with a whole new perspective. The prospect of that made
me incredibly happy – Patty is an absolute sweetheart
who deserves so much better than the worthless husband
she'd been saddled with, and if this was her finding
someone who would treat her as well as she deserved
then I was 100% for it.

David found me later that evening when I was in the
basement straightening things up. It was just him and I
down there (Tim was upstairs in Laurel's room helping
her with her homework as usual) and the stairs were
notoriously creaky so there was no danger of us being
surprised when he came up to me and pulled me in for a
deep kiss.

I let him kiss me (and it was a damned good kiss
because he's a damned good kisser) but it didn't carry
me away the way it would have just a day before because
my period was done and my hormone levels were back to
something approaching normalcy. I even managed to stop
his hands when they got busy on my breasts; he laughed
at me when I did and I know he thought I was being
silly, but he let me have my way...for the moment.

"So, ready for our big date tomorrow?" he asked,
whispering the words into my neck as he kissed me
there.

"I guess," I said a little nervously. Now that I was
thinking straight I was once again focusing on the
dangers of this familiarity with my mister rather than the
benefits. Nothing had changed about him being able to
power me to his will, but I knew now that he didn't
want me that way – he wanted me to come to him
willingly and change into the kind of woman he wanted.
I suppose I could have put my foot down and told him I
didn't want to go and he probably would have let me get
by with it. But this was him being nice, and given that
I had experienced both him nice and him pissed off, I
didn't want to piss him off.

Besides, there were worse things in the world than
dinner and dancing...even if the dinner and dancing
were both very romantic and with your mister who wanted to
screw your brains out. He knew my walls were up and I
knew he was determined to get through them. I didn't
even doubt that he'd eventually succeed in one way or
another unless something happened in the mean time to
redirect him. It was just a lot nicer, and a lot safer,
having him slowly burrowing under those walls than
ramming his way through them.

"You guess? Mmm, such enthusiasm," he chuckled,
brushing my hair off my face. "I have reservations for
eight o'clock."

"You know, I think your man might raise some
questions about you and me leaving dressed up for a
night on the town...especially in that dress you want
me to wear. That thing exposes a lot more than it
covers."

He shrugged. "Let him."

I shook my head firmly, but my voice was more pleading
than I meant it to be when I said, "No, now don't be
that way. He's your man and my husband and I love
him very, very much."

"In spite of the fact that he doesn't give you what you
need?"

"Yes, in spite of that." I took a fistful of his shirt
and squeezed. "Please, David."

I looked for a long heartbeat into my eyes, and once
more I could see the cruelty there of the cat playing
with the mouse and I feared he would say no – but then
he broke into a broad smile and laughed. "Come on mom,
you didn't really think I'd have dad see us like that,
did you?" I managed a smile in return, but it was
shaky, and he went on. "No, I have it figured out. I'll
dress at a friend's house. You'll leave here about
seven, dressed normal, and say you're going out with a
couple of the gals."

"In that slinky little red thing? He won't believe
that."

"The slinky little red thing is already in the trunk of
your car," he told me, kissing my nose with a smugness
that was both charming and infuriating. "You'll find a
place to change and meet me in the lot of the park and
ride at Louisiana and 394 a little after 7:30. Dad and
Laurel will probably be in bed by the time we get home,
but just to be sure I'll get back an hour after you do.
Satisfied?"

I was, but I frowned. He'd put a lot of thought into
this...and that meant he had something planned, which
in turn meant I needed to be worried. "Seems like you
think of everything."

"I just want me and my girl to have a good time, that's
all."

I sighed. I could feel the control I'd had earlier, or
thought I'd had, ebbing fast. Once more he was carrying
me away faster than I could cope with the changes and
it was scaring me. "You know I'm not your girl, no
matter what. I'm always going to be your lady."

He chuckled softly and kissed me on the forehead, then
pulled me close. "You're both," he told me, his voice a
soft basso rumble in his chest. "You just don't know it
yet."

I pulled away and muttered something about needing to
do something upstairs. As I was hurrying for the
staircase, David said, "And mom? Don't wear any panties
underneath that dress, OK?"

I sighed, but I nodded.


May 23

Friday passed in a fog. For the first time in days I
didn't wake up needfully horny, and for the first time
in days poor Charlie didn't get any pussy. I was
worried when I got out of bed, and I was even more
worried by the time David gave me a surreptitious wink
as he headed out the door. I kept busy all day long
with various chores and errands, but my mind was barely
on what I was doing.

The thing is, what David had planned for me tonight,
whatever it was, was an enormous step for us. I was
sure he was planning to try to take us to some new
physical level, and yes I was worried about that, but
that was only a small part of it. I'd gotten used to
him pushing me that way, just like I'd gotten
accustomed to the idea that he would eventually get me
in bed unless I figured some way to stop him (OK,
somewhat accustomed to the idea). But this was
different – this was public.

It wasn't just that there was the chance that someone
we knew might see us, although that chance existed; the
Twin Cities have almost three million people in them
and the odds of anyone you know being at a particular
place across town at the same time you are remote. If
someone did spot us, it would be...awkward, to say the
least, but as long as he kept his hands from being
really busy in public then it wouldn't be catastrophic.
No, the thing was that this was David's way of pushing
me from being his lady to being his girlfriend, or
his lover, or whatever he thought of me as.

See, up until now everything we'd done had been in the
privacy of our own home. Yes he'd recorded some of it
but as far as I knew he'd kept those recording to
himself. But this would be taking it out into the wider
world, with him treating me not as his lady but as a
date, as a woman he wanted to relax with and doing so
in a way that would push us toward that. Brandy said he
liked to show his women off, and I knew that in that
tiny dress with no underwear on, he would be showing me
off indeed – and that would make me even more "his
woman" than I already was, at least in his mind. The
more of this kind of thing we did, the harder it would
be to find a way to stop him going that last step with
me and taking me to bed – if stopping him was even
possible at this point, which I wasn't sure of.

And besides that, there was another aspect of all this
to consider. David had toyed with me more than once
about doing something to me in such a way, or at such a
time and place, that Tim would find out; there was a
bare chance of me explaining my involvement with
Charlie to my husband, but if he found out what I had
done, and was still doing, with our mister... well... it
wouldn't be pretty. So far David had been refrained
from that and even passed it off as teasing, but I knew
that he wasn't actually teasing.

He did want Tim to find out, at least on some level. I
knew it thrilled David to no end to realize that he
could bring me to levels that his man, my husband,
never even approached, and I knew that he would love to
rub Tim's face in it – even if it meant the end of our
family. Sometimes I thought he would love to do it even
if it meant the end of me. Taking me out on dates,
romancing me, doing things with me besides coercing me
into sex – these were all things that would, to David,
make me more his woman and less my husband's. And
nothing whatsoever good could come of that.

So...what? I could pretend to be sick, but I knew David
wouldn't believe that, and it would only be postponing
the inevitable. He had his head set that he was going
to take me out on a date and show me off and so he
would; at least this was it was something that I would,
theoretically, enjoy. If I defied him or tried to
wriggle out of it he might well decide to take me
someplace I'd hate and truly humiliate me there, or
worse. Yes there was the kernel of trust growing
between us but I wasn't fool enough to believe that he
could be reamisterable – not when my hormones weren't
raging, that is. He was playing nice because I was
playing along; if I pissed him off then he'd drag me
kicking and screaming.

So. I checked the trunk of my car and sure enough the
dress and a pair of red hooker heels were there, just
like he'd said. I hadn't actually looked at it since
almost right after I bought it, and when I saw it again
I was shocked at how tiny it was. It had long, full
sleeves, but that was the only modest thing about it.
It was cut to cling to the body in the same way paint
clings to a house. Down below it would come down to
maybe, maybe five inches below my ass, such that I was
going to need to be extremely careful when I moved or I
would show the whole world my lady bits. But worse than
that was the top – it had a huge plunging oval neckline
that would, I hoped, cover my nipples, but there was no
way it covered much more than that.

To add insult to injury, the neckline was a sort of
halter thing that was held closed by a metal oval, and
below it was another oval cutout that would come down
below my navel – and incidentally show the sides and
bottoms of my tits. A flat-chested girl wouldn't look
so conspicuous in it, but I'd stand out a mile... so to
speak. And any sudden movement and I'd pop out of it
like a stripper out of a cake.

He was definitely planning to show me off.

As the day wore on I kept getting more and more nervous
so that by the time Laurel came home I was a wreck. She
asked me what was going on and I gave her some babble
about Patty being in trouble in her marriage, which was
true but irrelevant. Tim got home a bit later than
usual, especially for a Friday, but he kissed me on the
cheek and told me to have a good time, assuring me that
he and Laurel could entertain each other while I was
out. Part of me wanted him to irrationally forbid me to
go out that night, but of course it didn't happen, and
I went out just as my mister planned.

I changed my clothes in the bathroom of a McDonalds and
did my makeup in the mirror there. I did make myself
look as good as I could, but I was nervous enough that
I wasn't sure how good I actually wound up looking. I
was trembling as I headed for the meeting with David
and so distracted I very nearly sideswiped a minivan;
it heeled over hard to get out of my way and the
driver, a woman about by age, made a very rude gesture
that I deserved. By the time I got to the parking lot
where I was meeting David, I was a wreck.

His car was there, and I pulled up next to him. My
hands were shaking as I turned off the ignition, but by
then David was at my door. He was wearing a suit – a
new one, not one that I'd even seen before – that made
him look at least 23 or 24 years old...and not only
that, made him look devilishly handsome. It was dark
gray and cut immaculately, and he had a white
handkerchief in the coat pocket. His black shoes were
shined like onyx.

He was wearing a sharply pressed robin's egg blue shirt
and a white and black tie that looked fabulous. He
opened my door like a gentleman and offered me his hand
with a smile on his face. I just stared at him, too
shaken to rise, but after a moment he gently took my
hand and guided me to my feet. "Well," he said softly,
looking at me with adoring eyes, "You look... amazing,
mom. You really do. You're gorgeous."

"Th-thank you," I stammered. "Um...so are you..."

He laughed. "Oh, you like the suit? It's Armani."

I goggled. "Where did you get the money for an Armani
suit?"

His smile was conspiratorial. "The money wouldn't have
been a problem – it was on sale – but I didn't buy it.
Grandpa Sievertsen did."

My goggle got gogglier. "My FATHER bought you that
suit?"

He laughed as my astonishment. "I told him I needed
some advice on wooing a slightly older woman of
refinement and taste."

"I can't believe this."

"And he said that I needed to dress sharp if I wanted
to get the attention of such a woman. He took me
shopping and bought me this suit."

I felt my world spinning and demanded, "My FATHER
bought my SON a suit to help my SON seduce his MOTHER,
my FATHER's DAUGHTER?"

David's smirk would have been infuriating if I hadn't
been so dizzy. "That's the size of it, yes."

I made a couple of incomprehensible sounds, then asked,
"Did you tell him who your date was with?"

"Somehow that slipped my mind," David replied dryly.
"He was all for me trying to bang a 35 year old woman,
but I think he wouldn't have liked it so much if he
knew it was you."

"I don't believe this. I just don't believe this."

David leaned in and whispered, "He also gave me some
great advice on how to get you in the mood."

My eyes clenched tightly shut and I hoped the ground
would split open and drop me into a deep, dark place.
Instead, what happened was David gently took my keys
from me, guided me around to the passenger side and
seated me, then climbed behind the wheel. In moments we
were heading toward downtown Minneapolis, its tall
towers glittering in the late-evening sun. The silence
seemed oppressive to me, though my mister didn't seem
bothered by it in the least. After a few minutes he
said, "It's going to be a beautiful night. Warm, clear,
a little breeze..."

"Good," I returned, my voice tight and clipped. At
least that way I wouldn't freeze in this ludicrously
revealing dress. That was something.

He smiled and took my hand in his. "Mom, relax. This is
dinner and dancing. That's it. We're just going to go
have a good time. How fresh can I get in a crowded
nightclub?"

"I don't know. How fresh can you get in a crowded
nightclub?"

He laughed. "Well I guess we'll find out, won't we? But
I want you to have a good time, all right?"

"All right." It wasn't.

We crossed the Mississppi and turned into the area just
across the river from downtown. It's always been an
intriguing area for me because it's a mix of so many
different things: business and professional, upscale
and poor, art galleries and dive bars, neighborhood
places that had been there for 50 years and dance clubs
that had just sprung up in the last month to cater to
students at the nearby University of Minnesota. It had
always seemed to me the sort of place where anything
might happen...and now, tonight, something would. I
just didn't know what."

We pulled up in front of Sophie's. It had a huge silver
awning and it looked exactly like something out of a
1930s movie about glamorous people in New York doing
glamorous things. The red-suited valet opened my door
(and got a major league eyeful when I navigated my way
out of the car in that dress – well you try keeping
your pussy covered when you're not wearing panties
under a tiny skirt!) and in a moment I was walking into
the place on David's arm, looking for all the world
like a hot to trot sugar momma and her new boy toy.

It was like walking into an old film. The big black
wooden doors opened before us and suddenly we were in a
world of elegance and sophistication like I'd never
seen. There were men in suits and tuxedoes, women in
evening gowns and pearls, tables with white cloths down
to the floor, and a band in white tuxedoes playing "Bei
Mir Bist Du Schoen." A small dance floor was in front
of the band, one that could fit two couples comfortably
and three with difficulty; at the moment there were two
couples there, one in their thirties and another
silver-haired pair in their 60s that looked like they
belonged in a Viagra commercial – a fit, dashing man
and an elegant, laughing lady.

I loved the place in an instant.

The Maitre d' was at the front, and he grinned when he
saw David. "Hey Dave, how ya doing?"

I arched an eyebrow – David hated being called "Dave."
But my mister didn't seem to mind this time, as he pumped
the man's hand and said, "Good, Ron, good. Thanks for
getting us in tonight."

"No problem," Ron replied, turning to me with a smile.
"And this must be the lady you talked about. Dave,
you're a liar. You said she was gorgeous, but you
underestimated."

I blushed a bit and laughed. "Well, it's good to know
he speaks highly of me, anyway."

"Not as highly as you deserve, Angela," Ron replied.
Apparently my mister had mentioned my first name...I just
hoped he hadn't mentioned my last. "And we have the
best table in the whole place set aside for you – close
to the dance floor, romantically isolated. I think
you'll love it. Enjoy your dinner."

Ron passed us off to a 30-ish waiter who was very
pretty and very gay. The waiter led us across the room,
me still on my mister's arm and feeling my head still
spinning. I noticed more than a few eyes on me, but I
didn't flatter myself that it was because I was the
most gorgeous creature in the room. No, it was because
of the dress I was almost wearing. It was the skimpiest
thing any woman in the place had on.

It wouldn't have raised an eyebrow in, say, one of the
dance clubs in the middle of downtown, but this was the
sort of place that tended toward gowns. I was as red as
a beet by the time we got to our table and the waiter
seated us. At least Ron had been right about the table
being romantic and isolated – we were by a wall, maybe
six steps from the dance floor, and almost concealed
behind a couple of tall plants. Back here, we could do
everything but fuck and nobody would notice a thing.
Undoubtedly David had been very specific about which
table he wanted.

David looked around with a smile. "Wow! This is quite a
place. I keep expecting to see Cary Grant popping
around the corner."

"It's pretty amazing, yes," I admitted. The waiter
asked if we wanted to start off with a take and David
asked for champagne – actually he asked specifically
for a 1996 Bollinger Grande Annee Rose. When the waiter
had gone, I said, "Well that sounded impressive. Is
that a good wine?"

David shot me a grin. "That's what Ron told me to get.
He said it would knock your socks off."

I doubted it was my socks that David wanted to knock
off – and what he wanted would be easier to get because
of the champagne, because champagne goes straight to my
head like nothing else in the world. I'm not a takeer
as a rule and so I'm a terrible lightweight, but even
so champagne does things to be. I get a solid buzz on
after half a glass... so I'd need to be careful. "Well,
I like champagne, so if it's good I'll love it, I'm
sure. But I still don't think you ought to be
takeing."

David just shook his head; his smile didn't budge.
"Don't fight the small fights, mom. Did you know that
even Laurel gets takes once in a while?"

I gaped. "She does not!"

"Well, I exaggerate," he admitted. "But I have it on
good authority that she was plenty tipsy off wine
coolers at that relaxover she did at Melissa Hardy's
house last month."

"Really?"

"Truly."

"I...didn't know that."

"There's probably a lot you don't know about her,"
David laughed. "And about me too. But tonight I don't
want to talk about anything that would put a frown on
your face. Tonight is about you having a great time.
OK?"

I nodded, but I was still very tense. "I...um... I
didn't know you danced. Like this, I mean."

"Well, I've been taking lesmisters. A gal I know is a
dance instructor at the University, she's been teaching
me."

"Uh huh. And how have you been paying for your
lesmisters?"

His grin got devilish again. He leaned in
conspiratorially and whispered, "With my Christmas
money."

I had to laugh at that. "I assumed it was... oh, a
barter arrangement."

"Mmm, no, I offered but she told me she can't spend
that and she needs to make her rent every month," he
replied with a laugh. "I gotta say, it stung my pride."
Just then the band ended the misterg and David asked,
"Would you like to dance?"

I blushed again. "I don't think I can in this, David. I
mean... I'm one sudden movement away from being naked."

"I tell you what," he said. "We'll wait for a slow
number...one without a lot of sudden movements...and
then we'll get up there. I'm proud of my dancing, and I
know you're proud of yours. I bet we wow them."

"There will be wows when my tits pop out of this
dress," I muttered. But I knew that he wanted to dance
with me tonight and I also knew that he would
eventually get me up there so I simply resigned myself
to the fact and looked around at all the pretty people
in their pretty outfits.

The band started up with "Brazil," and I was instantly
glad I wasn't up there dancing to that. The way my hips
would move to it, my hemline would be up over my ass in
no time. We made some idle and (for me at least)
uncomfortable chitchat for a few minutes until the
waiter returned with our champagne. I admit I don't
know much about wines, but the label made this one look
expensive.

My mind wet over, once again, the various unpleasant
means by which my mister might be getting the money to
afford all of this, but I had to let that thought go –
it was too damned depressing. The cork popped and in a
moment David was holding up his glass in a toast. "To
us," he said, "and to tonight, and the wonderful time
we're going to have."

I lifted my glass and clinked it against his, though I
wasn't sure I was going to have a wonderful time. I
sipped the champagne...and it was like nothing else I'd
ever tasted. It exploded into my mouth with a taste of
rose petals, but by the time I swallowed that first sip
there was a sharp nutty flavor; a few seconds later I
was tasting tart fruitiness. I'm not a wine connoisseur
and I usually laugh when people talk about all the
different flavors in a mouthful of wine...but this was
spectacular. It was like candy, and before I knew it I
had a second, larger taste of it.

"This is good, isn't it?" David asked after a sip of
his own.

"Yes it is," I replied, and I couldn't help but smile.
I already felt the first of my buzz coming on; it was
going to be a losing fight to stay sober. "I know I'm
going to regret asking this, but what do you usually
take?"

"I'm not a big takeer, really. I mean at a party I'll
have a beer or a couple of shots, but I'm not out there
leading the pack and getting stinking takes. I like to
stay in control."

The giddiness of the champagne was hitting me now, just
around the edges, and I couldn't help but quirk an
eyebrow. "I'll bet you do," I said, and it came out
more teasing than I wanted it to. "What about... other
things?"

"Other things?" He laughed. "Oh, you heard the rumors.
Laurel told you, I suppose."

"About you selling? Yes."

"I do sell some," he admitted. "I figure if I don't
someone else will, so why shouldn't the suckers' money
be on my hip? But the only thing I ever take is
Ecstasy, when I'm at a dance or something. And I don't
even usually do that. I think I'm a lot soberer than
you think I am."

"Maybe. But I wish you wouldn't do it. Any of it.
You're my mister and I worry about you, even though..."

"Even though I'm a cuckolds browniehead?" he supplied.

"Even though you're a cuckolds browniehead," I agreed.

He locked eyes with me and asked, "Do you want me to
stop?"

"Of course I do."

"Then ask me."

There was electricity between us, and it was growing
with every heartbeat. I looked at his face and wondered
if those angel-eyes could be trusted to keep any
promise they made. He had lied before and would, I was
sure, lie again. But this was also an important moment,
something that could, if he kept his word, turn him
from an awful, dangerous, and unproductive path and
onto one that was much better for him. And so, eyes
still on his, I said, softly, "David, I want you to
stop selling haves. Will you do that for me?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation and without
flinching. "I love you. I'll do that for you."

I smiled, and he smiled, and suddenly I felt very close
to him. Whether he would keep that promise or not I
didn't know, but he had made it and he gave me the
chance to hope. Even if it turned out to be a lie, it
was a chance worth taking.

It was around then that the waiter brought our menus,
and just like any good French restaurant, I gained
weight just by reading what they served. In the end
(over a little more champagne) I decided to go with the
coq au vin (much to David's amusement at my "wanting
cock") while David ordered grilled salmon. As the
waiter went away with our orders, the band was just
finishing with a misterg and David made significant eyes
at the dance floor. "Well?"

The champagne had lubricated me just enough that I
could face the possibility without quailing and I
nodded. "Fine, but let's go up there and ask for a slow
number."

He nodded and smiled as he stood and took my hand. I
followed him onto the floor just as the other couples
were leaving (the floor was small enough that nobody
was staying for more than one or two dances). I know
that there were eyes on me because of my dress, and I
felt myself blushing a bit, but I did my best to ignore
them. I didn't want to get embarrassed and screw up,
which would make me more embarrassed, etc., so I tried
to relax as David whispered a few words I didn't hear
to the bandleader. The man nodded, and David got back
to me just as we were joined by another couple.

"What did you ask him for?" I asked, but at that moment
the music began and answered my question. It was
"Stardust."

I have to tell you now that, for my money, "Stardust"
is the most romantic misterg ever written. When I was a
little girl I remember sitting up in my grandparents'
attic with their old record player, playing 78s of old
mistergs. Sometimes Sue and I would dance to them – we
didn't know what we were doing, just aping old movies,
but those times imbued me with a love of big band music
that has lasted to this day. And back then my favorite
record of all was a Harry James version of "Stardust."

I used to play it over and over and wish that someone,
sometime, would feel that kind of undying love for me.
It inspired ten thousand foolish schoolgirl fantasies,
and even today when I hear it I get weak in the knees.
Tim knew that, of course, but the look on my face was
one of amazement as I slid into David's arms and began
to move very slowly to the music. Softly I whispered,
"How did you know?"

His reply was to smile lovingly, place his mouth next
to my ear, and begin to sing:

"And now the purple dusk of twilight time

"Steals across the meadows of my mind

"High up in the sky the little stars climb

"Reminding me that we're apart..."

He didn't just know my favorite misterg – he knew the
lyrics. I melted in his arms like butter, and from that
moment any resistance that I might have put up that
night was brushed aside. It was one of the most
perfectly romantic things that has ever happened to me.
David's singing voice is best forgotten, but here,
whispered softly, it was like an angel. I'd have stood
a better chance of resisting an avalanche than my mister
at that point.

Yes the ***** had something to do with it, but this was
the sort of completely loving gesture I had longed for
since I was a little girl, and now I was getting it in
the arms of my own mister. A glamorous nightclub, fine
wine, dancing to my favorite misterg, being sung to while
in the arms of a strong, handsome young man...what more
could I have asked for?

"Sometimes I wonder why I spend the lonely nights

"Dreaming of a misterg

"The melody haunts my reverie

"And I am once again with you..."

I hadn't danced this way nearly as much as I wanted to,
but the steps came back to me as David led. I don't
know if my feet touched the floor or not, as clichéd as
that is to say. I felt like I was dancing in the sky
far above. And David led me perfectly, taking me where
I needed to go. I placed my head against his chest and
beamed a satisfied, contented smile that the whole
place saw. This was what I'd always wanted and finally
I was getting it. For tonight I didn't need to think
why I was getting it, or from whom. Tonight I could
just be glad...as long as I kept it from going too far.

"Though I dream in vain

"In my heart you will remain

"My stardust melody

"A memory of love's refrain."

The last chord was still hanging in the air when I
lifted my mouth to David's, there on the dance floor,
and gave him a long, deep kiss. I knew that we were
being watched. I knew everyone there was seeing me suck
my mister's tongue and press my barely-clad body into his,
but I didn't give a damn. To me they weren't even
there. This was my dream come true and David had made
it happen. The only people in the whole place were the
two of us, and I kissed him that way. My arms were
around his neck, my body melded to his, our breath one
breath. Even if the evening had ended then and there,
it would have been worth it.

Back at our table a moment later, I had his hands in
mine and I was glowing. "David, that was... that was
amazing. Really it was. Thank you so much."

"You like it?"

"I loved it. Honestly."

"Do I get another kiss?"

He did, and this time he slipped his hand inside my
dress and rolled my left nipple between his fingers.
The table was secluded behind plants so nobody saw it,
but at that instant I doubt I would have stopped him if
we had an audience. It felt fantastic, my hard nipple
sending marvelous sensations through me, and I sucked
his tongue like a cock. I had a little more champagne –
more than a little more – and two mistergs later we were
back out on the floor to "You Are My Lucky Star," my
head nestled shamelessly into David's shoulder and his
hands two inches north of my ass.

Midway through the dance his cock began to stir against
my belly, getting semi-hard, and I just smiled and
pressed myself closer to him. I realized that I was
more than a little takes by this point – I'd had two
glasses of champagne on an empty stomach – and I knew
that my mister was seducing me, but there was no fight in
me right now, not anymore. I was too busy enjoying
myself – and I was too takes.

Shortly after we got back to the table our food
arrived. I welcomed it because I needed to get some
food into my stomach before I pitched over face first.
Plus, it was amazing food. David was in a wonderful
mood and so was I; we were laughing and joking, both of
us relaxed and happy. He "Mmmmmed" when he tried his
salmon, then cut off a piece and held it out to me on
his fork for me to try; I locked eyes with him as I
took it into my mouth, and as the moment hung there I
realized that the fish wasn't the only thing of his I'd
be putting in my mouth tonight.

I was horny, he was horny, we were having a fantastic
time...and hell, I'd already sucked his cock and loved
it, so why shouldn't I do it again? Yes I know there
were a million reamisters why not, but I was too takes and
too carried away to think much about them.

I know this all must make me look like a complete
wishy-washy ditz. First I don't want it, then I do. I'm
fighting to keep him out of my panties and then I'm
thinking how nice it would be to get him in. I'm
miserable about going on a public date with him and
then I'm having a great time. All I can say is that if
it seems that way to you, have pity on me because it
was a thousand times worse living it than reading it.

When I was calm, sober and not hormonally supercharged
I knew – I KNEW – that I needed to stop this ride, to
keep this from going too far, to control David and
defuse the situation in a way that would keep him from
destroying me and my family. I knew it. It wasn't a
question, there was no debate. I worried about it, I
thought about it constantly, I lost relax over it. I
didn't want to do anything with him. I wanted things
back the way they had been before he caught me with
Charlie. I wanted him as a mister and nothing else.

The problem was that David knew that. He was completely
aware that I felt that way, and more than that he was
aware of what he needed to do to get past it. He knew
to wait for my period when I was too horny to say no.
He knew how to use words and emotions to twist me like
a blade of grass between his fingers. He knew to take
me on the most romantic date of my life, fulfill my
girlhood dreams and get me takes. He knew me.

That was it, really. He knew me better than I knew
myself. He had spent his whole life studying me,
thinking about me, fantasizing how he would make me
his. When he got the chance he already knew what to
say, how to act, what to do. How many times had he
masturbated thinking about this date since he was 10
years old? How many little signs had he picked up from
me that told him what I wanted and needed? He was a
student and I was his topic – and he'd learned very,
very well.

I, on the other hand, had spent my whole adult life
avoiding learning anything about myself. I had buried
myself in a marriage that left me physically dead. I
had pretended I didn't need sex, didn't need passion or
love or the thrill of connecting with someone at a
soul-deep level. I had pretended I wasn't a human being
with human needs, and for a long time I had gotten away
with it.

But David knew better. David always knew better, and he
never stopped thinking about it, planning and wondering
and observing. And so now, when I found out how wrong I
had been the whole time, David was there ahead of me.
He knew that I was like a young, unformed clay, and he
knew that he had the chance to form me into the woman
he wanted me to be.

All I knew was that I had to fight him, but I had no
idea how. It was never a fair fight. And so when he
wasn't there, when I was level and "me" I didn't want
him; as soon as he started to punch my buttons then all
that levelheadedness and logic fell away. It's not a
good explanation for everything that had happened so
far and everything that would happen in the future, but
it was the only one I had.

Also, I was pretty takes.

And so I ate off his fork and he ate off of mine and we
shared a magnificent dinner. We talked and we laughed,
we leaned in to whisper to each other and we smiled at
the growing desire in each other's eyes. He ogled my
cleavage (to be fair, that dress didn't show cleavage,
it showed canyon) and I positioned myself to give him a
good view. We played footsie under the table and I ran
my foot up much farther than any lady ought to with
her mister... all the way up, in fact, so that my toes
teased his raging erection. He gave me a devilish and
delighted grin when he felt that, and shifted in his
chair so I could stroke his length with my foot.

"Like what you feel?" he asked.

I did my best to look innocent. "What do you mean?"

His hand went beneath the table and unzipped, and then
I felt the warm, smooth flesh of his magnificent cock
against my foot. "Now do you like what you feel?"

I giggled. "Oh, that. Yes, I like it very much."

"Well thanks, I'm fond of it too."

I took another bite of my food. It had been delicious,
but I was getting full and so now I was mostly pushing
the food around the plate. "I'll bet you are. It's
something to be proud of."

"If you keep playing with it, you just might make a
mess."

"Oh no," I replied, eyes wide. "Well maybe I should
stop."

"I didn't say that."

"No you didn't, did you? Hmm...you know, I think I have
a solution to this dilemma."

"Really?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "Do tell."

I didn't tell. Instead I took one last look around to
make sure that the table was as secluded as I thought
it was and, finding that it was so, I "accidentally"
dropped my napkin on the floor and bent to retrieve it.
Except I kept bending right out of the chair and onto
my hands and knees. The tablecloth was elegantly long
and concealed me nicely as I slipped beneath it.

"Mom," he said delightedly. "You naughty little whore!"

I giggled again and crawled to him. My hands were on
his thighs, stroking them, and his cock was enormous
and right in front of my face. It had been a while
since I had seen it this close and once more I was
thrilled with how perfectly it matched my ideal of the
male member: very thick, a little longer than average,
straight, velvety smooth and utterly gorgeous to look
at. "Mmmmm," I said as I wrapped my fingers around it
and felt its solidity and heat, "tell me again what
kind of girl I am..."

"You're a slut," he said softly as he eased back in his
chair a little more and slipped a hand beneath the
tablecloth to stroke my cheek. "You're a cocksucking
cumwhore who's about to take her mister's prick in her
mouth in the middle of a restaurant and you love it."

"Mmm-hmmmm," I agreed as I stuck my tongue out and ran
it along the length of his shaft from the base to the
tip. Hearing him demean me like that while doing
something so crazy and wrong sent shivers into my
pussy. I had never done anything even remotely like
this, not even when I was an irresponsible kid. And yet
here I was, on my hands and knees under a table for my
own flesh and red – and he was right because I did
love it.

At that moment I loved it more than anything else I
could imagine. *The only thing that could make it
better,* I thought as I slipped my lips around the head
and sucked gently, hollowing my cheeks and running my
tongue over the tip, *is if Charlie were here fucking
me while I did it.*

David groaned softly and cradled the back of my head.
Unlike last time he wouldn't be able to fuck my mouth.
This time I was in control, completely and utterly, and
it was up to me to give him the best blowjob I could
manage. I figured I was up to the task, and to prove it
I took four inches of his cock into my mouth, swirling
my tongue around it and tasting the salty, wonderful
precum that oozed out.

"God yes you slut, you whore, you fucking dirty little
cunt," David hissed emphatically. "Suck your mister's cock
like the good little tramp you are. Suck the cum right
out of my balls!"

His words made me as hot as a blast furnace and I
swallowed him to the root, taking him in to that he hit
the back of my throat. Once more I gagged a bit at the
feeling but that didn't stop me or even slow me down.
My tongue was swirling, whirling, dancing along his
shaft and I could feel how hot I was making him. His
hand was trembling as he grabbed a handful of my hair
and clenched tight and I knew this would be a situation
so erotic that he wouldn't last long. I sucked him as
deep as I could take him, held him there while my
cheeks caressed and my tongue moved, and then slowly,
slowly let him back out again until just the tip was in
my mouth and I could run the point of my tongue up
underneath it.

What, I wondered, would all of the finely-dressed
people in this club say if they knew the blonde cougar
in the tiny red dress was underneath her table sucking
her boy-toy's cock? They probably wouldn't have been
surprised, I thought. But what would they say if they
knew that the blonde mom in the tiny red dress was
under the table slurping her 17 year old mister's cock
like it was a popsicle on a hot day? Hmmm...they'd
almost certainly call the cops.

And that was when I discovered, from the shiver of
delight that started at my hairline and ran through my
body like current from a live wire, that the danger of
it made me hot. I didn't expect that. I'd never done
anything in public and never been on the edge of
getting caught, and so I'd never experienced anything
but safe (in that sense, anyway) sex.

But this was nothing like safe. This was crazy. This
was right on the edge. This could get me arrested. This
could ruin my life. This made me so hot that I couldn't
help but slip my hand down, tug up the tiny skirt, and
put my finger on my clit. My pussy was so wet it was
dripping, my moisture running down my thighs. I could
be caught! I could be exposed! I could come so damned
easily.

I mentioned that the area the club was in is eclectic
and interesting, and it's especially so on pleasant
evenings. Several bars have outside tables and the
activity tends to spill out onto the street, with
little groups of young people talking and laughing and
takeing beer right in the middle of the road. On the
other side is the Mississippi, black and without memory
at night, and across it the lights of downtown
Minneapolis throwing their reflections onto the water.

It was the perfect place for a walk at night, and as I
stepped out onto the street I realized I didn't want
the night to end yet. It had been romantic, gentle,
erotic, funny, bright and so very, very fun that all I
could think was that I wanted it to continue for a
while. So when David turned toward the valet I stopped
him and tugged on his hand. "Let's walk for a little
bit," I told him with a smile. "It's beautiful
tonight."

David's handsome face lit up with a quiet joy as his
eyes rested on me. "Yeah...yeah you are beautiful
tonight. Come on."

We walked then, me nestled into the crook of his
shoulder, feeling the breeze, hearing laughter and
music from the bars and the distant rumble of traffic.
As we walked I watched the lights of downtown shimmer
and sparkle on the water that would flow the breadth of
a continent and I felt purely and simply content. I
don't even really remember what I thought as we walked,
my body against my mister's. I know we made small talk,
pleasant chitchat that was only meaningful for the
feelings of completeness it gave us.

We passed a few bars – one where a band was playing
some loud Lynyrd Skynyrd cover, another that was
blaring some top 40 misterg I didn't know, another that
gave forth the sounds of soulful blues – and finally we
came to a spot where there were a few stone and
concrete benches and a little overlook that gave a
perfect view of downtown.

A young couple was already sitting on one of the
benches and I wanted to give them their privacy so I
drew David over to the wall by the river and leaned on
the stones, gazing out at the Mississippi's flow. David
gently brushed my hair back from my face and I smiled.
Neither one of us spoke for a while, until finally I
said, "Thank you. This was a magical night, David. I'll
never forget it."

"I'm glad you liked it, and I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad you made me come."

His arm settled around my waist. "I thought you were
going to turn me down for a while," he admitted, his
hand playing along my side. "I hoped you wouldn't,
but..."

I stood up and faced him, laying a hand on his chest
and looking into his eyes. Softly, I whispered, "It was
a good first date."

"First? Does that mean there will be a second?"

I put my forehead into his chest. "Oh, David. I've
never been treated like this in my life. I thought
nights like this just happened in old movies and silly
novels. It's crazy that it took my mister to give me a
night like this, but...but I don't know if anyone else
could have. I don't think anyone knows me as well as
you do – nobody who'd care to do this, anyway. You made
me feel so special. You made me feel so loved."

"I do love you, mom."

"I know, baby. I love you."

"Kiss me?"

My answer was a kiss. There, in the dark, by the river,
with the scent of night flowers on the May breeze and
the sound of laughter in the air, I kissed my mister
without reservation or hesitation. There was passion in
the kiss, but there was so much more than that too.
There was respect, love, adoration, gratefulness,
happiness, all of it swirling together to make one
wonderful emotion I didn't have a name for but which I
wanted again and again, endlessly. And when the kiss
was done, David stood smiling down at me and said,
"Mom, I want to make you come."

"I would like that, David," I said instantly and
without a trace of shame. "I'd like that very much.
Come on, let's go back to the car."

"No. Here."

I laughed and looked around. The young couple was 15
feet away and lost in their own whispered conversation
but there was no way they'd miss us fooling around. And
beside that, we were right by an active street with a
stream of pedestrians and cars, and there were several
knots of people in plain sight. "Here? That's silly,
David."

"So I'm silly," he replied with a throaty chuckle,
maneuvering me so my back was to the low stone wall and
his hands were under the jacket, on my breasts. "I want
to sit you right up on this wall and put my mouth on
you. I want to suck you and lick you and put my fingers
in you until you come screaming."

"David," I whispered, a hand on his arm as he reached
down and began to pull up the hem of my dress, "this is
crazy. Let's go someplace more private."

"I don't want it private," he told me, putting his
hands on my ass and lifting me up to sit on the wall. I
didn't fight him. "I want it right here, right in front
of everyone. I want people to see how much I love you.
I want people to see that I can make you feel
wonderful. I want you to open yourself to me, mom. I
want you to open yourself to this. I want you to want
it."

"David..."

"I want you to want it, mom. Do you want it?"

I paused for what felt like a lifetime but must only
have been a couple of seconds, and then breathed a
single word: "Yes."

My mister didn't give me time to reconsider. He was there,
arms around me, lips on my neck and then further down.
I tilted my head back to let him do what he would to me
and closed my eyes. I knew that what he was about to do
to me might well draw a crowd. I'd be lying if I said I
didn't find the idea suddenly and perversely appealing:
a crowd of strangers watching me being pleasured in
public by a handsome young man – even if they didn't
know it was my mister – was curiously and unexpectedly
thrilling.

But the part of me that liked the idea was overwhelmed,
for the moment at least, by the part of me that didn't
have the courage to watch the crowd gather... or watch
David do what he was about to do, for that matter. Yes,
I wanted an orgasm, and yes I wanted David to give it
to me, but this was giving him permission to touch me
in a deeper, more intimate way than I had allowed so
far. It was yet another of my lines that he was
stepping across, with my help. It was yet more danger.

My breasts came free of my dress with a tug of fabric
and then his mouth was on them. I gasped as he closed
his teeth around my right nipple, biting it softly even
as his fingers twisted and danced over my left. Once
again David wasn't merely my mister, but also a
tremendously s*******ed and talented young man who knew
how to make a woman – even his lady – tremble with
delight. I arched my back and pushed my breasts to him
and he did what he was so very good at. His tongue
caressed, his lips sucked, his fingers pinched and
tugged.

He went from my right breast to my left and back,
kissing, suckling, making me moan and clutch at his
back with shaking hands. When his mouth was on my
nipple it was warm, wet, glowing with sensation like an
ember from a fire – and when his mouth would leave to
go to the other, the gentle night breeze would cool it
like a sudden application of ice, sending the most
delightful shivers down my spine.

"I love your tits," David murmured, and his adoration
brought a lascivious grin to my face. I knew it was
wrong for my mister to love me this way (and touch me this
way) but it felt so good to have a man, any man, think
of me as the sexy, hot, fuckable woman he saw in me! He
made me feel attractive, like I deserved to have men
want me, and I couldn't help but love him for it. It
was just so damned flattering, even if it was perverted
and sick.

He pushed toward me and I shifted my weight, sensing
what he was about to do. My legs came open of their own
accord and he was there, his trim hips between my
thighs...and then he was moving down. He left my
breasts exposed and it didn't even occur to me to cover
them as he began to kiss and lick his way down, down,
over the swath of stomach left bare by my miniscule
dress. His tongue felt like it was electrified, because
everyplace it touched tingled and shivered even after
his tongue moved on.

By the time he reached my navel I was almost weeping
with lust. What he was doing felt so incredibly good! I
had no idea if we had drawn a crowd (I still had my
eyes closed as tight as I could get them) but just the
chance that we could was adding spice to what we were
doing. Were there people watching? Did they see how
eager I was for what was coming? Did they see how eager
David was to do it? The possibilities swirled in my
lust-fogged brain and made me wetter and needier than I
already was.

David put his arm around me and I looked up into his
sweet, handsome face. I could see it gleamed still with
my juices, and that gave me an odd and completely
unexpected feeling of closeness with him. We had shared
something here, something wonderful, a beautiful secret
that we would both always remember. It was like a gift
we had given each other.

A couple of the guys (takesen frat types) slapped David
on the shoulder, and a couple of the gals eyed me
enviously, but we didn't talk to any of them. In fact
we didn't talk at all as David steered me on my wobbly
legs, his arm around my waist, back out onto the road
and toward the club where the valet would fetch our
car. We walked together, me in his coat and feeling
mellow and contented and him with his arm around me,
strong and powerful.

I loved him so much right then that I didn't have words
for it. I still don't.

After about a block, he asked, "So?"

"So?"

"So...did you like it?"

My tone was teasing as I said, "Oh, it wasn't bad."

"Oh, not bad huh?"

"Nope."

He mulled that over for a moment, then replied, "Well I
guess I don't have to do it again if you didn't like
it."

"I didn't say I didn't like it," I said innocently. "I
mean, you're no Charlie..."

He laughed then, a good-natured sound that echoed off
the darkened buildings lining the street and came back
to us. "Well, I don't have an eight-inch tongue."

"No you don't." I paused, then added mischievously,
"You've got an eight-inch something else, though."

He laughed again and snugged me into the crook of his
shoulder. We didn't speak again until we got back to
the valet and were waiting for my car. Then I heard the
strain of music drifting from inside the club and the
whole evening came back to me in a beautiful rush. I
squeezed my mister's hand and said, simply, "Thank you."

He beamed. "You're welcome, mom. Thank you."

The drive back to the park and ride where David had
left his car went quickly and wonderfully. We didn't
say much, as I think both of us were lost in our own
thoughts, but what we did say was quiet and comfortable
and natural. I felt no shame for what had happened,
either for what I'd done or for what I'd let David do
to me. It had been the perfect night, and I was
incapable of regretting a single thing about it.

David parked next to his car and waited while I quickly
changed back into the clothes I'd left the house in. He
grinned at my nudity, and it struck me that I didn't
feel self-conscious in the least about stripping in
what was, after all, a public place. Yes there was no
one around and no one saw me, but still...public place.
A few weeks before I'd have been mortified; now I
didn't think twice.

David stepped up to me when I had changed and put his
arms around me. We shared one last kiss for the night,
a long, lingering, sweet, loving kiss in the starlight.
It didn't need words and none were spoken. I brushed my
fingertips over his cheek, got in my car and drove
home.

The house was dark when I got there; it was after
midnight and no doubt both my husband and flower were
long in bed. Charlie, faithful companion, was there at
the door to greet me by stuffing his nose into my
crotch and smelling the remains of my arousal. I petted
him in the dark and let him sniff me, then took him out
and let him run in the yard before we both headed up to
bed.

Tim was arelax when I opened the door. I needed a
shower but I was quiet so as not to wake him. Ten
minutes later I was in an oversized relaxing tee; I
suddenly felt exhausted, but it was the sort of happy
exhaustion that can only come from great things. As I
lay down next to my relaxing husband I had a smile on
my face. My whole body was still tingling with the joy
of the evening, and even the cynic in me had to admit
that David hadn't just shown me a good time, he had
shown me a wonderful time.

The last thought I remember before drifting off to
relax was that maybe, just maybe, David had really
turned over a new leaf. Maybe he had realized that he
didn't need to be harsh and cruel to get what he
wanted, and not just with me. Maybe he had actually
become a better permister. Once more I was allowing myself
to think of him taking me to bed without finding it
repulsive or even objectionable. I was even starting to
think of ways that an affair with my own mister could
actually be good for both of us instead of poimisterous to
me and to the household.

Less than a week later David coldly and deliberately
did something that threatened to destroy my family as
completely as anything ever could.

Loving this story! Please tell me there are many more chapters! Great job on this thread. Keep up the good work!

Merci paradoxial_001

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Chapter Seven

May 24

I woke up with a smile on my face that would have made
the Cheshire Cat look dour. I felt amazing – and I do
mean amazing. I was still buzzing over my date with
David; it had been the single best evening of my whole
life and my body was still tingling. I laid alone in
bed for a while (Tim was long gone to the club and his
regular Saturday working lunch) and replayed the whole
night in my mind, grinning and feeling wonderful,
appreciated and loved. My mister had swept me off my feet
the night before and he hadn't set me back down yet. In
those soft, secret moments by myself, I found myself
hoping, just a little, that he never would.

But nature called, as nature always does, and I had to
take another longer, better shower than the one I'd
allowed myself the night before. I took a luxurious
shower and washed my hair, shaved what needed shaving,
and when I got out I slipped into a comfortable old
denim skirt and baggy, faded tee that knew me like an
old friend. I smiled at my reflection in the mirror;
this was the best I'd felt in a long time. And I had
David to thank.

Charlie had heard me bumping around in the bedroom and
he was there to greet me when I opened the door, his
tail whapping hard against the wall and his head
seeking my hands for a good petting. I informed him
with great seriousness that he was "a good boy oh yes
you is aren't you yes you is such a good boy oh yes oh
yes oh yes!" and he seemed to agree with the
assessment, prancing and hopping around with delight at
my baby talk and then racing to the head of the stairs,
only pausing to look over his shoulder to make sure I
was following him.

I was, but along the way I decided I'd poke my head in
David's room and see if he was awake. If he was, he
deserved a real, grateful thank you for what he had
done to me. I knocked softly and, when I got no answer,
I eased the door open a crack and peeked inside. His
bed was empty (and unmade, but don't get me started).
Downstairs I found Laurel in the living room playing
Xbox. "Hey mom," she called out without looking up when
she heard me on the stairs. "Have fun last night?"

"Mmm-hmmm, had a great time," I chirped. "How about
you?"

"Oh yeah, daddy and I watched a movie and ate popcorn."

"What did you watch?"

"Pirates of the Caribbean 2."

I grinned. "I guess you picked the movie, huh?"

"Yeah, it was my turn. It was great."

"Cool. Where's your brother?"

"Dunno, his car isn't here. I don't think he came home
last night." I frowned. He had told me he would be home
an hour after me. Yes, occasionally he stayed out all
night (against the rules, of course, but he never cared
much about rules), but I didn't expect it last night. I
felt a nibble of lady-worry (what if he'd gotten in
an accident, for God sake?) but I tried to calm myself
as I walked into the kitchen. I picked up the phone and
listened to make sure Laurel was still playing, then
dialed David's cell number. He picked it up on the
second ring. "Where are you?" I asked, my voice
sounding surprisingly peevish. "You didn't come home
last night."

"No, something came up," he said. I heard a radio
playing and the sound of traffic going by, and I
realized he was in his car. "I'll be home in a few
hours, don't worry about me, all right?" My frown
deepened, and I realized with a pang that I was
jealous. I didn't know that he was with another girl
and I damned sure wasn't going to ask, but my mind went
right there, much to my shock. I had never liked the
idea of David slumming around with trashy girls, but
now there was something more to it, something more
permisteral, and I didn't know how to handle it. After a
moment I said, "All right, David. I'll see you then."

"Take care mom. Love you."

That put a smile on my face in spite of myself. "Love
you too, David." I took Charlie outside for a few
minutes, ate some lunch and cleaned the kitchen. By
then Laurel had gone off with a gaggle of her friends
to the mall, so I slipped out of my thong (I never wore
my respectable panties anymore) and let Charlie lick me
to an orgasm. He was wonderful, as always, and he never
seemed to mind giving me a lick and getting nothing
back...but it was starting to strike me that it was
pretty unfair.

He got nothing out of it, after all. I would have loved
to fuck his brains out, of course, but I had learned
that to do that you needed to set aside at least an
hour and a half to get dressed, get him stimulated,
have sex, and then clean up afterward. I just didn't
have the time... And then it occurred to me that, if he
used his mouth on me, then I might be able to return
the favor. There were pictures and movies on the
website that David had signed me up for of women
eagerly fellating dogs that had made my mouth water,
but I'd never done it for my beloved Charlie. In fact
I'd forgotten about it in the excitement of everything
that had gone on. But it was possible...and it was
appealing to me as I thought about it.

I considered dropping to my knees and giving him a
sloppy-wet blowjob right then and there, but I thought
better of it. After all I didn't know if Tim might come
back early, and I also suspected that, like with most
things involving dogs and sex, it wasn't going to be as
easy as it looked at first. There would probably be
some trick to it; however, I figured that there would
be plenty of advice on the internet on how to do it
right.

One thing David had taught me is that pretty much
everything was on the internet. So it was with a smile
of anticipation that I leaned forward, rubbed Charlie's
ears vigorously and told him, "Oh mommy's gonna suck
your cock isn't she yes she is she's gonna suck your
big hard doggie cock so good oh yes she is oh yes!"

He didn't understand a word of it, but he was glad to
hear it if the way his whole back end wagged is
anything to go by. And so it was that a few minutes
later I found myself on the laptop Googling "oral sex
dog." God bless Google. Within a few moments I was
reading some excellent advice on the hows, dos and don-
nots of giving a dog a blow job. Charlie was at my feet
and whining softly because he could smell how turned on
the descriptions were making me and he wanted a crack
at... well, my crack.

I just smiled and petted his head as I read about how
delicate a dog's cock is, how under no circumstances
should you ever use teeth on it, and how some dogs
(even ones who will eagerly screw you silly and lick
you for hours) just don't like a mouth on their
privates. It was fascinating and extremely erotic,
especially since I occasionally took a break to watch a
video of a woman actually doing what I was reading
about.

The idea of swallowing that endless stream of precum
and cum almost made me swoon... I just had time to
clear the browser history and turn off the computer
when I heard Tim come home. Charlie met him at the door
and I followed a few moments later. He was in a great
mood, bouncy and bubbly, and we had a nice, pleasant
conversation in the living room for half an hour before
David pulled up in front of the house. "Is he just
getting home from last night?" Tim asked with a frown.

"I didn't see his car when I left this morning." "Yes,
I think he is," I said, trying to sound appropriately
casually concerned.

"I guess I'd better have a talk with him. As long as
he's living here, he'll obey our rules."

"Let me. We've been getting along pretty well lately."
That was an understatement. "I think I might be able to
have a more productive conversation with him than you
can. You two usually end up sparring." "That's true
enough. OK, he's all yours."

David came in looking a little the worse for wear –
unshaven and in his school clothes from Friday – but he
had a smile on his face when he saw Tim and me sitting.
"Hi guys," he said cheerily. "What's up?" "I think we
need to have a talk, kiddo," I said seriously... or as
seriously as I could. I mean...god, he'd sucked my
pussy in public less than 24 hours before so it was
kind of a challenge to scold him about breaking curfew.

His face got appropriately contrite and he said, "OK,
sure mom." Tim got up and excused himself to go to the
restroom. I watched him go, and as soon as he was out
of earshot I said, "OK, where were you?" He gave me a
look I couldn't read, but it wasn't snide or even
teasing. If I hadn't known better, I'd have said it was
worried. "After I dropped you off last night I got a
call from a friend who asked me to come over because
his girlfriend was having a bad trip. And no, I didn't
sell him the stuff. So I went over there, and by the
time everything was under control I was too tired to
drive back so I stayed over. We had lunch today and
here I am." I cocked an eyebrow.

Something in his demeanor told me he was lying, and I
congratulated myself on getting good enough at spotting
his BS that I didn't buy it. "Is that the truth,
David?" He looked at me for a long moment, and this
time his expression was definitely worried, or at least
concerned. "No," he admitted reluctantly, "but I can't
tell you what I was doing. It's legal," he added
hastily, "and no, there wasn't another girl involved."
"I didn't ask that."

"You didn't need to, I heard it in your voice." The
little prick was still better at reading me than I was
at reading him. "I just...look, something's going on.
And it's nothing to worry about, it's just something I
can't tell you about quite yet."

"And now I am worried. What's going on, David?" He
looked in the direction Tim had disappeared and
whispered, "Please just trust me on this one, OK? I'll
tell you as soon as I can."

"David..."

"Mom, please. Trust me."

I frowned. "What's with all the secrecy?"

"I'm telling you what I can right now."

"And you're not in any kind of trouble?"

He shook his head vigorously. "No, it doesn't even have
anything to do with me."

"OK, now you're being mysterious for the sake of being
mysterious!" He chuckled and kissed my forehead. "Well,
maybe. But please trust me. Can you do that?"

I thought about the way he had been with me the night
before and I nodded. "I can, David."

He beamed at me. "Thanks, mom. I had a wonderful time
last night."

I beamed back. "Me too."

Tim came back shortly thereafter and so that was the
end of the conversation. The rest of the day was spent
bustling around – Tim and I did some more yard work,
then when Laurel got home we took her over to visit
Tim's parents. His mom is a lovely, cheerful perfectly
round woman and his man is one of those older guys
who always seems to be smiling (in spite of the fact
that he's been on a walker for the past three years
since he broke several bones falling down the stairs).

We've always gotten along like gangbusters and they've
always spoiled Laurel; they used to spoil David too
before they realized what he was. We had a great time
over there, then dropped off Laurel at as friend's
house for the evening and went out to dinner at
Dominguez, a place we must have been twenty times. It
was a perfectly pleasant dinner. The food was terrific
Mexican, as always, and Tim's conversation was easy and
pleasant, as always, and we had a very nice time, as
always.

And I don't think I went two minutes without thinking
about David. When Tim was talking about the new tile
we'd planned to put down in the kitchen, I was thinking
about David singing in my ear as we swayed together to
"Stardust"; when he talked about the softball league he
was thinking of joining, I could think of nothing but
the way my mister's cock felt in my mouth when he came;
when he talked about fixing the brakes on his car,
there wasn't a thing in my mind except the way that
David had made me long to let him put his mouth on me
and make me come in front of a gaggle of strangers.

I knew it was wrong to be thinking those thoughts, and
I knew it was wrong to be relishing them so much –
especially when I was with my husband. I knew it was
wrong, but I didn't care. The memory, like the act, was
so wonderful that I had no desire whatsoever to avoid
it. I loved Tim dearly but he couldn't, or wouldn't
give me what David could – and I had gone without for
too long.

And so I listened to Tim, and I talked with Tim, and I
thought about David, and I went to bed with a smile.


May 25

The smile was still on my face when I woke up Sunday.
Tim had long ago left for his working lunch, but the
surprise I had was that David wasn't in his bedroom –
again. I heard music coming from Laurel's room so I
knocked and we chitchatted for a bit before I asked,
"Did David not come home last night?"

"Nope, he was here. He left early."

I blinked in surprise. David NEVER got up early. "He
did? How early?"

"I dunno, not long after daddy I think."

"Huh. OK. Did he say where he was going?"

"Nope and I didn't ask. Hey, can you take me to the
Mall of America today?"

I laughed. "You spent all day there yesterday!" "I
know, but I saw some super cute things and I was hoping
you could maybe buy them for me a little bit?"

"A little bit?"

"Or a lot. Whichever works for you."

"Yeah. And how much does super cute cost these days?"

"It's super cheap. And I saw a pair of shoes I KNOW
you'd look great in."

"Oh damn you kiddo, you know just how to get what you
want, don't you?" She grinned innocently, like an
angel. "I just thought maybe you'd want a new pair of
shoes, that's all."

"Fine, we'll wait for your dad to get back and if he
doesn't have anything he wants to do, we can go then."
I wouldn't mind a new pair of shoes... Most of the
morning was spent in delicious sloth. I ate some
oatmeal, read the paper while takeing a cup of strong
coffee and sitting in the sun, and had Charlie out to
romp in the yard. My sloth ended at a little before
eleven, when Patty called with news of her date. I took
the phone, secluded myself in a chair in the middle of
the lawn, and demanded details.

Details I got, bubbling forth in an excited, happy
torrent. They had shared a wonderful, romantic dinner
at Luce (where they had also shared a lubricating
bottle of expensive wine). When it was done and dusk
was settling they went for a walk along the tree-lined
campus of St. Catherine's College, hand in hand. It was
almost dark when Maria put Patty's back against a big
oak tree and kissed her, and this time Patty didn't
stop her when she put her hand up Patty's dress. Patty
came "a wow kind of orgasm," as she said, and before
she knew it they were in Maria's bed. They stayed there
until morning, making love three times.

Patty thought she was in love. I thought so too, and I
couldn't have been happier for her than I was. If ever
there was a woman who deserved to be loved, it was
Patty.

"When are you going to tell Thomas?" I asked.

"I don't care," Patty replied casually, and then
laughed. "Can you believe it? I really don't care. This
is the first time since before I married that load that
I don't care what he thinks." "Well, how fast do you
want to go with Maria?"

Another laugh. "She told me a joke last night. What
does a lesbian bring to a second date? A U-Haul."

I laughed too. "Is that how fast you want to go?"

"Well I thought we'd give it a couple of months and see
how it goes.

But Angela... Angela, I can't even tell you how it
felt. To be loved.

To be cherished. To be treated as someone who was worth
being wooed.

I can't even tell you."

I thought back to my date with David and figured I
knew. "Patty, that's fantastic. Congratulations. What
did Thomas say when you got home?"

"Ha. He's still not awake, the takes prick."

"If things go well... I'd give anything to see the look
on his face when you tell him you're leaving him for a
woman!"

"I should film it. For posterity's sake."

We talked for another half an hour, and by the time we
were done I was excited with her excitement. Maria
had truly swept her off her feet, and Patty was almost
dizzy with the possibilities. I did bring up the fact
that being in a relationship with a woman would likely
be very different from being in one with a man, and she
acknowledged it, but I don't think she really
understood the point.

Still, I didn't belabor it – she was in the first
throes of love and I wasn't going to be the one to rain
on her parade. She had another date with Maria this
coming week and I wished her all the best with it. I
made lunch for Laurel and I – soup and a salad – and we
ate it together outside. We had just sat down when the
penny dropped. "Mom," she said casually, "can I borrow
something of yours for the mall today?"

"Like what?"

"Oh, I dunno, I thought maybe we could look through
your stuff and find something cute."

"Cute? Or revealing?"

She grinned and blushed a little, but only a little.
"Well nothing too revealing...for me anyway."

My eyebrow arched. "Meaning?"

She looked up at me with an impish gleam in her eyes.
"Well, you have all that sexy underwear, it's a shame
to waste it..." "Who says I'm wasting it?" I replied
with an impish gleam of my own. "Oooh, you're wearing
it around? Tell me!"

"No. Now eat your lunch."

"I'll bet people have some wild reactions when you show
yourself..." "Some do," I admitted. I wasn't sure how
much I liked where the conversation was going.

"Well...I was thinking that you should wear some." "Uh
huh. I could maybe accidentally on purpose show
somebody too much." She hadn't given up her intention
to get me to show off with her in the audience, but
this was the first time she'd brought it up in a
while...and the first time she'd brought it up since my
date with David. I know I ought to be ashamed of
myself, but the first thing I thought was how thrilled
David would be if Laurel and I did this and I told him
about it... "Well, yeah," she nodded. "I mean I'd love
to see it! I think it's so cool. I'd love to see the
expression on people's faces!"

I tried to be strong in spite of how appealing this
idea was to me at the moment. I'd loved the couple of
times I'd shown myself in public before, and when David
had gone down on me in front of the crowd of
strangers... wow. It would be thrilling to walk into
the Mall of America in a skimpy little outfit and tease
random passersby with glimpses of my goodies... but
Laurel would be there. Yes she wanted to see it but she
had no business wanting to see that from me and if I
let her then it would be just another thing I shouldn't
do with my kids that I did in spite of knowing how
damned wrong it was.

I'd already crossed enough of those lines with David
that I had no realistic hope of ever going back to
propriety with him, but Laurel wasn't a lost cause yet.
I knew I had to be firm with her, and with myself, but
the idea was seductive and exciting, and it wouldn't
leave my mind. Still, I shook my head and said, "Nope,
we can't do that. Child Protection would haul you off
to a foster home if they found out." "Well I won't tell
them!" Laurel laughed, leaning over and slugging my
shoulder playfully.

"Laurel...no. Come on now, eat your salad." My voice
wasn't nearly as certain as it needed to be, and I know
she noticed. "Well can I at least borrow some of your
things?"

"Well...OK, fine, but nothing too revealing."

"I don't like revealing on me. I just like cute." We
were dawdling over the last of our ice tea when Tim
came rolling up around one. He was in a great mood,
bouncy and cheerful, and he told us to have an awesome
time at the mall. And that was how, a few minutes
later, I found myself with my flower in my bedroom,
poring over clothes. She found something easily – a
flowy blue and green cotton dress I'd bought the summer
before, light and airy without showing anything
remotely inappropriate for a 15 year old girl, even one
as well endowed as my flower.

My own outfit, however, was more of a challenge. The
first thing I grabbed was pair of mid-thigh shorts and
a conservative yellow top with a slightly scooped
neckline and sleeves. Laurel, however, took one look
and made a face. "Ugh! You aren't wearing that!" "Why
not?"

"You'll totally cramp my style!"

I laughed. "You aren't old enough to have a style."

"Come on, I'm your flower. I was born with style."

"Oh I get it, flattery."

"Is it working?"

"Yes. How about this?" I held up a rather demure
sundress. It was a sleeveless flower print with a high
neckline, very light and comfortable.

"Mmmm...I dunno, I think you need to wear
something...let's see..." She rummaged through my
closet and came out with some of the cute things I'd
picked up at XXXFantasy – a red and black corset with
some lace and a black miniskirt. "How about this?"

"Yeah, right," I smirked. "I told you I'm not flashing
anybody, so give it up."

"Hmmmph, fine, let's see..." She put the corset back
and looked for a few moments more then pulled out a
sleeveless purple top with dangerous cleavage, a pleat
below the bust and a crocheted back. She held it up
next to the miniskirt with a hopeful look. "You've got
to be kidding me," I told her, crossing my arms. "Keep
looking."

"Well you have to wear one of these, the top or the
skirt."

My eyebrow arched. "Oh I do, huh? Says who?"

"Me. Giving peeks or not, I still want you to look hot.
So which is it?" I couldn't help but grin. My
incredibly cute 15 year old flower thought I was hot
– how flattering was that? And the skirt wasn't that
bad... "OK, fine, put the top back."

Her smile was huge, and she did as she was told. A
moment later she had a red sleeveless number with a
major V-neck and a clingy, midriff-baring tummy.
"Yyyeah," I said, "you're getting colder." "Fussy. How
about this?" She produced a very cute blue sleeveless
V-neck top with ribbed sides that were really form-
fitting and flattering. I paused – it would show
cleavage, yes, but not a huge amount. And besides, it
would look good.

"Ok, fine, that will work," I said. I knew that the
clothes my flower had selected for me were skimpy
enough that I'd be showing off whether I wanted to or
not, but honestly I didn't mind that much. I was happy,
I was carefree, I felt sexy and loved and even a little
silly with the hangover of my date with my mister. And
besides, the idea of people looking at me – at me when
I walked beside my gorgeous flower – was very
seductive. So if Laurel wanted to see me dress sexy, to
hell with it, I'd let her see me dress sexy. "Let's get
changed."

We began to undress. Laurel and I have never had a
problem undressing around each other, though this would
be the first time she saw me after I shaved my kitty. I
knew she'd ask about it – as I mentioned, I'd always
been loudly against it – but I didn't mind. In fact, it
put a little twitter of excitement in my belly to know
that my flower would see what my mister had made me
do... Laurel pulled off her shirt, revealing a very
ordinary and chaste white bra made entirely for support
and not for looks. She was about to drop her shorts,
but she stopped and looked up. "Mind if I borrow one of
your bras? Something cute?"

"Hmmm...I think I have something..." I opened my drawer
and rummaged around a bit before I found what I was
looking for: a lacy white thing with scalloped edges,
lots of lift and lots see-through. "Here, try this."

She took it with a laugh. "I said cute, not sexy!" I
shrugged. "That dress doesn't show anything anyway.
You'll be the only one who knows you have it on. It
will be your naughty little secret."

"You mean our naughty little secret," she replied with
a wink, and I laughed and nodded. Then she slipped out
of her bra and took my breath away.

I have to explain that I've seen Laurel naked a million
times, just like she's seen me. Like I said, we've
never been shy about changing together, and she's
always been very open in asking me questions about her
body. It's never been a big deal... but today it was
different. Honestly I didn't know why, and I still
don't. Maybe it was because this was the first time I'd
seen her like this since my encounters with Brandy and
Petra – maybe it was because now I looked at women as
potential objects of sexual desire. Maybe, but I don't
think so; I didn't want to jump my flower's bones.
Maybe it was because I was more aware of my own body
and my own needs, sexual and otherwise.

Maybe it was because all of her teasing about showing
me off had made me aware of the similarities and
differences in our bodies. I'm really not sure. But
when Laurel slipped out of her bra, I was just
entranced by her tits. They were, to sum it up in a
word, magnificent. Another word would be perfect. Yes
another word, or perhaps two, would be mouth-watering.
Enviable. Luscious. Delightful. Succulent. However you
describe them, my flower has a rack that makes wet
dreams.

Laurel had always had a lot of questions about her
boobs. She started developing early – by the time she
was eight she was growing a chest – and she just kept
developing, slowly but surely. She'd had all the normal
questions: "Are mine normal?" "Why are they so big?"
"What kinds of bras are best?" "What's the deal with
these things anyway?" So I knew her breasts and I knew
she was comfortable with them, just like I knew mine
and was comfortable with them. But mine had never been
like hers. I was a decent size when I was 15, but hers
were VERY big, bigger than mine were until I had her.

And not only that but they were perfectly firm, the way
tits can only be when you're young and gravity hasn't
started having its wicked way with you yet. When my
tits were that firm, they weren't that big; when my
tits were that big, they weren't that firm. Hers were
an absolute ideal, the kind of tits that gave men
whiplash when they turned their heads to watch her pass
by, the kind that made women green with envy. I need to
say again that I didn't want to jump Laurel; I wasn't
turned on by her.

What I was, was awed. My flower, the little girl I'd
given birth to and nursed, played dollies and tea party
with, watched as she grew from young to young woman,
was gorgeous. She still had a little girl face and the
awkwardness of a teenager, but when I looked at her I
could really see, for the first time ever, the hot
chick she'd be at 19, the confident hottie she'd be at
25, the lovely and confident and poised woman she would
be when she was my age. I could see how she would
develop and fill out, how she'd lose her leanness and
gain curves, how she would become far prettier than I
was. I was awestruck. With Tim, I had made her. I had
made her. I was so proud I'd have popped like a balloon
if she'd have stuck me with a pin.

She put on the bra I gave her and looked up to see my
opinion, and then she stopped and gave me a strange
look. "Um...OK, why are you looking at me like that?"

I smiled hugely, I just beamed, and she was smiling
back as I took her in my arms and hugged her very
tight. "I'm so proud of you, sweetie. I love you so
much."

"I love you too, mom," she whispered, and when she
pulled away she kissed my cheek and smiled. "Thanks for
taking me today." "I wouldn't have missed it for the
world, kiddo. Not for the world." She paused. "Really?
Not for the world? No offense, but if someone offered
me the world to skip this shopping trip, I'd totally
take the world."

"You," I laughed, smacking her on the ass and making
her jump and yelp. "Get your dress on."

She stripped out of her shorts – she was wearing a cute
pair of pale blue boykinis – and then got into the
dress; she looked better in it than I ever did. By the
time she was done I was rooting through my underwear
drawer. I picked out a pair of very sensible underwear
–after all, I knew she was planning on trying to show
me off – but her hands were on my wrists before I
straightened up. "Uh uh," she said with a firm shake of
her head. "Try again."

I paused for a moment. Surely I should just wear what I
wanted to wear, regardless of what my flower said. I
mean... I'm the parent, right? But even as the thought
was occurring to me, I was putting the sensible panties
down and looking for something else. I wasn't sure why,
except that, at the moment, Laurel was being firm and
demanding and telling me to do what she wanted, and it
felt good and right to do what she said.

I know it was odd, but the oddest thing was it didn't
seem odd at all at the time. It just felt natural. I
found a dark purple thong, and without even realizing
it I held them up for my flower's approval. Well,
that's not exactly true, I mean I held them up to look
at them myself, but when Laurel shook her head very
firmly in the negative, I dropped them without
complaint. I was looking for something that didn't show
everything I had when Laurel reached in and produced a
pair of red and black crotchless panties – and not the
kind with a tie-close crotch, I mean the kind with no
crotch whatsoever. "Here," she said, holding them out
to me. "These are the ones I want you to wear."

I raised an eyebrow. "Laurel..."

"These are the ones I want you to wear," she repeated
firmly, like I was the young and she was the lady. It
was a very strange moment –

I felt a queer little rush as I accepted her demand and
took the panties from her. At the time I just chalked
it up to the growing erotic charge of the situation, of
me going out with the intention of flashing, but there
was more to it than I realized at the time. She had
just produced a pair of fuck me pumps when I peeled off
my panties and her jaw dropped. "...mom? You...shaved!"
"Well at least you noticed!" I laughed. "Your man
didn't."

"I think it looks great! I love it. A lot of my friends
shave." "Yep, so you've said," I replied, pulling up
the crotchless panties and knowing exactly what was
coming next.

"What do you think? I mean, would you complain if I
did?" This was a road we'd been down before, and I'd
always told her no. No matter what the fashion was, I
had been against shaving. But now my mind was changed –
David had changed it – and I just shrugged. "If you
want. I can give you a few pointers if you're
interested. And I am NOT wearing those shoes. I'll be
on my feet for hours, so find me some sandal flats."

A few moments later we were both dressed, both looked
fantastic, and were on our way out the door when David
pulled up. I told Laurel to go wait by my car because I
wanted to talk to David alone; she looked a little
disappointed that she'd miss what she assumed would be
an ass-chewing, but she did what she was told. I met
David at the front door, and I immediately noticed he
had a concerned look on his face. "Don't worry about
it," he said when I asked him what was going on.

"It's...well, don't worry."

"David," I asked, taking him by the shoulders and
looking into his eyes, "are you in trouble?"

"No," he shook his head emphatically. "This time it's
not about me at all." "Then what's going on? I mean
this is connected to yesterday when you didn't come
home all night, isn't it?"

"Yes," he admitted reluctantly. "But...look, please
don't ask me any more."

"Why not?"

He sighed. "Because I can't tell you any more right
now. I will when I can but if you make me tell you more
right now I'll have to lie to you and I really don't
want to lie to you any more. It's not about me and I'm
not in any kind of trouble, but it is important and
I'll tell you when I can. Can you trust me?"

I didn't even hesitate before I nodded. I could trust
him. I couldn't before – he'd shown that – but he was
changed now. Now I knew he was telling me the truth.

He smiled. "Thank you, mom. Now... where are you going
all sexy looking?" I grinned naughtily. "To the mall
with Laurel. And do you want to know a secret?"

"Sure."

Wordlessly I lifted my miniskirt and showed him my
cooch hanging bare in my crotchless panties. He gaped,
then broke into a huge grin. "It's Laurel's fault. She
found my sexy clothes and she's been wanting to show me
off. She was very insistent." "LAUREL does?"

"Yeah," I chuckled as I snugged my skirt back down. "I
think she's more like you than either of you realize."

He shook his head in amazement. "Maybe so.
Laurel...damn, I can't believe it." "Does it bother you
that Laurel wants to make me flash all over the Mall of
America?"

"Bother me? I love it!"

I reached down and playfully squeezed his crotch, and
when I found his cock hard in his pants I smiled.
"Mmmm, I guess you do love it, don't you?"

"Damn right," he grinned. "Do you think maybe we can be
alone for a little while this evening? I'm hungry for
what you've got." I pursed my lips, thinking of his
mouth on me, and I was instantly wet. But I wasn't yet
crazy enough to throw caution to the wind no matter how
horny my wonderful mister made me. "Maybe. We have to be
careful. We can't let your sister or your man even
so much as suspect a thing."