The Colonel Comes Home

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He sat cracking his neck on the veranda overlooking the river. His bed always took some getting used to after months peacefully rocking in a hammock. He might be done with it; the bed, the house, all of it. Pitch his hammock out here and sleep under nets like everyone else. They seemed happy with it.  Why should those with nothing be content with their lot and he feel so fucked all the time?

The river wasn’t a torrent by any means but neither the low green stream he was hoping for on his return. It ran full and brown-café con leche-filling the banks the way it never did in the summer and covering the marsh grass that deer would eat wading in the cool shade in the heat of the afternoons.

A swollen cow floated by, hooves reaching for the sky, then a couple of chickens. The lowland peasants always take the brunt of the weather. Floods this late in the season would mean hunger in the winter-not famine-there would still be food here in the most fecund valley he knew, but less of it. Without their chickens and corn they would be hunting his hills for game all winter. Which was fine, so long as they steered clear of the poppy fields, which they knew to do.

He had gambled before leaving and had the crop planted high on the mountain. Making the new clearings so far from where he usually farmed had been arduous but the rains which would have washed him out on the lowland fields, drained quickly up there. He had ridden through the fields on his way in and the crop was beautiful and lush. Thus did the rich get richer.

The sun peeking over the ridge downstream colored the trees and awoke the woodpeckers and the crows. Everyplace the filtered light touched him burned slightly, like a warm stick pressed against his skin. It would be hot today.

He heard the soft scraping tread behind him and steeled himself.

“More coffee Excellency?”

When he was sure Buenila couldn’t see, he had spilled what was left in his cup into the brown river. The pestilential rains had ruined the coffee crop and they were reduced to drinking chicory which was better than tea he supposed but worse than everything else.

“Yes, Buenila. Thank you.”

“It’s good then?”

“Wonderful”, he said turning his head slightly toward her but not looking back.

“Good…” she shuffled away.

Below him a pig floated by, tits up and mottled by the sun. His stomach gurgled an ominous reminder of his miseries.

“Wait”, he called back over his shoulder “A glass of Port instead. And a piece of the bread you made last evening.” She would know to bring the cheese without being told. Might as well start the day.

The sun was directly overhead when he pushed the last of the ledgers away and rubbed his eyes. He still had the eyes of an eagle, but they, like the rest of him, were only good for short spurts. Most of the morning had been spent with Diego, who was effectively the estate foreman, responsible for everything when the Colonel was gone on conquest or otherwise indisposed. Small and dark, Diego was young enough to be-and whispered that he was in fact-the Colonel’s own son. Neither man remembered Diego’s mother-she was gone when he was a swaddling babe, left to the capable hands of Buenila. To the Colonel-then a striving Captain-she had been one in a long continuing series of couplings.

While his wiry physic and green eyes could have been a give-away, neither of the men seemed to care about the certainty of his lineage. As a boy, and now a man, Diego wanted nothing more than to sit astride whichever mule or horse the day’s labor called for and do his work. “Nothing between my God and me but my hat!” he would smile doffing his well-worn woven skipper.

They had opened the canopy before noon and he now toyed with the idea of stringing his hammock and taking his siesta right here. Just toyed. While there was a breeze, the thick masonry walls that had survived two earthquakes to his knowledge kept his house cool even at midday. He would go inside.

Before he could push away from the table Buenila appeared at his shoulder.

“A girl from the village is calling, Excellency.”

“The village?”

The crone shrugged. To her, everyone not of the estate was from ‘the village’.

He settled back in his chair. “Send her out.”

Good Lord, he thought as he did when confronted by young girls. Is this my daughter? He didn’t think so-she was too young with striking raven eyes and thick straight hair the color of jungle dirt. Her cheekbones were high disguising the baby fat that still rounded her. She hesitated at the edge of the veranda.

“Come, come”, he said gently.

The girl shuffled closer. He could not ignore her full pouty lips. “What’s your name, daughter?”

“Laurencia”, she answered. “Laurencia Palacios.”

“Come, come…” he repeated reaching out a hand. The girl held back-walking in sand. Palacios, he thought. I know that name. “Do I know your father?” he asked.

“He’s gone.”

“I see, I see… What brings you here to see me today, Laurencia?”

“My mother, your majesty. She…”

He snorted loudly. “There is no crown on my head, sweetheart. I’m a simple Colonel.”

“Yes sir.” Her eyes wouldn’t meet his. “My mother says I should come by. I should make myself…an introduction. I mean…I should make myself available to you….”

An icy hand gripped the Colonel’s chest. There were women, God knows, who approached him-who always approached him-wanting to be close to him and share what he’d won. And God also knows he had a weakness for them which is why there were so many of a certain age across the territory and in his service that had his green eyes, his sharp nose, his wavy hair.

He was used to these clingers and grabbers and had done, in his mind, a reasonable job recently of keeping his distance from such hardscrabble paramours. These days, his victories and powers brought a different class of women to his bed; ones who had their own gold and houses-even husbands-and only wanted to share of his essence if for a night or a week or a month. That was one thing. There was a special place in hell for those who would whore their daughters out for the same reason.

“How old are you, Darling?” he asked covering his rage.

He watched the girl freeze-the truth of fourteen colliding with the lie of seventeen her mother had given her. He had sat on too many tribunals to be fooled by a naïve virgin and her conniving mother.

“If you are contemplating a lie to me, just say nothing. It will be better.”

The girl stayed quiet, then, peeking up at him, “Fourteen, your majes…colonel.”

“Ah, fourteen. Very good. Very good.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “You weren’t supposed to tell me that were you?”

The girl blushed and looked away.

“No matter, no matter. I’ll make sure I tell everyone you’re eighteen, is it? Seventeen?”

“Seventeen, Colonel.”

“Very good.”

Regardless of her looks and the beginnings of regal bearing, the girl’s accent was of the mud. It was tough to hear such guttural tones coming out of a mouth as wonderful as this.

“Do you read Laurencia?”

“No, Colonel”.

“Numbers?”

She shook her head.

What is this mother thinking? He didn’t know, but he would find out. The girl brightened when he offered her chocolate and a cup of watered wine. She had come up the mountain alone on a handsome burro that she loved and had all her life. The colonel smiled; there is hope for one who loves a burro as the girl loved hers. The words poured about her burro, then her cats, then the dog, then the chickens-the girl who had slinked up the mountain in fear babbled on happily about the animals in her life. Probably preferable to the people she knew. The Colonel had daughters, both known and unknown, native and mestizo, and knew how to speak to girls. What he thought would be a five-minute interview extended to a half an hour of laughter and simple stories.

“Well Laurencia, it was wonderful to meet you”, he said finally. “But I have work…” he gestured apologetically toward the table.

“Yessir. I’m sorry to have taken your time.”, she said primly and stood. “I will go now. Thank you.”

She bowed formally and turned away her pert bottom pressing against the woven dress. They always mature first back there, he thought before looking away.

“Laurencia!” She stopped and turned. “I want you to…” how to say this? He didn’t want to appear to be offering what her mother had sent her for but wanted to ensure that the girl knew she had a place to come to if she ever needed one. “Stop back and see me. I don’t have the time now, but would love to meet your burro. Would you bring him back to visit?”

“Oh yes sir. And I will bring you eggs-from my chickens.”

“You will never be able to bring eggs up the mountain on your burro”, he teased. “They will all be scrambled when you get here!”

“You’ll see. I know how to pack eggs”, she smiled widely and for a moment he saw the woman she would become.

Dios Mio, he thought. Then with a charming smile that betrayed nothing, “Have your mother stop by to see me, would you? Not you, just her. Same time as this tomorrow. High noon. You’ll remember that won’t you?”

“Oh yes Colonel. I will tell her. And remember, I am seventeen!” She laughed like pearls flowing over pebbles.

“Dios Mio”, he whispered as she strode across the patio and was gone. He didn’t feel guilty for his arousal but rather proud that he hadn’t acted upon it.

 

(To be continued…)

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Apartment 604

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Sharon froze after raising her hand to rap on the door to 604. She stood, as if waving to a passing train, then closed her fist bringing her knuckles to bear. Holding her breath, she pulled back, ready to knock, about to knock, then dropped her hand. For the third time. Jesus, she thought sighing, I’m pitiful.

Leave it. She should just leave it, she knew that. It wasn’t worth that much; cost her a few bucks and she could get another easily at any hobby store. It was just a kitschy piece of home décor to be painted. They had dozens in different sizes. She should just leave it. Not like she needed it. Well actually she did, it seemed. That was the problem. But it wasn’t like she…

Her self-flagellating reverie was interrupted by the door opening suddenly. Sharon jumped and squealed-pulling an answering gasp out of Tina who covered her mouth with the hand not on her doorknob.

“Jesus girl!”, she said when she composed herself.

“I know, I know…I’m sorry”, Sharon composed herself. “I was just gonna knock.”

Tina’s hand moved from her mouth to her chest as her breathing settled. “Ok…I’ll live…whew.”

“Yeah…”

“Haven’t seen you in a couple of days.”

“Right…” Sharon said not wanting to make eye contact. “I’ve been keeping a low profile.”

“Hitting the books?”

“Trying.”

“Ah. Well, I was just running down to the shop for a coffee. Join me?”

Sharon grinned and shrugged. “That’s where this all started, right?”

It was less than a month ago that Tina had introduced herself down at the coffee shop. Sharon had noticed the older woman in the building and, new in town, was happy to sit and have a coffee with her. Truth was, Sharon had seriously underestimated the value of her circle of friends and family back home and, never having lived alone, the strange city had left her more than a bit unsettled. Likewise, she had overestimated her ability to make new friends. It was not something she’d had to do a lot of, coming from a small town where everyone knew one another.

Tina wasn’t quite old enough to be her mother, but certainly at least ten years, if not fifteen, her senior. Of course she would join her. She was anxious to spend time with any smiling face that wasn’t a waitress or barista or someone that was paid to be nice to her.

Over that month, that first coffee had turned into another, then another. Then a lunch, then a visit to a museum to see the Monet that was touring the country. Then a dinner. Tina, a too-young widow, was unhappily used to living alone but had a large circle of friends some left from her marriage, some from work, so she was easily able to absorb the girl into her retinue.

“Yes, I guess it did. You were coming by to…”

“Oh, yes. I left my…” her voice trailed as if she was out of air.

“You bolted in a bit of a huff. Let me a half glass of wine to drink.”

“I’m sorry about that…”

“No, I’m sorry. About how I reacted.”

“It’s OK”, said Sharon, her eyes still scanning the floor.

“When you said you wanted me to…”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not really”, Tina said apologizing with different words.

“You laughed at me.”

Tina said nothing, hearing the hurt still in the younger girl’s voice. She regretted laughing of course. Was sorry as soon as she did it. She didn’t find the request funny exactly. She was startled and laughed to cover her surprise, not realizing how unintendingly harsh it seemed until later. She had been contemplating plans to make it up to her somehow.

“I was going to return it”, Tina said retreating into the apartment. “Come in, come in…” Sharon closed the door softly behind her. She came fluttering out of the living room holding the paddle by the flat end instead of the handle, meaning to hand it off. “I just couldn’t see how I’d look walking down the hall to your apartment carrying a paddle. Would seem obvious, don’t you think?”

Sharon took the board and shrugged. “It’s not really a paddle until it is, you know? It’s just a decoration. Like any piece of wood hanging on a wall.”

“You think I could have passed it off as a cutting board? I don’t think so. I might have been unfamiliar with the idea of…giving a paddling, but I do know what they are.”

“Yes, sure.  Anyway, I’m sorry to have put you in that position. I don’t know anyone-my Mom’s not here, my sisters, my roommate who used to help keep me in line….” Her voice was rising and seemed on the verge of cracking.

“Quit apologizing. It was not your fault. Here,” she guided her to the end of the couch with a soft touch on her arm. “Sit. Just sit.” She took her own seat at the other end, an expanse of gray cambric between them. Sharon’s eyes stayed downcast toward and beyond the paddle which lay across her bare thighs. When she looked up, Tina could see that her eyes were full and could imagine them itching. Then the girl blinked and a single tear, released, rolled down her cheek.

“I’m…I’m just at the end of my rope”, she said wiping at it and pushing her hands through her mousy blond hair. She took a couple of deep breaths.

“Thing about the internet, you can research anything”, said Tina. “I certainly know a lot more about, what-corporal punishment? paddlings, spankings, than I knew when you brought it up.” Sharon was average height, and lanky. When Tina first saw her in the shop she was put in mind of a young colt, trying to settle into it’s body. From across the shop she had looked confident that day, bending to inspect the sweets in the case caring nothing about anyone who might be ogling her backside that was cupped by the short shorts that she always seemed to wear, even now.

It wasn’t until later, after Tina had asked her to her table, that she noticed the fine cracks in her cocksure façade. Up close, Sharon was younger than she appeared and more delicate than she had put on. That perceived vulnerability was what attracted Tina to her, but in a different way than Sharon might have thought.

“Look, I’m not going to apologize any more, but if you ask me again, I’ll be better. I’m more relaxed about it.” More, yes, but not completely. Truth was, saying it made her nervous somehow-or maybe excited. But there was something tickling the pit of her stomach.

Sharon’s dewy eyes focused. “Really? You’ll do it?”

“Yes”, Tina said definitively as if trying to convince herself. “If that’s what you want.”

Sharon, becoming more animated, stood. “Yes. Yes I do.” She looked around as if planning the next move but already knew what it was. “I’ll kneel on the couch here”, Sharon said, “and lean over the back.” She handed the paddle over, handle first. “Let me get my shorts off.”

Tina’s heart skipped at that. She wasn’t a gym person and except for movies and obviously her spanking research on-line recently, she hadn’t seen another woman’s bare anything since university. Seeing Sharon so eagerly unsnapping her shorts unnerved her and she rose quickly to get behind her. Better just to see her bottom, she thought in some strange logic.

“And you can decide which side is best for you…” Sharon said eagerly, choreographing her scene.

“Well, I’m right handed so…” Tina said holding the paddle in that hand and patting her other palm. The feel of the wood stung her hand. This could hurt!

“OK then, you’ll be on that side…” The girl unsnapped her shorts and carelessly rolled them down wrapping her panties together in the same bundle. She bent to step out of them, first one leg, then the other. And as suddenly as that, there was a half-naked woman in Tina’s apartment. She watched her kneel on the couch and bend slightly forward, arching her back. She crossed her arms and lay her head on them.

Like the rest of her, Sharon’s bottom was thin and angular but the cheeks were well rounded and firm as she presented herself. The room was suddenly small and warm. Tina, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, reached out tentatively and lay a hand on the girl’s hip. The velvety smooth skin was cool to the touch. She pressed slightly and Sharon, reacting, repositioned her backside slightly. The girl kept her legs chastely together revealing nothing but Tina couldn’t help gazing at the confluence of lines and curves, knowing what was concealed there.

“How many smacks?” Tina asked.

“Fifteen, I think”, Sharon said lifting her head and looking back over her shoulder. “I’ll count them off.”

Tina had thought five or six. “You ready?”

“I better be, huh?”

The paddle seemed oversized as Tina pulled back but, keeping her eye on the target, she swung firmly and connected soundly across both cheeks with a loud “CRACK!” Sharon gasped and choked “One!” At the second, she straightened slightly so that her bottom seemed to retreat from the paddle. “Two!”. Tina swung while the girl was upright connecting hard with the soft, slack flesh. “OW!”, cried Sharon. “Three!”

Sharon was breathless from the pain. Any thought she had of stoically taking her punishment was shattered. She tried to remember the last time her roommate had spanked her-it was with a paint stick as she bent over the desk in their apartment. It stung for sure but nothing like…”OWW! FOUR!”…and she wasn’t giving her a break-no pauses, not…”OW! FIVE!”. Sharon suffered through the middle swats waving at each blow, sticking her bottom back then straightening, as if driven by each swat. Sometimes Tina allowed her to reposition sometimes not. Should she ask her to stop? How could she do that after…”OWW! TEN!”

Sharon shifted onto her left knee and turned slightly as if trying to shield her bottom from the next blow. Tina paused and leaned forward with her free hand, again touching her hip-the opposite one this time. She patted her back into position. “Come on”, she said. “Only five more…” The girls bottom was mottled with a heavy blush on both cheeks and heat radiated as from a brazier. There was a red line traveling bottom to top along her crease. “This has to hurt”, she said soothingly.

“Oh, it does…It does…”

“Good then. Hopefully this will be what it takes to get you to crack the books and pay better attention to your studies”, she said affecting a stern voice with a slight smile that the girl couldn’t see.

Sharon righted herself and pushed her butt backward. “I need this”, she said snuffling slightly.

“I know you do…”

The next five swats were only light in the context of the previous ten-not to strictly punish, but to drive the point home. They smacked loudly; Sharon jumping and counting each. At “FIFTEEN!!” she crumpled to the side and sat on her hip, taking her bottom out of range.

“Jesus!” she sighed rubbing what she could reach. Her face was wet and she wasn’t shy about what she was showing as she sat there. It took Tina a moment before she allowed herself to see what the girl was presenting below her flat belly.

She placed the paddle on the side table and sat beside Sharon on the couch. “Here”, she said taking her shoulder. It didn’t take much pulling or coaxing before her young friend was stretched across her knees. She snapped a few tissues out of a box on the table and handed them up to her.

“Go ahead”, she said. “Cry. I know you’re not done.”

“But…”

Tina cupped her bottom and pantomimed a spank that just touched Sharon’s behind. The girl jumped as if shocked.

“You want more?” Tina asked.

“No…I…”

Tina spanked her again, this time harder. The thick softness of the girl’s bottom was pleasing. She was ready to spank again but noticed the Sharon’s shoulders silently quivering. In a moment she was sobbing.

“There, there”, said Tina softly patting her hot bottom.

“Next time, if there is a next time, I can spank you this way if you’d like.”

“The paddle wouldn’t work like this.”

“I’ll buy a proper hairbrush. Or I can use my hand. Would you like that?”

“Yes”, she said softly. “Yes, I would. Thank you.”

“Shhh… Cry now.”

Tina kept her hand on Sharon’s bottom. It wasn’t a lewd gesture as far as she was concerned. Not very different from rubbing a friend’s back to comfort them. Well, maybe a little different. She rubbed and patted and ran her thumb along the ridge of her divide as the girl’s sobs waned and she lay still, sniffling, her bottom soft, relaxed and pink. Very pink.

June 16

The first tentative chirps of the morning birds far preceded the dawn. He snapped to and imagined it no later than four. There was a cardinal, the robin at the arbor, the turkeys on the hill and the mourning doves all calling below the stars still spattering the resistant sky.

He smelled eggs boiling downstairs-does the woman never sleep?-and a whiff of coffee. By the stench he knew it bitter and strong-would need heavy doses of cream which he was fairly sure had curdled. She could fuck up a one-car funeral this one.

He’d been dreaming about a train accident that Frank was somehow tied up in. He was being interviewed on the teevee-Frank was-and the camera had inadvertently it seemed allowed his cock into the frame as he was not wearing pants. Why didn’t anyone notice? Could the camera man not see it there hanging listlessly like a sail on a windless lake? Weren’t there editors to prevent such things from getting onto the air? Truth be told though, old Frank’s uncircumcised seven (don’t let him tell you nine) would not be the worst thing to hit telly today.

He’d never get back to sleep now. His own cock was soft and bladder full but as soon as he went downstairs he’d be done for. Maybe piss out the window. Had she brought in the laundry? He fluffed his pillow and lay back in a huff-determined to wait out the night. The bob-white called but he didn’t count-he was up all night the poor bastard.

Breaking the old Ennui – 3

 

(Continued from Breaking the old Ennui – 2)

Karen lay on her side facing her friend in a bubble where neither they, nor the air, moved for the long minute before the thermometer ‘pinged’. Theresa refocused on Karen’s face, biting her lip and sighing lightly as the tube was withdrawn from her bottom.

“That’s odd”, they both heard Tim say.

“What?” asked his wife.

“It’s reading a perfect normal.”

“That can’t be right”, said Theresa looking back. “I feel…”

Karen reached back and slid her fingers across Theresa’s bottom, squeezed lightly then cupped her top cheek. She lifted, opening her back there.

“Try it again, Tim”, she said.

Her friend’s mouth gapped slightly as the tube was reinserted and Karen released, allowing her bottom to close around it. She got up on her elbow and began to loosen the Velcro holding her binding sling in place. “Help me, here”, she asked Tim. Having had the same surgery, Karen knew what flexibility there was and how to move and not move the shoulder. Theresa said nothing, allowing herself to be gently manipulated. She lifted her arm slightly and let Karen unbutton, then slip her shirt off.

The thermometer sounded again. “Leave it”, said Karen paying attention to the clasp between Theresa’s breasts. “We know what it’s going to say, don’t we Trece?” Again, Tim helped with the unveiling, sliding the strap off the shoulder and releasing the ripe fullness of her breasts. Now it was Karen’s turn to suck air between her teeth.

“You are naked on our bed, Babe”, she said.  “Is that what you had in mind?”

“I don’t know…what I had in mind. But it feels good. Doesn’t it.?”

Karen rubbed her thumb over one of the taut, swollen nipples. “Somebody’s liking it”, she said.

“I’m kinda surprised though”, Theresa said quietly watching Karen roll her nipple gently between her thumb and forefinger. “Why haven’t we done this before?”

“I don’t know, love. Sometimes the stars just have to line up.” Karen arched her back and dipped her head, opening her mouth and closing it softly over the end of Theresa’s top breast. “Oh-Oh-Oh…” which might have been an “Ah-Ah-Ah…” the breath from each exclamation puffing at her hair. More than a mouthful indeed.

“Timmy, would you please stop that beeping?”

With a whimper-inducing jiggle then a flourish, Tim pulled the thermometer out of her bottom and held it up. “Ninety-eight point six”, he announced.

“Ah…I see what’s going on here…” said Karen back close to Theresa’s face. “Somebody’s fibbing…”

“I just wanted to play a little. God, I didn’t think it would be like this…”

Karen shifted slightly, the seam of her jeans digging into her own moist crease as she moved their game along.

“Tim and I have a way of dealing with fibbers, don’t we Tim?”

“We certainly do”, he said rubbing his palm across the top cheek of Theresa’s creamy white bottom. Her eyes widened, knowing where this was going. Karen and Tim weren’t shy about how they played.

“Come on Karen”, she said. “Not a spanking…”

“Oh, I think absolutely a spanking.”

“Nooo….” She whimpered.

“Tell you what. We won’t spank you. We’ll just help you get dressed and go back out into the living room and watch TV. You OK with that? That will be fine, right?”

“No….” she pouted with her lip out.

“I didn’t think so…” Karen knelt at Theresa’s side and reached over delivering a firm SMACK to her bottom.

“Ouch!”

“Don’t be a baby! That was a love tap.”

“Hurts.”

“Shhhh…”

Karen leaned close, one hand on her friend’s waist, the other delivering light but stinging slaps to her backside. “Ow-ow-ow…” Theresa whispered, not wanting to be a whiner.

“There!” said Karen straightening up after twelve or so slaps.

“I’m done?!” said Theresa, delighted.

“No. I’m done. Timmy’s turn…”

“Oh…”

She writhed gently has he smacked her reddening rump firmly but playfully. She moaned but couldn’t say much more as Karen, lying face to face, had slipped her tongue into her mouth. The spanking slowed then stopped, Tim using his large hand to rub and knead her mottled bottom. She lifted slightly to allow his hand to slip between her legs.

“Please don’t”, she said.

“If you want me to stop, say stop.”

“Please don’t”, she repeated.

“If you want me to stop, say stop”, Tim said pushing his fingers deeper as Karen gazed intently into her eyes.

“Please don’t stop Tim…” she giggled, saying the words that her flowing quim had already made clear. With the palm of his hand fused to the inside of her bottom cheek he rubbed slowly and gently, only increasing pace and pressure as her breath quickened. She drew her leg higher as he did what she had asked him not to. Tim stopped the internal massage and withdrew his fingers eliciting a soft whimper until she felt Karen’s hand sliding across her belly and between her legs from the front.

Thus engaged, she didn’t notice Tim slip his pants off freeing his cock. Karen watched it rise then reached across her recumbent friend to take his firmness in hand and pull him toward her. Her mouth provided all the lubrication he would need. He dragged his damp piece across Theresa’s warm, spanked cheek and slipped between, allowing his wife’s hand to guide him into the dripping warmth.

He hardened with the penetration and thrust deeply feeling her butt against him. “Finally fucking Theresa”, he said with a smile.

“What took you so long?” she joked breathing heavily. Karen was kneeling, supporting her injured shoulder.  Tim, on his side, held her hip and caught the wet slap-slap-slap rhythm of their coupling. “I’m…going to come….” She gasped. “It won’t take long…I’m going to….” Further announcements were unnecessary. She coughed once, then bit off a squeal and finally groaned as she stiffened.

To be continued….

 

Breaking the old Ennui – 2

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(Continued from Breaking the Old Ennui…)

They moved as in a dream-flowing, not walking-Karen with her hand on the center of Theresa’s back. A bedside lamp, left on earlier, blanketed the room in a soft golden glow that welcomed them inside.  Karen slowly sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Theresa in front of her. She was moving precisely but languidly knowing that each action, once over, could never happen again. It might be repeated-but never relived as it happened the first time. And she wanted everything to last.

Shaking only slightly, she opened Theresa’s belt then unsnapped her jeans. Exaggerating her movements as if playing to the back row, she grasped the sharp, metal tab and, before sliding it down, looked up. Her friend, not trusting words for the moment, simply lay her hand on her shoulder. The zipper came down and the jeans pulled open. Now Theresa leaned for balance as Karen worked the jeans over her hips then down her legs, leaning so that her breath tickled at Theresa’s thighs.

“Wow”, Theresa said deep in her throat. “I thought you’d just like take them down. Not off.”

“Naw, that’s miserable. They’d be all bunched around your legs. Here. Lift”, she said bending forward and taking the jeans off one leg then the other. Her hangs lingered on her calves then up to her knees as she straightened.  “Pretty panties”, said Karen rubbing her hands up the outside of her thighs and across the purple silk covering her hips. Theresa’s hand crawled from Karen’s shoulder to the side of her neck and squeezed lightly.

“Who’s going to do it?” Theresa asked.

“Oh IT. Timmy’s the doctor, right Tim?”

“At your service”, he said from behind her. She had been so preoccupied with Karen she had almost forgotten about Tim.

Theresa gave a little wince that morphed easily into an embarrassed smile. “I thought you might do it.”

“I’ll be right here honey. Come on now”, she said getting up. “Onto the bed with you.”

Theresa helped herself onto the bed with both knees and an arm. She let herself down easily on her right side. Karen pulled a pillow down under her head.

“Comfy, hon?” she asked sliding her hand along the contour of her hip then across the tightly stretched panties encasing her bottom. She had meant to pat her once then back off but didn’t. She carefully kept her wandering hand on the panties though, as if the thin film of silk offered some measure of propriety to an affair that was feeling less proper as it felt more right.

To answer the question, Theresa was more than comfy. She didn’t know what she had in mind exactly when she stopped by this evening. She didn’t know what-if anything-would happen and she couldn’t swear she wanted ANYTHING to happen. All she knew was she couldn’t bear one more night alone in her bed with her vibrator. Lil Buzzy was a wonderful distraction and necessary release but not meant to be a steady diet.

So, no, Theresa didn’t know what she specifically had in mind as she circled the block for an hour before texting Karen. She didn’t even know what she wanted, let alone what she needed, and wouldn’t have known what to ask for if a question came up. But that was then. Right now she wished that Karen’s hands would slide down the backs of her legs, would cup her bottom, would knead the soft…

Her reverie was interrupted by Tim sliding open the drawer in the nightstand. She watched dreamily as he picked out the thermometer and a tube of lube.

“I thought it would be bigger” she joked, her voice cracking just a bit. Damn! What was with her voice?

“This little thing?” Tim held it between his fingers. “You won’t even feel it.” Then he disappeared around the bed and out of sight. She settled her head on the pillow end let her eyes glaze; a flutter in her chest. She didn’t want to crane her head to see what they were doing but Karen’s hand was still on her hip and she could feel, more than hear, a kiss pass between them. Then the bed moved and the hand disappeared. Karen came around the front with a small smile and sat on the bed beside her.

“I have to get these out of the way”, Tim said his thumbs in the waistband of her panties. They were tighter than she wanted them to be-it was her last line of defense in the battle with her weight. She would not buy larger panties, determined to fit the ones she had. Some were more of a struggle than others. She lifted slightly and he pulled them down off her hip, then down her bottom reveling her deep crease and firm, billowing cheeks. She expected him to stop right below her butt, but he rolled them all the way down her legs.

“Hey”, she said looking up at Karen. “That thermometer isn’t that big…”

“Your panties are too tight”, Tim said rubbing a thumb along a crease on her bottom. They’re cutting off your circulation.”

“That’s fine” she said stretching a little into her new-found freedom. “I’m just feeling a little exposed is all…”

Karen, without a thought, crossed her arms and grabbed the hem of her sweat shirt. As quick as a shrug it was off and tossed to the floor. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

“There now. Feel better?”

She’d seen her naked before, usually quickly in a cabana while changing for the pool or in a locker room. Here, seeing the flow of her hips rising out of her loose-fitting jeans, the goose-fleshed bumps of her ribs and swollen nipples…it felt different. Very different. Her eyes had settled on Karen’s flat belly when her attention was drawn behind her. Tim was rubbing her panty lines then her cheeks.

“It’s ridiculous that nobody’s had their hands on this ass for how long?” he asked softly.

“Long time” she sighed, her eyes sagging closed. Karen watched a small smile play across her friend’s lips as Tim rubbed and kneaded her ample backside. He glanced up from his ministrations to get an affirming smile from his wife. Then, with a practiced assurance, popped the lid from the lube with one hand and opened Theresa cheeks with the other. Her lips parted with a tiny sigh as the small, cool tube entered her behind.

“See?” said Karen close to her face. “Can’t even feel it.”

“Oh, I feel it”, Theresa said smiling. “I feel it fine.” Karen leaned closer until Theresa opened her mouth slightly to accept a soft kiss. Karen’s mouth closed over hers and her tongue circled the inside of her lips finally nibbling the top one.

“What was that?” Theresa asked quietly when they uncoupled.

“Did you like it?”

“I liked it. I liked it a lot.”

“We’ll take care of you baby…”

Continuing…

Breaking the Old Ennui…

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“What?” she said looking up from her book.

“Nothing.”

“Why’d you turn it off?”

He didn’t answer right away and she didn’t ask again. Finally, without turning his head, “Tired of it. Wasn’t watching anything-just staring.”

She pulled one ear bud. The new white-noise app she’d downloaded made it possible to sit and read in the same room where he watched television. Evenings passed this way for most of the last few weeks-each in their own bubble, doing their own things.

“But now you’re just staring at nothing. That’s weird.”

“I’m thinking.”

“That can’t be good.” Her phone pinged a text and she glanced at it. “Don’t get too deep. Theresa’s stopping by.”

“What? Now?”

“Apparently.”

“Why?”

“Don’t be mean.”

“How can she drive with that sling?”

“She maybe can’t. But she says she’s been cooped up for weeks and it’s time.”

“Great”, he said meaning the opposite.

“Come on. She hasn’t been here in months and you only visited her the one time when I made you.”

“Okay. Not that I have any choice. I’m back and forth on Theresa and right now I’m not feeling it.”

“You’re still pissed that she wouldn’t kiss you at the bonfire last month. Christ, get over it!”

“There’s a difference between ‘not kissing’ and pushing you away with two hands!”

“Not everyone is turned on by a mouthful of bourbon and cigars.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Already?!”

“Shhh!” Karen shushed him. “She was just down the street when she texted…”

“Christ” he grumbled convinced that this interruption would kill any chance of any sort of sex tonight though they hadn’t needed people coming by unannounced to kill their amore lately.

“Be nice!” she ordered as she strode out of the room. He couldn’t help watching Karen’s lithe butt swing in her jeans in perfect complement to the blond ponytail. He felt something no doubt, always did watching her move but lately it faded quickly-a guttering match in a breeze.

He cringed at the ecstatic greetings he heard from the kitchen. The high-pitched “Hi Girlfriend…Look at you! No look at you…!!” He sighed and turned the TV back on.

Theresa was shorter than Karen, and rounder. Not fat by any means but not hiding the couple pounds a year she had put on in the last six or seven. Her hair was cut short to simplify styling during her rehab from rotator cuff surgery. She wore a sling attached to a block across her chest that kept her left arm immobilized across her chest. It was the same surgery Karen had two years previous, further cementing their goofy sisterhood.

Karen led her to the couch, passing behind Tim’s recliner. “Hi Timmy”, she said tousling his hair. “Happy to see me?”

“Always happy to see you love”, he said with an overwide fake smile.

Karen sat her at one end of the couch and she flopped down at the other end. “So you’re getting around now?”

“I still shouldn’t be driving but I was going stir crazy.”

“Getting better?”

“Every day! This is the first day I actually put on a bra. A real one-not a stretchy one I could step into.”

“You should have called Tim. He would have helped you-isn’t that right honey? He was a sweetheart when I got mine done.”

“Whatever I can do to help…” he smiled a less affected smile.

“Honey”, Theresa said, “With your titties you don’t even need a bra. These girls”, she shrugged and her breasts, round as ripe grapefruits, nodded in affirmation “They need all the support I can give them.”

“All the better to call him. Maybe he needs more than a mouthful now and again.” She ducked but caught the pillow he threw. Then they settled into comfortable small talk that friends of a decade can have. Tim was able to stay in and out of their conversation as called for. He was content watching a Bar Rescue rerun with the sound off.

“…Plus I think I’m sick”, he heard her say.

“How nice of you to come over and infect us”, said Tim without looking.

“I don’t know”, Theresa said. “Maybe it’s nothing.” She leaned toward Karen. “Do I feel warm?”

Karen reached over and put her palm on her forehead. Then the back of her hand on her cheek.

“I don’t think so. Tim?”

“I’m no good at that-my hands are always cold.”

“Really”, said Theresa. “Do you have a thermometer?”

Karen froze when she should have just said “No”. Tim, his eyes still on the set said, “We only have a rectal.”

“A…what? Really?”

She cut her eyes to one, then the other. Karen was engrossed in the grain of the coffee table and suddenly the morons going broke owning a Tiki Bar were fascinating beyond words.

“You guys”, said Theresa smiling and shaking her head. They’d been friends too long for her not to know a little about how they played. Or played when they were playing which they currently were not.

“Couldn’t you just wash it real good?” asked Theresa

“How good?” asked Tim.  “Sure, I’ll do that…be my guest.”

“Yuck”, said Karen her face wrinkled. “You can’t do that.”

Theresa smiled. “I’ll swing by Walgreen’s on the way home. You guys…” she repeated and shook her head.

“Well, we offered”, Karen said.

“Yes, you did. And I appreciate the gesture. I just can’t lay on my belly with this…”

“You could lay on your side…” Karen said lightly without looking at her.

Theresa did something that sounded like a snort-almost a laugh-then sat back. Tim flipped through the channels and found a rerun of American Pickers that he stayed with for a moment hoping to see Danielle. Nobody spoke and when he stole a glance at Karen, she was looking at him, a tiny glint in her eyes. He looked toward the other end of the couch and let his eyes settle on Theresa. “So?” he asked.

“Sad truth, it would be the first time anyone’s touched my ass in months.”

Tim caught his wife’s quick grin and he felt a buzz in his crotch.

There had always been something going on with the three of them; a stolen kiss here, a drunken feel there, never secretive and never pushed beyond the realm of friendly naughtiness. This felt different. They were all sober for one. Theresa had been miserably unattached for months, and Tim & Karen had become, for the first time in the marriage, sexually unmoored. Neither had made a thing of it when Tim began sleeping, with increasing regularity, in the spare room. There were reasons: he snored, she was a light sleeper, he wandered about at night…all valid but only true on the face. The fact was they were spending more nights apart than together. Theresa was cutting her eyes from one to the other.

“What do you think, Nurse Karen?” Tim asked. This was going to be her call and how the balance of the evening would be spent hung on her answer. His wife waited then lay the back of her hand against her friend’s cheek again. “Hard to tell” she said playing at trying to figure something out. “But you do look flushed. We should check it out.”

“Alrighty then”, said Tim, then fumbled about, deferring again.

Karen stood and took Theresa’s hand. “Let’s go back to the bedroom. More comfortable for you to lay on the bed than the couch.”

(Continuing…)

Understanding the Opioid Epidemic

The drear gray of another rainy April morning

Almost made me long for February when darkness

At least had the decency to hang around awhile.

The back bar was full of loud nurses off the night shift

At the hospital up the street.

Front bar was us, the shiftless,

Remembering when a morning’s drinking felt earned

By a hard night’s work.

A familiar face at the end of the bar,

I raise a glass, he nods a lifted eyebrow.

Dated his sister years ago.

City detective; don’t know if he’s

coming off or going on.

Vodka and OJ-perfect cover.

Used to call them screwdrivers,

Don’t know if they still do.

This isn’t the kind of place where drinks have names.

There was an empty stool beside me but he stood

Leaning-here but not here-eyes covering the door.

Don’t ask how I know, but he keeps a boyfriend

In an apartment a few blocks up the hill.

Cute kid. College student.

Too young for him but who am I to say?

Both TV’s were muted against the chatter

But you could see they were talking about drugs;

The words OPIOID EPIDEMIC slid across the screen

Like a banner pulled behind a plane.

There were pictures of pills and flashing red lights

And serious faces trying to explain the scourge.

Don’t know what’s so hard, he said.

You feel shitty.

You take a pill.

You feel better.

How tough is that?

The drugs ain’t the problem, he said.

It’s the feeling shitty.

That’s what we gotta get a handle on.

Outside you could reach up and touch the dark, pressing clouds.

It might snow yet, the fucker.