No Redemption Without Damnation

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(Continued from The Colonel Comes Home – Memories)

“You’re Sylvia Palacios?” he growled in a guttural lowland accent.

“Yes Captain”.

Garcia squinted. “You know me?”

“No sir. Your braid is the mark of a Captain. My husband was a soldier, sir.”

“We know. At this moment, that’s the only thing saving your life.”

Garcia flipped his good leg over and hopped to the ground. He loosened the ax from its’ bindings. With a few barked orders the soldiers dismounted and spread through the property and into the house.  She didn’t move as he strode by her, as if immobility made her invisible. “Did you know my Antonio?”

“No. The Colonel suddenly has a soft spot for widows of those who died under his command.”

She jumped but didn’t turn at the crash of the first ax blow. Then the second-she knew what he was doing. A few more then the door, in shards, was tossed aside. A window shattered as a chair flew through it. She directed the men with what sounded like grunts and coughs. The dialect was strange to her, but she thought she heard the word “treasure.”

“Where is the gold?” he asked, suddenly back at her shoulder.

“What gold Captain?”

He leaned and rumbled into her ear. “Remember I said your life has been saved for the moment. It’s a gift that can be withdrawn any time.”

She turned and met his eyes but for a moment. “Bedroom closet. Under the floorboards.”

He turned his head and barked. She heard the rumble of men rushing through her house then the crashing of axes.

“What’s to become of me?” she asked having turned away again.

“If you live, it’s shit-town for you”, he said distracted, paying attention to the two bags that his men were bringing out of the house. The little she knew of shit-town was it was the bottom of the bottom caste. Natives living naked in the jungle occupied a higher rung on their society’s ladder. At least the band of outcasts and ne’er do wells that lived along a downstream slough of the river had a function. They managed the rudimentary sewage runnels that the viceroy had invented years before to relieve the highlands of any town’s most vexing and continuous need. And they washed soldier’s uniforms and the army’s bandages in large boiling pots well upstream from the shit pipes. The other lore she ignored for the time being. She would know soon enough.

He brought the bags to the table beside her and emptied the smaller one. “Not as much here as I thought there would be.”

“I’ve been living off it, since Antonio died.”

“There’s more?”

“There was. That’s all that’s left. I swear.”

They were old coins imprinted with the name of a Spanish king who had rotted away decades ago. Impossible to know when, or where, Antonio Palacios had made them his own. But it didn’t matter, they belonged to the Colonel now he thought, as he put them back into the sack. Most of them anyway. He left enough on the table for his men to pick up. They would notice there were exactly three per man and would take their share. Everyone had ways to ensure a soldier’s loyalty.

“You gather everything you can carry in a pillowcase”, he told her. As she entered the house, the soldiers walked out carrying Laurencia’s clothes. Deadened to what she might see, she didn’t even gasp at the ruin around her. Tables, chairs, dressers, all smashed and scattered. She found another dress, like the one she wore, in a pile. Also trousers. Sandals, underclothing, boots…all jammed into a sack. Turning from the shattered room she saw the captain-silhouetted in the sunshine from outside- standing between her and the door. He was unfastening his belt. “Oh”, was all she said.

“Remove your dress and lay over the bed”, he said simply. That’s when it registered to her that the bed was the only piece of furniture in the house left undisturbed. She turned her back to him and pulled the rough cloth over her head, letting it fall to the floor. “Your rump has all the colors of the sunset, Senora.” She knew as she lowered herself that the bruises were fading but still very much in evidence.

“The Colonel was very thorough”, she said situating herself over the foot of the bed, feet on the floor. “I deserved it”, she repeated her mantra.

“Well, there will be no whipping today”, he said.

She turned her head to look back over her shoulder. His dark cock, long, and slender, pointed to her bottom like a compass needle finding true north. Again, even in her shame, she felt a flutter in her breast. She had nothing not grown in the garden between her legs for years. Her rounded backside was large and heavy enough to well cover her treasures. “Spread these”, he said stepping between her legs. She wriggled to comply and felt his surprisingly gentle finger over her dry slit. She pushed backward trying to open as he wriggled against the opening that seemed impossibly narrow.

“There is lotion”, she said quickly. “If you can find it. It was in a jar on the dresser.”

“You would like that”, he said rubbing back and forth. “It would be easier for you.”

“And for you”, she said. “Would you rather slip through butter or grind through sand?”

She felt his hand on her bottom cheek as he pushed away and shuffled to where the dresser lay, its drawers having vomited their contents in a swath across the floor. She rolled onto her side and pointed to a spot near the wall. “There”, she said. “The green jar.” He picked it up and she settled back onto her stomach.

“And it’s not broken”, he said chuckling. “I’ll have to speak to my men.”

The joke did not register as she pulled a pillow to her face and opened her legs. She gasped as first one, then two fingers, worked their way up and down then, well-greased, entered her. She lifted onto her toes to better accommodate him as he oiled and stretched her with a few minutes of thorough fingering. She felt him move closer against her before he withdrew his hand and roughly grasped her hips. Pulling as he pushed forward, he sheathed himself-in a single slow thrust-as completely as possible into her secreted vagina. He pushed harder trying to get all the way in but her bottom-as pleasant as he found it to rub against-was an impediment to complete penetration.

“Your ass, senora…It is in the way…” he caught his breath and bit his tongue.  Though an older man, he spent little time with women these days and concentrated, concerned that he might come too quickly.

“I could lay on my back”, she offered.

“No”, he said pulling out. “I like it back here. But I think I’ll switch holes.”

Before she could panic at the prospect of being violated in a way she hadn’t for years, the head of his cock was pushing at her tiny brown button. As a child she was told if she opened her mouth wide, it would open her back there. So, feeling the searing burn as the Captain stretched his way into her top hole, she opened her mouth wide and said nothing as he filled her completely with his length and breadth.

“Better…” he grunted pushing deeply. He saw the woman’s hands shaking as she clenched the bedclothes and knew her mouth was full of pillow. His strokes, for the most part, were shallow and quick. Not until he felt himself gathering at the gate did he drive deeply, grinding into Sylvia Palacios’ ass. He didn’t care any longer about coming; would prefer to get it over with. His job here was complete-he could report her well used.

Backside aflame, her ears rang with the slapping sound of skin on skin as he bounced off her bottom. Hurry damn you! she thought holding her breath as he quickened pace for a moment then stiffened with a grunt and shudder. He collapsed atop her as his throbbing cock painted her insides with ill sown seed. He lay still until his breathing recovered then pushed himself off her to stand.

“Come on”, he said after wiping himself with the end of the sheet. “We have to be off.” He picked up the dress and her sack and strode out the door. She knew he meant for her to follow him naked into the yard but she refused, finding a limit to her appetite for punishment. Moving stiffly, she wrapped the soiled sheet around her and shuffled through the door.

When he saw her, he barked a quick order and the soldier nearest her ripped the sheet from her with such force she almost tumbled. “I can’t ride like this!” she cried, her alabaster body gleaming in the sunlight.

He gave another quick order and two soldiers took her roughly and tied her feet and hands with coarse rope that had been thrown over their saddles. She didn’t resist knowing struggle was fruitless and allowed herself to be lifted and thrown bottom up over the saddle like a bag of corn. She watched the ground mutely as they tied her hands to her ankles and with another rope, fastened her to the saddle.

“There”, he said standing beside the burro and patting her upturned bottom strongly. “You think you can ride like this?” She said something he didn’t hear. “What?”, he asked.

“I’m leaking you bastard!”, she whispered raggedly. Knowing what she meant he tore a slice from the sheet and shoved it roughly between the cheeks of her ass. “There”, he said patting her again. “That should save the saddle.” Then, struck by an idea, he stepped to the fire pit and took a piece of charcoal. He brushed her bottom as one might a table to clear crumbs and with the charcoal wrote in fine script, “Sylvia Palacios” and below that “Madre Horrible”. He stood back admiring his handiwork before mounting and tying Sylvia’s burro to his saddle horn. “Now let’s ride.”

The soldier in the lead headed off on a neglected trail that led directly to the river. “Not that way”, the captain said turning his horse to the well-worn path. “Let’s go down through town.”

Her humiliation complete, Sylvia Palacios wept. The Captain leaned over and spoke softly to the back of her downcast head. “There can be no redemption without damnation, Senora.”

(Thus ends Chapter One of ‘The Colonel Comes Home’)

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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…)

Beth

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(Continued from Maddie – 4)

They were downstairs in the library. He was leaning against the desk and Duke was moving-not exactly pacing but almost a box step-in front of the fireplace. Before both of them, on a couch that faced away from the door, Beth Barton lay face down, twisting her neck to see them.

“Jesus, Duke”, she said, trying to follow his wanderings, “Would you settle where I can see you?”

“Sure…Sorry”, he said and moved more completely into her field of vision.

“Thank you”, she said feigning exasperation.

Beth was naked from the waist down with two ice bags on her swollen bottom. There were swaths of angry purple showing where the ice didn’t cover. She was up on her elbows.

“You’re sure they weren’t military?” Duke said pulling on his lip.

“Military?” she asked.

“Well…ex”, he replied.

“I don’t think so,” Beth said. “They were too loose…didn’t have a real plan. Didn’t know what they were after…What do you think?” she asked turning her head.

“No”, he answered still leaning laconically against the desk. Beth thought it an affectation-trying overly hard to look cool and nonchalant.  “The one on the road was a mook”, he said.  “A nothing. But they knew they were after something…”

“He-the one with the paddle-kept talking about money…” Beth said.

“Never mentioned gold…” Duke chipped in.

“No”, he agreed. “If they knew gold, they’d have said gold.”

“What about Best?”, Duke asked. “You think he had anything to do with it?”

“Naw”, he answered after giving it a short ponder. “He’s semi-retired. Happy with his life on the lake…”

“What about Angela?”

“Angela? Christ no. What would be her motivation? If I had half of her money I’d throw mine away.”

“Still, we could reach out to see if they know anything. Send one of your operatives…” He said it with a smile and he laughed along.

“Operatives. That’s funny.”

“What about your girl?” Beth asked. “She’s gotta be military.”

“I honestly don’t know…but it seems right.”

“Helluva shot”, said Duke.

“Not just the shots”, he answered thoughtfully pulling at his lip. “She has the moves…the carriage…smooth as silk.”

“Not just another pretty face”, said Beth.

“No, I guess not.”

Out in the hall Chelsea walked lightly trying doors looking for the library. Damn house was bigger than it looked. She heard low voices inside and knocked lightly.

“Come in”, called Beth’s voice.

She opened the door tentatively and poked her head in face to face with the men.  Beth’s disembodied voice came from the couch. “Is this my hero….?”

She slipped through the door and closed it quietly behind her.

“Come around so I can see you.”

Chelsea stopped short when she stepped around the couch. “Come on, come on…nothing you haven’t seen before”, hailed Beth holding a hand out. Chelsea took it and squeezed. She had a difficult time keeping her eyes on her eyes. Beth was older than she was, certainly but exceedingly and determinedly well kept. There’s no denying the calendar and genetics, she’d spread a bit back there, but Chelsea wanted a closer look. Wouldn’t take one-but wanted one. Maybe Beth read her mind.

“Boys”, Beth said. “Go and enjoy the party. Make sure everyone who’s still here is having a good time. Let me get acquainted with my savior, here.”

Chelsea didn’t notice any firmness in her tone; nothing that would indicate that she was giving them an order. But they agreed that they needed drinks and he, with a wink and Duke, with a quick squeeze to her bicep, slipped out the door beyond Beth’s field of vision. She waited a moment after the door clicked shut.

“Are they gone?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Do a girl a favor, would you? Get this ice off me. Duke is sweet and wants to help but giving my ass frostbite might not be the best idea. I’m fucking freezing!”

Chelsea lifted the ice bags leaving her bruised cheeks puckered, goose-pimpled and wet.

“There’s a sink behind the bar”, Beth told her. “And a clean towel.”

Chelsea dropped the bags in a sink and brought the towel. Beth, head laying on crossed arms, was pointedly not moving. “Do you mind?” she asked. And when she felt the slightest hesitation, “I’m going out on a limb and assuming mine wouldn’t be the first woman’s ass you’ve touched, right?”

Chelsea allowed half her face to grin unseen.

“Maye not even the first one tonight…” That got a bigger smile that Beth couldn’t see. “That’s OK…” she went on. “Hoping everyone has fun.”

Chelsea dabbed slowly, careful not to rub or in any way abuse or aggravate the bruises. Once dried, she brazenly allowed herself a pat, then a touch of the cool tight flesh. “How’s that feel?” she asked.

“Numb”, Beth answered. “You could probably bite a mouthful off and I wouldn’t notice. Not that I’m inviting…just saying.”

“Looks sore.”

“It will be. Here,” she reached back. “Help me up…” Chelsea pulled her arm and helped her up onto her hip, then to a sitting position. She wriggled slightly. “Oh, yeah…I can feel that.”

Beth’s short hair was died jet black but she allowed her neatly trimmed southern foliage to color itself a more appropriate salt and pepper. Her thighs were thick and firm up top and slimmed at the knees. Chelsea couldn’t help thinking that she could be comfortable across that lap. She grinned slightly, amazed at her state of arousal given the session she had just finished upstairs.

“What?” Beth asked, seeing her lips flutter.

“Nothing…Dumb.”

Her heart jumped, as if her unbidden fantasy was about to come true when Beth patted the cushion beside her. “Sit”, she said.

Chelsea did, careful to leave at least a sliver of space between them. Beth took her hand and closely inspected it-the back then the palm. Chelsea watched along with her as if about to discover something about her own hand she never knew.

Then she sat eye to eye as Beth looked over her face surely counting every dim freckle and that hideous bump on her nose. The examination wasn’t uncomfortable though-it felt natural, even intimate.

“What’s that scent you’re wearing?” Beth asked.

“I’m not…wearing any…”

The older woman leaned closer to her neck. “So, it must have rubbed off of someone.”

This time Beth was treated to a full, twisted smile and hint of a blush.

(To be continued…)

Doc Savage

Doc Savage Cover

The sun was barely up and already muggy; more August than October. That’s why I hadn’t gone out that morning-had humped and sweated two thick, buggy ridges the day before and felt wrung out. Didn’t feel like archery season. I liked the woods in the fall; not the summer, so I let them go without me-I’d hunt the evening; spend the day reading and chilling. That’s what I was doing when Jerry’s girlfriend Lynn padded softly into the kitchen. We were all staying in her grandparent’s decrepit farmhouse in the foothills of the Adirondacks.

I wished I could say I was reading Kerouac, Gary Snyder, even Hemingway but actually it was one of the Doc Savage series; don’t remember which-there were a ton of them and I’d had most as a kid. Brought them hunting with me because they were small enough to pack and there was something reassuring about them. Having read and re-read them for years, they calmed me and brought me back to earth when I got too high. Which was hard to avoid when hunting with Jerry and the boys.

Lynn said “Mornin”, soft and sleepy and I looked up with a ready smile to find her completely and totally naked, a wrinkle from the bed clothes traced along her hip. Not a thread, not an earring, nothing. “I can’t sleep in anything in this weather”, she said. “I hope you don’t mind.” No, I told her, I’m fine. I put my head down to read again but that didn’t feel right. If she came down dressed I wouldn’t read and ignore her.

The smells of sleep swaddled her-all like baby milk, vanilla and dried sweat. She picked a cup from the sideboard and poured, her back to me, skin shining in the morning dim of the old house. Sugar was there and the cup tink-tink-tink-tinked as she stirred. She had a great ass-that I knew from the jeans she wore. Her butt was like Marcia’s a little smaller, maybe firmer. No, couldn’t have been. Marcia’s butt was bounce a quarter off it firm. Marcia-Jesus. Hadn’t thought of her in months. She liked me to spank her-the first girl who ever asked for it. I didn’t get it at first, but I’m a quick study.

She laughed like I was tickling her; and she’d fake these little ‘ooohs’, and ‘ouches’ like I was hurting her. As if ever that could have happened. She broke up with me when she went off to college. Didn’t want any encumbrances she said. That was her word. I thought I was going to be her husband, but suddenly I was an encumbrance. Christ.

“I’m going back upstairs”, Lynn said turning a little my way so I could see her tits. She liked them and should have, but her eyes, looking sideways, betrayed nothing. She was giving a show but couldn’t tell if it was for my benefit or hers. “There’s a cross breeze up there-feels sweet and you can still taste the last bit of evening.”  I thought to say ‘Yeah’, but some kind of weird, strangled sound came out, so I kept my mouth shut as her bottom disappeared into the shadows and creaking, back up the stairs.

I had never been so hard in my freaking life. It was like all my morning-wood ever rolled together but I didn’t know if it was Marcia’s memory or Lynn’s reality that lit the fuse. I read a paragraph, Doc was in trouble, but remembered nothing. Read it again-then a page, then the same page again. I tried reading aloud in a whispered mantra to bank the fire but it wasn’t working.

Then I heard the creak again-on the stairs. I knew, and started reading harder, silently but unable to drown the sound of her bare feet scuffing across the old hardwood.

“I thought you would follow me.”

She was still naked, her body-facing me now-luminous in the knife edge of sunlight that was peeking through the kitchen window. Golden dust motes twinkled, a cape swirling in the air above her.

“I could.” I kept my eyes on hers as she waited to hear more. “Can I spank you?”

The corner of her mouth lifted; her eye caught the sun. She turned slowly, languidly, a weekend swimmer taking a turn in a pool. “Sure”, she said over her shoulder as her butt walked off again into the shadows.  “Just not too hard.”

For a second, I thought of Jerry. No, less than a second. I’d known him since first grade but it wasn’t like we were brothers or anything. I cringed at the squeaking sound the chair made pushing away from the table.

The Visit – 8

(Continued from The Visit – 7)

Her mouth fell open as she slid down onto Jake’s stem, pinioning herself, working her pelvis to accept him in full. She thought that of her growing stable of suitors: William, Jimmy Ripple, even Mr. Parsons who was such a bigger man, nobody filled her wall-to-wall, end to end as completely as this.  Maybe it was because they were typically on top-in front or behind-setting the pace; working to meet their needs instead of hers. This was different. Very different.

She rose and fell, rose and fell, her thighs clenching and her knees clicking with each soft thrust. Her easily flowing juices ensured there would be no chafing as she caught a rhythm. His hands were busy, in love with the feel of her hips-and his arms could reach around to her bottom and did. “Spank me.” She whispered feeling his hands back there. “Slap my ass…” She fell forward hoping to create a better target.

He did as instructed, but they were light, glancing blows. His carnal abilities and reflexes were unrefined, and he found concentrating on one thing at a time more reasonable. Squeezing her butt cheeks while she rode him was more in his limited wheel house. As her speed increased she got lower, covering him, hands on both sides of his head. Up close her eyes were bright-less reflective of the dim nimbus around the streetlight outside and more luminous-generating a fire of their own.

“You have to kiss me now”, he said tightly, feeling himself building. “You have to.”

Easily forgetting her earlier proviso, she dropped her mouth onto his and slipped her tongue roughly inside. He swallowed it whole and sealed his lips against hers clumsily banging teeth. She tasted of gin, sand and spearmint gum with just a touch of sourness that flashed once then was gone-easily forgotten. She began to gasp into his mouth, the ratcheting of her hips bringing her off faster than she had expected. She broke and arched her back and ground him hard.

He wouldn’t last much longer and dug his fingers into her thighs. “My ass…” she gasped. “Grab my ass…!” She was up again, then down, on all fours then spread. Her ass was two wooden globes that he squeezed at but couldn’t open. She wished his arms were longer-or better, that there was someone else in the room-someone behind fucking her in the rear…then another- a third in her mouth. As she was carried pounding away she wanted all her holes filled at once…she…wanted…wanted…!

She came with a growl; her body tightening in a long spasm, her flat chest heaving and her legs squeezing as he hissed then barked, finally painting her insides with the thrusting heat of the first orgasm he had shared with anyone. Together they were frozen stiff and twitching until she began collapsing in stages, like a blasted building. First onto her hands, then her elbows, finally onto him entirely, every inch of her fused to him, slippery with sweat and not heavy at all. The intimacy of the two bodies, rising as one with every breath he took kept him from entirely softening.

“That wasn’t so bad was it?” he asked.

“I’m going to hell”, she muffled, her head in his neck.

“Then take me with you….”

He could fall asleep easily like this-wearing his Mom’s baby sister as a cover.