The Right Side of 40: A Midlife Reawakening

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The Right Side of 40: A Midlife ReawakeningThis is my first complete novella. Please commentThe Right Side of Forty: The Story of a Midlife ReawakeningBy Lindsay CascoChapter 1: ReunitingI faintly remember coming to this house thirty something years ago for play dates when I was allowed and then a few times with my mother to visit during the holidays and different occasions, but I never realized her family called this side entrance the “back” door. Karen did say over the phone to come to the back door near the driveway. And she was right about the front door having too much snow in front of it. She must struggle to handle such a hefty house all alone, never mind shoveling all these storms we have had this winter. I guess she is lucky she doesn’t have to shovel the snow all the way around the back. It’s been an unfriendly month, relentless with early season snow. Who thought up this plan? I bitched nervously to myself as I balanced and teetered through solid mounds of what must have been the mailman’s large, frozen footprints, which left little grip for my LLBeans. The back door is on the front of the house. How strange I thought anxiously, as I pulled myself up the icy cement stairs, clutching the veneer of rust on the iron rail with my bare hand hopeful not to cut myself. My other hand struggled to both grip the chardonnay securely and ring the doorbell. Frozen fingers held on tight as I looked at my reflection in the glass and pushed the bell.She answered in a split second, with a huge smile. I have not seen Karen in almost seven years, since her mother died and left her this lengthy, blue house with two front doors, today covered in a mass of ice. She might have been better off if, rather than the wine, I brought her a bag of rock salt, I sneered cat-like. I get that way when I’m beyond my comfort zone. I could feel the rush of heat escaping through the mudroom as I thoughtfully stepped onto her throw rug so as not to wet the floor. She looked good; better than her shadowy Facebook picture I studied last night. “It is so good to see you, Cassie.” She said on an exhale, raising her tenor, stretching the words “see you” into their own decree. Squeezing me in a loving bear hug, her form felt warm; it felt right, like friends should. I kissed her cheek and noticed the youth was still in her skin. We held onto each other for a second or two, just looking. What a pretty smile she has after all these years. She always had that smile. Her typical, run-of-the-mill features turned to stunning with a simple smile. Strangely, middle age has improved her; and her 42 year old grin barely looks a day over 35 and still looks bright as the untouched snow on her front steps. I love your sweater, I commented as my hands lingered on her solid wrists. Soft! “JC Penny,” she said, still wide-eyed from my entrance. “I got a gift card for Christmas. I just got it today. Day after Christmas shopping is a hoot. Come in.” I kicked off by boots and hung my coat on the striking country-green rack as we stumbled around one another politely in the small mudroom, which is connected to her dated kitchen with the same checkerboard linoleum floor we ran across as k**s; faded and worn from the years. With no family left, the house seemed too big. What must have been Karen’s most essential shoes lined the floor near the back door. Just her coat hung aside mine on the long rack. Lonely, I thought. Nicer artwork adorned the walls, however, Real paintings, not prints, striking portraits and landscapes in all sizes, and a lot of them. I followed Karen’s lead, walking through the narrow hall, past the bathroom on the right, to the big living room at the end of the house. I smiled as the map of her dwelling came back to me with profound memories. Aren’t you sick of Christmas music, yet? It is almost January, I k**ded, noticing her TV was playing yet another wearisome, droning Christmas special. I started hearing holiday music on the radio in November. It’s everywhere this year. I am so sick of it. I nagged for no other reason than to create conversation. “Christmas was yesterday, silly. I like it.” Karen said blushing. Her renowned smile surrounded by smooth, pink cheeks with the slightest laugh lines forming on her otherwise flawless face. She turned down the TV, but left it on to flicker light against her shimmering holiday decorations, likely to help occupy some of the room with us. Karen stepped out to the kitchen for just a second to grab some glasses and a corkscrew as I made myself comfortable. She poured freely, filling my glass near the top, as we small talked for a while, mostly about my teaching career and her flower shop business, until the warmth of the wine set in. “it must be so nice to have all this time off, Cassie,” Karen said kindly yet with a tone of envy. No doubt the time off is nice. “When do you go back for the spring semester? January 20th. I admitted, looking down at my glass. Being a college professor is difficult work, but I have found nobody outside my own walls understands that. Most people look at the summers off, spring break, and Christmas recess and think that’s all there is. But the research and the never ending preparation, coupled with meeting the needs of the students and building new innovative programs and all the committee work; it’s tiring. “Well professor, how about some more wine?” She clanked my glass against the bottle. Karen’s face turned gloomy when she noticed me looking at the photo of her late mother. Her mom was always so nice to me even though our mothers never spoke. Funny, they were close friends at one time, then poof. Something happened between them that neither of us knew. Their sudden shared hatred kept Karen and me apart for many years; although we lived just miles away. Our friendship through high school never wavered but we weren’t allowed to visit each other beyond the school walls, by that point. Karen went off to the University of New Hampshire creating more distance and we lost touch completely when I got married a few years after college. Sad we missed so many years, I thought. This is so nice. Ringing and toasting to the holidays and to friendship, our topics became more interesting as the bottle emptied; thought provoking, and more personal. “How is life after the divorce?” she dared to finally probe, but I didn’t mind. Lonely, secluded mostly, I answered honestly. “Horny too, I bet,” she proclaimed abruptly with her smile saving the shame. She always was the outgoing one. “More wine?” she wailed, and almost knocked my glass over filling it. We laughed heavily, leaning into each other, our foreheads met and she hugged me again. “I’m lonely, too” she confessed. My divorce was a matter of fact to me, but to others not so. Divorce always leaves a trail of debris. I was married a total of eight years, three months, and twenty three days, to a man who never once told me the truth. It was a play known as the myriad of lies, deception, and infidelity; me starring in the role of the victim, he the scoundrel. I repressed all my energies through those years, giving and allowing him to flourish while I floundered in weight gain, and solitude. I lost my friends; nearly my career. I ceased living only to become his trophy housewife, a blowjob with legs and a spatula. Our life together was never happy. The hostage’s life style was not for me. The fact that we made it as long as we did is a marvel. I would have done another ten years if I had k**s; I would have for them; I’m just sure of it. But no k**s, no pets, no attraction, and no strings made it uncomplicated to cut. Karen soothed me with a soft, lingering hug as we talked about my break up. The night was wearing on, and the wine turned into rum with a hint of Diet Coke. There was no chance of me reclaiming my car keys at this point. Besides, I felt completely comfortable with my old friend in her warm house, just like so many years ago. The memories and the jokes and the witticisms, and the booze; then suddenly, in one of those deadly, muted moments of absolute silence during a stretched conversation, even the faint murmur of the TV had temporarily hushed as if it was planned, but certainly it was not, I did the most ungodly, humiliating thing a woman can do in public. I leaned my head back, my jaw hung unbolted and from the depth of my paunch I released a lengthy and profound, baritone belch; a loud and hasty and horrible, open-mouth eruption, all my bubbles flushed and sounded out, like a tuba screaming one note. I was immobilized with my hand covering my mouth; Karen froze, too, her face showed surprise in the stillness of the embarrassing aftermath. Then abruptly Karen broke out in hysteria. She roared backward, lunging then she immediately and uncontrollably flung her tanked-up body down into my lap, where she began to recoup a bit. “Cassandra Keane!” Karen scolded me; a motherly bark of my full name. I liked hearing it. I felt my identity returning to my soul. We laughed until our sides hurt, rolling around like puppies on the couch. “Oh, shit! I haven’t had this much fun in years.” Karen said, wiping her eyes from the laughter. We need to calm down; I scolded her with a drunken smile. “And you need to stop belching like a truck driver or I might die, right here laying on you,” she warned. I instinctively rubbed the back of her soft Christmas sweater.Chapter 2: Breaking new ground“Want to watch a movie?” she asked still laughing, as she wrenched herself off of me and began to flip through the channels. She kicked off her white sneakers and kicked them to the ground. Our feet met in the middle of the couch; me on one end, Karen on the other. I don’t know if I can stay awake through a whole movie, Karen. She looked at me, glaring at me in her drunkenness, “oh I’ll keep you awake.” She said, pushing at my legs with her stocking feet. I did the same. It felt so good to stretch after sitting curled up for so long. We stretched together, with our toes straining to out due the other. I pushed; she pushed, like a tug of war for the clinically intoxicated. Her foot nestled my inseam and under my butt for just a moment during her longest stretch, as if she was challenging me to a duel. I did the same right back. Unrelentingly, our battle wore on. We pushed and pressed on each other’s crotch for several strange minutes, forgetting all about the television, until I finally gave in. I quit. I smiled and brought my head backward to the cushion. You won this battle, I announced with a dreamy slur to my voice. Karen stretched her legs out fully, claiming the victory, taking her captured space, and continued to push back on my legs until her big toe inside her thick, white sock was pressed firmly against my heated crotch. Without a word, she slowly ground her foot again my pubic bone, which was protected by only the thickness of my jeans. I rested my head back, taking it all in. I felt tingles moving through me. Over and over she surged her toe with a plunging effect, and it was driving me nuts. My friend is trying to get me off, I thought. This is messed up. I pushed back against the arm of the sofa, forcing my crotch down harder to her foot. I peeked down the length of the couch and saw Karen’s head leaning back like mine was, as her foot was making slow circles on my pussy. Then suddenly in the dead silence, during one of those awkward moments foot fucking with your girlfriend has, Karen blurted in a funny voice so as to mask the ominous question, as if it were a joke, “Want me to eat you, Cassie?” She stared at me so straightforwardly, so seriously, despite the cutesy voice, as if she was at the Dunkin Donuts drive through, asking for extra Equal. “Um ya, I’d like a large decaf with cream and five equal, and do you want me to eat you?” Did she just ask me if it was okay to eat me? Fuck! Again I froze for just a split second or two or ten, in the room’s uncooperative hush. Yes, I exhaled a whisper, confused in a dream, without rationalizing what was going on. She moved up quickly, flipping her body over not wanting to miss this open door, and her hands got busy unbuttoning my jeans. I heaved and wiggled and she tugged and pulled. All the while we maintained strict eye contact. My buckle didn’t quite make it past my ankles when I felt her fingers prying the edge of my cotton panties aside, as she buried her tongue in me. Oh my God! No dancing around, just so deep. I can’t remember ever being so turned on. She lapped at me with the full width of her thick, flat tongue. She coated all of my pussy with her mouth, taking in my scent with all of her wits, eyes tightly shut. She worked like a professional, digging her hot tongue into me, with a confident and famished force. Her mouth shielded my pussy with a tight seal, and she sucked my outer lips into her mouth, while she explored me deeply. She just drew my nectar full open mouth, cavernously, with a hum that sang a beautiful song I have never heard. Karen’s curly and twisted blonde hair hid her face as it worked on me, but I could feel her mouth moving from side to side, and I could see her head shifting left then right and up through my thick pubic hair and down to my ass, forcing her nose into me at times. I sat up a bit and held her head snug to my pussy with my right hand as my large clit began to pulse. My left hand dug down through the disarray and roamed under the neck of her new Christmas sweater and found her breast. I squeezed her tit, feeling her swollen nipple on my palm, as she sent me into orbit. My hips were springing up off the couch, pushing back hard, riding her concealed face. I held a full breath, my pussy puffed and pulsed once, twice Ah My GOD, I squealed, and I climaxed right into her mouth. Karen’s ruthless tongue slowed but didn’t stop. She began to carefully and precisely kiss my pussy lips, sucking each one gently into her puckered lips, like a mother cleaning her cub. Without pause, she licked just the side of my swollen clit so tenderly, so deliberately, in small unhurried circles, just as she did with her stocking foot a few minutes ago; kisses softly left to fade down below, just her breath was left for me to savior. I opened my eyes and flopped back to earth.I broke the painful silence. That was really good, I wheezed with embarrassment, gasping for air. Karen looked up at me with caution and obvious attentiveness. Her dripping wet smile glistened in the light of the TV. “Have you ever done this before?” She asked with a worried tone No, I shot out, have You? “Maybe, a little, once or so, yes, you taste so good.” She stumbled using her funny voice again, and broke eye contact, wiping her open mouth with the back of her fingers, while my hand was motionless, still holding her tit. We both settled back into our original positions on the couch; only this time my pants were off and my panties were soaked. I just came on my friend’s face, I thought as I swigged my drink, staring into Karen’s eyes. Without rupturing eye contact, I picked up the yellow pillow that had fallen off the couch during our impromptu oral, and covered my wetness with it. “Are you cold?” no, I answered quickly and awkwardly without thinking. We sat and glared. “What? Say something” she smirked at my frozen face, silently begging and pleading for me to speak. I need to go pee, was all I could muster, and with a polite smile, I slid my naked legs past her and onto the floor; wobbly from the alcohol and the unexpected orgasm. I seized my pants and stammered off to the bathroom, while Karen, no doubt, got a good show of my bottom side. I shut the bathroom door and looked straight into the mirror, holding on to the counter for dear life. My face drooped as I inspected and scrutinized my post lesbian experience look. Soundlessly and deliberately I watched my reflection mouth the words what-the-fuck as if it wasn’t really me. My jaw stuck wide open while thoughts fluttered around my head. Who am I? I’ve never in my life; my friend, oh my God, it was so good. I ran the cold water and splashed my face seeking soberness, and an escape hatch. The woman in the mirror was worried. What will she think of me, was all I could assemble in the chaos going on in my mind. I paced the tiny floor, back and forth, and then I flushed the toilet for no better reason than to buy myself another few seconds. Still holding my pants with the same hand that caressed her tit, Karen knocked on the door. “You OK?” Yes, I replied, again with an awkward quickness. “You’ve been in there a long time, want to come out and talk?” Almost finished, I lied as I brushed back my hair behind my ears.“I think they call that the walk of shame.” What? I pleaded through the wall. Karen slowly turned the knob and opened the door a crack, “Walk of shame,” she stated with a devious grin. “You know in college, when you have to run down the hall naked after sex.” I wasn’t running, I said with a smile. Karen’s silliness broke the tension. She eased in the bathroom with me. We stared at each other like teenagers and beamed. You know, I whispered softly, purposely attempting to re-light her fire. You know, those two girls in the mirror are watching you look at me. I liked her reaction to my soft voice. Karen’s eyes widened with excitement. Without warning, without authorization, Karen leaned into me and kissed my closed mouth. I inclined backward as she pushed. “You’re really hot Cassie. You taste so” she paused to kiss “Good, oh Goddamn good.” She said fading into a quiet whisper only meant for me. Our lips squished together, her tongue worked side to side under my lower lip; our teeth clanked, void of grace. I was kissing another woman and it was bumpy and jarring like new kisses sometimes are. I could feel her fingers roaming my face, as I began to lean in and kiss back. My thoughts were out of control; my mind started to race: I never kissed a girl before. Was this really happening? I never knew lips could be so soft. She is perfect. She’s my friend. No one can ever find out. What should I do? She is so warm, and smells so good. Oh, her hair. I just came on her mouth in her fucking living room. I can taste myself. Holy shit I can taste myself! Our dance in the small bathroom became obsessive. Unfamiliar hands were finding new-fangled toys. Karen held my head tightly as I threw caution to the wind and traced the plump sides of her lovely breasts. Our mouths locked in place; moaning into the hollow of each other’s souls; singing the song we had just written moments ago. Her right hand roamed my back so delicately, so tenderly, perfectly and magically arousing my nipples all the way around the other side of my body. Her braveness seemed to have no limit. Karen’s fingers, oh her soft, velvety fingers worked on my freckled shoulders under my blouse, up and down my spine, as we kissed with unbreakable, brutal force. She began working wizardry on the tight elastic of my panties; shimming them down over my hips until they fell, lifelessly to the cold tile floor. Unexpectedly she broke our embrace, sunk her head swiftly, clutching my midriff as she balanced on the toilet seat and pulled my soft belly to her face. She licked around my belly button with thoughtful swipes. I raised my body on tippy toes and pushed downward with only one purpose in mind, to deliver my gift directly to her famished mouth. Lost in the moment, I ground my hips in deep, unhurried undulations. I could hear Karen’s muffled moan through my thick, brown pubic hair as she hid her tongue inside me once again. I couldn’t take another second of this madness. I held on to her cheeks with both hands moving her skull up and down in rhythm as she ate me. I need to lie down, I commanded in a harsh whisper. My legs weakened under the influence of wine and rum and lust. Karen inserted a finger in me and our eyes connected as she kissed, with her soaking wet mouth, the distinct line where my dark chestnut pubic hair meets my milky flesh.The lovely woman in front of me stood and held my hand as she silently guided me into her bedroom. Only we filled the air. No music, no television, no sound at all. In the hush and warmth of her bed we fell together like old lovers. Our practice in the other rooms had paid off. We locked in a soundless kiss as we peeled each other’s clothing. Rolling about the bed lip locked, I ended up on top and began to devour my first breast. Her nipple, as big as the tip of my thumb; a beautiful tight knot holding her large and dark areola in place, filled my mouth. Her spongy breast covered much of my face as I sucked, pleasing my pallet like never before. Oh, this was certainly a delicacy I waited way too long to enjoy. My left hand found her sweet spot, as I sucked her tits. My fingertips danced through her reedy wet fur. Karen spread her legs wide, allowing me carte blanche. She was extremely sensitive and her body shifted and contorted as I explored her beautiful mound with a ginger touch. Gradually, I slid my middle finger into Karen’s folds, surprised to feel its depth and the heat of another woman. It was sucking me in. Her wetness overwhelmed my single finger, so I eased in another all the way and then I pushed up and pulled back, just a bit, on the inside of her pubic bone. I had found her spot. The harder I sucked her nipple the more she groaned; the more she bucked against my hand. I was pleasing her with all my might and she loved it. Like a mad woman, Karen pulled my head to hers, threw the pillow to the floor causing a crash somewhere in the room, and moaned long and hard into my open mouth, as she came on my hand. Shattered with sexual exhaustion, we held each other, fulfilled without a worry, no care of time or place. She kissed my naked neck for several minutes and whispered, “You’re so sexy.” So are you, I breathed into her ear, licking its lobe. Then I nestled my hand down to the scene of the crime. My palm found a resting place protecting her moist, horrible, magnificent mess. We slept. Chapter 3: Repercussions and reverberationsThe long shadows of late December, coupled with a pint of rum and two bottles of wine allowed a deep sleep well into the morning. Strange dreams agitated my slumber. Consciousness was not immediate nor wanted. I was barely able to lift my pounding head as I struggled and squinted in the dense obscurities of the unfamiliar room. Yellow curtains? My mouth filled with cotton, in a daze, I was lost. I panicked for a split second. Oh My God! What the…The bewilderment became unacceptable reality. The pieces started to come to me. In a distressed motion I gasped; my hand covered my open mouth; it smelled. The evidence was pure and very real. There she was. Karen, curled up naked, sleeping, breathing with calm, even rhythms, facing the other way, her breasts exposed as only her bottom half was bound by a comforter. I held my forehead and scooted to the edge of the bed, carefully so as not to wake my friend. What am I going to say to her? I dreaded. What will she say to me? My attention raced from one vivid detail to the next. Does this make me a lesbian? A LESBIAN! No, I claimed, but it was good, oh my god. We fucked. What did I do? Holy shit we fucked.I snuck to the bathroom without a sound. I leaned on the counter for precious life. Déjà vu, I whispered to myself as I smiled for the mirror. No toothbrush, I scouted the medicine cabinet for one. I’m sure she won’t mind if I steal this, I smirked as I opened the new brush. I ran the shower and stepped in. The warm water felt just right. Karen’s shampoo was top shelf, much better than I buy. The peach aroma and the suds refreshed my soul and straightened out my pounding head. I was awake and I was scared and I was horny and I was alive for the first time since my divorce. I lathered in circles, daydreaming all the while. I paid special attention to each part of my body. I concentrated a palm full of shampoo on my pussy as I washed. It somehow felt different this morning. Touching myself was pleasurable for the first time. I felt uninhibited under the blast of water. My eyes were held hostage as the soap oozed from my hair. My ears filled by the magic waterfall. I danced in place as last night’s memories came back to life. Then from out of the dense steam, I felt her hand touch my shoulder. “Can I get in?” She smiled that great big smile. Her teeth are better than perfect, they’re cute. The tiny gap that separates her two front teeth adds character and the slightest hint of gum in her smile just makes it a knockout. I held my breath. It was okay, everything was alright. She accepted me, we’re in the same boat, and it’s a pretty exciting boat. I have nothing to be ashamed of. She is so sexy. I exhaled. Yes, I nodded, as Karen stepped under the warm flow. We washed each other like they do in the dirty movies; her back, my back. We giggled as we played in the water. I couldn’t remember the last time I giggled. “You know.” She said in a seductive tone, “you never did eat me last night. I think you owe me. Will you eat me now?” She licked the tip of my nose, melting me further. My mind raced. I’ve never done that before. I mean I have never done any of this before. But I dreamt it, oh do I dream it. Who would ever know to look at me? I’ve wanted this for a long time; ever since I can remember. This is my fantasy, but I have never ever told a soul. This is all I thought of when my slug of a husband used to attempt to fuck me. What a dark woman I am. Am I filthy? I looked up into her needy eyes. I don’t know if I can, I answered Karen’s request. “Yes you can.” She whispered, easing me to my knees right there in the shower. My face found her delicate nest. I inhaled the peach perfume and whisked away the remaining suds and pulled her lips open and began tentatively licking at her unprotected clitoris. I was eating my first pussy. Her taste was weighty and complex, that of an interesting oaked wine. The bright red of her inner pussy was a real turn on. I tentatively licked deeper, becoming more apt, more daring, more willing with each nibble. I could feel the same heat and the same pulsing I had with my fingers last night, only this time it was much more intimate. It was she who now ground back at me, pushing me back into the pelting spray. My eyes strained in their sockets to connect with hers. She leaned over me and shut off the water. My head popped out from her legs and she crouched to meet my face with hers, and we kissed hard; Karen licked her own juices from my face with an untamed eagerness that drove me mad. Our bodies dripped dried while our mouths toiled for quite some time.All I had with me were last night’s clothes. I tried to hide that fact as we sat at the kitchen table for coffee. I stirred the clouds floating in my mug and crossed my legs for protection. Karen unwrapped a package from the bakery she bought yesterday and went right to work on the muffin. “Hungry?” she asked with a mouthful. I’m always hungry, but I’m more hung over than hungry, I explained. She leaned across the small table and softly caressed my cheek with the back of her fingers. “I’m glad I found you, again.” She said, staring at me with that smile. I didn’t know I was lost, I teased with a dreamy tone. “Oh you were lost, and in so many tragic ways.” I knew she was talking about my bad marriage, but I refused to respond. I politely gaziantep escort bayan grinned and sipped at my coffee. “What are we going to do, today?” Karen asked, as if we had plans. I need to go home and clean up, I said, clutching the collar of the blouse I was wearing two days in a row. “Okay, but its Sunday and I have nothing to do. Can I go home with you?” She pleaded. You do work fast, young lady, I k**ded. How about we meet up later, after some laundry and maybe a nap, I instructed as I slid my chair back and got up for the door. Karen followed. We leaned on the mudroom wall for a moment, neither one of us wanting to part. “About this,” Karen blurted. This? “You know what I mean, silly.” She weakened, turning away from me, “I really had a good” She stopped dead in her sentence. She just stood there looking for the word. Awkward and stubborn silence bounced around her mudroom. She started a new sentence. “I really loved being with you, so so much, it was, loved it,” She stumbled about her words, then killed me with that smile. I hugged her lovely, shapely body and kissed her one more time, but never spoke. My tongue darted around her lips for just a moment, just long enough to stir the butterflies in my stomach. I turned and walked to my car. She watched from the cold of the open back door. I sc****d the dusting of snow from the handle and shouted back, Hey, isn’t this the walk of shame? I could see her big, delightful smile as I pulled away. Chapter 4: Salisbury BeachI could still feel Karen’s lips on mine when I got home. My keys rang out as they hit the granite countertop and slid to the edge of the kitchen island, threatening to fall to the floor. I stood and watched the action of my careless toss, like a bowling ball rolling awry along the ally; I offered body English, hopeful not to have to bend over with this pounding headache. Karen, I said out loud, alone. Wow. I swallowed a mouthful of water from the fridge along with two Advil and hobbled through the dining room dropping my clothing to the floor, piece by piece. My trail was proof of my exhaustion. Naked, I climbed the stairs to bed. The big four bedroom, three bath in Newburyport was lost in the wake of the divorce, but my new condo, albeit rented, was nicely appointed and less than a mile to Salisbury beach. Everything is clean and new, comfortable and safe. I didn’t want to leave my house, but there was no way of keeping it and ridding myself of him. A walk in closet in trade for dignity. Freedom’s price. The bed felt especially cozy after a long night of sex and drinking. I lay there dreary, on my back attempting sleep, but my hand was relentlessly reaching for something. I couldn’t stop thinking about licking Karen’s pussy. Was I obsessed? I was a girl gone mad. My pubic hair felt incredibly soft to the touch, despite the dismay it had just gone through. Must be her fine shampoo, I thought as I filled my lungs slowly and deeply, then held onto my air as my fingers grazed. On my exhale I could distinctively feel wetness as I soothed my fire with relaxed circles. My clit is bigger than it should be and protrudes stiffly when aroused. It bumped against my ring. I rubbed the length of my wetness to oil my finger tip, then went to work vigorously rubbing the side of my clit, pressing hard on the pubic bone, digging in with all the vigor I could muster. My eyes tight and my mouth acting out last night’s adventures with Karen’s enormous nipples. I moaned quickly, as my body shifted from left to right. I rolled effortlessly into my nest. Contentment. I napped peacefully.My cell phone’s ridiculous tone jolted me to life a couple hours later. I leaned on an elbow to reach out for it in the bright-noon, sun-filled room. A text from Karen: Need to meet with you asap. What is this? Her message was too quick, too stern. Something was wrong. She must want to tell me how foolish we were. She must be figuring out a way to regain dignity. Oh I feel like such an idiot. What a whore. Why did I follow along? I should have just left after the wine. What is wrong with me? I’m such a slut! I must be going through a post-divorce stage, sowing seeds and all that. I’ll tell her that. I responded to her text: OK, half hour @ Salisbury Beach State Park, main entrance. I hit send and instantly felt remorse, guilt, all the bad things a girl feels after a one night stand. I should have asked her to come here, like she wanted to. It’s freezing outside. What the fuck was I thinking, the beach. The beach! What will we do? Stand out in the empty parking lot crying and screaming at one another? This is a disaster. My head spun. I pulled my shoulder length russet hair back in haste, not wanting to take the time for a shower. I dressed rapidly, unconcerned with colors, this time armed with gloves and a thick winter hat. I started the car with the remote while I heated some tea for my travel mug and wrapped myself tightly in my angora scarf. I felt protected. The short drive to the beach barely let my engine warm. I saw Karen’s flower shop minivan a couple hundred yards ahead of me, turning the corner of the entrance. She must have left right after I texted her back to get here so fast, I thought, as she came from way over the Memorial bridge on the other side of town, from the grand shores of Newburyport. I sped up with anxiety. There was no other traffic on this frigid and dry Sunday afternoon. On my way to the state park beach entrance, I passed by the desolate remains of a once grand American honkytonk; ghostly, vacant skeletons of brick stood to remind us of what once was. Salisbury Beach was formerly a famed vacation spot for the north east. Massachusetts’ northern most gem once offered carnivals and shows, fireworks and all the great attractions the 1940’s and 50’s made famous. Not to mention one of the most beautiful stretches of ocean beach in America; six miles of undisturbed, pure and soft, golden and tan sand; so breathtaking. Salisbury Beach is a rock-less paradise that hugs the mouth of the Merrimac River, and still attracts thousands in the summer but nobody today. It was a wicked blast walking the boardwalk as a teenager; flirting and tanning, occasionally hooking up with a 1980’s boy of summer, wearing day-glow tops tied at my belly and bright green shades. Today it is my melancholy home. I pressed to catch Karen. The road was dry with an edge of old snow. Unexpectedly, out of the cold blue of the day a Siren! Loud, and frightening. Intense blue lights flashed in my rearview mirror. Son of a Bitch! I exclaimed harshly, raising my tone to my most pissed off octave. I drudgingly pulled to the side, head held low with anxiety. I watched the officer bounce out of his cruiser through my mirror. I opened the window; my face winced at the cold and the probability of trouble. “Afternoon ma’am, Massachusetts Coast Security, License and Registration, please.” What did I do, officer? He paused looking at my registration, “I clocked you at 48 miles per hour; this is a 30 mile per hour zone.” I’m sorry, I was trying to catch up with a friend, I didn’t realize. “I’ll be right back with your license,” he said cutting me short. The officer removed his sun glasses with his black-gloved fingers, and for just a split second, looked me dead-on in the eye. He couldn’t be more than twenty five years old. Cute, I thought. His small build was not typical for his line of work. Thin, couldn’t be much taller than my five foot, seven inches. What am I thinking? He’s going to give me a ticket. He’s not cute. He’s making me very late. Oh NO! What if Karen leaves? What if she thinks I blew her off? This just sucks. Coast security? What the hell is that? The officer took only two or three minutes to run my plate, and strolled back over to me slowly, staring at my license all the while. “How long have you lived in Salisbury, ma’am?” He asked. Less than a year, I responded with an innocent tone. I moved from Newburyport. You know, divorce and all. He leaned down gazed closely at me and into my car as if his cold cheeks were looking to borrow some of my heat. His face was just inches from mine “Well, you’re just getting a warning, today Cassandra.” He smiled, handing me back my license. I watched as he buckled up and raced away with a roar. He wanted to fuck me I thought, amused as I turned the corner to the beach.Karen was sitting in her van keeping warm. She smiled that smile through the icy glass when she saw my car. I pulled up close in the opposite direction so both drivers’ windows were next to each other. We shared a look, my hands were shaking. “Hi.” She blurted. Is everything alright? Your text message scared me, said asap. “ASAP scares you huh? Everything is wonderful. Get out I have something for you.” My head tilted in curiosity. I just got pulled over for speeding. I tried to complain “Get in my van,” Karen robustly scolded, not hearing my dilemma. I walked around to the other side and somehow, she pushed a magic button that automatically slid open the hefty side door of her company minivan. It was empty and very warm inside from the blast of the heater. Where are all the seats? I asked. “Stow and Go, they fold into the floor. Come in, I have a surprise for you.” On her command I ducked in and plopped down on the carpeted van floor. What is it? I pleaded. Karen turned swiftly, and presented me with a perfectly shaped red rose. I smiled looking into her wide eyes. It pays to have a friend who is a florist, I joked. “You mean a friend with benefits, who is a florist,” she corrected me with an upward slant to her mouth. With that, she leaned in and we kissed. Her mouth felt so right. She was not trying to regain her dignity, she didn’t think I was an idiot; I beamed with my tongue hunting for hers. “You got pulled over?” she asked with a muffled tone while our mouths were playing. Yes, by Coast Security. I got a warning, I hummed proudly. I dropped the rose and brought my empty hand up to her sweatshirt-covered breast. I squeezed with confidence. Oh, she has such wonderful, large breasts. Our kiss broke with another giggle and we sat there on the van floor in a body-hugging grip, rocking silently. “Want to take a walk on the beach?” She asked eagerly. It’s pretty cold, I don’t know how far I’ll make it, I announced affirmatively yet with great caution to my voice. She pressed the magic button, and the door drew open slowly, like a curtain on a stage. We rolled out into the spitefully cold air. The beach was ours to have and to hold. No human, no a****l, too bitter for even a gull. We walked without fear of being found out, glove to glove. “I’m glad you didn’t get a ticket, Cassie,” she said as we walked past the padlocked ladies room and up the boardwalk. Me too! Have you heard of Coast Security before? I said. I could see my breath. The sand is much easier to walk on in the winter. Most people don’t realize that. ”I think they patrol the beaches since 9/11.” She answered. Areas of frozen sea spray covered the only rock jetty over to our right making the landscape brilliant and contrasting. Salisbury Beach has but two fools today, in full winter armor. The packed and rippled sand of the low tide added even more private acreage for us to explore; warmth was our only issue. We turned to face each other about 100 yards down the beach to protect one another from an ungodly, penetrating frozen gust. We locked together, the surf as our soundtrack, and began to sway in rhythm as a lone fishing boat kept us company, dancing in the swell, until he made it past our horizon. We kissed in the arctic air, and this time Karen pulled off her right glove and swiftly tucked her cold hand deep into my crotch; digging like a sand crab at my mound. You are so bad, I roared over the volume of the breaking waves, breathing my hot air into her neck. I’ve never in my life let anybody take me like I have let you; I spoke softly into her ear. “I have a surprise for you in my van,” Karen whispered through my unkempt knitted cap. The rose, you already gave me it? I love it. I smiled. “Something better,” she shifted her weight in the sand, deviously winking. The anticipation and the bitter wind were too much, so we headed back to the parking lot, maneuvering through the pot holes and billows in the sand, very careful not to get our feet wet. Walking back with high wind is always difficult. We rambled slowly up the beach protecting our faces from the harsh wind, with a sensation of liberation when we spotted the sand dunes next to the boardwalk; much easier walking. I could see the cars, and I could see something else; a small, black wallet half covered in sand, barely peeking up from under the wooden walk; unearthed, no doubt by the high wind. Look! I gestured down. Karen’s pretty mouth opened wide when she at last spotted the wallet, too. The wallet was at least four feet beyond our reach, forcing us to hike off the walkway, down a slight embankment and into the snow and tall, dry, winter weeds. “Don’t get wet,” Karen commanded me in a caring voice, cupping both hands to her mouth to project her warning. I gave her an assuring glare as I took my first deep step into the mound of snow. In order to make my return trip easier I kicked a path through the foothill of slush as I inched closer to the wallet. Unfortunately, this method completely filled my boots with snow. I broke Karen’s rule; I got wet. I struggled to position each leg, as the snow became deeper with each step. My pants were saturated, my jacket buttons were packed with nature’s white wash, ready to melt and soak me, but I was close. This was quite an adventure for two, dare I say, middle aged women. I could see the wallet now, my rescue mission almost complete. I reached under the decking, wondering what else is hidden under this massive walkway, and plucked the weathered, black wallet from its frozen tomb. Back at the car I dumped out my boots, threw my wet coat in my trunk, and crawled back inside Karen’s van. I knew she had a surprise waiting for me, but we just had to investigate the wallet, first. “It’s good you live so close. We can dry you out fast,” Karen said in a caring tone, or perhaps she was just inviting herself over to my place. I have to get these wet pants off. I’m soaked to my panties. I said, Karen laughed and opened her eyes wide, hungry-like then said. “Oh, I like that idea.” She helped me pull my wet pants off and then she propped her shoulders against my belly and without even a blink, began to lick the cold pale skin of my inner thighs. I spread my legs with an action so natural it startled me. I held the wallet securely as Karen went down on me. Sucking gently on my clitoris, I leaned back to enjoy her loving determination. Is this my surprise? I whispered in a dream state. “Nope,” Karen yapped licking the flavor from her own lips. “I have something even better,” she claimed. Then she spun over and wedged her body between the two front seats, reaching with all her might to snatch a shoe box sitting on the passenger seat floor. “Here, for you,” she handed me the box. I gazed at her silently, shaking the box like a girl on Christmas morning. What is it? “Open up!” And with her command I pried the tight cover off the box to see a bottle of baby oil and a huge, bright red, jelly dildo. Are you serious? How did you become this way? I sarcastically uttered with an open mouth and a very worried gaze. “I’m going to fuck you with that cock,” was her rebuttal. Karen meant business this time. I had never met someone so sexual in my life. Granted it was all very new, but the passion and the emotion and the sex, my God the sex we shared the past forty eight hours! It was all beyond belief. I wasn’t quite able to put clear thoughts together. But I knew I liked the companionship very much. I couldn’t even attempt a guess at what made Karen come this far out of her shell. One time, during a rare college visit we were having lunch together with a few of her acquaintances from class. I recall one of the guys at the table asking the women what they thought about different, risqué sexual situations. He was obviously trying to play one of us, but his questions were titillating nonetheless. I remember him asking us whether or not we would try lesbian sex, and he developed quite a scenario. He asked if we were out of town staying at a hotel where no one knew us, and we met a woman who was willing, would we have sex with her. Of course I shied away from the question completely, but I do remember Karen answering him with a resounding NO. She seemed repulsed at the idea twenty years ago, or perhaps that was simply a protective face she put on. She is quite the free thinker, today. Like a fly in her web, I was trapped and miss spider was ready to thrust her red jelly fang into me. My pants were off; Karen pushed my torso backward, forcing me to hold my weight with my elbows as she oiled her ten inch weapon. I needed no baby oil, and she knew it. But she was kind, and greased her rod. I felt the tip playing with my large clit. The soft jelly offered some semblance of penis authenticity. I’ve never used a dildo on myself, yet another first for me. The van’s heater roared, creating ample warmth and enough white noise to soften the sex sounds around us. Karen lowered her face to meet up with the bright red cock. She licked at the back of it, as the tip entered me. It felt so good. Her touch was delicate and loving. She eagerly traced the length of the cock with her tongue, stopping to suck on my clit, which was now fully aroused and protruding nearly an inch out beyond its normal position. The jelly dong was deep inside me, bottoming out and stretching me with unreserved pleasure. Karen’s ability to please me was limitless. “Feel good?” she hummed with her sexy voice, drawing out her words methodically. Oh, it’s perfect, I murmured. Karen’s mouth sucked me in. I could feel the sensation of baby oil leaking down to my crack, tingling my ass button. I began fucking her toy with great hip thrusts; her mouth, along for the ride. The tension within me bred anticipation. Suddenly, I felt Karen’s oil-covered thumb plunge entirely into my anus. She wiggled it gently creating a hurricane in my pussy. Out of control, I climaxed with authority, and shook all at once. Karen slowed the pumping to a slight pulse and bent to drink my juice. She eased her beautiful lips along my thick pubic line and kissed my belly with the touch of a butterfly, up and down, over and over, her tongue and lips twirled until my cream churned to butter. Come home with me, I pleaded in a senseless, orgasmic daze, raking my fingers through her thick, golden curls, still catching breath. Karen opened up her smile and jolted “ABSOLUTLY,” as if she was starving and I held all the bread. Figuring my condo was a mile away, I neglected putting on my wet pants. Instead, Karen gave me one of the industrial flower blankets from the back of her van to cover my sex for the short ride. She turned on the interior light, as the 3:45 sun was nearly gone. Winter in New England is a sight for those who love the season of the night. Long spells of darkness cascade into brief, cold, shadowy days. So, 3:45 in December, as any New Englander knows, is getting late. I raked together all my clothes and my pocketbook and that wallet we found an hour ago. She pressed the magic button and the sliding van door began to yawn and hum and drag, as if it was begging me to crawl out. I unenthusiastically transitioned myself to my own freezing car seat, while Karen followed me in her body-heated flower van. Chapter 5: Making PlansI felt a hint of awkwardness and embarrassment as we pulled up to my condo, filling the short driveway with both vehicles. I wondered how many neighbors will see me running into the door wrapped in a blanket with my new female lover. Will they be able to tell we fuck? Oh my God, I said audibly, watching Karen in my rear view mirror. I froze in that position for just a moment, just looking. She really is sexy. Her face is so pure and innocent; doesn’t show her age. She looks an easy ten years younger than her 42. Why me? Am I a lesbian? I can’t stop thinking about her. What a fool I am, this can’t work. Oh, her boobs are so big. Am I a boob girl? Karen woke me from my trance with her knuckle on my cold window. “Let’s get in I’m freezing!” She smiled at me and I got goose bumps. She affects me in a way I can’t explain. It’s only been forty eight hours since she made her move, and now I can’t stop thinking about her and her mouth and her smile.“Nice,” Karen complimented my condominium, her eyes roaming about. I leaned in to pull her hair off her face, and then I surprised her with a lingering lick on her cool neck. “Oh you are so sensual; I love it.” Karen cooed and caressed the back of my head with her capable fingers. “Where’s the wallet?” Karen broke our embrace. Here, look, I handed it over. We crouched down on the floor, using the vestibule settee as our workbench. Her hands shuffled the wallet, opening the snap that held it tight. “It’s full. Imagine if it had $100,000 in it?” She fantasized. We’d have to give it back, baby. Karen’s posture became crisp and statue-like. “You just called me baby.” She kissed me. “I like that.” We melted together for just a second. I nudged her shoulder with mine and brought our attention back to the wallet. “Chloe Olson, 54 Pembroke Ave., Portsmouth New Hampshire.” Karen read the owner’s information off her driver’s license. Should we call her? “Yes, but let’s go through the rest of this.” How old is she? “Born in 1974.” I wonder how she dropped this, and how on earth did it get all the way up the dune under the boardwalk. “She may have dropped it on her way to the sand, but it was tucked pretty far under the walk.” Karen held her cell up to her compassionate face. “Portsmouth New Hampshire” she paused looking into space. “Chloe Olson, Pembroke Ave., she’s getting the number,” Karen mouthed in a whisper to me, not wanting the 411 operator to hear, then pecked my lips hastily, just barely sticking her tongue out; enough to make me tingle. “603-740” Karen pointed at me, sign language meaning that that part of the number was mine to remember. “5473, 5473, 5473,” Karen’s memory chant went on and on as she attempted to call Chloe. “It’s ringing,” Karen stated with big, bright excited eyes. I held a towel around me for warmth, eager for a shower. “Hi, Is this Chloe Olson? My friend and I, well really you can thank my friend Cassie who got all wet rescuing your wallet at Salisbury Beach, this afternoon.” Karen winked, giving Chloe my number. I moved around her while she made arrangements to reunite the wallet and the owner. Purposefully trying to distract my new lover, I ran the length of my arm against her crotch from back to front, pressing hard against her pussy. I could easily hear the affect in her voice. Karen finished her call with a lazy toss of the cell phone. Suddenly life began to slow, to simplify. I was now in charge, Karen was the hopeless object. I Held her face tight. I’m going to eat you until you cum in my mouth, you fucking little sexy bitch, roared out from the deepest extent of my soul. I did all I could to rip her pants off, but it was tougher than I had hoped. She wiggled silently, freely offering assistance until both her panties and jeans flopped like dead weight to the granite. Comfort was secondary; sex, primary. We wrestled to the unfriendly chill of the stone floor. Pleasure overtook suffering. My lips went wild on her creamy thighs. Her spattering of freckles put me over the edge. My fingers worked their new found magic inside her folds. My tongue seemed experienced for having such slight practice. I sucked her pussy like a starving whore, Conquering her natural, disheveled pubic hair with the whole of my face. My neck muscles strained to push harder. Slurping her soaking wet vagina, Oh the taste! I ate her with pristine passion, deeply digging, devouring and pleasing this beautiful middle-aged woman; I sucked her clit hard into my mouth, adoring the tang. I could sense her blood rushing through her clit; it throbbed on my tongue. Karen shook, arms stiff, holding tight and trembled and cried to the angels and to whoever else could hear: “I’m coming, so fucking, oh you I’m coming.” She bucked and I drank her juice relentlessly; satiated for the moment.The hot shower cleared our system. Karen sat tight to me on the couch as we ate some leftover chicken in front of the TV. “We can drop off the wallet on Thursday and then spend New Year’s Eve in Portsmouth.” Karen suggested. “Unless you already have plans.” No plans for me. I haven’t gone out on New Year’s since before I got married. You like Portsmouth? I don’t know much about it, I strangely and for no reason at all admitted “Oh, sure! I love Portsmouth. I’ll show you a secret spot in Prescott Park where you can meditate in absolute peace.” Too cold for that, I smiled. Karen’s head rested against mine, “I’ll keep you warm,” She whispered. In a synchronized move, we both set our small plates to the coffee table and Karen stretched all the way out. Her head now dormant on my lap, her eyes connected to mine. How many other women have you been with? I just had to ask. “Oh, not many.” Her whisper was reassuring. How many is not many? “Just a few.” Who was your first? I asked with sexual curiosity in my tone. “Oh, years ago back when I was a freshman at UNH, I slept over Noel’s dorm. Do you remember her? I introduced you once when you visited” No, but this sounds like a porno, I joked. “Noel was in three classes with me. Her dorm was across from me.” And what happened? Were you drunk with her, too? I smiled touching the tip of her chin with my finger. “No, it was just one of those nights; dark and rainy. We were just talking about classes. We were pretty close friends. She was actually my only friend at college.” Karen sighed. So what happened? I urged more persuasively. “That night? It was a back rub job. It was so bizarre. She massaged me through my T shirt, kneading my shoulders while we talked, then her hand went plop! Down the back of my sweat pants.” No k**ding? “Yes! She rubbed my bottom for a few minutes. I thought it was weird, but it felt awesome. Then she slowly started to finger me. I didn’t say a word during this whole thing.” Karen’s story was turning me on. Her face was flush. “We ended up in bed topless, sucking on each other’s nipples and kissing. I fingered her, but I did nothing to her with my mouth, that night.” Did you ever eat her like you ate me? “Yes, but not that night. We became secret lovers for a while, almost two years. Noel was always horny; you would have liked her.” Karen tugged at my neck expecting a kiss. Instead, I slowly licked her impressive and dense eyebrows with the very tip of my tongue. The gentle gliding forced her eyes shut. With the weight of a butterfly, I touched my lips to the tips of her eyelashes, sending Karen into a long, throaty moan. What else did you do to Noel? I mouthed into her ear. “We did everything together.” Karen confessed pulling me close, she kissed me hard. This was not a typical kiss. This was one of those noisy, messy kisses two lovers share right before a climax. But there was no orgasm waiting this time, just absolute want and desire. There was no denying, I was hooked.Chapter 6: Meeting ChloeThe New Year was just two days away, and what a way to start. Over the past weekend I had amended my happiness tenfold, and in such an unexpected way. Karen was still asleep in my bed when I began to roam the condo in search of something, anything quiet to occupy my time. I was horny all day and night since I discovered this new thing with Karen. I wanted nothing more than to go roll on top of her, but she needs to sleep. I needed to sleep. We, oh boy did we need to sleep. She is consuming my thoughts, and truthfully I can’t get the act of eating her pussy out of my mind. Why did I wait so many years? I actually ate another woman’s pussy. What a bizarre situation. But everything is okay, I think, yes, we’re good. If I only knew about this when I was twenty; if I just dabbled in it; who knows? Karen went off to the flower shop late because the week after Christmas was their slowest of the year. My mind and body were alone for the first time in three days; time to recoup. Living alone meant facing loneliness on a daily basis; fronting it right in the eyes. But oddly enough, loneliness soothed me. The peace, the solitude, it is what I missed most when I was married. Just me and the tea pot, I smiled in the hush, thinking of Karen. Abruptly the phone slammed me back to reality. Hello? A big, bright voice was on the other end. “Hi, this is Chloe Olson; you called me last night about my wallet.” Oh, that was my girlfriend Karen who called. My eyes opened wide, jaw dropped; did I say girlfriend? What will this woman think? Oh, my God, she’ll think I’m a lesbian. My head spun with self-ridicule as I brought myself back to the phone. My name is Cassie Keane. We were going to call you back today to set up a meeting time in Portsmouth. We thought it would be nice to spend New Year’s Eve on Market Square. “Oh, that does sound nice, but I was wondering if I could meet up with you today to pick up my wallet. I really need my credit cards. I can drive to you, no problem. Are you free?” Yes, sure, absolutely. I didn’t even think about that. You probably need everything. How did you lose it? “Well, sort of a long story. I was just out for a drive. My father passed a couple months ago and on his birthday I took a walk, you know, on the beach. I wasn’t thinking right, careless I’m so spacey when I have something on my mind.” We all are, I interrupted. “I remember crying alone on the boardwalk and my bag fell to the ground. I didn’t even know it was gone until I got home, very late. Irresponsible, huh?” Chloe’s voice dragged with grief. No! I laughed politely. We can meet here or there or halfway. I offered. “Well, if your girlfriend won’t mind, I’d like to take you to lunch to thank you properly.” I gasped deep and choked on her words! Oh, no not like that, she won’t, we’re not umm. Chloe interrupted with a barely noticeable giggle. “How about we talk over lunch? 11:45? The Portsmouth Wine Bar is very good, new. Its right in Market Square, you can’t miss it.” Sounds like a date, was all I could think of saying before I hung up. Date, I said date what a stupid thing to say. The drive from Salisbury to Portsmouth is about eighteen miles, all highway. I’ve done it a thousand times on my many Kittery shopping days, which typically happened at least once a month. I would shop endlessly just as an excuse not to be home. But now that I’m detached, I don’t seem to shop so much. But Portsmouth is fun, no matter what I told Karen the other day. I don’t know why I lied to her about me knowing about Portsmouth. I guess I was trying to allow her to be in control of something, anything. Even if it was a useless and foolish lie, I made her feel good. Besides, how bad would it be for Karen to show me around? It would be fun and make her feel special. I headed downtown and circled around the block twice before finding the single remaining parking spot, not so close to Market Square, up on Bow Street. Not great, but only two blocks in the freezing cold from Market Square. I huddled with my hands tight in my pockets, doing a big favor here I rumbled, again forgetting my winter gloves. Something dawned on me at that very moment: how on earth would I know who she is? I didn’t get a description, just The Portsmouth Wine Bar. Wait, I thought out loud, her license must have a picture, of course. I fished through her wallet with my frozen fingers on my walk over to the Wine Bar. Her New Hampshire license was buried amongst a million other store customer cards. Yet the license was pristine, like new. I was surprised I hadn’t looked before but I remember having impromptu sex with Karen right after she got off the phone with Chloe the other night. Distractions! She’s pretty, I thought. I figured her age on my fingers, four years younger than me, auburn hair and heavy set but very well presented. The Bar was just ahead, so I panicked that she would see me rifling through her things. I stuffed them in roughly and haphazardly and snapped it all closed, innocent enough, I smiled and went inside, blowing warmth into my fist, ready to complete the rescue. Chloe was standing in the doorway, leaning with her thick arm against the old, empty pay phone cover, a heavy wool coat d****d on her free arm. Her hair was shorter than her picture and she looked even heavier in person. There must have been 220 pounds of her filling the impressive scoop neck mini dress; designer, for sure, but odd for the cold season. Her Irish skin looked supple and delicate and well preserved. What curves this woman possessed. Amazing cleavage led down to ample breasts that over filled the little blue, tight fitting outfit. For a larger woman, she was gorgeous. Earnestly attractive skin painted in rich freckles that closely matched the color of her hair. Her nails were pristinely unspoiled and her wide smile was framed in bright glossy red. So this is what they call a cinnamon girl, I thought in a devious manner, my inner lesbian was peeking out. Chloe? I exclaimed wagging the wallet in the air. She hopped over to meet me and hugged me, her enormous breasts squished against mine. “Thank you so much. Oh how can I thank you?” She released me from her grip and kissed my cheek, clutching her wallet. I refrained from kissing her back though her aroma compelled me; she smelled of sweet peppermint. “It’s nice to meet you, Cassie!” She said, stirring my sap with her deep blue eyes. Chloe had a secret I needed to learn, but what was it? Something special, something was incredibly sexy about this woman. I gawked at her outrageous dress. Then, I did something I could not believe. I gently placed my left hand on her exceedingly freckled shoulder as we turned to get a seat; sort of nudging her in the right direction. This was abnormal behavior for me. I’m standoffish. I rarely put myself out to touch others, never mind perfect strangers. But she compelled me. It was essential, a mandate that I touch her milky, flecked skin at that very moment. “Let’s eat.” Chloe said with a scheming grin as we followed the hostess. I smiled at the strange double entendre that bounced up and hit me in the face, square. My God, a week ago I would never have flirted with another woman. How things have change.Lunch at the Wine Bar was exceptional; Chloe was right. We even indulged by sharing a cheesecake pudding, smothered in strawberry, lathered in flogged cream. During lunch our conversation never slowed. Not once did we experience the typical awkward pause. Chloe and I discovered much in common, including our years of loneliness spent in a bad marriage. The only difference, Chloe’s bad marriage is still haunting her. She said they are together for the k**s. I could relate, although I never had c***dren, I could relate to that level of love and commitment. She was a good person, surprisingly wholesome, sweet, interesting, and shrewd. As the bill came and Chloe paid, she turned to me, held my hand with her perfectly tender, manicured fingers and gently whispered “You know I believe there is a reason for everything. And perhaps I lost my wallet so that we could meet.” I gave her an accepting smile as we stepped into the blast of cold New England air, which was holding Market Square hostage. Well-fed and curious about each other, we walked along the striking and historic streets of Portsmouth, our faces freezing. Talking and jesting and nudging one another with our woolen elbows, serving as exclamation points in our conversation. Chapter 7: Bow StreetHer SUV was across from the first church, a good half mile from mine. “I’ll drive you to your car.” She insisted. I gratefully accepted. We wound through Portsmouth’s extraordinarily charming streets and turned onto Bow Street, a short one way, cut-through that is easy to miss. Bow Street is a unique C curve road that slightly climes one of Portsmouth’s few hills. Protected on the left by a long, elevated cement privacy wall covered with ivory overgrowth that guards a private parking area and a timeworn cemetery, its narrowness and the sharp bend to the road offers no clear view ahead. Chloe pulled to the side, behind my car and up to an expired up to a meter, in tight to the edge of the road. We sat in silence for the first time, warming our digits with dashboard heat. Chloe leaned forward, wiggling her weight left and right, and pulled with quite an effort to free herself from her thick winter coat. As she sat there behind the wheel her scoop neck began working on me again. How did she know that I had recently become a boob girl? Our connection was as evident as her lonesomeness. Chloe leaned over to the passenger side and tugged at my earring. “Beautiful, Cassie, So beautiful.” I wasn’t sure if she meant me or my earring, but her touch was creating a welcome fire. There she was in her tight blue dress, her wool coat balled up on the dash covering much of the window. Unafraid of her curves and folds, with her tits nearly hanging out; with her freckled thighs exposed to the cold leather seat, with my sense of sexual promiscuity as highly tuned as it had ever been; she kissed me right there on Bow Street, next to the dormant ivy wall. The taste of lunch wine lingered on her lips; such thick lips. Her mouth completely covered my own. We were moving together in high tempo. “I really like you, Cassie.” Chloe moaned into my mouth. My hand immediately caressed her remarkable breasts. I needed to feel them as much as she needed me. Her breasts were spectacular; so big and soft. I pulled her right breast out from the little blue dress and suckled upon it, hungry without thinking. I licked it all over, hunched down, cars passing by on the street. We huddled as low as we could behind the wool coat and went straight to work, recklessly, soundlessly, a****listicly. Chloe wore no panties. The middle of winter and she dared to be so exposed, so vulnerable. I couldn’t understand, but I didn’t mind. My mind raced as if I was in a fantasy dream. I discovered her pussy with eagerness as she widened her knees still kissing me hard. I was shocked to find her completely shaved, clean and smooth; my fingers began yet another new dance; such a contrast to Karen’s organic look. I felt guilty for a moment until Karen left my head. So different, so alluring, I thought. I bunched my legs tightly and crunched as low as I could go, cramming my head between the steering wheel and her sexy, supple belly; still no words; and then I did it. Robotically, as if I had years of lesbian activity under my belt; as if it was a typical movement; nonchalantly; I went down on Chloe, right there on Bow Street. I ate her pussy and she cried out in pleasure. I softly licked her velvet lips over and over, while I fingered my own sex. I affectionately pressed my tongue deep inside her, enjoying the flavor of her sex. Her small clit was caressing my upper lip. I maneuvered my throbbing, oversexed clit in a wanton circular motion. Simultaneously, and very quickly, we shared a climax, shaking and trembling as cars drove by. An amazing blast of passion, our sex lasted just a few minutes.I pulled my wet face up from Chloe’s seat with a fair helping of embarrassment, and turned to the blowing heat on the dashboard, dumbfounded. “I’ve never done that before.” Chloe spurted. Never? My eyes opened wide, voice a bit raised. “No” She repeated “But that was amazing. I’ve so wanted this for a long time.” But you kissed me. I just thought you had “Experience?” Chloe finished my sentence. For sure, I said with an insecure grin. Chloe leaned in and kissed her juice from my lips. “I’m a very sexual person.” She whispered, kissing her way down my neck. My eye lids reacted with an uncontrollable, fluttering reflex. This is so erotic, Chloe, I purred as she devoured my neckline. Abruptly out of the gray of the silent winter afternoon an astonishingly, exceedingly brash siren went off. “Cops!” Chloe puffed, stunned for a moment. I straightened my body to face forward; Chloe straightened out her tight dress, and watched the flashing blue strobe of the Portsmouth Police fly by Chloe’s car, on route to some sort of emergency. Whoa! I exhaled; serious thoughts consumed me. I’m glad we didn’t get caught having public sex. I would have lost my job. What would Karen think of me? I wondered. Paranoid and sexually spent, I turned to answer the question Chloe asked while I was daydreaming. Probably the best skill I have developed as a professor is the ability to listen and think and sort things out all at once. Yes, I would absolutely love to see you again. I answered, feeling a fog of guilt lift over me. I raised her perfectly manicured hand to my lips and whispered you’re beautiful, then stepped out into the Seacoast frost. Light snow started to fall on my drive home giving me a strange sense of refuge, as if it were cleansing me. My midlife renaissance has left me sexually insatiable, with a distinct apatite for the feminine soul. Guilt brewed and spilt over from my cheap, carnal greed. I have become reawakened, yet regrettably confused. I’m a whore! A Goddamn whore! I screamed, alone in the car, half disappointed half excited. I had never felt so alive, so tangled, so isolated. There was no human being on earth I could talk to about my situation—fascination–obsession. What was it? The mile markers passed without notice. I was back in Salisbury, empty. I wanted nothing more than to cry and settle my personal crisis; figure out who I am. I needed a shower. I was exceptionally horny. Chapter 8: Telling a lieSettling in to watch the Celtics took my mind off my love triangle remorse. Basketball had become my guilty pleasure over the past many years, brought on by marrying a diehard Boston Celtics fan. Things rub off; it’s natural; although I would never admit this to any other faculty at work. Those folks don’t get real life. Even without him in the picture I still bled green. Home, now clean and calm, I relaxed for the moment and giggled thinking about the outlandish events of the previous four days. Celts are on; therapy is in progress. My phone screamed over the game. Two rings, but I refused to move. It was Karen’s number on the caller Id. The filth in my soul made me petrified to answer. The machine took care of that. “Hey, it’s me. When you get home give me a call.” She left the message with that beautiful mouth of hers. All I wanted to do at that moment was leap through the phone and kiss her. I wanted to hold her and touch her. I just wanted to understand why I did what I did with Chloe. I beat myself down with questions: Am I that much of an a****l? I’m a grown woman, a professor for Christ sakes who can’t control her carnal impulses. I’m shameful. I had just washed Chloe’s pussy juice off my face and all I could think of was kissing Karen. I’m awful, I’m terrible, I whispered in head.I called Karen back almost immediately. I had to talk to her. I had to tell her the truth. I owed her that. Her phone was ringing; my head whirling, thinking aloud. Maybe she would be cool with it. Maybe she would be turned on! Perhaps we three could, she picked up on the fourth ring. Hey, I was in the shower, I said with a smile in my voice. “I missed you today, professor. I have something for you.” Karen offered with authenticity and just absolute joy in her delivery. You do? I winced, face crunched taut, guilty, guilty, guilty. “I made you a special silk flower arrangement for your office at school.” I melted into the couch as my tummy fluttered. Her rhythmic voice put a spell on me. The game drifted into a distant tunnel “The Celtics up by 18,” roared out of the TV, bringing me back. You shouldn’t have done that, I exclaimed, clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth in appreciation. “Well I did and I liked doing it. What did you do today?” Karen asked. My head spun. I paused, perhaps choked silently. Reality circled my skull. Could I possibly tell her the truth? What on earth would that sound like? Oh, I met Chloe. Nice girl; brought back her wallet. We had lunch and discovered an immense attraction toward one another; made out on the side of the road and I fingered myself while I went down on her; a perfect stranger, nevertheless. Not to mention, she has a completely shaved vagina. The truth won’t work! I pressed my temple with my free hand, increasing my very long pause. I exhaled feeling my ribs shrink. “You there?” Karen cried out. Yes, sorry Paul Pierce, the Celtics got a three pointer, they distract me. I lied. Chloe, the girl with the wallet called early this morning. I explained carefully, sounding aloof. She needed her credit cards right away, I guess. So I went to Portsmouth to return the wallet. She bought me lunch at the Wine Bar. I told Karen the simple truth, just not the whole story, in one uneasy, rumbling breath. “Oh, I guess we don’t need to go up after all. It sounds like spending New Year’s Eve in Portsmouth is off then.” Karen rebutted, sounding horribly disappointed. Aw baby, we can still go. I can’t wait. I’ll call an inn tomorrow and make reservations, if any are left at this point. I soothed her. “You called me baby again.” Karen cooed. Her articulation became crisp and indulgent. She was ready to make love to me over the phone. I’ll call you tomorrow at the shop. I need to sleep. I hurried off the phone, but not quick enough. I distinctly heard Karen say the word LOVE as I was hanging up. Son of a bitch. New Year’s Eve morning arose with gusto. The light flakes that followed me home from Portsmouth yesterday turned evil overnight. Nine inches, fluffy, thank goodness, meant easier to shovel. But the forecast was troublesome. Snow would graciously taper off during the day, allowing us all a short window in which to clean up and travel before the second, more intense wave was due. Tonight, New Year’s Eve, there was to be a whipping Nor Easter ready to deliver another foot to the Seacoast. Yet amidst Mother Nature’s wrath, I made reservations at a fine bed and breakfast called The Olde Portsmouth Manor, just off downtown for two nights, complimentary sparkling chardonnay each night, fresh cookies from a local bakery accompany the turndown service, and a hot tub in the room. Guilt! paid for by American Express. I called Karen as she arrived at work with all the news. “I love it! Thank you so much.” I could recognize Karen’s smile through the phone. “We’ll have to leave early. I’m closing at noon. I can pick you up at 12:30. My flower van has all-wheel drive.” She planned with eagerness, talking quickly. You mean to say we are going to the best B&B on the Seacoast in a minivan? The same one, I began to whisper faintly into the phone so none of her employees would hear on the other end. The same one you fucked me in the other day? “That same one.” Karen whispered back, methodically, turning my screws. “I’ll be sure to grab my bag of tricks. Got to go. 12:30, Kay?” I was instantly aroused, but I had a lot to pack. Four hours moves quickly.Chapter 9: FallingAlthough not well steeped in the art of seduction, I packed the two single pieces of lingerie I owned, hardly used. The red, lacy number has spaghetti straps and a low, ornate neckline that enriches my C cup breasts, but certainly not too slutty. The white piece might be categorized as absolutely slutty. A gift from my ex-husband; it was his hapless attempt at reconciliation after he fucked his 24 year old paralegal intern. Make me sluttier to fit his needs. I never fit his needs nor into his life plan. But with a new outlook and growing confidence, I packed it in my bag under a few books and my hair dryer, what the hell.Karen was due in about an hour when the phone rang. Hello? “Hi Cassie.” Her voice came across as familiar as my own. I got a chill instantly when I heard it. Everything about her attracted me. Her breath, her lovely peppermint breath was here, with me on the phone. Hi, I whispered back, instinctively hiding the cordless phone secretively and tightly in the fold of my shoulder and neck. I had such a good time with you, Chloe. I oozed into the receiver, forgetting about the balance of the world for just a moment. “Me too. I really want to see you. My k**s are headed to grandmas for the holiday; hubby’s going out with friends. I am available! Can I see you tonight? I promise a New Year’s kiss at midnight.” Chloe unleashed all that information in one delicious gasp. I tingled as she spoke. What was it she had? This non-traditional, plump, married mother of two made me itch and seep and yearn right to my core? I couldn’t get enough of her. My head spun with demand. I surely could not POSSIBLY cancel on Karen. But I was free, unrestricted for the first time in my LIFE. Should I lie then perform a mea culpa with Karen, attempt to salvage a friendship and continue on with a torrid, sexual affair with a married woman? Karen is falling for me. Do I want that? What if I fall? Maybe Karen will be interested in a strange, complex, convoluted, three person relation… oh my God! What am I thinking? My thoughts flew by faster than the women I’ve fucked this week. I brought my concentration back to the phone. Honestly, I said, I would love, love to see you tonight; you don’t know how much I’ve been thinking of you. But, I hesitated, remember Karen? The woman who first phoned you about your wallet? Well, we’re kind of, the words were stuck, well we have plans up your way, we’re sort of, Chloe interrupted “Special friends?” Chloe finished my sentence, drawing out her words. Huh? “I sensed that. That’s what gave me the guts to kiss you. Look, I’m married, I get it, totally. I would never do anything to damage your friendship.” Am I that transparent? I feared. She knew? How? My mind was whirling. You’re really sweet, and incredibly sexy. We’re actually leaving soon. Let me talk to Karen. Perhaps we can all meet up for a drink later during the storm. I’ll call you from my cell, I instructed matter-of-factly. “Look forward.” Chloe encouraged. We hung up with tentative, conceivably unlikely plans for later. I closed my eyes for a moment and smelled her breath from memory, one more time. I grunted slightly thinking of her kiss, as if tasting a fine merlot, the kind that eases the pallet like rich, dark, black coffee. I opened my eyes and dropped harshly back to earth. As spectacular as Chloe’s skin was to touch and taste, and as intoxicating and comforting her kiss, Karen’s was every bit as alluring and enchanting. Each woman had taken me into a very special place. I was especially thankful for that. All three of us shared a common element called loneliness. Void of that irony, we would each be still deserted. Without doubt, my life has changed one hundred eighty degrees, without warning, so rapidly. Some caterpillars in the unsympathetic cold of Alaska take thirteen years, thirteen full summer seasons to build up enough energy in order to construct a chrysalis. After thirteen years of eating leaves all summer and freezing to death each winter, then resurrected once again during the spring thaws, they finally achieve their simple, yet utterly complex life goal of metamorphosis; a beautiful transformation that thrusts their new wings and new bodies into flight. This Christmas break, I have constructed my chrysalis.Watching from my front window, I saw the flower van pull up. I skipped along the driveway with my two bags to greet Karen, feeling secure in my trek due to the impressive layer of ice melt I applied earlier. She opened her window and I reached my head through far enough to meet her lips. We kissed right there, in the lightly falling early afternoon snow, with icy windshield wipers chafing the glass, singing a winter chorus, with the threat of nosy neighbors peeking through mini blinds, we kissed. “Hi baby,” she said with that great big smile. The whir of the magic minivan sliding door woke me from my trance. I tossed my bags next to hers and we were off to our Portsmouth holiday. “I have an unusual surprise for you, once we get to Portsmouth.” I smiled, curious but didn’t ask. I knew she was full of unique surprises. I did however make a bold move at the first and only red light we hit before we got on to the highway. I eased her head back with my left hand, unbuckled my seatbelt and licked the full length of her neck tasting her work day salt, stopping only to suck her earlobe into my mouth. “Oh wow!” Karen shot out. I was feeling a serious boost of confidence since my secret Bow Street encounter. “There is a rest stop a mile up, just over the New Hampshire line.” She continued. “I’m going to pull over and rip your pants off.” I laughed full and loud. No! Keep going. We are twenty minutes away, and check in was a half hour ago. Save your energy for the hot tub. I demanded, holding her strong florists’ hand. She squeezed my hand three times, deliberately and with potency. Our hands meshed together and our fingers mingled, getting to know one another better. Our finger tips danced with an inept beat, uncooperative yearning for improvement. It takes time to mesh. Once again she squeezed my hand three times, firmly so I would notice. What’s that for? I questioned, rubbing my thumb in circles around her index finger. She squeezed my hand with hers slowly this time saying the words I-Love-You, one word for each squeeze. My mouth opened a bit as I sat silent feeling her knuckles loosen with angst waiting for my rebuttal, our grip was almost lost. Her fingers were attempting to escape the on slot of embarrassment, and then before she could wither to safety, I grabbed on and squeezed her hand in trade, three times. ¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬Chapter 10: Distinctive treatmentWe settled into room 304 in the beautiful Olde Portsmouth Manor, once a famous sea captain’s home, now a retro fitted bed and breakfast inn that perfectly blends quaint with high-tech. It drew great raves amongst the bloggers and reviewers I researched online, and at $580 a night, it should; a splurge that will force me to teach a summer course in order to catch up on the credit card bill. The grand entrance flaunts a series of high end leather seating and a walk-in fireplace, of which I had never before seen; towering stone eight feet in the air held captive an impressive fire that lashed out at eye level. The impeccable service had our bags to our breathtaking room in minutes. We opened the door of the suit in absolute awe. Lavishly appointed décor accented the rich furnishings. Three over-stuffed, roll arm soft brown leather couches boxed in the charming gas fireplace. Behind the seating area was a small private library consisting of, according to the front desk clerk, 2000 volumes. I was in heaven. A granite counter offered ample space to fix drinks, alongside the wet bar. A short hallway led to the bath and the bedroom. The bathroom was extensive and contained a walk in shower with a half dozen showerheads, as well as a full size, contemporary hot tub that possessed a Bose music system, illumination, and a small wine bar. Not to be outdone by the other spectacular rooms, the sleeping quarters boasted a king size adjustable bed and a sliding glass door that opened to a private atrium that overlooked downtown Portsmouth. Simply breathtaking.Shall we jump in the hot tub? I asked Karen. “Can’t now. We have to go get that surprise for you.” What are you talking about? I begged, nudging her with my shoulder. “As much as I hate to leave this room, we must. And soon, I have a special appointment for you at two fifteen.” Back in the van I continued my nagging. Where are we going? “The Castle Spa, just up the road in New Castle. It’s my absolute favorite, you’ll see.” Karen had a devious smirk that was drawing me in. “I go once a month, like clockwork. I promise this will change your life.” Karen said, finally letting the secret out as we rolled over the snowy bridge that led to New Castle, just a short mile and a half from the inn. I was just about to ask Karen what she thought about meeting up with Chloe tonight, when we turned into the spa parking lot. She leaned over and pressed a heartfelt kiss on my lips, as the snow began to hasten. “You’re going to love this. I scheduled a massage for you.” Karen excitedly sprang out of the van.Strangely, I had never had a professional massage at a spa. I didn’t want to admit that to Karen. I was nervous not knowing what to expect. The spa was absolutely lovely and unquestionably pristine. Cut flower arrangements were s**ttered about, thawing the cold winter day. Karen nudged me with an elbow and a whisper from the side of her mouth “I supply all the floral.” She boasted. We sat in the luxurious waiting area for the masseuse to be ready, eager to be together. She touched the edge of my hand with the tip of her pinky reminding me of our fermenting desire. Suddenly I heard my name being called, “Cassandra Keane?” Poking out from the back was an exceedingly lovely masseuse holding a clipboard. “Hello, I’m Sandy.” She introduced herself with a gentle and tender energy; calming and low key. Sandy was absolutely magnificent. Somewhere around 30 years old, I took a guess. Her attractive features were definitely Greek. Pitch black hair that glistened with an enviable shine in the soft indirect lighting. She was superbly natural in every way. No polish, yet her short nails were perfectly manicured. Her curvy body gave evidence of muscle tone, yet she was feminine in every way. My inner lesbian was rearing its head again. “Welcome Cassandra, and Happy New Year, Here is warm house gown for you to change into. Please leave all your clothes in this basket.” Sandy coached me each step of the way. After changing in private, I met Sandy in the adjoining room. I was pleasantly surprised at the elegance and comfort the massage room offered. Thick white carpet eased the bare feet. The table was slightly heated and classical music and candles created the relaxing, almost sleepy ambiance. I settled on the table, chest down. My face rested comfortably on the donut-like support pillow, allowing me a clear view of the carpeted floor. I closed my eyes as Sandy exposed my back by peeling off the terrycloth house gown. What a thoughtful surprise, I thought. Sandy’s hands warmed the aromatic oil, and then began to work on my shoulders. Her touch was transcendent; delicate, meaningful, knowledgeable. She worked my back thoroughly, careful not to miss an inch. Her long strokes made me shiver. Her wrists turned deep circles on my sciatic nerve, and then she leaned forward allowing her full arm to rub the whole length of my back, ending with her elbows at the top of my neck. This move was repeated several times slowly, putting me into a New Year’s Eve trance. A moment later Sandy reached over to the table next to her and extracted three rounded beach stones; each about the size of a pack of cards, and placed them on my back in a neat little row. The stones felt peppery in their spots, warm and effective in loosening my tension. As the stones did their work, Sandy moved her hands even lower, to my astonishment. She began to work my buttocks; rippling the heel of her palms deep into my tissue; Kneading my flesh. At this point my wetness had to be obvious. Sandy hadn’t yet peeped a sound, but all of a sudden she said, “I see you are friends with Karen. She is a very special customer and a good friend of the spa.” She’s terrific, I moaned through the face support. “She requested I give you our distinctive treatment, today.” Oh, really? I questioned from cloud nine. And just then, at that very moment, Sandy inserted her thumb in my vagina. Oh, wow! I breathed then gasped for air, finally understanding what the distinctive treatment was. Sandy’s distinctive treatment was underway. She fingered me, expertly for a few minutes. She held pressure on my pubic bone from inside my vagina and with the knuckle of her index finger, stimulated my clitoris. How did she know how to do that? I wondered, wiggling with ecstasy. After a moment of this absolute pleasure, and just when I was on the brink of an orgasm, Sandy removed the stones from my back and asked me to turn over. She placed a warm cloth over my eyes and oiled my breasts with her soft, expert hands. She teased my nipples stiff by tracing circles with the flat, oily palm of her hands; just barely touching them. Her fingers worked their way past my abdomen and again along my pubic bone, this time from a different angle. With a soft brush she stroked and combed my thick pubic hair while her other hand elegantly sketched the outline of my pussy lips. All groomed, she inserted those two busy fingers into my pussy, as her right hand was preparing something on her work table. Wet, squishing noises accompanied the classical soundtrack. Unexpectedly, I felt a vibrator. Sandy had lubed a vibrating tool and began working it on my clit as she fingered my soaking wet pussy. My hands clutched the massage table, white knuckles holding back my orgasm. Her thrusts became forceful and satisfying. The vibrator then entered me. Sandy pressed in firmly as she started to lick the side of my large, enflamed clit. I bucked my hips forward uncontrollably. Grunting as if I was lifting a thousand pounds off my chest, I came as my clitoris pulsated on Sandy’s tongue. Her touch was the most unique I had ever experienced. She silently kissed my tummy and my breasts, and then kissed me on the mouth, just once. She turned toward the door and looked back “I trust you enjoyed yourself, I did.” She said in a composed, unemotional tone, and then left the room for me to dress. Karen was in the waiting area drinking tea and reading a magazine. She stood and greeted me with her beautiful smile; just standing there staring at me, satisfied, contented. “How was it? She questioned. It was a very distinctive treatment, I told her sarcastically. I’ve never had such a, well–unique gift. Thank you. We chuckled together and she leaned over and kissed me. “Let’s go get in that hot tub.” Karen whispered. The cold stormy afternoon stirred me from my sexual stupor. Snow was accumulating rapidly and for once, we were simply pleased to get snowbound in that astounding room. I think, but I’m not sure, I might just have one more surprise for you, Miss Karen. I stated with a devious thought in mind. “What is it?” Karen asked, keeping all her attention on the snowy road. With that, I dialed Chloe’s number as I promised, no longer worried what Karen might think now that I know she receives happy ending massages every month. Which still boggled my mind, but it did not disturb me. I felt as free as ever. Hi Chloe! I said as she answered on one ring. Karen’s head twisted my way with a surprised look when she heard her name; she turned off the van radio to listen. Karen and I have a pretty nice room at The Olde Portsmouth Manor. Would you like to get together for a New Year’s drink? Chloe accepted the invitation readily, as I knew she would. She most likely understood my stiffened delivery on the phone. I mean, I didn’t want Karen to think this was premeditated. My offer to pick her up due to the storm was unneeded, as she too owned a sturdy four wheel drive, and she only lived a couple miles away. “Chloe?” Karen said, surprised and curious. Yes, she is a lovely lady. I think you’ll like her. I know she enjoys fine wine. I bet we can get her in that tub with us. “You’re so bad, professor!” Karen said in a playfully inquisitive tone.Chapter 11: Three for a holiday drinkWe thought it best to wait for Chloe in the lobby, although we were more than eager to enjoy all the toys our room contained. We sat closely in front of the giant fireplace, admiring the historic architecture and the hallowedness of the spectacular mansion. So, do you think this place is haunted? I asked, struggling to pass the time. “Well if there is a ghost,” Karen paused dramatically, as if telling a spooky story at a campfire. “She better well know how to eat my pussy.” What! I squealed. You are so bad. How on earth did you get this way? “Change of life, I’m going through it soon, makes one horny.” Karen specified quickly and authoritatively, as if she was a medical doctor. You’re 42. Check back in ten years for the change. This is not the change of life, I hate to tell you. You might just be a lesbian nymphomaniac. I scolded with a smile. “I’m always horny. I don’t know what’s wrong.” Nothing is wrong. I’m like that, too. I just don’t talk about it or do anything about it. And with that, in the protective shadows of the setting sun, and under the shield of the pillow Karen was holding, I slid my finger across her tight jeans and settled it in the heat of her crotch. I stayed steady and pumped my finger slightly, but quickly for a few erotic seconds. Karen breathed steadily through her nose and closed her eyes. The ambient noise of people stirring about prematurely terminated my touch. Just as I evicted my finger, I turned with instinct to see Chloe, dressed to kill, shadowing over us. I leaped from my seat to greet Chloe. Her thick freckled shoulder, completely exposed with yet another spaghetti strap, this time black, covered my mouth as we hugged our hello. Karen’s eyebrows scrunched as she witnessed our reception. I experienced a rushing wave of guilt and embarrassment. Awkwardly, with blushed flesh, I introduced my two ladies. Chloe, this is Karen, my very special friend. You talked to her on the phone the other day. I reiterated the obvious. Chloe, although shorter than me the other day stood a bit taller than both myself and Karen tonight; a lift given by her very alluring boots that rode the length of her cute rounded calves. And Karen, this is Chloe, the girl with the lost wallet. I felt like a fool. Karen sensed my peril, somehow, and stepped forward. “Nice to meet you, Chloe; may I have the same kind of hug Cassie got?” She said with a straight-faced smile. That smile could feed her, if need be. Chloe giggled and shifted her pocketbook to make room for Karen’s embrace. The two locked in a squeeze and actually swayed together for just a spit second before detaching. That Karen sure works rapidly, I thought.We three retired from our earthly mandate to what I deemed as quite simply, heaven. I had the pleasure of inserting the electronic key card and I listened in the soundproof hallway to the slight click of the high-tech deadbolt releasing its hold. The door opened and swallowed all of our attention. “Holy Moly,” screeched Chloe, as she stepped in and immersed herself in the ultra-luxury suit. Her face was precious, and both Karen and I noticed. Oh boy did we notice her. Chloe appeared to be the cleavage queen. Her New Year’s garb was quintessential. Black, coated in dancing effervescences; low, low cut, exposing all that indispensable cleavage and highlighting her heavily freckled, cinnamon chest; tight, flaunting her mouthwatering curves, and short revealing at times a tiny view of her pure ivory backside; overall a stunning dress. I would never be caught dead in it. But Karen and I appreciated it. Chloe looked around in wonder, and I instinctively cupped and caressed her ample forearm. It was incredibly soft and elastic and as silky as I had ever felt. I touched Chloe for just a second, but Karen noticed. I saw her look over. What was I thinking? This is terrible. Things are weird. Guilt, guilt, I’m guilty. My head revolved. Karen suggested Chloe go freshen up in the plushy appointed bath. She enthusiastically agreed. Karen moved into my personal space with irritation obvious. “You two fucked, right?” Karen accused with certainty. I noticed just then Karen’s long lashes. Her eyes are so pretty, but her lashes are thick and impressive. How could I lie to such a good friend? How could I lie to such a lover? How could I lie to those eyes? Not really. I lied. “Not really, what does not really mean?” Karen interjected quietly, so as not to involve Chloe. We kissed. We talked for a long time the other day; I’m all sexed up for the first time in my life thanks to you, and I do appreciate that, and we kissed and it just got out of hand. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I was scared. I began my mea culpa. Things just moved so fast this week I couldn’t keep up. “What else did you two do? I’d like to know everything.” Karen said in a serious tenor. We kissed and I ended up, I looked down scratching my ear, I ended up going down on her. You taught me everything. I’m not blaming you. I was wrong not to tell you the truth. But you were a good teacher. “I was a good teacher, said the professor.” Karen barked. Chloe walked out of the bathroom still holding a fluffy towel. “Aren’t these things great?” she asked with innocent wide eyes. Karen sulked. Her body drooped, and she shuffled off to the bedroom and closed the door with a vibrating thump, behind her. “What?” Chloe looked alarmed. Nothing, I said. Just that Karen sort of got the whole thing about us. “I’m so sorry.” Chloe tried to sooth the moment and hugged me and kissed my forehead. Remorse set in, but Chloe still held my trigger. I kissed her lightly in the midst of a relationship crisis. What is wrong with me? I questioned silently, enjoying Chloe’s cuddle. I didn’t know what to do next.Without warning, Karen heaved open the bedroom door with such great force and might it crashed with a vulgar, thunderous BANG against the wall. Chloe and I were stunned and frightened by Karen’s anger. Chloe huddled behind me. We didn’t know which direction to move. The crash turned to screams. From the end of the hallway, around the corner in the dark, shadowy bedroom, Karen bawled out as loudly as I have ever heard an adult scream, “SO YOU TWO WHORES LIKE TO FUCK.” Chloe clutched her pocketbook and my arm with her free hand, covered in goose pimples. We held one another closely, ready to face the music together, no matter. We heard Karen stomping up the hall; all the lights remained off in that part of the suit. “Karen, relax please. Please, Karen!” Chloe pleaded through the disturbingly dim corridor. “Oh, the two whores who like to fuck want ME to relax,” yelled Karen, not quite as loud this time, but with great unsettling angst. Then abruptly, demonstrating she controlled all that was about to happen, Karen snapped on the hall light blinding us for a split second and illuminating her current state. Karen stood erected in an awful pose, in front of me and in front of Chloe completely, absolutely naked, armed at her waist with a huge, thick baby blue strap on dildo. “Come on girls! I was just shitting you. You like to fuck? How about you try this?” Karen rubbed her cock while she taunted us; her inner slut was peeking out. Chloe dropped her bag, turned with a smile and stuck her tongue in my mouth. Karen stood there, jerking her plastic, laughing as Chloe and I gobbled each other’s mouths. Karen walked behind Chloe, keeping her balance with her cock bouncing with each step. Karen slowly removed the spaghetti straps and methodically kissed the freckled shoulders that so turned my key. Chloe’s dress dropped to the floor, revealing her smooth mound. I continued to kiss Chloe as Karen sunk to her knees and licked Chloe’s smooth sex. Karen looked up at me in a distorted position, and said “now we’re even,” her lips still on Chloe’s pussy making her words slurred and extremely sexy. I was sucking Chloe’s impressive tits and leisurely made my way down to join Karen. We kneeled, Chloe stood, somehow, as we licked every last speck of her pussy. Our tongues pirouetted together, licking one another’s face so as not to waste a delicious drop of Chloe. I tugged at Karen’s cock, all the while; stroking it, hungry for her thick load. I fell to the floor, laying beneath Karen, as she continued her oral attack on poor Chloe. I inched into a good position where I could suck Karen’s baby blue member. I did the best I could to swallow it, but it was just too big. I massaged Chloe’s booted leg, running my fingers up to her naked thigh, as I sucked Karen’s rubber dong. Fuck me now with that thing! I demanded Karen. “Oh look here. The whore who likes to fuck Chloe wants me to fuck her; I can do that” Karen still seized control. Karen mounted me on the floor as I held the leg of the table next to me; white knuckles holding back another. No lubrication was necessary. I was soaked with anticipation. Chloe pulled off her dress exposing her freckly, round, curvy physique. She leaned down to feed me a nipple. I greedily accepted her kind gift. Karen fucked me hard, with punishment and pleasure. Her motion was so natural; hips pushed my button so right that I thought her cock was real for just a moment. Chloe adjusted her position lending her crotch to my mouth. I dipped my tongue in the pussy that got me in all this trouble in the first place. She cried out with a series of moans, as Karen persistently plunged. I climaxed in a gush. Something I didn’t think I was built for. But I did. I squirted my climax screaming to Karen, I fucking love you. Karen smiled that smile and bent to kiss me. When she pulled out of me, her cock made a lurid sucking sound. Now that is how a girl knows she got fucked, I thought.Chloe’s pussy was wide open and wet from being so well eaten. “Please fuck me, too.” She begged in a whimpering voice. We adjusted a bit and Karen went to it. She easily plopped her rubber dick in Chloe’s relaxed pussy. But unexpectedly Chloe rejected it. “Please fuck my ass, not my cunt, Chloe said, coarsely.” Both Karen and I looked at each other with raised brows. Huh, I thought. Karen was into it on an esoteric level. I watched in awe. Karen could fuck without that needed connection or emotion, like— like she was a porn star, I thought. Karen’s little bag of tricks held plenty of everything, including lube. She greased her pole, and lightly inserted her finger in Chloe’s ass to cover her with oil, too. It was so hot watching the anal sex take place. Yet another thing I have yet to attempt. Karen slowly and with great care pressed her cock into Chloe’s beautiful ass. Chloe’s legs dangling in the air, I held on to one. As the pace got to an acceptable, steady tempo, I sunk down, mining my tongue into Chloe’s folds. Her small clit begged for attention as Karen carefully fucked her ass. Chloe cried out with pleasure as she came in waves. I continued to lick her as Karen slowed her pursuit. Karen fell to the floor in exhaustion. I held Chloe’s breast tight as I moved over to taste Karen’s lips. I sucked her mouth as she held the back of my head. Our kiss slowed from lustful to romantic, as Chloe lay there touching my tender breasts.“You know,” Chloe announced, “I’ve never eaten a pussy before. Can I try on you?” She asked, so politely, as if she were asking to pass the gravy boat at Thanksgiving. This is what makes her wonderful, I thought. Karen looked on. Chloe crawled between my legs and kissed my belly. Her thick tongue and lips had a way about them that made me dissolve. She kissed me all over, slowly as if she was trying to create a memory. She found my sex and dabbled at first. Her mouth gained confidence quickly, and she began eating her first pussy, mine. Her tongue was inexperienced but nonetheless effective. She sucked my very large clit into her mouth like a tiny cock; moving her head up and down ever so slightly. She seemed to enjoy her feast. Her face was gathering my liquor. Her effort and her motions were becoming wild. She ate me raw; left, right, sucking hard then soft, as if she was mad for vagina. The flame from the fireplace shimmered dim flakes of light off her nose and chin, wet with my condensation. Her tongue flattened out to caress and lap at my pussy lips. Chloe then bobbed up for a full breath, and I grabbed her head, pulling her to my mouth. I kissed her hard, licking my juice from her face, as Karen once did to me. I held her tight, our lips stuck together, and I whispered did you like it? “Yes, oh baby yes.” She cried stuffing my mouth with her tongue. Meanwhile, Karen kissed and scoffed all the flesh she could find, like a desert scavenger pecking at the remains of a lifeless carcass. Chloe was insatiable in her quest and turned and began to lick Karen with zest. Her thick red lips sucked Karen’s honey pot steadily and hungrily, all the while making blaring sucking noises. Karen was at the edge of a steep cliff; she could take no more. I looked on caressing Karen’s hair as she bucked and climaxed, strong and quick. Depleted, we used the residue of our energy to climb upon the comfy leather sofas, basking. No words just yet. Chapter 12: It’s a new yearThe storm continued its pounding on the barren streets below. Normally, Portsmouth would fill to the brim on New Year’s Eve bringing thousands of party folk together, colliding and bumping with their hats and whistles and big red cups hiding in plain sight their mixed drinks and cheap beer, but not this year. The storm altered many plans. I felt fortunate to be in possession of such fine housing for the celebration. Our abode, fine and comforting, warm and elegant, filled with love and lust and sex and an intriguing bag full of tricks, as Karen calls it, kept the three of us absolutely, completely sexually satiated. Contentment replaced the loneliness we three shared, but didn’t know it, just days ago. I rested with a few books on the atrium bench, hardly able to walk upright after the thumping my vagina received. The clock ticked towards midnight, and Chloe was acting bartender. Her specialty, she admitted, was pouring wine. But I thought the vodka tonic and lemon she created was rather refreshing. I sat in peace within the spectacular glass walls of our private atrium. It was warm with dimmable lighting. I slipped a few books under my arm from the collection in the other room and created a nest in which to rest, drink, and read as I waited for midnight.I noticed out of the corner of my eye, shadows moving about. At closer inspection, Chloe and Karen were wrestling a kiss from one another, out in the darkened hall. I had neither will nor energy to join. But I was very glad of the openness we have all found together. I was content thinking that they might be, right now, having steamy sex. Perhaps they are fitting the strap on to fit Chloe? That would be interesting, I thought. But even better, we proved that we can sustain a relationship void of jealousy and mistrust. Chloe snuck in behind me to refill my glass of wine; how nice of you, I said as I raised my glass up and the bottle came from over my shoulder. “Tell me what you think.” Chloe requested. What do you mean? I questioned, as I turned around to see her, and wouldn’t you know, my premonition came true. There she was, completely naked, her gorgeous round, natural body covered only by the thick black harness of Karen’s strap on dildo. “Karen dressed me.” Chloe smiled, feeding her cleansed rubber cock to my lips. “I’ll go tell Karen you kissed my penis.” She swayed her lovely breasts out of the atrium, enroot to go fuck Karen. I sipped lightly at my pink wine listening to the show they were putting on. I shifted a bit back on the bench and had a clear view of the king bed. Their show was stunning, but Chloe didn’t have quite the same skills Karen showed both of us earlier. They layered their beautiful bodies in missionary and Chloe sluggishly fucked Karen’s pussy. After just a couple minutes of this, Chloe gave up, unbuckled the baby blue cock and threw it aside, to make room for her mouth. I sipped and cherished the fruity wine as Chloe did the same to Karen. I heard moaning and kissing, as I went back to my books.We crawled into bed after the midnight bubbly was gone. Completely spent of all vigor, we didn’t even say goodnight. We slept in grand comfort. Chloe slumbered between us, and our hands held together loosely through the night. In the morning Chloe had to rush home to her husband and c***dren. All would be home by 8 am, she said forcing her to leave the warm bed. Chloe couldn’t even shower, due to the time. She hurried about the room, tossing clothes and shoes in bags and throwing on a sweatshirt she brought; a far cry from her outfit last night. She kneeled on the edge of the bed to say thank you and good bye. “I have to go now, oh my God, my car must be covered in snow.” She fled in a worried huff. She is so beautiful and kind. I was sad to see her go. But reality is sometimes difficult, and her k**s and husband need her more than we. “Our plans to get together in late January seem promising.” Karen sounded hopeful trying to sooth me, as she rolled over stealing half my pillow. Karen knew how much I enjoyed being with Chloe. That’s what makes Karen so amazingly special, I thought. I was glad that my days of living to make a home, so to speak, were gone. Karen wiggled in the large area of bed we now shared, and slipped off her tee shirt. She just laid next to me in absolute silence slowly and carefully caressing me. She touched me all over, but not particularly sexual. Our eyes locked as she traced my soul through my skin. This was a special touch meant to be only for me. I closed my eyes and fell into a meditative state. Her feathery fingers delighted my arms and pits and my neck and stomach. She circled my body with absolute, sober pleasure. She was discovering me for real, without haste and lust. This was the best sex I had ever had, and we didn’t have sex. “Have you ever thought of moving back to Newburyport?” Karen whispered in my ear. “I have plenty of extra room.” She breathed, closing her eyes, trying to avoid mine. I nudged closer to her, as close as two people can get. My right arm went under her head and my left arm searched under the blankets for her hand. In the lifeless hush of the lovely room my hand found hers and squeezed it three times.

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