Many Lives and Loves of Richard 06

Author's Notes: This story has been posted to Literotica. Com with the full knowledge of the original author, JimBob44. No part or whole of this story may be reprinted in any other format or on any other web site without the express written consent of the original author.

Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

This story has been edited by myself, using Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

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Richard O'Shea reached the front door of the apartment building and resisted the urge to drag the sleeve of his suit jacket across his forehead. Instead, he used his cotton handkerchief to mop the trickle of sweat.

His mother laughed when Richard complained about the heat and humidity. She declared that June in Massachusetts could not possibly be as hot as Texas.

"Mother, hot is hot. And it's not just hot, it's downright miserable with this humidity. Oakleaf? Does not have humidity like this," Richard had snapped.

"Oh-oh, he's mad at me," his mother had laughed.

It was true. Most of the time, Richard referred to his mother as 'Mom.' But when she irritated him, he reverted to addressing her as 'Mother.'

Entering the sweltering lobby of the apartment building, Richard saw two young women fumbling with the key for their mailbox. He wondered why the landlord did not ventilate the lobby, the laundry room and the small gymnasium on the apartment building's ground floor. At this time of day, the heat in the small area could be quite oppressive.

"You waiting get into your box?" one young woman asked, peering over her shoulder at the silent Richard.

"Would much rather get into your box," Richard thought and smiled at the witty, risqué thought.

"Make sure the key is twisted all the way to the right; it sticks if it's not straight up and down," he advised as the other girl continued to jiggle the key.

"It is straight up and... Oh. There it is," the other young woman snapped, then managed to wrestle the key from the stubborn keyhole.

"Just bills," the other girl offered as she rifled through the mail they'd retrieved from the box.

"What'd you expect? A million dollars?' the other girl laughed as they started the trek up the stairs.

"Would be nice," the other girl said and the two giggled.

Richard found that he too had nothing but bills in his mailbox. With a sigh, he followed the two girls up the stairs.

"Uh?" one young lady challenged, turning as Richard stepped onto the landing of the third floor.

"I'm in Three C," Richard explained, even pointing over her shoulder toward his door.

"Oh! We, we're in three D," the other girl brightened.

"Come on, Cheryl," the challenging girl ordered,

"What, Lynn, huh? What? Why, why you always got to be..." Richard did not hear the rest as he closed the door on their argument.

The air was heavy in the apartment. Richard wished the apartment had screens on the windows so he could open them, let some fresh air blow into the stuffy box. But there were no screens and he had no desire to invite any flying bugs into his small, clean sanctuary. Instead, he twisted the knob for the ancient thermostat, holding his hand up to the vent to see if the air was cool. Slowly, the air did turn cool and he went to his bedroom. Shrugging out of the suit jacket he gave a careful sniff to the arm holes of the jacket and decided he could chance wearing it another day.

"Sunday; Sunday's a shorter day," he said, laying the jacket on the bed.

In the shower, he gratefully sluiced off the sweat and grime of another day working at Cosgrove's Department Store, slaving in the Housewares department. In truth, it had been an extremely boring day, punctuated by the occasional shopper. There had been a moment of excitement when Michael in Electronics had caught a shoplifter, giving chase to the man.

After a lackluster frozen dinner, Richard sat on his couch and stared at his laptop computer. He sat, willing himself to type something, type anything. But his mind was blank.

"FUCK!" he shouted, exasperated.

A few minutes after shutting the laptop off, there was a soft knock on his door. Richard looked at the door for a long moment; in the months he had been living in this small apartment, no one had ever knocked on his door. A second knock spurred him to action.

"Hi! You uh, I, I made some brownies," one of the neighbors chirped, holding a plate of some misshapen dark squares.

"They're marijuana brownies," the other girl offered, a slight scowl on her face.

"Yeah! We just got some from my brother," the first girl said happily.

"Cheap ass Mexican stuff," the other girl retorted.

"Better than that stuff your cousin gave us," the first girl snapped.

"Said it was the best she could get," the other girl argued.

"Y'all want to come on in?" Richard asked, hoping to end their squabbling.

"And she didn't make me blow her for it either," the second girl muttered darkly as they entered the living room.

"I've got some Genevieve; you smoke?" Richard offered, indicating his bong on the coffee table.

"Gene... Saint Genevieve?" the second girl asked, finally losing her unhappy scowl.

"Fuck yeah we smoke," the first girl said, putting the plate of brownies by the bong.

"Be right back; y'all want a beer or something?" Richard offered, marching to his bedroom.

"Y'all? Where, where are you from?" the first girl, the friendlier of the two asked, even giving a cute giggle.

"Well, ma'am, I'm from Texas," Richard said, giving an exaggerated drawl as he returned from his bedroom, plastic bag of some potent St. Genevieve marijuana in hand.

"Got anything else to drink? Beer and brownies don't exactly go together," the second girl asked.

"Mm, iced tea, mm, water, oh, oh, got some apple juice," Richard said as the second girl packed the bowl of the bong with an obscene amount of marijuana.

"Beer," she decided.

"Really? No milk?" the first girl asked. "Milk and brownies, you know?"

"No, no, meant to get some but forgot," Richard admitted, carrying three cans of Gratchley's beer into the living room.

He sat in between them and handed the second girl a disposable cigarette lighter as he grabbed one of the crudely cut brownies. She lighted the bong and took a gargantuan hit from the mouthpiece.

"Aw, yeah," she said, voice strangled.

"By the way, I'm Cheryl," the first girl said, popping the tab on her can of beer.

"Richard," Richard said, trying to swallow the extremely dry brownie.

"I'm Lynn," the second, unhappy girl said, releasing her pent up smoke.

Man! This, aw yeah," Cheryl said, taking a mammoth hit of the bong.

Richard washed down the first brownie with a deep swallow of beer. Lynn was right, brownies and beer did not meld well on the palate. But the brownie was too dry to simply swallow on its own.

Lynn was a data entry clerk at Brooke College. Cheryl worked at a Three Aces Pizza Parlor.

"Why our whole apartment smells like pepperoni," Lynn teased.

"Yeah? Don't seem to mind too much when I bring a couple of them home, huh?" Cheryl spat.

"Y'all, you two ever stop arguing?" Richard asked, getting a headache from their constant bickering.

"Not really," Lynn giggled.

"It's a lot worse when she's stoned," Cheryl accused.

"Great," Richard said.

Somehow, in between sniping at one another, they managed to polish off the brownies and smoke a second bong. Richard did not know whom had initiated it, but he found himself making out with Cheryl. Lynn demanded equal attention and Richard turned to see that the unhappy girl was nude. Her short mop of brown on her head was matched by the thick mop of brown curls between her slim legs. Her breasts were small teardrop shaped boobs with small nipples.

She moaned into their kiss. Her moan was punctuated by a sharp gasp when he fondled her breasts. The moan increased when he playfully tugged at her thatch of curls.

"Hey!" Cheryl demanded and Richard reluctantly pulled out of his kiss with Lynn.

Turning, Richard saw that Cheryl had also undressed. Her breasts were barely swells on her slender torso, her navel was an 'outie' belly button and her hips were slim. She also shaved or waxed her pubic region; the entire area was hairless.

"Oh! You, when did you do that?" Lynn demanded.

"This morning," Cheryl giggled. "Why I took so long in there."

"Bed would be a lot better than this couch," Lynn suggested and Richard paused in removing his shirt.

He followed the two girls into the bedroom; he was grateful his mother had drummed into the importance of making his bed. Apparently, Lynn and Cheryl agreed that a made bed was an inviting bed; they sprawled onto his bed and kissed each other.

For a long moment, Richard stood by his bed and watched the two friends in a heated kiss. He then wiggled out of his shorts and tidy whiteys. Wiggling up behind Cheryl, Richard reached around and fondled her small breasts. She groaned into Lynn's mouth and Richard could not tell if it was a moan of approval or protest.

"Let's..." Lynn suggested and pushed Cheryl to lie on her back.

"Oh! Oh yes, oh, oh Lynn!" Cheryl agreed as Lynn sucked on Cheryl's right breast.

Again, Cheryl let out a moan when Richard began to suck on Cheryl's left breast. He reached his hand down but found Lynn's fingers were already delving into Cheryl's bald pussy. So Richard contented himself with running his hand up and down Cheryl's soft belly while sucking on her breast.

"Let's..." Lynn said again and wiggled to kneel between Cheryl's slender thighs.

"Oh!" Cheryl grunted out loud.

Richard saw Lynn's small backside thrust up in the air and decided to take advantage of the lovely sight.

Discretely, he snapped a few cell phone pictures of the lesbian action on his bed, then knee-walked to kneel behind Lynn's pretty backside.

"Augh!" Lynn grunted out loud as Richard entered her pussy with one smooth stroke.

Richard reached around and played with Lynn's hanging breasts. She gasped, grunted and groaned as he pounded her hard and fast. Cheryl was the first to climax, followed by Lynn and Richard somehow managing to climax together. Lynn was vocal in her praise of Richard's abilities and Richard felt a surge of male pride.

"I want to..." Cheryl demanded and Richard watched as Lynn scrambled up. He again snapped a few pictures as Lynn gripped his headboard and straddled Cheryl's head. He made sure to get a close-up of Cheryl lapping his semen as it drooled from Lynn's splayed lips.

The sight of Cheryl cleaning Lynn's pussy caused another erection to spring up and Richard lay between Cheryl's spread legs. She groaned loudly as he slid himself into her very wet pussy. She groaned again as he tongued her nipples, one then the other, back and forth.

"Oh! Oh girl, oh girl, you, augh!" Lynn cried out, shaking Richard's flimsy headboard in her climax.

"Mm hmm," Cheryl enthused, energetically tonguing Lynn's sex.

"God, oh God, yyeess!" Richard groaned, pumping his semen into Cheryl's pussy.

Coming to the next morning, Richard sluggishly gathered his laundry together. He discovered that either Lynn or Cheryl had stolen his bag of St. Genevieve marijuana. He shrugged his shoulders; pay day was on Friday and he would buy another bag.

"Plus that..." Richard thought, looking at the five pictures he'd managed to snap with his cell phone. "How much would you have paid for this? Huh?"

It was a few days before he saw Cheryl. Her eyes were red and puffy and when he asked her what was wrong, she screamed that Lynn had moved out of their apartment. Then she slammed the door, ending their conversation.

He bought some more St. Genevieve. Cheryl shrilly declined the offer to smoke a few bowls, once more slamming the door in his face.

At the end of the month, the pounding, slamming, and banging from next-door told Richard that Cheryl too was moving out. He ignored the noise as he again looked at the cell phone pictures he'd managed to snap. Usually after looking at the lesbian action, it only took a few strokes for him to flood a tissue with a sizeable load.

Through his work, Richard had very good medical insurance. When a persistent cough and difficulty breathing would not clear up, Richard went to a doctor. Shell-shocked from the diagnosis, Richard went to his apartment, smoked a few bowls of the potent marijuana, then booted his laptop and began writing.

"This. THIS is what you were meant to write," his agent Althea praised after reading 'The Stain of Shame.'

The autobiographical style of a young man discovering that a random one-night stand with two somewhat cute young women had infected him with the HIV virus was a runaway hit. Surefleet paid handsomely for an option on Richard O'Shea's next three books, sure they too would rival 'The Stain of Shame.'

Richard often wondered if Lynn or Cheryl knew one or both of them were HIV+ when they'd come over and shared their brownies and their bodies with him. He knew, with treatment, HIV was no longer a certain death sentence. But he still resented the two girls for giving the disease to him.

"Uh, no one told you to have sex with either one of those girls?" his mother reminded him. "And no one told you to not use a condom. So, who's really to blame here, Ritchie?"

'The Search for Yesterday,' chronicling his search for the two girls, to inform them of the diagnosis was also a best-selling book. Cheryl was horrified and threatened to sue Richard when she found out she did have the virus. Lynn, however, was not surprised to find out that her ex-boyfriend had infected her.

Despite maintaining treatment, exercise, a positive outlook on life, Richard succumbed to double pneumonia. As he lay in the hospital bed, suffering from the illness and withdrawal from alcohol and marijuana, Richard had to agree that perhaps he should have cut back, or possibly quit drinking two and three fifths of vodka daily and smoking weed altogether.

"If I survive this," he promised himself.

'Faith without Works' gave a harrowing account of an alcoholic struggling to overcome his addictions and his demons. The book was published posthumously; Richard had been unable, or unwilling to maintain any real sobriety. The royalties from the three books are divided between Richard's mother, Lynn, and Cheryl.

The End

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**Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. I thank you for reading my stories. Likewise, I thank those that take the time to leave comments, good and bad. I also thank those that take the time to rate my works, those that 'Favorite' my words.

Have a swell day. And some of you, have a swollen day.