Just Across the Fence Ch. 13

Beginnings... and endings.

Lucky Ch. 13. As usual, everyone engaging in sexual activity is at least eighteen years of age. Enjoy.

That evening, Gina was on Cloud Nine. She had her own money, in her own brand-new bank account. She had a new I-phone, identical to the one her mom's boyfriend had reclaimed from her, on my phone plan, with her contacts and other personal data from her old phone saved on Beth's PC and downloaded to her new phone. The keys to Beth's sedan were in her purse, on loan until we could find her a decent car of her own, for which I planned to pay cash and let her pay me back, carrying the no-interest loan on whatever terms she could reasonably afford. Beth had notified her insurance carrier, naming Gina and Beth both as authorized drivers, and agreed to pay the substantially higher auto insurance premiums required when young adults are on the policy.

[I had previously added Denise and her vehicle to my insurance, since she was an adult who was no longer a member of her mom's household. Beth had long since been added as an authorized driver on my policy, since she often used my sedan.]

Gina also had a set of keys to Beth's house, where she would live and share house-sitting duties with my newest lover, her friend Denise. [My 'newest' lover? That was a hell of a thing for a man my age to be thinking to himself, I realized. Never mind that she was more than young enough to be my granddaughter, as well. How on earth did my life ever get this crazy?]

Gina had filled out an employment application to work at the same place Denise worked, and had been told that she could start as soon as her background check was done, in a few days.

More importantly, she no longer had to live in the home of her mom's asshole boyfriend Greg, who had been demanding that she sleep with him, since she had recently turned eighteen. Her mom, rather than try to protect her, had instead told her she should be happy to let him fuck her-like she did-in exchange for all the nice things he had provided for them. Horrified, she had confided in her friend Denise, who had brought Gina to Beth and me for advice. Always a sucker for someone down on their luck, I had decided, with Beth's approval, to help her... with no strings attached. Unlike Greg.

Only that morning, after a tense confrontation with her mom and Greg, she had cut ties with them, leaving her essentially homeless and unemployed, with only a modest sum of cash on hand. We had helped her make a fresh start, with good prospects of turning things around, with some hard work on her part. She was sad and disillusioned that her mom would pimp her out that way, and apprehensive to find herself without her mom's support any more, but also cautiously optimistic about her future.

I had insisted that Denise tell Gina about her intimate relationship with Beth and me, so that we could make other arrangements if that made her uncomfortable. Far from being disconcerted, however, she had surprised us by asking if she could have a similar relationship with us. A virgin, like Denise had been, Gina said she wanted a lover who would treat her in the same loving, gentle way I-or rather we, Beth and I together-had treated her friend. She had agreed with our suggestion that she let us help her, staying in Beth's house, just across the fence from mine, and hang around us for a few days before deciding exactly what sort of relationship she wanted beyond that.

"So... let me get this straight, Mr. Miller," she said, as we munched the steaks I had grilled. Denise and I both coughed deferentially, to remind Gina of what she had been told.

"Sorry, I mean, uh... John," she said. "Beth is your girlfriend, but... she doesn't care if you sleep with other women... like Denise, here... as long as you get her approval in advance?"

"That's right," Beth replied forthrightly. "Sex with John is fun, like you would never guess with someone his age. But when he indulges my little kink, telling me all about his encounters with other women, while he's fucking me, it's more sexy and amazingly erotic than you can imagine. My orgasms are always good, with John, but after he's been with another woman, they really rock my world."

"And you don't worry that... he might, uh...?" the young teen asked, obviously perplexed.

"What, drop me for one of them?" Beth answered. "Not a chance. He and I are a matched set, and have been almost from the day we met, only a few weeks ago, if you can believe it. He... cares for the others, certainly... and you, too, Denise... but I don't doubt for one second that I'm his main squeeze, and I don't waste my time or energy worrying about losing him."

"Well, if you trust him that much, to remain loyal to you, I guess that makes him more than trustworthy enough for what I want," Gina told us.

"Someone who will help you learn how to make love, but in a loving and tender fashion," Denise suggested. "Someone who will move at a pace you're comfortable with, and listen to you if you say 'No', or 'Not yet'."

"Yes, that's exactly what I want," Gina replied.

"Someone who isn't trying to snow you with false promises of eternal love and devotion, just to get into your pants," Beth explained further.

"That, too," Gina agreed.

"Of course, the other women John has sex with have to be comfortable with knowing he will be sharing with Beth all the intimate details of their encounters with him," Denise pointed out.

"Yes, indeed," Beth acknowledged. "I didn't make sure everyone understood everything, at first, and my backside paid the price."

"You mean... John...?" Gina asked, her eyes wide.

"Yes, he whipped my ass good, to teach me to play by the rules," Beth admitted. "I deserved every last stroke, too."

"You almost sound more like you're reminiscing about it, than regretting it, Beth," Denise observed astutely.

"That's a story for another day," my frisky girlfriend said, which they clearly found intriguing.

"Of course, explaining the arrangement is only necessary for those encounters in which Beth is not an active participant," I added, helpfully.

Gina's eyes opened wide in surprise. "Um... really?" she asked. "Or are you guys pulling my leg?"

"No, when John finally had actual intercourse with me, Beth was right there with us, um... directing the action and enjoying the fun," Denise assured her friend, while blushing furiously. "It was... epic!"

"But if you aren't comfortable with that kind of thing, we wouldn't dream of forcing it on you," Beth assured her. "Which is not to say, you understand, that we won't still dream of it happening, because you're cute as a bug, but... your participation in anything like that is strictly voluntary."

"Denise, what did you mean by 'finally had actual intercourse...'?" Gina asked her friend.

"John and I, er... had one or two earlier encounters that... definitely were sexual in nature, but didn't...'go all the way', as they say," Denise explained. "I was still a virgin, afterwards."

"I... see," Gina mused. "I guess I might need to think about this some. So, does Beth get to have other lovers, like John does?"

I scowled, but let Beth respond for us. "No, I don't... not that I would want any, you understand. John has made it crystal clear that he's... unwilling to share me with other men," she explained to the puzzled young woman. "He's all the lover I'll ever desire or need and then some, trust me." I did my best to resist the urge to puff my chest out just a bit in appreciation of hearing her brag on me that way. Denise was staring at me, her eyes shining, in obvious agreement.

"I'm sure you're about to tell me all about how unfair that is, and how big a misogynist I am, for not agreeing to let my girlfriend have the same privileges I do, aren't you?" I asked Gina.

"Um, well, it does... kind of look that way, yeah," she acknowledged, baffled by our decidedly one-sided arrangement.

"You have to understand, this was never John's idea," Beth clarified. "Each time I've found him another woman who's... in need of his attention, he's resisted me every step of the way, full of fine arguments about how wrong, and inappropriate, and immoral-perverse, even-and risky it would be for him to indulge my sexy little pastime, and how he would never be 'unfaithful' to me that way."

"Have you ever been unable to convince him, even once?" Denise asked. Beth looked amused, and this time I felt duty-bound to answer, much as I didn't want to.

"Uh, that would be 'no', Denise," I replied, a bit shamefacedly.

"So, battin' a thousand, hey, Beth?" Denise teased my nutty girlfriend, who had the decency to at least look a tad contrite.

Gina snickered, and mockingly said, "Poor, helpless John, all prim and proper, brutally forced against his will to screw the women his mean old girlfriend Beth hand-picks for him, just so she can a thrill or three. Over and over again. What a horrible fate! Whatever can he do?"

"Poor baby," Denise taunted me in her turn. "Can anyone save him from the evil clutches of his weird, wanton, wicked woman?"

"Assuming he even wants to be saved from her, that is," Denise rejoined. "Personally, I have my doubts."

"Yeah, the gentleman doth protest too much, methinks," Gina intoned, paraphrasing Shakespeare, with a goofy grin.

"Well, he did object vehemently, actually," Beth replied, coming to my defense. "The first time, anyway. He made me swear I would never hold it against him. And he was honest about not being willing to let me to ever do anything like that."

"But eventually, you wore him down... and he caved?" Denise surmised.

"Yes... I caved," I confessed. "Folded up like a house of cards in a Tornado Alley twister."

"And every time since, it's gotten easier and easier to bring him around, right?" Gina suggested.

"That's about right," Beth agreed, clearly amused by watching the girls roast me mercilessly.

"How many altogether?" Denise wondered. I had been wondering how long it would be before it occurred to one of them ask this question.

"Um... three... so far...," I responded. I wasn't sure whether I should be ashamed... or proud.

"And you've been together just a couple of weeks?" Gina exclaimed. "Wow. You guys are into some pretty kinky shit. You aren't just bullshitting us, are you?"

"No, we're not, dear," Beth assured her. "Of course, we've already discussed Gina becoming number four. And I already have number five in my sights, as well."

The girls gasped in shock, scandalized anew. I'm not sure what sort of expression they were seeing on my face, but whatever it was, all three women clearly found it hilarious, dissolving in helpless laughter.

Picking my jaw up off the floor, I glared at Beth, exasperated, and demanded, "What new mischief are you up to now, you conniving little sexpot?"

"You'll find out, soon enough, John," she baited me impishly. "And I don't think it'll be all that hard to get you on board, either, given your recent history."

"I just finished telling them not to bring any more waifs around, damn it," I protested adamantly.... and futilely, of course.

"Yes, but you didn't include me in that," she retorted. "So you can stop your ridiculous bitching, and just accept that I'm going to get my way, like I always do, OK?"

"Yes, dear," I replied, in my best mousy, hen-pecked voice, rolling my eyes. "Of course, dear. Whatever you say, dear..." The girls laughed at my silly antics.

"There are a few other things I wish I had time to ask you about, while you're in such a cooperative mood," my bossy girlfriend said. "But we can have that discussion another time. Tonight, you have other, more urgent business."

"Yeah, tell us about your-what would you call it, a 'date'?-for tonight, John," Denise insisted.

"Not much more to tell than you heard already, kid," I told her with a shrug. "The lady's partner is no longer physically able to... make love to her, and he suggested that I... pinch hit for him, when her frustration gets to be too much for her. I turned him down at first, but when Beth found out about it, she decided I should go for it. Our get-together tonight will be our second...'date', if you want to call it that."

"It was... her husband's idea...?" Gina marveled, stunned.

"She'd been accustomed for most of their marriage to enjoying a very active sex life with him, but for the last couple of years he'd been too sick to participate," I explained. "Like I said, she was... kind of in a bad way. Horny as hell, forced to make do with jerking off alone, which just wasn't anywhere near enough to satisfy her needs."

"And there'll be... video of it, again?" Denise asked. It was hard to tell if she was indignant... or interested.

"That's one of their kinks, evidently," Beth said. "They very kindly sent us a copy of John's previous... visit, for us to enjoy. It was a real eye-opener, too."

"If I had to guess, I'm betting she'll have her cameras running again. But please understand, however, that that's not something we can share with you," I told them. "We promised this couple we would be discreet about this whole business, for reasons which I'm sure you can understand. To be honest, we've already shared more with you than we probably should have."

"Don't worry, I won't breathe a word about any of this to anyone outside this house," Gina assured me. "Even if I did, I don't think anyone would believe me."

"That's for damned sure," Denise agreed. "I never would have dreamed that a sweet, older couple like you two would be into all this kinky business."

"And honey, you two greenhorns still don't even know the half of it... yet," Beth teased them.

"There's... more?" Gina gasped.

"Which we... might... share with you, all in good time," I promised them, being purposely vague, as I got up from the table. "But right now it's time for me to head out for my...'date'."

Beth rose also, and we shared a passionate kiss. "Don't forget your curfew, mister, or I'll send the dream team here out to track you down and drag you back home," she warned me facetiously.

"Go get 'em, Tiger," Gina teased me, with a twinkle in her eye.

"Yeah, be sure and show the lady a good time, Romeo," Denise added playfully, joining in the fun.

"Thanks, that's just what I need to make sure I perform well: cheerleaders," I carped. "I'm getting out of here before you guys start doing a farewell song and dance number."

Almost before I was finished saying it, Beth was up on her feet dancing, singing Olivia Newton-John's, "Let's get physical, physical, I wanna get physical; Let's get into physical..." The girls hopped up, joined arms with my batty girlfriend, and the three of them were doing a fair imitation of a Rockettes routine on the tile floor of the kitchen, to see me off. It was quite a sight, one I would gladly have stayed around to watch, but this evening I had bigger fish to fry, and could not afford the distraction. I got out while the getting was good, before things could get any crazier.

/-/-/-/-

If the girls weren't around, I would have just walked next door. I couldn't do that, though, because I wanted to be sure they did not see where I was headed, and guess the mystery couple's identity.

Instead, I hopped in my truck and drove a block down the road to the junior high school, and parked in the faculty lot there. Anyone seeing my truck there would just assume it belonged to a summer-school teacher staying late to grade papers, or something else equally plausible, as mine was not the only vehicle there. The early June evening air was muggy and warm as I walked back to Steve and Evelyn's house. Before I reached my destination, however, my phone rang, and I pulled it out to find that Beth was calling me.

"What now?" I asked, resigned to some new weirdness from my endlessly unpredictable, lovable partner.

"I forgot to tell you, when I spoke with Evelyn to set up this evening, she said she was very interested in some rough sex, in playing submissive to your dominant, tonight," she reported. "Think you're up to it, big guy?" I could hear faint giggling in the background.

"Whatever; no problem," I assured her. "In fact, maybe that'll be good practice for when I give you what you deserve, you scheming minx, for springing that 'number five' crap on me while we were talking with the girls."

Beth snickered, and I could hear a new round of giggles in the background, leading me to realize Beth likely had set her phone on speaker.

"Well, that's something else for me to look forward to, I guess," she replied.

"We'll see about that," I promised her darkly.

More giggling.

"Listen, I could spend the rest of the evening saying stupid shit to amuse you guys, but I have a date," I told them curtly. "Goodnight, ladies." I terminated the call before she could annoy me any further, having arrived at Steve and Evelyn's front door. I rang the bell.

After a brief wait, Evelyn opened the door and greeted me with a friendly hug. "You're a few minutes early, John," she commented.

"Yeah, sorry about that, but I had to get out of my place," I explained, as we walked into the living room, where Steve sat in his recliner. "We have... guests, and they and Beth were really giving me a hard time about, uh... why I was going out tonight." Seeing the sudden doubt and worry in their eyes, I hastened to explain. "Don't worry; our guests have no idea where I am or who I'm visiting."

"Oh, OK," my attractive, sixty-year-old neighbor replied, obviously relieved that I had not compromised their privacy. "Anyone we know?"

"Well, one of them is Denise, the young woman who was being held hostage at the convenience store, when I had to shoot the guy who kidnapped Beth, the other day," I said. Seeing the puzzled look on her face, I went on, "Her mom is something of a religious nut, who decided that what happened was a sign from the Almighty that her daughter was now my responsibility, and kicked her out. She had nowhere else to go, so we're letting her house-sit Beth's place for us."

"I... see," Evelyn replied. I could see the wheels turning in he mind. She clearly had additional questions, that she was too polite to ask me.

"Our other guest, as of last night, is her chum from school, Gina," I went on. "Because of an... unfortunate domestic situation, she also found herself in need of someplace to stay, so we... decided to take her in, as well."

"That's very generous of you, John," Steve commented, almost too obviously not grinning.

"Yeah, well, I told all three of them to cut it out, because the inn is full," I quipped, and they chuckled. I decided to change the subject before they could ask me any more potentially embarrassing questions about my guests. "How are you guys doing?"

"Well, I'm about the same," Steve said. "Which is to say, I'm still kicking."

I knew Steve was downplaying the serious state of his gradually declining health. Decades of smoking had left him with only one lung following surgery for cancer, and COPD [chronic obstructive pulmonary disorder] compromising his ability to breathe with the one he had left. They had told me that his prognosis was dire. The poor guy looked like death warmed over.

"But Ev, here, is about ready for another session upstairs in the bedroom with you, John," Steve went on, adroitly derailing any further discussion on the depressing state of his health.

"For God's sake, Steve, you shouldn't embarrass John like that," Evelyn scolded him, worried that I would be offended to hear him acknowledge aloud, in her presence, why I was there.

"It's fine, Evelyn," I assured her. "We're all adults here. We all know why I'm here tonight, and we ought to be able to discuss it like grown men and women."

"'Why you're here'?" Evelyn parroted, smiling. "Would that be because Beth would kick your butt, if you weren't?"

"Well, I'll confess it is a bit of a carrot-and-stick situation," I said. "You're the carrot... and she's the stick!"

"Forty years ago, I might have been upset to be called anyone's carrot, or that anyone would need a stick to induce them to join me in bed," Evelyn observed dryly. "But now, at sixty... I'll take what I can get, I guess."

"Words to live by," I agreed, and they both smiled.

"Enough chit-chat," Steve said calmly, perhaps a bit too much so, I thought. "You two need to head on upstairs and take care of business."

"You two are quite sure about this, right?" I asked. "We can cancel, or at least postpone tonight, if you want to think about it some more, and it won't bother me one bit."

Steve and Evelyn shared a brief look, an exchange in which I felt sure this long-married couple likely replayed an extended debate about my planned tryst with Evelyn. At length, Steve spoke.

"No, it's fine, John," he said. "Our problem is stone simple, and so is the solution. With no satisfactory outlet, Evelyn's overactive libido is driving her crazy. With my poor health, I'm long past being able to help her... but you still can. I... she... we both want you to, and we all know Beth is more than OK with it. Please, John... take my dear wife Evelyn upstairs and... fuck her brains out for me, OK?"

I reached down, just as he reached up to shake my hand. His grip wasn't very strong, and I was careful not to squeeze his emaciated hand too tightly, but it was the gesture that mattered. His love for his wife, and his desire to relieve the sexual tension she lived with, enabled him to put aside his ingrained pride and jealousy, so that he could let her go find relief in bed with another man. Me.

"I'll give it my best shot," I promised, trying to lighten the mood a bit, and they both chuckled. Evelyn walked over, and I stood aside as she leaned over to kiss her husband, Steve responding as well as he could. When she finished, she reached towards me, and our hands found one another. Without another word, she led me away. I could feel Steve's eyes on my back as we climbed the stairs, but whether he was regarding me with gratitude, or resentment, I could not tell. Probably some of both. I could only hope to God I would never be stuck with such a difficult choice. It was a distinct possibility, given that I had a girlfriend considerably younger than myself. When we discussed it, however, Beth and I had agreed to 'let the future take care of itself', and I resolved anew not to borrow trouble by worrying about such things until they came knocking on my door.

I followed Evelyn into their lavishly appointed bedroom, the same room in which she and I had enjoyed our first wild sex romp a bit more than a week back. That occasion had been the first time in several years she had had sex that wasn't some form of masturbation, and she had been more than a little wild and impatient. Just from the trembling I felt in her hand, I knew that she was eager to start, but she also seemed a good bit more under control than she had during our previous encounter, when she wanted to start fucking her right away.

Just like last time, the video cameras on their tripods were in position to record all the action, something which had been a kinky hobby for Steve and Evelyn since early in their marriage, apparently. She had told me that having sex while watching reruns of their previous trysts somehow supercharged their lovemaking, and after my last visit Beth and I had both certainly enjoyed screwing while we watched Evelyn and I get it on, on the widescreen TV on my bedroom wall. I felt that I could take it or leave it, actually, but if it improved the experience for Beth, I figured it would probably be more fun for me as well.

"Just how many hours of sex tape do you two have, Evelyn?" I asked, curious.

Staring at the ceiling thoughtfully, Evelyn replied, "Um, not sure, but... several hundred at least, dating back thirty years or more."

"A real labor of love, eh?" I suggested.

Nodding, she said, "Never thought of it just that way, but I suppose it is, isn't it?"

"Well, everyone needs a hobby," I commented, and she snorted in derision.

"Yeah, that'll look good on a resume, under 'Leisure Activities': 'Homemade porn'," she noted, and I laughed with her.

"However, I have to say that, given the editing expertise that's obvious in the video you gave us of our last encounter, it wouldn't surprise me if you guys could make some money that way," I suggested to her.

"Um, what do you mean, John?" she asked, evidently intrigued.

"I'll bet there are more than a few couples with homemade sex tapes lying around, who wouldn't mind paying to have them edited into tasteful, erotic videos, that they can use to enhance their sex lives the way you and Steve have done with yours," I elaborated. "Of course, you would have to be discreet, to protect everyone's privacy, but that shouldn't be too hard to manage."

"Well, I won't deny that some additional income would come in handy," Evelyn admitted. "I wonder if we really could turn our sexy little hobby into a home business. All we really need is some way to find and communicate anonymously with customers. Any idea how we'd do that?"

"Social media would be my guess," I suggested. "But I'm about forty years too old, for you to be asking me how for details on how to go about doing something like that."

"Me, too," she said. "Kids nowadays know all that stuff backwards and forwards. Know any teenagers who could advise us, on how to connect with folks who be interested in such a service?"

"Actually... I might," I replied. "You would probably have to let them in on the specifics of your business plan, but... I think you could rely on their discretion."

"Well, it's something to think about, I guess," she said. "We can talk about that anytime, though. Tonight, there's something else I need to take care of."

"Right," I agreed, fishing the baggie out of my pocket, with the magic pill in it. Seeing it, she giggled excitedly. Excusing myself, I stepped into the master bathroom, and swallowed the pill with a swig of water from the vanity tap.

When I stepped back out into the bedroom, I found Evelyn kneeling on the deep pile carpet beside the bed, naked, her hands down on her thighs.

"What are the ground rules for tonight, Evelyn?" I asked her.

"John, last time you let me call the shots," she replied. "That was fun, but tonight I want you to be in charge. Beth has told me that you are a really great lover when you turn your dominant side loose, so... I thought it would be fun to let you show me your stuff, OK? I'm game for pretty much anything you want to do."

"Sure, we can do that," I agreed, "With one caveat."

"What?" she inquired.

"You have veto power to stop anything you're really sure you don't want to do," I explained. "Based on what we did last time, I doubt there will be any problem, but... just in case, you know?"

"OK, if you say so," she agreed, albeit reluctantly, it seemed to me. I was pretty sure that she had been accustomed most of her life to living her sex life a bit more out on the edge than I typically did, but I wasn't comfortable having the kind of total control she had offered. "Knowing that I can stop anything that scares me, will kind of help me to relax, and trust you not to do anything really dangerous."

"All right, then," I said, as I began to disrobe. "We have about fifteen or twenty minutes to get one unenhanced erection in before the ED med kicks in." Once naked, I walked over to stand before her, where she still knelt by the bed. "Wanna do the honors? I seem to recall you have some impressive skills as a cocksucker."

"Never had any complaints," she assured me, proudly, I thought, as she reached out to take hold of my still mostly flaccid member.

"No hands," I admonished her. "Mouth and tongue only, Evelyn."

"Ooo, I love a challenge!" she exclaimed, giggling. "If I'm successful, what's my reward?"

"More cock, bitch, what the fuck else would a skank like you want or need?" I told her, deciding to see how she reacted to the degrading verbal abuse that Beth sometimes relished, when she asked me to act 'dominant'. Evelyn had told Beth that's what she wanted, right? "Now shut the fuck up and show me how you can suck cock." I stepped forward into her personal space, so that my crotch was right in her face,

She seemed to catch on right away, averting her eyes from mine submissively. "Yes, sir," she murmured demurely, leaning forward to nuzzle and lick my penis, before ducking lower to pay similar homage to my balls hanging down in my hairy scrotum. If she noticed that they were dramatically mismatched in size, she didn't react or say anything. Perhaps Steve had the same condition, since I knew it was actually quite common in older men. She sucked the smaller one into her mouth, rolling it around and massaging it skillfully with her tongue. The larger one gave her a bit of trouble, but she managed it eventually, an experience I highly recommend to any man whose partner is willing, my swelling cock an unmistakable signal of my body's appreciation of her skilled technique.

"Good work, but that's enough warm-up with my ballsack, cunt," I growled at her. "I want to see what your lips look like stretched tight around the base of my dick. Don't keep me waiting. And no touching yourself, either; hands behind your back." She obeyed the last command with alacrity, whipping her arms behind her body, grasping one wrist with the opposite hand.

She spent a long moment contemplating my cock, however, as it hovered partially erect right in her face, and I recalled how, during our previous encounter, she had been somewhat self-conscious about whether I would find her oral skills satisfactory, since she knew Beth was highly proficient at it. I had assured her that her performance was very enjoyable, and had done my best to remind her that she was not engaged in a competition. But I felt sure that she still harbored reservations about her abilities, and was worried about how they compared to Beth's.

"It's not a test, sweetie," I assured her in a soft voice, momentarily abandoning the pig-headed chauvinist persona I had assumed. "We can skip this part, if you like."

She favored me with a faint smile. "No, it's OK," she said. "I'm just... a bit nervous, that's all. And I really am getting a big, uh... charge, out of your Asshole Misogynist impersonation."

OK, fine, I gave her the chance to opt out, if she was uncomfortable with starting this way. But if she likes the 'Asshole Misogynist' approach, that's what she's going to get.

"OK, slut, open wide, so I can tickle your tonsils with my magic, extra-large-size throat probe," I commanded her bluntly. Squaring her shoulders, she resolutely opened her mouth wide and sucked my penis into her mouth.

I say 'sucked' because that was literally how she managed it, since my cock was not yet sufficiently rigid that she could just impale her mouth on it by simply pushing herself in at me. Forbidden to use her hands, suction was her only recourse.

But she made the most of it, sealing her lips tightly around my shaft and inhaling lustily, huge dimples in her cheeks testifying to how vigorously she was trying to inhale my cock, the tissues of her mouth pulling inward to encase my fast-hardening member in an airtight sleeve of warm, moist flesh. The stimulation was intense, and my manhood responded as it always did to finding itself trapped inside a woman's mouth; swelling in girth and length, and stiffening as well, rising to its full erect dimensions. Dimensions which, according to Beth, were well above average, an assessment which I had no reason to doubt, knowing as I did about her experience with cocks of all sizes, especially when she was younger, before she met and married her late husband Jim.

Or maybe it was all just so much bullshit. With Beth, you never can tell. Not that I give a damn; I'm just happy to have a girlfriend who doesn't mind stretching the truth a bit [or maybe more than a bit] just to stroke my ego.

Now that I was fully erect, Evelyn was able to maneuver my cock deeper into her throat by simply pushing her mouth down onto me, because now I was stiff enough to he handled that way without it simply twisting aside. I watched fascinated as my turgid rod slid once again inch by inch out of sight behind her pink lips stretched tight around my girth. I could feel her muscular tongue licking and massaging the underside of my shaft as it slipped deeper and deeper, through her mouth and down into the tight restriction of her gullet. I reached down and gripped a handful of her hair, using it to control the movements of her head as I fucked her mouth.

"Too bad I can't reach my phone just now," I said regretfully. "This view would be a fine addition to my photo album of bitches with my cock down their throats." Evelyn shivered, my words and actions evidently enhancing her enjoyment of our roleplaying. Her eyes, glancing briefly upward at me, betrayed no hint of distress or annoyance, but only a 'come hither' pleading, telling me she was fine, and that she liked how I was behaving, and what we were doing. Removing one hand from behind her back, she pointed to the nearby corner of the room, where one of her video cameras sat.

"Yeah, almost forgot those," I conceded. "Guess I can always do a screenshot off the video. But it still won't beat the overhead view I'm getting right now." The corners of her mouth twitched, the nearest she could manage a grin with her lips wrapped securely around my cock.

And presently I could only infer that it was my cock so delightfully encased in her mouth and throat, because I sure as hell couldn't see any of it anymore; she had accomplished the feat that had so frustrated her last time: deepthroating every last inch of my straining erection. Somehow, she seemed to be breathing comfortably around it, though I wasn't sure how. Nor was I inclined to ask too many questions about such a pleasurable experience as this.

"Wow, you did it!" I congratulated her, forgetting for the moment that the Asshole Misogynist would never seriously compliment a woman for such an accomplishment, but would instead find some degrading way to taunt and insult her. Evelyn gave me a slight nod, all she could manage under the circumstances, acknowledging my comment.

Holding the pose, I spent a long minute admiring the spectacular sight. But I knew that by this time my erection was on the clock, so to speak, and there was a lot of fucking that needed to be done before it went away.

"Well, this is fun, skank, but there's no time to dawdle," told her, and again she responded with a faint nod. I began skull-fucking her in earnest, withdrawing from her until only the bulbous head of my throbbing cock was behind her lips as they dragged along my shaft, before thrusting myself steadily forward, sliding my manhood deliciously into her welcoming mouth and down into her snug, muscular gullet, until my unkempt pubic hair was tickling her nose. I held her deep for a few seconds after each thrust, but she did not appear to be having any trouble breathing, or with her gag reflex. I was impressed.

"Glad to see you've finally learned to do something really useful, for a change," I taunted her. "You're almost as good a cocksucker as my slutty girlfriend Beth. She hasn't been giving you lessons, has she?"

To my surprise, she nodded, when next I had almost extracted my rigid cock from her mouth.

"No shit?" I asked, and again she nodded.

"She never asked me for permission to do any kinky shit like that," I growled, trying to sound angry. "Guess I need to teach that uppity bitch a lesson she won't soon forget." Looking alarmed, or at least pretending to be, Evelyn did her best to shake her head 'no', looking up at me with pleading eyes.

"Oh, don't worry about her," I told her dismissively. "Given how much Beth likes it when I hog-tie her and whip her ass with the leather strap, she probably did it deliberately, to provoke me."

Now Evelyn was looking genuinely worried for her friend. Maybe I was too good an actor for my own good. But it also appeared that she was really turned on by my rough talk, and I decided to lean into a bit more.

"I mean, how else would you explain how often she steps out of line this way?" I asked, conversationally. "It's like she's just asking for an ass-whipping, you know?" Evelyn was looking up in shock, clearly unsure whether to believe anything I was telling her.

"What, you think I'm bullshitting you?" I asked. "Tell you what, you can ask her about it, next time you see her. But don't be surprised if she seems like she prefers to remains standing up, while you chat." She rolled her eyes up at me.

During my monologue, I had gradually begun face-fucking her faster and more urgently, as my burgeoning arousal built and grew. By now a had a firm grasp of her head with both hands, holding her in place as I jammed my rock-hard cock repeatedly down her throat. Her copious drool dribbled down off her chin and my scrotum onto her somewhat saggy breasts, hanging tantalizingly for a moment there on her stiff, erect nipples before dripping off to puddle on her thighs. Despite the mess, she steadfastly refrained from using her hands to wipe it away, heeding my orders to keep them behind my back.

"Gonna cum here in just a second now, bitch," I warned her. "I'm gonna paint that pretty skank face of yours with my jizz. You might want to close your eyes, but don't try to turn away, understand?" Once again, she nodded her understanding of my instructions.

Not a minute later, the moment arrived. I yanked my cock from her mouth in time for the first massive spurt of cum to hit her squarely on top of her eyelids, her eyes shut tight as I had suggested. Having not had sex since early that morning, I had plenty of semen to spare, and I landed several more generous dollops of my creamy white ejaculate on her upturned face, where it began to slowly dribble down her cheeks, like sugar glazing on cupcakes.

"Umm, warm..." she murmured, apparently enjoying the sensation. Extending her tongue to lick up some of the gooey mess oozing around her lips, she added, "Tasty, too."

"I'll take the word of a cum-guzzling cunt on that," I told her as I squeezed out the last couple of drops onto her comically extended tongue, and she giggled.

"Good, more for me then," she replied, with a smirk. "Can I use my hands now, sir?"

"Go ahead, I wouldn't want to see any of it wasted," I told her, and she began using her fingers to wipe up the jizz on her face, licking them clean with relish. "You've been such a good girl for me, I may fuck you from behind like the bitch you are, as a reward. Would you like that?"

"Yes, sir, I would," she replied, looking down appreciatively at my still tumescent cock. "Looks like your ED med has kicked in."

"Yep," I said. "So the clock is ticking. Grab the headboard, you little cum slut, hold on tight, and we'll get started."

"Right away, sir," she said, assuming the desired position with alacrity. "Ready when you are."

"I was born ready," I quipped, and she groaned at that hoary old lame boast.

-/-/-/-/-

A couple of fun-filled hours later, the ED med finally wore off, my sore penis wilted, and even Evelyn's most energetic oral efforts could not revive it.

"Looks like the show's over for tonight, Evelyn," I told her regretfully. "Did you like my Asshat Misogynist act?"

"I did, even if I can't really explain why being talked to that way turns me on the way it did," she replied, as she lay tired and flustered, her flushed cheek resting on my stomach as she gazed wistfully down at my deflated, exhausted manhood.

"As long as you understand that that's all it was-just an act, right?" I asked, perhaps a bit anxiously. Talking that way to Beth was something I did only now and then, when I judged that she was in the mood for it, and I had done so tonight with Evelyn by her specific request, relayed to me by my girlfriend, who had arranged our little tryst. I wanted to make damn sure she understood that it wasn't how I really felt about any of the women in my life.

"Don't worry, John," she assured me. "I asked for it, and you delivered the goods. I know quite well that it's just a roleplaying thing, and nothing more. We can... do something different next time, something you like, OK?"

"Whatever. Call my manager and set it up, when you're ready again," I advised her, and she chuckled to hear me refer to Beth that way.

I sat up slowly, gently dislodging her from her comfortable contemplation of my crotch. "Sorry, but I gotta pee and run," I apologized. Surveying the wreckage of the bedding, I asked, "Want me to help you strip and remake the bed?"

"No, thanks, I'll take care of that in a few minutes," she replied. I walked into the master bathroom, relieved myself, jumped into the shower for a quick rinse, and toweled dry before stepping out to track down and don my clothes.

Back in the bedroom, I sat on the edge of the bed to share a languorous final kiss with Evelyn where she lay relaxing. "Good night, neighbor," I told her, when our lips finally separated. "No one throws a party like you and Steve." She snickered.

"If he's awake when you go through the living room, tell him I'll be down in a while to bring him up to bed," she said, as I stood up and headed for the door.

"You got it," I replied, adding, "Goodnight," as I exited into the hallway.

Downstairs, I saw that the living room was bathed in the flickering light of the TV, and one dim lamp. On an impulse, I walked across the carpet to the lounger where Steve lay asleep, to grab the remote from his lap and turn off the TV. Before I did, I paused for a second or two to regard the serene expression on his face as lay there in peaceful repose.

It took me a moment to realize that something was seriously amiss, that Steve was lying there in front of me, still as death... because he was, in fact, dead. I checked quickly to be sure: he had no pulse, and he wasn't breathing. They had told me that they had a DNR [Do Not Resuscitate] order in place for him, with the local EMS providers, so calling for help would achieve nothing, even if I wasn't already sure it was far too late in any case.

In my life, I haven't had occasion to look upon the undisturbed visage of very many dead people, fortunately, but in my limited experience I judged that he had passed peacefully. Just went to sleep, and never woke up. I uttered a silent prayer that my own demise would be no worse when my time came. I gently arranged his arms at his sides.

Taking a deep breath, I turned and began to reluctantly trudge back upstairs. My feet felt like I was climbing through wet concrete, but I slogged on, knowing Evelyn had to be told, even though it was the last thing in the world I wanted to do.

At her bedroom door, I could see she was still sprawled naked on the bed, dozing. I padded silently across the carpet to stand beside where she lay.

"Evelyn?" I called to her softly, gently touching her shoulder, trying not to startle her. She stirred, but did not awaken. Again, I called, a bit louder, "Evelyn, wake up, dear." Slowly her eyes opened, peering up at me. She sat up, a bit groggy, trying to shake off her drowsiness.

"What's up, John?" she asked. "Did you forget something?"

"Evelyn," I told her as calmly as I could, "You need to get up now, dear, and go downstairs to Steve."

She was wide awake instantly, hopping up and out of bed in a bit of a panic, reaching for her robe. "What is it, what's wrong?" she asked me urgently, as she pulled the terrycloth garment on. "Is he... OK?"

I enfolded her in my arms, as gently as I knew how. "There's no hurry, Evelyn. Your dear husband Steve has left his suffering and pain behind. Forever."

She stared up at me, tears brimming in her eyes. "He... he's dead, isn't he?" she asked, softly.

"Yes, Evelyn, he is," I answered, every word scrubbing desperate hope from her eyes, no matter how gently I tried to say them. "I'm terribly sorry, but I'm quite sure. He's gone."

She took a deep, shuddering breath, leaning into me, and I just stood and held her.

"You know, there's really no way to prepare for... a moment like this... no matter how many times you tell yourself... that you know it's coming... that it's just a matter of when...," she said, more to herself than to me.

"I know what you mean, Evelyn," I said, simply, thinking back to the day my beloved wife Margaret had died in my arms, nine years ago.

After a minute or two, she said, "Can you... let me go down and have just a moment alone, with him?"

"Of course," I told her, releasing her. "Go on ahead. I need to borrow your phone." She waved her hand at the wall as she walked out of the room. Glancing over, I noticed her phone lying on top of the dresser, and grabbed it.

I had a specific reason for using her phone, and not my own, to make this first call. Opening her contacts, I found Beth, and called her. After a couple of rings, she picked up, and cheerfully began, "Done with him already, Ev...?"

"Beth, this is John," I said, cutting her off. "You need to get dressed and come over here, quick; Evelyn needs you. Steve... passed away tonight, while I was upstairs with her."

"Oh God... OK... I'm on my way," she replied, dismayed, and I ended the call.

I walked softly downstairs and unlocked and opened the front door, knowing Beth would be along in a couple of minutes. Evelyn was kneeling beside Steve's recliner, holding his hand, her head pressed down against his shoulder. She was murmuring softly, saying her goodbyes.

A couple of minutes later, Beth came in carrying the small kit of emergency medical equipment she always kept handy. Hustling into the room, she went over to Steve and leaned over, placing her stethoscope against his chest, listening intently. Evelyn looked up at her, though not with any real hope in her eyes. After a minute, Beth stood upright again, pulling the earpieces away from her head, and shook her head sadly. Evelyn nodded, accepting her confirmation, though she had already known that her husband was truly gone. Beth knelt beside her friend and embraced her, and after closing the front door, I joined them, slipping Evelyn's phone into the pocket of her robe.

With a deep sigh, Evelyn said, "I have... SO many calls to make..."

"I'll call 911 to get them started this way," I volunteered.

"Thank you, John, and you too, Beth," Evelyn replied. "There are some papers in our home office I need to go get. Don't let them send an ambulance, John. We've prepaid a funeral home to take care of Steve, and they'll make the arrangements to... transport him."

Beth went with her to collect the papers she needed, and I pulled out my own phone to call the authorities. I explained to the 911 operator what had happened, and that I was only notifying them so they could take whatever action they deemed necessary. I was told an officer would be dispatched to 'assist' us, which I understood to mean he would check the situation out, to make sure everything was on the up and up.

The women walked back into the living room. Evelyn had a manila folder in one hand, and was holding her cell phone to her ear with the other.

"OK, thank you," she said, and dropped the phone back into the pocket of her robe. "The funeral home will arrange to send an ambulance around to pick up Steve as soon as one is available for a non-emergency run," she told us.

"A cop is coming, to take a report," I informed them. "There's a... delicate matter... that we need to discuss."

"What's that, John?" Beth asked, perplexed.

"What I was doing over here tonight, with Evelyn, is no one's business but ours," I reminded them. "It had no bearing whatever on what happened, since even if we had known he was in distress, the DNR prevents us or anyone else from trying to save him. I'm not suggesting we lie to anyone, directly, but..."

"Well, I won't have any problem with doing that, to protect all of us, and Steve's reputation, as well," Evelyn declared firmly. "Like you said, what we were doing upstairs earlier is no one else's business. I'll just tell them I took a nap after dinner, woke up a short while ago, went down and found Steve, and called you guys first because I know Beth is a nurse."

"That call went out on your phone, which is consistent with your account," I said. "There will be a record of the call, but not a recording, so there's no evidence to contradict you."

Beth said, "It's an unattended death of an elderly invalid who was severely ill, with a DNR. Should be an absolutely routine matter. I can't imagine there'll be any awkward questions asked."

"Good," I said. "Nothing we did is a crime, but an investigation would drag everyone's name through the mud, to no good purpose."

Beth said suddenly, "Evelyn... you need to go take a shower, quick, before the cop gets here."

Evelyn looked at her for a second, puzzled, then her eyes widened. "I guess I kind of... smell like sex, don't I?" she asked.

"I'm afraid so, hon," Beth told her. "Come on, I'll go up with you and straighten up the room a bit while you shower." The two of them headed upstairs together.

I pulled up the blanket that was over Steve's legs until it concealed his entire body, but touched nothing else. I sat and kept him company, waiting for the cop to arrive. Somehow leaving him by himself seemed like it wouldn't be right, even if I had not known him as well as I wished I could have.

About fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang. When I opened it, I recognized the female cop who was standing there.

"Officer Peterson, right?" I asked, and she nodded.

"Yes, sir, and I remember you, too, Mr. Miller, from the other morning. Dispatch said a death had been reported at this address?" she inquired, and I nodded, standing aside and gesturing for her to enter.

"That's right, officer. My neighbor, Steve, who's been very ill for several years, died a short while ago, apparently in his sleep," I explained as I led her into the living room. "His wife had asked me to come over this evening and help her with some things she could not manage on her own. Steve was watching TV in his recliner the last time we saw him. When we came back in here, he was lying here in his chair, dead. We called my girlfriend Beth over, to confirm it, because she's a nurse."

"Not 911 first?" Peterson inquired, though not accusingly; she was merely curious.

"Um, Steve had a DNR in place," I told her. "Because of that, the EMS staff would not be permitted to try to revive him. In any case, it was pretty obvious that it was much too late to do anything for him."

"I see," she said, nodding. By this time, I had led her over to where Steve's covered body lay on his recliner. She leaned over to lift the blanket and examine him for a few seconds, and again she nodded.

"Looks pretty cut and dried to me," she said, draping the blanket back over him again. "Just went to sleep and never woke up, seems like."

"That's what we thought, too," I replied as calmly as I could. I had not said anything to her which was an outright lie, and if she had questioned me more closely about exactly why I had been here, I would have told her the truth. She had, however, simply assumed I was here to swap out a furnace filter, or unclog a drain, or something like that, as I had hoped she would. Sometimes you're good... and sometimes you're lucky.

Just then, I noticed Beth and Evelyn descending the stairs, a welcome distraction. I introduced everyone, and Officer Peterson graciously offered condolences to Evelyn. I explained that the funeral home was making arrangements to pick up the body, contingent on the police releasing it to them, of course.

"That won't be a problem; I'll give you the form before I leave," Peterson said. "Let me get everyone's info for my report, and I'll get out of your way."

Once the cop left, Beth went into the kitchen and made coffee, while we waited for the crew to come pick up Steve's body. Evelyn and I chatted, sitting on the sofa only a few feet away from him.

Gazing over fondly at Steve's inert form, Evelyn mused, "We had such great fun. So much really crazy shit we got up to. It's a wonder we didn't get into more trouble than we did. I loved him so much."

"I'm quite sure he loved you every bit as much in return," I assured her. "Not many men love their wives enough to do for them what he did for you. Was doing for you, tonight, the night he passed on."

She sighed, and said, "You're right, John. I'm so lucky. He had a whole bevy of girlfriends hanging around when I met him, but I wouldn't sleep with him until he'd agreed we would be exclusive. I never thought he'd give up the others for me... but I was wrong. That was forty years ago, and we've been together all that time. We had a few rough spots, now and then, but we always worked it out." She paused a moment, smiling at old memories, and added, "Usually in bed, of course."

"That's the best place for it, in my experience," Beth said, walking in with our coffee in mugs on a tray, and we all shared a chuckle.

"Really, this is a relief, in a way," she told us. "He's been telling me for months that he was tired of fighting it anymore, and just wanted it to be over. We had actually started looking into which states allow assisted suicide. Medical Aid in Dying, it's called. The only reason we hadn't done more yet is that he was afraid his relatives would pitch a fit, if they found out."

"That would have been very stressful for both of you, I'm sure," I observed. "I'm glad it didn't come to that, and that in the end he was able to have a peaceful, dignified exit with no unnecessary suffering."

"You're right about that. While I was upstairs, just now, I scanned the video footage on the baby-monitor app, that I use-that I used, I mean-to keep an eye on Steve, whenever I was out," she told me. "You can clearly see when he fell asleep, when the remote slipped out of his hand. He never moved after that. No pain, no struggle, no grimacing at all. Just... slipped peacefully away to oblivion."

"Hope I'm that lucky," I told her.

"I... appreciate that you understand," Evelyn added. "This really is what he wanted, and the way he wanted it to be."

Presently the ambulance came to collect Steve. Beth took Evelyn into the kitchen, so she didn't have to watch that. I did stay and watch, so that I could reassure her that he was treated with dignity and respect. The crew was very professional and businesslike.

Once they were gone, Evelyn thanked us for helping, and suggested we go on back to my house and get at least a little sleep, before it was time to get up.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "We hate to leave you alone at a time like this."

"You're very kind, but I have to call both families and tell them what's happened, so they can start making travel plans, to attend the memorial service," Evelyn said. She seemed composed and serene, obviously having come to terms with a loss she had known for some time was imminent. "Sitting there listening to my side of those conversations will be boring as hell for you. Living alone is going to be my new reality, and now is as good a time as any to start getting used to it."

"All right, if you're sure," Beth said. "Just please know that we're here for you. Anything we can do, just let us know."

We bid her goodnight, and headed out, walking down the block together to collect my truck, parked at the school.

"Everything I could think of to say to her sounds like the same old trite shit you always hear when things like this happen," she said, disconsolately.

"I know what you mean, but... it's not so much what you say, it's that you're there, that matters," I suggested.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she said. "Let's take her to lunch, tomorrow, OK?"

"Sounds like a plan, if we can persuade her to come," I agreed, yawning. "And assuming we're up by then. It's after midnight."

"Don't worry, I'll drag your lazy ass out of bed in time," Beth promised. "You can take a nap after, if you need it."

"I think you better count on it," I said, as we pulled into the garage. We stumbled upstairs and fell into bed. I was worried that I would be too unsettled about the night's events to fall asleep quickly, but in the event, I hardly even remembered my head hitting the pillow.

-/-/-/-/-/-

It took me several seconds to realize that the reason I was waking up was because my phone was ringing, on the lamp table by the bed. I recognized the ringtone as the one I had assigned to Denise, only a couple of days back. Still woozy with sleep, I managed to grab the phone and accept the call, saying, "Hello, kiddo, what's up?"

"Well, not you, it would seem, sleepyhead," she observed succinctly. "You've usually up and about pretty early. What happened; did your 'date' last night wear you out THAT badly?" I could almost see her amused smile as she teased me.

"No, that wasn't the problem; that went off per usual," I told her. "But then, our next-door neighbor Steve passed away at their home late last night, and his wife Evelyn called us to come give her a hand. We were up until the small hours, assisting her in dealing with that." There was no hurry about telling Denise that Evelyn was in fact my 'date' from last night, though I figured one of the girls would likely figure it out sooner or later, if someone didn't tell them first.

"Oh, no, that's awful!" Denise exclaimed, genuinely upset at the sad news even though she'd never met them. "I'll... pray for her." Her voice was then muted for a moment, and I surmised she was relaying what I had told her to Gina.

"We're going to see if she'll let us take her to lunch," I said. "Why don't you two join us? We told her that you two were house-sitting for us, and she knows how I met you. She's dying to meet the two of you, and I'm sure it will distract her, help her forget her sorrows for a while." Behind me I could hear Beth in conversation, and surmised she had called Evelyn to arrange our lunch date.

"Hang on," Denise said, and again I heard bits and pieces of her muted conversation with Gina. "We're in," she told me, after a few seconds. "What time?"

"Let's say noon, for now," I decided. "Casual attire, nothing fancy." From long experience with women, I knew her next question would have been about how they should dress. "I'll let you know if I have to change our plans. Where are you now?"

"Down by your pool," she said, and it only took me a moment to step over to the window overlooking my patio area, and see both of them stretched out on chaise lounges catching some sun. Denise was naked, as she often was nowadays when relaxing poolside at my house. And Gina might as well have been, skimpy as her bikini was. The sun glistened off the tanning oil on their nubile young bodies. They looked up at me, waving cheerfully.

"Wow, that's an entrancing sight I could wake up to every morning," I commented appreciatively, and they giggled.

"What sight is that, lover?" Beth asked, coming up alongside me to see what I was talking about. "Oh, the Terrible Twosome. I might have known," she quipped. "'Casual attire' indeed. It doesn't get much more casual than that." Apparently, they overheard Beth through the phone, since they both laughed again.

"We'll see you later," I told Denise, and the girls waved goodbye as I ended the call.

"Evelyn agreed to let us take her out for lunch," Beth said. "And I think you're right, John; having them with us ought to keep her from brooding too much over Steve's death, for a while, at least," she added, as we headed into the master bath.

"Of course, you can't really be sure, but if her attitude last night is any sign, I think she'll make the transition to her new life, and adjust to losing Steve, fairly well," I suggested. "She's had a long time to get used to idea that this was going to happen sooner rather than later."

"I think so too," Beth replied. "I wound up in the same circumstances that she's in from the opposite extreme-no warning at all-and it nearly destroyed me. I too thought she was coming to terms with it quite well."

"Well, if she adjusts half as well as you have, she'll be fine," I observed.

"Most of that is because of you, darling," Beth said adoringly. "Sometimes you're so distracting, you're all I can think about."

"'Distracting', in a good way?" I wondered. "Or the other kind?"

"Both, of course," she replied. "For example, right now I'm terribly distracted because you slipped out of bed this morning without giving me a chance to wake you up by sucking your cock, like I routinely do."

"Sorry about that, but my brain needed the extra blood to handle the phone call," I offered, a lame excuse if I ever heard one.

"Well, you're not on the phone now," she said, slipping her hand into my boxers to take a firm grip on my cock, sending a shiver up my spine. "A perfect opportunity to make up this morning's deficiency, don't you think?"

"Not doing much thinking at all, at the moment," I agreed readily. "Right now, the blood's flowing the way you like best, I think."

"You're right, I can feel it," she said, squeezing my rapidly hardening member lovingly as she used her free hand to pull down my boxers, after which she took a seat on the toilet, using her grip on my swelling erection to gently pull me over to stand directly in front of her.

"I know Evelyn must have given you a blow job last night," she said, confidently. "And I know she wanted it rough. Right?"

"That's, uh... what she said, yeah," I agreed.

She leaned forward to plant a sensuous kiss on the swollen head of my straining, fully-erect cock, after which she looked up at me, her eyes shining, and asked, "Was she taking video, like last time?"

"She sure was," I replied.

"Good," my kinky girlfriend responded. "But it may be a while before she gets around to getting a copy to us, this time. And I can't wait. John, please show your horny bitch what you did to Evelyn last night with this big cock of yours. Please... sir?"

Feeling that I really had no other choice in the matter-not that I wanted any other choice, you understand-I gave her exactly what she asked for.

-/-/-/-/-

Evelyn came over to our house at noon, and we introduced her to the girls, who offered her heartfelt condolences on her loss.

"Thank you so much," she told them. "I've been looking forward to meeting you, Denise, and you as well, Gina. John and Beth have shared with me some of the problems you've been faced with. I hope things are getting better, for both of you."

"Well, thanks to John, and Beth too, we've managed to make a good start on getting up on our feet and on our own," Gina replied.

"I'm glad you felt up to joining us for lunch," I told Evelyn.

"I know some people want to think it's improper or indecorous to socialize so soon after losing a loved one," she replied. "Thank you for inviting me."

"Depending on who you talk to, some folks would tell you it's wrong to have any kind of social life, or any fun at all for that matter, for at least a year after losing a spouse," I observed. "Which I happen to think is a ridiculous waste of time, and certainly nothing Steve would have wanted for you."

"I completely agree," Evelyn said. "Let's go, I'm hungry."

The five of us piled into my pickup and we headed out to lunch at my favorite Mexican restaurant.

Over our meal, Evelyn regaled us with hysterical tales of some of the wild adventures she and Steve had enjoyed over the years, with our enthusiastic encouragement. As she became more comfortable with us, she mostly gave up trying to bowdlerize the more risqué stories.

"... so in fact, the joke was on Steve, because I'm pretty sure that was the night our son, Roger, was conceived," she said, concluding yet another of her hilarious anecdotes, and we dissolved in helpless laughter, in which she joined wholeheartedly. She dabbed at a tear with her napkin, occasionally, but showed no signs of being overcome with emotion.

"You know, when my time comes, I hope my friends and family will know that I would want to be remembered this way, and not how my parents always handled a death in the family," Denise told us. "For Mom, it was like it was a contest to see who could cry the most tears, who could wail in anguish the loudest, who could offer up the longest, most reverent prayers. My dad, on the other hand, would just sit in stone-faced, brooding silence, keeping everything locked up deep inside. He never cried, but he never gave me or anyone else a shoulder to cry on, either."

"Too much emotion, mostly fake, or none at all, right?" Beth noted.

"Exactly," the young blonde said. "I never met your husband, Evelyn, and yet you've made me feel like he was someone I knew, a friend of mine. Thank you for that."

"Well, he did love a pretty face, upon a time, and you would certainly have caught his eye," Evelyn told her, with a twinkle in her eye. "You too, Gina. And Beth as well, for that matter."

"A real ladies' man, eh?" Beth noted, smiling.

"He definitely... appreciated beautiful women," she explained. "Whenever I noticed-or he told me, which he usually would-that he had seen an especially good-looking woman, I could usually count on him being very amorous with me, that night... or sometimes even sooner." She paused, and added, "Of course, he was that way with me most of the time, anyway, even when he had no other inspiration."

"Probably because you were his inspiration," I observed, and she blushed slightly.

"I suppose maybe I was, wasn't I?" she agreed, with a smile born of fond memories.

"I'm sure of it," I told her, grinning at her. "Because, you know... you're still a very persuasive inspiration, that way."

"Careful, John, you'll make Beth jealous," Gina warned me, clearly not serious.

"Yeah, John, it's a little soon to be putting a move on the poor widow woman, don't you think?" Gina teased.

"Don't be so sure, girls," Beth scolded them, grinning. "Evelyn wouldn't be shy about shutting him down, but I don't hear her complaining."

The girls giggled... and suddenly Gina's eyes got as big as saucers, and she covered her mouth with her hand, scandalized.

"What?" Denise asked her, puzzled.

Gina leaned over and whispered urgently in her ear, and Denise's face registered the same progression of shocked surprise that her friend had displayed, as they looked back and forth between Evelyn and me. "Oh my God...!" she gasped.

"Looks like our young friends have guessed our naughty little secret, John," Evelyn noted calmly, with a faint smile.

"It would appear so," I acknowledged, resignedly. "It was probably inevitable, in any case," I added.

"Please don't worry that we'll... tell anyone, or grab our phones and blab about this all over the internet, Evelyn," Denise hastened to assure her. "We already promised John and Beth that we would be discreet about the things we've learned about... their sex life."

"Their unbelievably crazy, wild-ass sex life, yeah," Gina added. "Like we told them, no one would believe us anyway."

"Besides which, if we piss either of them off badly enough, Beth might not let John fuck me anymore," Denise explained further... much further than I thought really necessary, to be honest, but... too late to worry about that now. "I wouldn't like that at all," she added, vehemently.

"I... see," Evelyn said, noncommittally. A moment later, she was looking intently at Gina. Our neighbor said nothing, but there was no doubt what her unspoken question would have been.

"Um... no, or at least... not yet, anyway," the young redhead volunteered, blushing in her turn. "But truth to tell, I'm... kind of leaning that way."

Evelyn sighed deeply, clearly pondering what she had just heard. We waited to see how she would react to finding out about our sexy shenanigans. We weren't worried; just interested.

"Well, that's an eye-opener, for sure. But considering what John and I were up to last night... with Steve's approval, mind you...," she told us, "It would certainly be more than a little hypocritical of me to disapprove of any of John's other liaisons... so long as Beth doesn't mind them."

"Mind them?" Beth snorted. "Are you kidding? I set them up!" she asserted emphatically, and we all shared a laugh at her obvious enthusiasm.

"And here I was all worried about being too embarrassed to ask the girls for help in setting up a home business, editing people's private porn videos," Evelyn said, grinning.

"WHAT?!" the girls exclaimed, almost in unison, as they dissolved in helpless giggles yet again, as did Beth as well. I noticed the hostess summon our waiter, asking him something urgent. The waiter shook his head emphatically. I guessed that the hostess was worried that the girls, who were underage, were being served alcohol, but the waiter would have told her that our party had ordered nothing stronger than iced tea.

"Easy, ladies," I warned them. "The management is concerned we're getting a bit rowdy." The women lowered their voices somewhat, and the hostess nodded to me in appreciation.

"What on earth were you saying just now, about... editing porn videos...?" Beth asked Evelyn.

Evelyn explained the business idea I had pitched to her the night before, adding that she hoped the girls could point her to an online intermediary who could put her in contact with potential customers, in a discreet manner that would protect everyone's anonymity. Gina and Beth listened carefully, and promised to do some discreet research online, to see what they could find. Evelyn assured them she would compensate them for their time.

"Can you handle the editing on your own?" Beth asked her. She didn't add, '... now that Steve's gone,' but we all knew that was what she meant. Evelyn, however, showed no sign of being upset at the reminder of her misfortune.

"I should be OK," Evelyn replied. "Steve was the expert, to begin with, but when he got sick, he started teaching me how to do it. I guess I could look into some generic video-editing tutorials, online, to improve my technique. If I'm going to get serious about this, anyway. Steve's income was sufficient that it was never necessary for me to work, so I don't really have any marketable job skills. I sure as hell don't relish having to compete for entry-level jobs, at my age. I could manage just on our savings, and Steve's life insurance, but I'd much rather find something to keep me busy that would also bring in some additional income."

"If you need any help with that, I wouldn't mind being paid to look at other people's homemade porn all day," Gina offered generously, and again we all laughed.

'I'll review your application, and we'll let you know if we have an opening that fits your qualifications," Evelyn told her pompously. "Don't call us; we'll call you."

"And don't hold your breath waiting for that call, either, you pervert," Denise facetiously warned her. Once again, I noticed that the uproarious laughter at our table drew a scowl from the suspicious hostess.

"On that note, I think we've about worn out our welcome here today," I told the crew, grabbing the invoice and reaching for my wallet. "Let's head on out, guys."

-/-/-/-/-

On the way home, my phone buzzed while I was stopped at a light, and I pulled it out, seeing at a glance that it was Becky, my attorney, calling me. I handed the phone to Beth. "See what Becky wants, please," I asked her.

Beth accepted the call, and I listened to her side of the conversation, which didn't tell me much. She ended the call as we arrived home.

"She wants us to come to her office, to meet some people," she informed me. "I agreed we'd be there in forty-five minutes. Before you ask... she didn't explain exactly who they are, or what's going on. She just asked me-asked us-to trust her."

"Well, I do trust her, actually," I replied. "I guess we'd better get ready, and head that way."

We said our goodbyes to Evelyn and the girls, and went inside to freshen up and change into apparel appropriate for a mysterious meeting at an attorney's office.

When we arrived at Becky's office, her receptionist ushered us into a conference room. "Becky will join you in a couple of minutes," she told us, and left us to ponder what this was all about.

Becky did in fact come in only a couple of minutes later, in the company of two men, both in their early fifties, dressed in casual attire. Becky introduced everyone, and Beth and I shook hands with Mr. Jim Reynolds and Mr. Rick Emerson. At Becky's invitation, we seated ourselves, Becky at the head of the big conference table, Beth and I on one side, and the two men on the other.

"John, these two gentlemen came to me and asked me to arrange a meeting with you and Beth," she explained. "When they told me why, I felt sure you would not object." She looked at the two men expectantly, and Mr. Reynolds-Jim-began.

"Mr. Miller..." he said, and I cut him off.

"'John', please," I said.

"John, I'm from Missouri, and my new friend, Rick, here is from Kansas," Jim told me, and the info ticked a warning bell in the back of my mind, reminding me of something I had been told recently, though I couldn't quite put my finger on what it had been.

"Rick and I met each other, and we're here to see you today, because both of us lost a child-his daughter, and my son-murdered in cold blood on the side of the road last week, by that... person, that you shot and killed at the convenience store a few days back." He almost spat out the word 'person', as if disgusted at having to acknowledge that Ray Goff was even human.

Beth gasped, and I took a deep breath, realizing the connection the two states had for me. I had been aware of these murders, though I had not read any of the details in the news.

"Gentlemen, words seem... inadequate, but I am so terribly sorry for your loss," I told them.

"Me, too," Beth said, tears brimming. "Please accept our deepest condolences."

Both men thanked us for our comments.

"We know you... did what you did, to save the life of a hostage, John, "Jim said. "And we know, because it was in the papers, what happened to Miss Beth, here. Terrible as that was, we're both very glad you survived." Beth thanked them for their kind words.

"I know it's... a lot to ask, but... would you let us tell you what happened, with our... our kids, and us?" Jim asked, clearly in the grip of powerful emotion. "It would mean a lot to us, to know that you are aware there were... other reasons besides what you knew at the time, that made what you did... the right thing to do."

It was obvious to me that these two devastated men desperately needed to share their stories with me far more than I needed not to hear them. I figured this was a time when I needed to take one for the team, so to speak.

"I won't lie; this isn't something I really want to hear," I told them. "But I can tell that you, both of you, very badly want to share your experience with me. I'm not sure I see how that will help you, but if you think it might, I'll listen."

"Thank you, John," Jim said. "My son Pete was found in a ditch not far from his car, along I-70 about 40 miles west of Columbia, Missouri, two days before you encountered Goff here in Oklahoma. Pete had been shot in the head, and his car pushed off the road, where it was not easily visible at night."

"My daughter's name is-was-Jenny," Rick said, taking up the narrative. "Her car was found abandoned under an I-35 overpass about midday near Williamsburg, Kansas, later the same day Pete's body was found. I was notified because my name is on the title, along with hers."

"We organized a search party: friends, family, people from church and work... and some strangers, too," he went on. "About suppertime that evening, Jennifer's older brother found her body in some weeds under a roadside billboard a couple of miles away from where her car was. She was... naked... bound and gagged... ... and had been shot in the head." He paused, and Jim put a hand on his shoulder, while Becky passed him a box of tissues.

"The coroner told us, a couple of days later that she had been sexually assaulted," he continued. "There was no semen, so he must have used a condom."

"The police think Goff mainly ambushed them for the cash they had on them," he went on bitterly. "Raping Jennifer was probably just an afterthought. He killed our kids just to get enough money for a couple of tankfuls of gas for his van."

Jim spoke up again. "The same day you shot Goff, the state police in Kansas and Missouri announced the two murders were related, because forensics showed both bullets came from the same gun. A couple of days later, we learned that it was the gun Goff had when you killed him, so we know he was the man who killed Pete and Jennifer."

Both men paused, breathing deeply, and I felt obliged to tell them a few things.

"Fellows, I need you to understand something. I only shot Goff because he had a hostage, whose life was in imminent danger, and using deadly force was the only sure way to save her," I told them. "Even if I had known about your son... about Pete, Jim, and about Jennifer, Rick... I would not have... shot Goff, except to save innocent life. I understand that Goff's death might seem like a just end to you... and it does to me too, I assure you... but standing in the place of judge and jury was no part of any plan I had, or wanted to have."

"I... feel neither better, nor worse, about what I did, for knowing the details of what he did to your children, and I'm sorry if that bothers you," I finished.

Rick smiled, sadly, and said, "That's not why we wanted to tell you our stories, John. I respect your position on what you had to do, and I know Jim does, as well. We only wanted you to... hear about our pain, so that you can understand the role what you did is having in our... ability to move on from this senseless tragedy."

"First off, because you tracked him down and killed him, Jim and I, and our families, don't have to spend the rest of our lives not knowing who killed our loved ones, knowing the got away with it, and wondering if they might still be out there killing others, too."

"Also, we don't have to endure a protracted trial, listening in the courtroom, and maybe even on the evening news, along with the rest of the world, to every grotesque detail of how Pete and Jennifer suffered," Jim added.

"Or decades spent appealing a death sentence," Rick said.

"And finally, we don't have to live the rest of our lives, knowing that that animal is going to spend the rest of his life lounging around an exercise yard in prison, eating three squares a day, bragging to his prison buddies about what he did, all the expenses paid by our taxes, while all we have are memories and old photos of our dead kids," Jim finished.

"No one can give me back my daughter, or Rick his son," Rick said. "But what you did has given us, and our families, a measure of closure over losing them. That means a lot to us. Thank you for that, and for taking the time to meet with us."

"Well, all I can tell you is that if what I did is making it... less painful for you and your families to come to terms with what happened, then I'm glad for that much, at least," I told them.

"John, there's another matter these gentlemen wish to discuss with you," Becky informed me. "I know how you'll react when you hear what they say, but please hear them out; it's not what you think."

"When Pete was found murdered, I immediately offered a reward for info leading to arrest and conviction of the killer," Jim said, pausing, no doubt, because of the scowl on my face. "Now, Becky already told me you would have no interest in a reward, but please hear us out." I nodded, reluctantly.

"I did the same thing," Rick said. "When we learned the two murders were related, Jim and I talked on the phone, and agreed to combine the two rewards. Together, now, they total about sixty thousand dollars."

"John, you would not be eligible to claim the reward, in any case," Becky told me. "To claim such an award, you would need to have acted with the specific intent of fulfilling the specified reward conditions. Since you didn't even know about the reward offer, you would not qualify to receive it."

"Good," I replied. Being paid for taking a life didn't appeal to me one bit, no matter how badly the bastard needed killing.

"We've decided that we're going to establish scholarships, at the universities our kids attended, in their names, with this money," Rick explained.

"That's a fine idea," I told them. "I thoroughly approve."

"We thought we would ask if we could include your name in the scholarship, given your involvement in the matter," Rick suggested.

I spent a long moment in thought, and said, "No, that doesn't seem right to me. I wasn't one of his victims." I paused a moment, and a thought came to me. "Beth, here... she was one, though."

"Me?" Beth said in surprise.

"Yes, you," I said. "Tell you what: put her name in on the masthead of your scholarship, with Pete and Jenny, and I'll sweeten the pot with thirty thousand dollars of my own money."

Jim and Rick looked at each other for a moment, and then Rick said, "John, that's an... incredibly generous offer. Thank you; you have a deal... assuming Beth is OK with it, that is."

Beth was staring at me in shock. "What do you say, babe?" I asked her.

"I would be honored," she said graciously. Suddenly she grinned mischievously, adding, "Besides which... you HAVE to include me in the scholarship name, you know."

"Why is that?" I asked, puzzled.

"Because then they can call it the Pete, Beth, and Jenny scholarship fund," she said, as if that explained everything. The rest of us were looking at one another, baffled. It was Becky who figured it out first.

She smiled ruefully. "Of course! The PBJ scholarship! What aspiring college student wouldn't want THAT on their resume?"

Rick was smiling. "You know," he observed. "Jenny always had a very... irreverent sense of humor. I think she would be... would have been... delighted to be memorialized that way."

Jim, too, seemed amused. "Well... when Pete was a kid, he sure as hell did love his PBJs. Sure, why not?"

"You could set the award up in the form of a trust," Becky suggested. "With Jim, Rick, and John, who are putting up the money, as trustees."

"Not me, for sure," I objected. "Let Beth have my spot." Everyone looked at me like I'd grown an extra eyeball in my forehead, especially Beth. "Hey, you're gonna need someone on the board who can actually make a PBJ, aren't you?" I asked.

"John... are you sure?" Beth asked, stunned.

"Absolutely," I replied. "The scholarship award meetings will have too much testosterone floating around, otherwise."

After a brief whispered conversation with Rick, Jim announced, "We would be honored if you would serve as one of the trustees, Miss Beth."

"What the hell just happened?" Beth asked no one in particular. "Well, never mind, that'll teach me to let my attention wander for five seconds in a meeting, won't it?" Everyone chuckled. "Sure, why not? I would be very honored to serve as a trustee for such a scholarship fund; thank you."

Turning to me, she fixed me with a cold eye, and growled menacingly, "And I'll deal with you later, Mr. Smart Ideas," and again everyone laughed, this time at my expense.

"What universities did your kids go to, guys?" Becky asked Jim and Rick.

"Mizzou, of course," Jim said. "Go Tigers!"

"K State," Rick responded. "EMAW!"

We looked at him, baffled. "E. M. A. W. Every Man A Wildcat," he explained. "EMAW. It's a classic cheer us KSU fans use."

"OK," I said, and everyone except Rick smiled.

"You'll probably need to consult a law firm with attorneys licensed to practice in both states, to craft a trust charter that is legal and enforceable at both universities," she advised them.

"We'll look into that as soon as we get home," Jim said, and Rick nodded.

With business concluded, I invited the men, and Becky as well, to join Beth and I for dinner at a restaurant, and they agreed, if their wives could join us, to which I readily acceded, of course. Becky had to decline, citing a prior engagement.

"I don't want dinner to get too maudlin, guys," I told them, "But I would very much like to hear from you anything you would care to share with us about Pete and Jenny, if it's not too painful."

"Well, I can't promise it won't get a bit maudlin, to be honest," Jim said. "But we'll give it a shot, and see how it goes. I think it might actually be a bit... cathartic to do that, for us, with people who never met them."

I gave them the address of the Greek place where Anna and I had dined with the lingerie fashion shoot crew, some time back, while making the reservations. Beth and I then left for home, where I knew I likely faced a dire reckoning of some sort, for 'volunteering' Beth for her unexpected trusteeship.

"So what's it gonna be, Beth?" I asked, pretending to cringe away from her. "Will you be taking me down to our basement behavioral correction facility, for a bit of light aversion therapy?"

"Oh, I'm not letting you off the hook that easy, you sneaky jerk," she replied, in an annoyed tone. "I think I'll just make you dance with me, in public, instead." I'm almost always self-conscious, but never more so than when compelled to dance in public, which she well knew.

"Please, mistress, anything but that," I pleaded pathetically. "I have a wonderful selection of electrified nipple clamps and medium-duty cattle prods down there; wouldn't you like to use a few of them to experiment on me with, instead? Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Yeah, and let's throw B'rer Rabbit in the briar patch, too, while we're at it," she scoffed. "No dice, Johnny boy. Wear your dancing shoes tonight; you're gonna need 'em."

"Damn it, you're impervious to my plans to escape my well-deserved fate," I wailed. "I'm doomed."

"Like my toes probably will be, if I don't wear my steel-toed boots tonight," she commented.

"Hey, just because I've always had two left feet every single time in my entire life that I've ever danced with a partner, doesn't mean it'll happen again tonight with you," I claimed. Not very convincingly, I might add.

"Maybe I'll wear my stiletto heels tonight," she mused. "That way, I can dish it out, too."

"Sounds more like a no-holds-barred cage match, than a little after-dinner dancing," I carped.

"See, you catch on quick, when the threat of excruciating pain is applied," she taunted me.

"Oh, well," I said. "I'll take my medicine like a big boy, if I must. At least, I'll get to grope the best-looking babe in the room in the process."

"Careful, John," she warned me, with a smirk. "Flattery like that will only get you an extra dance or three."

"I'm counting on it," I told her confidently. "Bring it on, Dancing Queen. Gimme your best shot."

"You're on, cowboy," she intoned. "High noon, at the OK Corral. Be there, and be sure to wear your roweled spurs, the really sharp ones."

"It's a date, bitch."

"Don't be late, jerk."

"Don't sweat it, cunt."

"Bastard.'

"Slut."

"Asshole."

Then things got really nasty, but I'm sure you get the idea.

-/-/-/-/-

When we got home, with several hours to go before dinnertime, I decided to nap on my comfortable couch in the den, to recoup some of my lost sack time from my busy and emotionally draining evening the night before. I doubt it took me more than a minute or two to fall asleep.

Sometime later, I was aware that there was something very familiar about the sensations I was experiencing as I was waking up from my nap; my rigid cock was encased in a warm, moist, comfortable something that was stroking it gently. Prying my eyes open, half-expecting to find myself looking down on to top of Beth's brunette head, I was somewhat taken aback to instead see a silky mass of golden blonde tresses bobbing up and down, as Denise, kneeling naked on the carpet beside the sofa, languidly sucked on my rock-hard cock.

A soft moan from across the room drew my attention, and I glanced over to see that we had an audience: Gina was sprawled in the recliner, masturbating, gasping and moaning, her eyes locked on Denise and me, one hand shoved into her bikini bottoms, busy fingers buried in her obviously soaked pussy. Her other hand was occupied kneading her substantial breasts, her bra pushed up out of the way.

The blowjob to which Denise was treating me was considerably more enthusiastic than it was expert, but I sure as hell wasn't going to complain.

"Well, good afternoon to you too, sweetie," I greeted her, and she rolled her eyes up at me by way of response, since she couldn't say much with her mouth full of my straining erection. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you, you little mischief maker." Despite being stretched taut around the circumference of my dick, the corners of her lips pulled up in a recognizable grin.

"Enjoying the show, Gina?" I inquired playfully.

"Hell... yes... I am..." the excited redhead across the room responded, breathlessly.

"You said you'd enjoy watching homemade porn," I reminded her. "I guess you weren't kidding, were you?" She snorted in amusement, but did not miss a beat as she continued frantically frigging herself.

"They came in from the pool for drinks, and saw you there," Beth said from the kitchen doorway, startling me. "Since we need to leave soon for our dinner date, I suggested it was time you were up. And by 'up', I didn't just mean your obvious hard-on."

"And I don't even need to ask, because I know it was you who suggested... this method of waking me," I said.

Beth just smirked, and said, "They played rock/paper/scissors to see who got to do the honors. Denise's paper covered Gina's rock. And now I see she has your cock nicely covered, as well."

"Very nicely indeed," I agreed. "Her technique could use a little work, but I give her high marks for her zeal and gusto."

"Indeed, and I've already offered to tutor them both in the fine art of sucking cocks," Beth replied. "My dildos are useful for that, but what we really need is a live subject for them to practice on. Any ideas?"

'I'll sure... you'll think... of something..." I answered in a bit of a strangled voice, as a powerful climax surged through my loins, semen erupting uncontrollably from my cock, a veritable fountain of jizz spraying into my youthful lover's exquisitely soft, yielding mouth and overflowing past her lips, to dribble down my swollen shaft and onto her elegant hand wrapped around its base.

Across the room, the sight apparently triggered Gina's own overwhelming orgasm, her body jerking rhythmically, thighs straining, head arched back in ecstatic joy as she uttered a long, drawn-out moan of delirious pleasure, before finally collapsing back into the chair, sweaty and spent.

"Looks like you latest recruit really enjoyed the show, John," Beth congratulated me.

"Not half as much as I did," I asserted emphatically. "Between what the one was doing to me, and the other to herself, it was pretty damn stimulating."

Busy licking jizz off my genitals, Denise paused just long enough to say, "Come give me a hand, and get your share, Gina."

Sucking in a deep breath and readjusting her bikini, Gina rose and joined Denise at my side. "My... share?" she inquired, unsure what her friend was offering.

"Of John's semen, silly," the blonde explained.

"Oh..." Gina replied uncertainly.

"Want some, Beth?" Denise asked generously.

"No thanks, you two are welcome to it," Beth responded. "I got my daily dose before lunch, this morning."

"All right," Denise replied, eagerly returning to her snack, slurping cum off my softening dick, very much as you might lick a lollipop.

"Wow...." Gina breathed softly, eyes wide as she stared spellbound at the lascivious spectacle, realizing what her friend was offering her. "I've... never..."

"C'mon, give it a try," her friend encouraged her.

"It's perfectly safe, dear," Beth reassured her. "At least, it is when it's his. If it wasn't, I'd have gotten sick weeks ago."

Tentatively, Gina reached over, using a couple of fingers to wipe a stray dollop of my creamy ejaculate off Denise's jaw, making her giggle. Holding it up to her face to examine, she used her thumb to test its slimy texture, and then sniffed it cautiously, wrinkling her nose at its oddly pungent aroma.

"Yeah, I know; it looks gross, feels icky, and smells funny," Denise acknowledged. Leaning over, she used her tongue to delve deep into my hairy groin to track down a fugitive rivulet of the mess we had made, ostentatiously licking it up and savoring her prize. "Mmm, yummy. It took a bit of getting used to, for sure, but once I did, I can't get enough."

Summoning her courage, Gina resolutely stuck her fingers in her mouth and sucked off the slick residue, swishing it around experimentally, getting acquainted with its unique, and strangely intoxicating, taste and texture.

"It's... weird," she reported. "I sure never tasted anything like that before...."

"Every man tastes a bit different," Beth informed us. "And even the same guy can taste a bit different now and then, depending on what he's eaten recently, and how much sex he's had lately."

"That's... pretty wild," Denise observed.

"Were you ready to take care of John, if you'd picked scissors, instead, Gina?" Beth asked.

"Um, no, I cheated," the redhead confessed. "I waited til I'd seen her open hand, for 'paper', and then showed 'rock', to let her win." We chuckled at her frank admission.

"Have you made up your mind, about having sex with John?" Beth asked her gently.

After a long moment of internal deliberation, Gina slowly nodded. "All things considered, I think I'd much rather lose my virginity to John, and learn everything you guys can teach me about lovemaking," she said. "If you'll let me, anyway." Denise embraced her, happy to have someone her own age to share the experience with, I was guessing.

"OK, then, we'll see about finding an opening for you in John's busy schedule, and pencil you in, Gina," Beth told her, facetiously adding, "Be patient. It might take a few days before a slot opens up."

"She can have my next appointment," Denise offered magnanimously, joining in the general silliness.

"Considering how you jumped the queue here this afternoon, you should forfeit your next regular turn in any case, Denise," I admonished her. "Fair's fair, right?"

"If you say so, Daddy," she said contritely. "Did that earn me some more swats on my naked bottom?"

"No, button, we'll let Gina have your next time slot, and call it even," I decided, and the little minx had the audacity to pout in evident disappointed.

Gina suddenly reached out and, very gently, grabbed Denise's chin and tilted her head back. She leaned in, extended her tongue, and delicately licked off a fugitive smear of my cum from the underside of Denise's jaw, making the young blonde shiver. Ginz ostentatiously swirled the tiny morsel around her mouth, staring contemplatively up at the heavens-or, more likely, the textured drywall ceiling-after which she swallowed in an exaggerated, dramatic fashion. "You missed a spot," she informed Denise, quite unnecessarily.

"Thanks for your help, partner," Denise replied.

"Was that taste more to your liking, Gina?" Beth asked, amused.

"Can't tell," the redhead reported. "Sample size was too small; we have to repeat the experiment. I'll need a volunteer to provide more of the substance in question." She looked around speculatively. "Any volunteers?"

Naked, Denise looked down pointedly to her exposed crotch, where anything resembling a cock and balls was conspicuous by its absence "Sorry, that's not part of my skill set," she stated confidently

"Me, either," Beth chimed in. "Looks like your elected, John."

"That was fast; I only just got nominated a short while ago," I protested, the ladies chuckling at my 'dilemma'. "However, as much as I'm sure I would enjoy taking up the duties of the office to which you have so generously elected me, that will have to wait for another day, because you and I, Beth, have a prior commitment for this evening."

"Awww..." Gina the drama queen grumped in disappointment.

"Don't worry, your day will come, sweet thing," I assured her, as I stood up. "Beth, let's head upstairs and get ready for our dinner date with Jim, Rick, and their wives."

"I suppose we'd better," Beth concurred.

"What about later tonight?" Gina asked hopefully.

"I doubt it," I replied, as Beth and I headed upstairs. "Beth promised to wear me out dancing after dinner. It's been a long day for me already, and I expect I'll be ready to hit the sack when we get back. Maybe sometime tomorrow, OK?"

"All right," she replied, mollified. "C'mon, Denise, let's head back out to the pool."

"Yeah, looks like we've stirred up about as much mischief as we can in here," her companion replied, somewhat regretfully.

"Why don't you two go out and have some fun on your own tonight?" Beth suggested. "I'm sure there's plenty of other mischief you can get into that doesn't include us."

The two teens looked at one another. "Sure, why not?" Gina said, and Denise nodded.

"Just wait until tomorrow morning to call us to come bail you out, OK?" I called down to them over my shoulder, and they laughed.

Back in our bedroom, while we showered together, I asked Beth, "Are you sure it's a good idea to turn those two wild young things loose on the innocent citizens of our fair city tonight?"

"Who knows?" she responded. "Anyway, most of those citizens are probably less innocent than those two. They should all be safe enough. Which is more than I can say for you, once I get you out on that dance floor."

"Ugh," I groaned. "Remind me to never again ambush you with unexpected prestigious appointments like I did today."

"Maybe we should tell them where we're going, so they can come watch," Beth said. "The sight of you trying to weasel out of dancing in public with me ought to be the best show in town."

"What'll it cost me for you to keep that secret to yourself?" I asked, as we stepped out of the shower and began toweling each other down.

"I'll have to think about that," she said. "I'll let you know when we get home tonight."

"Well, it's nice to have something to look forward to," I said hopefully.

"Don't be too sure of that, OK?" she answered. "I can be very imaginative, when it comes to finding ways to embarrass you for my own amusement."

"You're preaching to the choir, dear," I told her. "Just keep it up, because I know it's one way you show me that you love me."

"And I know that giving me excuses to torment you like that is how you show me your love," she said, and then she laughed. "Aren't we a pathetic pair, John?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way, darling," I assured her, as I embraced her.

"Me either, sweetheart," she replied wistfully, leaning into me. "Me either."