“Good morning. How do you feel?”
Andy opened his eyes, head buried in a crumpled pillow with his arm tucked beneath, still naked from the evening before. I was lying beside him in the guest bedroom. Dan had been up for at least two hours. I could hear him rummaging in the kitchen.
“Where Am I?” My husband propped himself up on his forearms, looking for a clock. It was ten past ten in the morning. We rarely slept so late and only when Samantha was staying with her grandparents.
“We’re at Dan’s house… the guest bedroom. He and I had to drag you in here last night. You were totally snockered on the pool deck. How much did you drink? Do you remember anything?”
I was digging for info, feeling the gnawing incisors of guilt chewing on my conscience and the ache that sobriety brings Saturday morning after sinning on Friday night… not to mention the previous weekend.
“I think I fell asleep on the lounge chair outside.” Andy sifted his fingers through his hair, furrowing his brows in concentration. “I woke up, and it was dark. I was dizzy and alone. Damn, I’ve got one hell of a headache.”
“Let me go to the kitchen and get some Motrin or Tylenol. I’ll ask Dan what he has. I didn’t think to bring any medicine when we packed.”
“Did we eat supper last night?” My hubby was searching his presumably empty memory for any crumbs of recollection. I was hoping the cupboard was as empty as I left his balls when Dan and I finally put him to bed.
“You passed out before Dan had a chance to grill the shish kabobs. We both decided to let you sleep since we couldn’t rouse you up, so we saved everything for today’s lunch. Dan put the meat and veggies in Italian marinade, said it would be even better today. The two of us ate junk food… Kettle Chips and onion dip with some nachos on the side. You hungry?”
“Yeah. I feel like I’ve been run over by a bus.” Andy slid off the bed and instinctively headed for the bathroom. “What did you and Dan do all night?”
I felt that familiar fist in my belly once again, something like a self-induced punch to the gut just short of Seppuku. “I told you. We ate junk food while keeping your drunk ass from falling in the pool and drowning.”
Andy closed the door. I got up and slipped on a night shirt. I was naked other than my panties and had put in a tampon during the early morning hours before easing into bed beside my husband. The last thing I wanted was to bloody Dan’s sheets after chumming for sharks in his pool.
I opened the bedroom door and padded down the hall to the kitchen. Dan was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, retrieving strips of bacon from the oven. There were warm cinnamon rolls on the counter, drizzled with white, gooey icing and smelling like Heaven. He smiled at me when I grabbed one, just helping myself.
“Sleep well?” Dan handed me a plate. The icing was dripping between my fingers.
“Like a brick.” I chewed as he passed me a cup of coffee. Dan has always been surprised that I take my coffee straight.
“Hot and black, the way you like your men, right?” Dan gave me a smirk. He enjoyed teasing me about sex with black guys. When I was pregnant with Sam, he had shown me a video on his phone; a series of black men banging a white girl’s tight snatch into oblivion. Their dicks were the size of boa constrictors, and the heading was titled Black Bred Bitches. I must have opened my eyes entirely too wide because he couldn’t stop laughing at me – another innocent conversation that deteriorated into a blatant sexual discussion while sitting at the kitchen table. It cranked my hormonal fantasies into overdrive.
“That’s right white boy. You’re just a warm-up.” I gave my cinnamon roll a long, lurid lick and then slurped off a glob of that thick, creamy topping. It was Dan’s turn to gawk. “So, can I take one of these rolls to my hugely hung husband in the back bedroom?”
“Go ahead,” Dan chuckled. I was giggling as he opened the oven. “Pick up some bacon while you’re at it and carry a plate back there. You guys getting a shower?”
“Yeah, you want to watch?” I smiled over my shoulder as I headed down the hall.
“I’ll leave it to the two of you for now. Don’t forget, we’re grilling shish kabobs for lunch if you can keep Andy awake.”
“Oh shit, that reminds me.” I stopped in my tracks. “You got any Motrin or Tylenol? I know this might surprise you, but my husband has a killer headache.” Dan rolled his eyes and rifled through a cabinet, flipping me a bottle of medicine. Somehow, I managed to catch it while still holding the plate in my other hand.
“Impressed?” I had to gloat. I’m sure Dan forgot I was carrying food. My dexterity surprised even myself.
“You’re amazing, Meg. In every way.”
I grinned like a schoolgirl who just nailed her piano piece at recital, then made my way back to the bathroom. Andy was already in the shower soaping himself. I opened the curtain and summoned him towards me, holding up a roll for him to take a bite. “Good?” He nodded. I popped a piece of bacon in his mouth.
“I forgot to bring drinks,” I admitted. I had left my coffee in the kitchen… fortunately, I suppose, lest I never could have made that amazing catch. There were paper cups by the sink, so I filled one with water while handing two capsules to Andy. “This should help your head, baby.” He sucked them both down and washed out his hair.
“You getting in?” he asked. It was a claw tub shower with a circular curtain, ornately unique but not a lot of room for frolicking. I pulled off my shirt and dropped my panties on the floor, stepping over the porcelain edge. Andy greeted me with a bottle of generic body wash. It smelled nice in a unisex sort of way.
“So,” he began, clearly feeling more like himself. “What did you say the two of you did last night?”
I squeezed soap in my hair, scanning the tub for conditioner. I didn’t see any. “Are you asking to play, baby?” I wrapped my sudsy hand around Andy’s flaccid member and wondered if he was in one of his ‘moods’ for a story or just dissatisfied with my first answer to his interrogation.
Andy’s fetish for role play frequently involved hand jobs with accounts of my imaginary liaisons, though sometimes the liaisons were less imaginary than he thought. It wasn’t real role play, at least not as elaborate as Dan’s Cherry-Pop Cop interpretation of virginal deflowering from the previous night. That was an act worthy of an Oscar as far as I was concerned.
Regardless of what Andy might have wanted to hear, his dick responded nicely to some soapy, slick stroking, providing much-needed reassurance to my over-worried mind. That’s not to say my husband’s persistent questioning wasn’t fracking my brain into a tremor and bubbling a confession dangerously close to the surface. At the time, I was not very good at keeping secrets. I’ve gotten better with added experience.
As much as I had fallen for Dan, I knew it was strictly physical. I hadn’t lost my feelings for Andy, and I didn’t want to hurt him or lose him. Thus far, I had only lost my mind… my entirety of common sense and decency. I was lost in a lustful haze and too weak to fight it, selfishly succumbing to a forbidden attraction.
Friday night was proof. I had every intention of keeping my distance for the weekend, but Dan probably had plans of his own. Although Andy and I had visited his friend many times, he had never previously suggested we stay overnight. Our houses were barely a mile apart. It had been a week since Dan fucked me twice at my house in one day, the first and only time we had screwed.
Our coupling should have been a blip on my bad idea radar, erased and forgotten once the weekend was over. But it wasn’t some inebriated mistake easily brushed under the proverbial carpet. It was the culmination of sexual tension a long-time brewing, simmering in our loins since the afternoon we kissed in the foyer… the day Dan came back to me.
“Did you jerk me off last night?” Andy studied my expression, looking for clues to a dreadful truth.
“I’m sorry?” My mind was drifting back to Dan banging my bloody cunt in the bathroom. “You mean once we got you to bed?” I needed some clarification.
“No, by the pool.”
Uh oh.
“Well, maybe. Yeah, I might have done that. It must have been extremely memorable if you can’t actually remember me doing that.”
“Was Dan there watching?” my hubby continued.
Oh shit.
“Not that I know of. I mean, I didn’t see him while I was working on you.” A white lie. Probably worse. Who can really gauge the magnitude of these things?
“I thought he might have been there,” Andy suggested. “Did you pull off my swim trunks?”
“Uh, yeah. I didn’t want you to spurt all over them.”
“So, you’re saying I was naked by the pool asleep in a lounger while you and Dan were standing around eating chips?”
“I think I covered you with a towel.” A bold-faced lie. I left Andy nude beneath the stars and the moon, went inside and fucked his friend in the shower. There were no chips involved. The only dip was a vanilla cream strawberry confection gushing out my unfaithful gash. By now, I was totally wading in shit, digging my grave.
“You think you did?” my husband further questioned.
“Well, yeah. You couldn’t have covered yourself. You passed out cold after I made you come.”
“And the two of you carried me naked into the house?”
I swallowed heavily. Andy was losing his erection. My hand job wasn’t dissuading his concerns, and I was weary from weaving around his pointed questions, not to mention terrified at what he might ask next.
“Yeah, we carried you to bed naked, Andy.”
“Oh my God, Meg! That’s so embarrassing! I’ve told you already how I feel about that, and now you deliberately set me up to have it happen again?”
“Hey, maybe before you drink yourself shit-faced you might consider the consequences! How bout that?!! Would you rather me leave you outside for the buzzards? Would you rather I let you stumble in the pool and drown? You couldn’t even walk with assistance, Andy. I couldn’t wake you up. What would you have me do? Dan said to leave you out there, and I said ‘no’. I made him carry you inside.”
“You told Dan to carry me to the bedroom naked?”
“You would have preferred to be taken to the roof? Yeah, I told him to pick your drunk ass up and carry you to bed. What of it? I know… I know. You’re embarrassed about him seeing your dick. Get over it, Andy. Guys look at each other all the time. They shower together in high school and college for Christ’s sake. Didn’t you see other guys naked in the locker room? Didn’t they see you?”
“Yeah. That’s why I don’t care to be seen.”
“Well, you got seen in the barn last weekend, and you didn’t look unhappy about it!” I paused. This was getting brutal. There was a nerve throbbing somewhere. “Look, I’m sorry. Okay? As I said, maybe you need to back off the alcohol a little. You don’t need to drink yourself into a stupor.”
“Maybe you don’t need to undress me at my friend’s house, and maybe Buzzards don’t fly around at night.”
“Oh my God, Andy. Buzzards wake up every morning. The first thing they’ll do is slurp down your dick like a Robin eating a worm.” My husband stared at me, unamused. The image of a big, black vulture plucking his privates at dawn was a little extra… even beyond a Tim Burton production.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pulled off your shorts. That was inconsiderate of me. It was stupid.” I looked into Andy’s eyes. It had been a while since I had stared into those crystal blue orbs, and now they were angry. I felt worse than he knew, more culpable than he could have ever known. Andy was shuddering at the peak of the iceberg. God forbid he should discover the titanic frigid mountain of mischief beneath. This shit with Dan would have to stop. All of it.
“I kind of like how you look when I take off your shorts, Andy. It’s such a temptation.” I dropped to my knees in the tub and put his cock in my mouth. I sucked it all in… so easy compared to his friend’s mammoth manhood. I licked it and stroked it. So delicate. So sensitive. So completely manageable. No gagging. No coughing. I looked up into his face. He was getting hard again.
“Let’s get out of here and go to the bedroom, Meg. I want to fuck you.”
I reached down and showed him my string, the little white fiber protruding from my slit. “I started my cycle yesterday, babe.”
In a moment’s notice there was a flash of expressions, the first being agitation… perhaps disappointment. But then the second, unexpected. Relief. Andy’s face relaxed as did his entire body – relaxed from a tension that I hadn’t recognized, a tension I hadn’t noticed. It was there the whole time. Why didn’t I see it?
“You started your cycle yesterday?” He repeated.
“Yeah. I’m sorry. It kind of screwed up the weekend, didn’t it?” Andy was the kind who could never imagine having menstrual sex. It had never even crossed my mind to ask.
“Maybe. I’m okay with it, though.” My hubby touched my cheek gently. “I guess I was worried.”
“About what? You thought I was pregnant?”
“No, not that,” he laughed. “I just thought something was up, that’s all.”
“What sort of something?”
“I don’t know. Something with Dan, maybe?”
“Me and Dan?”
“Yeah.”
There was a tap on the door. “You guys used up all the hot water yet?”
I rolled my eyes while Andy blushed. I could never get over his sweet shyness. It was so cute with a hint of lost innocence. “Go back to the kitchen, Dan, unless you want to video this! We’ve got plenty of hot water, thank you very much.”
“Okay, I’m putting lunch on the grill, Meg, so hurry up and get Andy off. I’m tired of you people delaying meals around here.”
“I’ve got my meal right here, Dan. Go get yourself a cracker.”
Andy was speechless. He reached over and turned off the water, still hard, still throbbing in my hand. As abashed as he appeared, I still had his attention. He reached for a towel, and I grabbed his hand.
“I’m not done here cowboy.”
“Do what?”
“You heard me, Andy. I’m not finished. Neither are you.”
Andy reached for the soap. “You want to jerk me off?”
“No, Andy. I want to suck you off. I want you to cum in my mouth. I want you to shoot down my throat. I want to lick cum off the end of your dick.”
“Are you serious?” he whispered. I’d never even offered anything like that before. I had never tasted my husband’s semen. How crazy is that?
“Serious as a heart attack, baby. Serious as a shish kabob straight up your ass.”
“What? Are you fucking nuts?”
I laughed and gave his cock a long, wet slurp. “Okay, how about a tongue up your ass instead?”
“Did Dan put Kahlua in your coffee this morning? You must have had something when you went to the kitchen.”
“Do you think I have to be drunk to eat your cum, Andy?”
“You’ve never done it before.”
“Turn around,” I told my husband. “Wrap your hands around that shower pole and lean over.”
“For what?”
“Just do it, Andy.” He did. “Spread your legs, cowboy. I want to see everything you’ve got.” I put my hand on his back to push him down further.
“What are you doing?” He looked back at me with concerned curiosity. I started kissing his butt cheeks and fondling his sac.
“Whatever I want,” I whispered. Without warning, I licked up his crack – praying that he had at least rinsed it off. He had… and thankfully, he doesn’t grow much hair around his anus. I opened him up and licked him again, this time more slowly and sensually. Andy’s eyes widened as he watched me probe his sphincter.
“Oh, God,” he mumbled, resting his head against the cool, metal pipe. I had worried about his possible reaction. This was what I had hoped for.
“You like that tongue, baby? You like it when I rim your butt hole?”
“Where did you learn how to do this, Meg?”
I hesitated, then pushed my tongue deeper, trying to take his mind off the question. If he knew where I learned it, he probably wouldn’t enjoy it so much. “Reach back here and spread your cheeks, baby. I want to play with your dick while I’m eating your ass. I need both of my hands.”
I stroked Andy’s stem between my thumb and two fingers. They were all that I needed, in sharp contrast to Dan’s double fistful of tube steak. My husband required only the slightest encouragement… the softest touch possible at a steady, slow pace. “Did you take Viagra last night before we started drinking?”
“How did you know?” He was already breathing erratically, so hard and so ready.
“Let’s just say you were more responsive than expected, considering you were stoned out of your mind. Did you do some weed too?”
Andy wouldn’t say. He was paralyzed with pleasure as I sucked on his scrotum, slipping my middle finger up his saliva coated chute. The luscious sounds from his throat were like a guttural symphony. I was almost surprised at his willingness to let me finger his rectum.
“I’m gonna fuck your ass, Andy. I’m gonna fuck it soooo gooood.” I pumped my finger in and out as I buffed his small penis between the pads of my digits. When I found my hubby’s prostate, I massaged it in a circular motion. His little bag of marbles tightened as if I had pulled its purse strings. “Tell me when you’re coming, babe. I want your load in my mouth.”
The suggestion was all that it took. His circumcised head turned a violaceous purple and his shaft started bobbing like a cork. “Turn around,” I ordered, quickly spinning him by the hips until his cock hovered over my smile.
I was ready in two seconds, and I briefly recalled the moment that I ruined his orgasm by the pool. This morning would be different. This morning, I would stroke him until he spewed his white ribbons across my tonsils. This morning, I would show him how it looks to shoot cum on my face. I’d give him his own personal porno, and when he finished, I’d lick the drops from his slit as his erection receded.
Andy pushed back against me as I kissed him. I was exactly his height, firmly holding his face as I locked against his delicate lips, my tongue wrestling its way between his gaping incisors and spitting his sperm down his throat. He coughed and gagged, but I pushed it all in before wiping my cheeks on his complexion.
“What’s wrong with you?” Andy stumbled backwards and almost fell out of the tub. We had both nearly air dried completely, having turned off the shower much earlier.
“What do you mean?” I asked, genuinely confused by his response.
“What the hell has gotten into you, Meg? Why did you spit that shit in my mouth?”
“You don’t like the taste of your cum, Andy? You need to get used to it.”
“Why?”
“Because I plan to feed it to you more often. It’s only fair. I suck your dick after you shove it in my pussy. I taste me. You can taste you. Tit for tat.”
“But I don’t like it,” Andy responded.
“Learn to like it.” I stepped over the porcelain edge of the tub and washed off my face in the sink. My hair was a mess. My makeup was gone. I had that unkempt look of the girl next door… the one who wore baseball caps over her ponytail and the oversized jersey of her brother’s uniform with holes in conspicuous places.
“Where did you learn how to do all that?”
Here we go, I thought. More interrogation. “Maybe I watch porn while you’re sleeping on the couch at night.”
Andy studied me by the counter. He wasn’t sure if I was serious. I grabbed a small trash bag from under the sink and pulled out my tampon in front of him. He had never seen me do that during the years we were married, and he was obviously totally grossed out.
“Get out of the tub,” I told him. “I need to clean my pussy… that is, unless you’d like to do it for me.”
Andy stepped on the bathmat gingerly where he watched me bring down the shower wand and spray myself out. I could feel the weight of his stare but pretended I was completely alone. “Can you hand me a towel, please?”
I wrapped myself up in the soft, cotton fluff and proceeded to comb out my hair – straight across my shoulders and down the middle of my back. It was a damp chestnut brown, slightly lighter than my small strip of muff. I slipped in a fresh tampon, allowing the string to drape freely between my bare labial folds.
“What else did you learn on those porn sites?” My husband had finished drying himself off. He was searching for a hair dryer.
“I learned that lots of guys like to fuck women on their period. There are sites dedicated specifically to that kind of kink.”
“Sounds pretty disgusting to me, Meg.”
“Yeah, well… sometimes you need to get down and dirty, Andy. Expand your horizons. Mix it up a little.” I walked out the bathroom door into the bedroom. There was a fresh cup of coffee on the bedside table… almost too fresh. Hot and bitter, just the way I like it.
My clothes had been laid out on the bed. Well, I thought they were my clothes. The grey cotton shorts were mine. The shirt was a three-quarter sleeve high school pitching shirt that Dan wore when he played varsity. I had seen the photos. PATRIOTS was printed across the front along with a picture and his lucky number 13 was on the back. He was conference MVP as a senior.
I slipped it over my head with no bra and felt the material encase my body like a hug from Danny’s strong arms. I shimmied into my shorts without putting on panties.
Andy walked out of the bathroom while I was admiring myself in the mirror. “Look at what Dan found for me to wear! It’s your old high school insignia.”
“It’s a little big for you, isn’t it?” The hemline fell all the way to my thighs like a night shirt. I didn’t look like I was wearing anything underneath.
“I like it this way. Super cool,” I said excitedly. Andy was much less enthusiastic, but he didn’t make me take it off.
***
After we dressed, Andy and I headed to the kitchen for brunch. We passed through the great room, and I spotted a book – a photo album lying open on the coffee table. It was new and seemed out of place. We stopped briefly to look, flipping back the cover and revealing the first picture.
“What is this, Dan?” There was a picture from my wedding, Andy and I cutting the cake – he in his tux and me in my mermaid dress. I turned the page where I found a picture of the entire wedding party. “Did Andy give you these? I didn’t remember you getting copies.”
“Just a few prints from your photographer, Meg. Most of those are Susan’s pictures.”
I flipped further. There was picture after picture of the rehearsal, pictures of the rehearsal dinner… picture after picture of me and Dan. There was me and Dan sitting together, me and Dan standing together, me and Dan laughing, me and Dan talking. I had no idea there had been so many photo opportunities for just me and Dan. I had no idea Susan was taking pictures of us.
“This is kind of weird,” Andy commented, taking the lead to flip through more pages. I found it rather unnerving. There were certainly other photos, but the large majority were of me and Dan. I quietly slipped into the kitchen as Andy continued to scour the album.
“What the hell is this shit, Dan?” I was trying to keep my voice down and my back to my husband.
Dan leaned over to open the oven and check the shish kabobs which he was warming after searing on the grill. “What do you mean?”
“You know very well what I mean. That’s creepy as shit, those pictures of us together!” I pointed back into the den where Andy was concentrating on the photos.
“What was Susan doing? What was she even thinking when she took those? It’s like she was a stalker at my wedding, focusing on the two of us when there wasn’t even anything going on. Why did she take those, and why did you leave that album out for Andy to examine like some kind of forensic murder analyst?”
“I just thought you’d be interested, Meg.”
“You’re full of shit, Dan. You got pissed off about me and Andy in the shower, then you slapped that photographic psycho account of our wedding on the table to cause trouble. I’ve never seen those pictures before in my life! So, now – after everything we did last night and last weekend – you decide to pull them out of the closet and present them like a storybook with Andy right here? What the fucking fuck, Dan?
“I’m not jealous of Andy, Megan. It’ just that Susan had a crush on you.”
“What? What did you say?”
“You heard me, Meg. She was crushing on you at the wedding. She was crushing at rehearsal. I sat with you at her request, and you didn’t even notice her taking pictures.”
I looked at Dan in disbelief. “You’re telling me that your wife was bisexual? That she liked other women, and she wanted to be with me?”
“Yeah, she did and still does. We didn’t act on it much when we were together, but I enjoyed accommodating her little fetish with threesomes occasionally. She couldn’t stop talking about you the night after rehearsal. We had some great sex at our hotel just fantasizing about sharing you.”
“Dan, I wasn’t into women back then. That came later when I met Ashley at the clinic.”
“Susan would have preferred you straight. She would have asked me to hold you down, maybe tie you up. She would have watched me fuck you first, then taken her turn riding your face.”
I held my breath. “Would you have done that for her? Held me down and let her rape me?”
“It was her fantasy, Megan… not mine. It was role play for the evening in the privacy of our room. It wasn’t real.”
“It sounds sick, Dan. She and I talked all the time after Andy moved me to Mississippi. She came to our house with you frequently. I never got a lesbian vibe from her.”
“The whole friendship was a ploy, Megan. She needed you to cover her affair with Vic. She tricked you into doing her dirty work. She took a shit on both of us.”
“I betrayed you, Dan.” He nodded in agreement. “God, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe that you forgave me for that.”
“She fooled me too, Meg. I was angry at first. You know that I was angry. But then, I came to my senses. Part of her plan was to make me hate you. I confounded her intentions by reconstituting our relationship.”
“I’m glad,” I said. “I’m glad you came back.”
“Me too,” Dan responded. “And you like the shirt?”
“I love it, baby. Wearing it makes me wet. Andy was fuming, but I had to put it on.”
“Mom shrank it accidentally in the dryer when I first started pitching. I only wore it to one game. I had to put it away because I couldn’t fit into it. That’s why it looks so new.”
“It’s still huge on me,” I laughed. Something suddenly occurred to me. “You came in our bedroom and put my clothes on the bed while we were still in the shower.”
“Yes, that’s when I knocked.”
“Were you listening to us, Dan?”
“I swear that I didn’t hear anything.” Dan closed the oven door, leaned over and kissed me. We were squatting behind the counter, too low for Andy to see us.
“That was nice,” I murmured. “My husband was asking what you and I did last night.”
“Oh?” Dan dropped to his knees and pulled me into his arms. He kissed me again, deeper and longer. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him you fucked the shit out of me in the shower and pool.”
“I think you’re lying, but you’re making me hard. I’m just glad he didn’t remember what you said last night after you got him off with that crazy toothbrush.”
“That was kind of evil, wasn’t it?” I smiled. Dan returned my malicious grin. “Maybe I should have brushed his teeth with his own jizz. He didn’t like it when I spit cum in his mouth this morning.”
“You sucked him off?” Dan looked at me inquisitively. I had admitted to him earlier that I never allowed Andy to cream in my mouth.
“Yes, I did, Dan. Are you jealous?”
“Very,” he grumbled. Dan lifted my shirt bottom to reveal my shorts. “I had hoped you wouldn’t put these on. That’s part of the reason I gave you the shirt.”
“Andy would have known I was nude underneath,” I responded. “He would not have approved. But I can take them off now if you have somewhere to hide them.”
“Stand up. I’ll take them off for you,” Dan offered.
I slowly arose in the kitchen, looking in my husband’s direction while trying not to draw his attention. His head was still buried in that album. What could he possibly find so interesting in that book? Dan slipped my shorts down to my ankles, and I instinctively stepped out. He dropped them in a drawer containing hot pads.
“What happens if I pull this string?” Dan asked. He was looking at my pussy and kidding me about my tampon. “Will it make you explode like a grenade?”
“It would probably be a bloody mess,” I admitted.
“Let’s see how it works,” he suggested, gently tugging the tiny rope as he leaned in and sucked on my clit.
“Fuck, Dan!” The sensation was something I hadn’t expected. He jerked the string repeatedly while focusing on the tension – just enough to cause a stimulating pull. I wanted to tell him to stop licking me. I knew I would bleed in his mouth.
Of course, he had to know that, and he was eagerly eating me anyway.
I leaned over the counter and opened my legs, staying low so that my hubby wouldn’t see me. “Shit, I’m coming,” I gasped, trying to keep all my noises to a minimum. Dan was slowly jerking the tampon out my slit in tiny increments of millimeters that made me ache for his cock. He was massaging my clit with his thumb.
I climaxed again even harder, thighs trembling, warm liquid gurgling out of my gash. I didn’t have to see it to know I was a bloody mess. I was groaning into a dish towel softly.
Andy stood up in the den. I dropped to the floor. “He’s coming into the kitchen,” I whimpered in a panic. I pushed down my shirt, and Dan stuffed his bloody hand with my tampon into an oven mitten. We opened the oven door just as Andy turned the corner. There were streaks of dried blood on Danny’s lips.
“What are you guys mumbling about in here?” My husband sounded totally oblivious. I pointed to my lips as I was looking at Dan, and he licked away the crusty residue.
“Dan and I were inspecting the shish kabobs, trying to decide if they are done,” I lied. “They smell good, don’t they?”
“Really good, I’d say. What’s the deal with those goofy pictures, Dan. Did you secretly marry Megan at our wedding?”
“It was a secret, Andy, but now you know. We’re both married to the same bitch in this hell of reverse polygamy.” Andy laughed, but I wasn’t amused. “Susan took those pictures, and I couldn’t begin to tell you why,” Dan continued. I thought you might give me some insight if you have any. She left the album here when we split. I never looked through it until recently.”
“I didn’t see her taking pictures,” Andy responded as he reached for plates in the cabinet. “Honestly, I don’t remember a lot about rehearsal or the wedding. It’s like a big blur. I had no idea you and Meg spent that kind of time together.”
“We didn’t,” I interrupted. “All those pictures just make it seem like we did. She must have been standing around clicking them off like a paparazzi.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Dan concluded as he shuffled through silverware and handed out napkins. “That girl was crazy as hell. My life is much simpler without her. She can have that asshole at the body shop, and maybe they’ll drive each other bat shit crazy.”
“She was hot as hell, though,” Andy said without thinking. I saw the horror on his face as my eyes met his.
“Oh, you wanted a piece of that, did you?” I asked. I dropped my plate on the table with a loud clang.
“Let’s not fight, kids. The girl’s not worth it.” Dan handed me utensils with a smile that offered mischievous empathy and somehow reminded me that my jealousy was hypocritical.
“Did you finalize your divorce?” Andy inquired.
The phone rang. Dan held up his hand as if holding back traffic while he reached for his cell. His expression suddenly changed for the worse. “I’ll be there in a minute.” Dan cut the call, replacing his phone in his pocket. “That was my grandma’s neighbor. She just found Grandma Aiken lying in a pool of blood on the floor.”
“What?” I was mortified.
“Grandma. She’s hurt bad,” he said. Dan reached for his keys on the counter and headed for the door. “I’ve got to get over there.”
“Go ahead,” Andy instructed. “We will follow behind you. Have they called the rescue?”
“They’re on the way,” Dan answered. He slammed the door behind him and jumped in his truck, screeching down the cement drive.
***
By the time we reached Clara Aiken’s house, there were two sheriff deputies, a fire truck, and a rescue squad planted in the front yard – a sea of flashing lights quite incredibly uncommon for this tiny little community. I rushed through the front door, ushered by Dan, who collected my arm and essentially dragged me into the kitchen.
Clara was unresponsive on the floor with two EMTs hovering over her, attaching chest pads to an automatic defibrillator. The monitor blipped slowly with widely spaced peaks as the two men checked a blood pressure and felt for a pulse.
“She’s a nurse,” Dan explained, pulling me forward in an urgent introduction. I noticed the blood pooled around Clara’s head. She was lying on her back, and I couldn’t see an injury.
“We have agonal breathing,” one man reported as he assembled the bag and mask, then hooked it to oxygen.
“Pulse is barely palpable at 30. Systolic pressure undetectable,” the other EMT reported. “We’re going to start compressions, and we need a line. Can you help?”
I bent over and rummaged through the tackle box of equipment, fishing out an IV catheter with a bag of normal saline. The firemen and deputies stood circling the scene. I had lost sight of Dan. Andy was back at the doorway, keeping his distance. I threaded the vascular access and hooked up the fluids, pumping the bag with my fist to maximize flow.
“We need a milligram of Epi and an amp of Atropine,” I announced, searching through the medications. I managed to find both and push them sequentially. There was little response on the monitor. The automated blood pressure cuff showed a systolic of fifty.
“We got to hit it,” one of the EMTs announced. A fireman rushed in with a Lucas compression device which they quickly strapped around Clara’s chest before pressing the button that set the thing off. It pounded into her sternum like a mechanical fist, and her ribs began snapping like twigs. They lifted her up on a gurney and rolled her out rapidly to the ambulance, leaving a pool of blood smeared across the floor.
Dan raced out the door in hot pursuit and jumped in his truck, trailing behind the ambulance as it pulled from the drive. Andy and I followed in short order, our caravan arriving at Baptist Memorial within a matter of minutes. Dan sprinted into Emergency waiting and was talking to the check-in nurse when I walked through the door.
“I was involved with resuscitation in the field,” I told her. “If the doctor needs to see me, I can tell him what I know.” The check-in nurse recognized me from working at the ICU. She phoned the back, but no one was answering. We all took our seats and waited. Dan was a mess.
“What happened, Dan?” I placed my hand on Dan’s knee and gave him a chance to catch his breath.
“Miss Ella said that she and grandma had just gotten back from the church. Grandma had invited Miss Ella to eat lunch at her house, and the two of them each went home to change clothes before getting back together. When Miss Ella arrived at grandma’s house, she knocked on the door but got no answer.
The door was unlocked, so she let herself in. She found grandma on the floor unconscious. There was blood. She was scared. She thought there might have been an intruder. She called 911 and ran out of the house to wait for help.”
“Oh, my Lord.” I couldn’t believe that anyone would want to hurt Dan’s grandmother. Clara Aiken was a pillar of the community and loved by everyone. Ella was her next-door neighbor, though their houses were so far apart they were barely visible to one another. That’s the way things are out in the country.
At about that moment, the same two deputies from Clara’s house arrived in the waiting room. They walked over to discuss the events with Dan.
“We don’t believe your grandmother was attacked, Mr. Aiken. There’s no sign of a struggle on the premises, no missing items or physical suggestion of burglary. No forced entry. It appears your grandmother fell and struck her head. She must have passed out for some reason or maybe she lost her footing.”
Grandma Aiken was in her late 70’s. She was in great condition for a woman her age, active and vibrant, physically fit. Still, things happen to old people. You just never know. She had lost her husband six years earlier to a sudden heart attack. He seemed equally healthy at the time.
Dan turned to me in silent wonder as if expecting me to have some explanation. Almost simultaneously, a physician appeared at the registration desk and called out Dan’s name. The two of them met amid the commotion of the waiting room, Dan shaking the doctor’s outstretched hand.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Aiken,” said the man in the white lab coat. “I’m afraid she’s gone.”
Powerful work. Tremendous
Thank you, Thomas!
Brilliant storytelling, Meg. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thank you, Damian!
Once again, Megan🎖
Mystery, excitement, hardcore, tender … whatever/whenever perfection in a scenario demands, your pen seems to instinctively command visual diction with the stroke of a master artist’s brush.
You continually assure us of your raconteuric skills on any level in every theme, breathing life into the utmost sensual or deeply erotic scene, to characters’ personalities that take on verisimilitude as though we could reach out and touch them, smell their breath, feel their heat, actually hear the emotional timbre in their voices, and see the colors of their eyes, as their pupils dilate and flex.
Simply, enviously brilliant, Lady-Author … you’re provenly the best!
How very fortunate we are you share! ⁓ Richard🖌
Richard, it’s so wonderful to have you following along with me. Your comments blow my mind. You make me so happy! Sorry for the delay in the next chapter. Hopefully this week.
xoxoxo
Me NO speak with forked tongue, M’Lady-Writer ⚤
Hmmm. I wonder how a forked tongue would feel.
LOL!
Only YOU! 😜