Chapter 6
Karl's death (even though we could have and at times did feel-or at least suspect-some guilt in it) pulled Cindy and I closer together. Shaken, we clung together, dressed when it was necessary and naked when it could be. We didn't fuck (I couldn't have gotten a hard-on if I'd tried), but just clung together like two frightened kids. And finally, sitting with her and her father in the family room during the funeral, looking down at his still face when it was over, I found myself making a promise that I thought he would have liked.
"I'll marry Cindy, Karl," I whispered soundlessly, "and I'll always take care of her."
And then, because I thought he would have liked that, too, I added, "And once in awhile I'll dedicate a fuck to you. I won't tell her, of course, but you and I'll know."
A week later, after we had finally been able to have satisfying intercourse, I lay with my limp cock in her and looked up into her eyes.
"I think we ought to get married," I said.
It seemed the right thing to do, so I wrote to my dad telling him of the coming event, the time and place. We had decided on a simple wedding, just the two of us and her father, in the parish house of the church that they had gone to as children. When the day arrived I dressed in the new suit I'd bought for the occasion, stuck a carnation in my buttonhole, and went to meet them. As I walked up the path I saw two figures standing on the steps just outside the parish house; I froze. It was Marge and Rod MacIvers.
Even from a distance they made a handsome couple. Rod was as tall as ever, his lithe body accented by the well-tailored clothes he was wearing. His blonde hair seemed to glisten; when he smiled his teeth showed white. Marge was just as beautiful as ever but with a touch of maturity; as a matter-of-fact, it was obvious that life had been good to her. The accoutrements that Rod and his money could provide her had helped; she was dressed simply but smartly, an obviously expensive fur stole tossed casually over one arm. They looked as if they might have stepped out of a picture on the society page of a newspaper.
There was only one problem, I didn't want them there. I think that the truth of the matter is that I didn't want to move on up that walk and perhaps find that I still loved her; at the same time, I still felt a churning, repugnant sensation at the thought of seeing them together.
Perhaps it was cruel, but I turned around and walked away. Finding a telephone, I looked up the number and called the minister; when he answered I asked to speak to Cindy. "I can't explain it to you," I told her after I'd heard her voice, "but my sister and her husband are out on the porch there. I know it'll be tough on you, but I want you to go tell them that I won't come until they've gone away." I didn't say anymore.
I didn't give her time to answer. I hung up and went back to where I could watch. I saw her, obviously embarrassed and uncomfortable, go out on the porch and talk to them. A few moments later Marge and Rod turned and walked down the path. I felt a great pain, but at the same time a feeling of triumph, as I saw the clouded expressions on their faces. If I had hurt them ... well, god-damn it, it was what they deserved!
But, I'll have to admit, it was not a happy groom who stood beside Cindy and heard the words that Marge and I had repeated so often: Until death do us part. Closing my eyes, for a moment I felt as if it were Marge standing there beside me. That night, as we fucked legally for the first time, there were moments when it seemed as if it were Marge's body under me instead of Cindy. All in all, although I didn't let Cindy know, the whole thing seemed like a miserable mess to me.
That had been six years ago and I hadn't seen or heard from Marge since, not until her telephone call this afternoon. I could only wonder again, before falling asleep from sheer exhaustion, if I had made a mistake in agreeing to see her again.
I knew it was a dream and struggled to get away from it, but I was powerlessly in it's grip.
Karl sat naked in his wheel chair, resting on the crest of a hill. God only knew what was on the other side; it might taper down harmlessly, but it might also be a sheer cliff. He held newspapers on his lap, but there was a hole through them and his big-headed cock stuck up through the hole. He held another paper up as he had done on the street corner, exposing the headlines in hopes of tempting buyers. Bold headlines read: I FUCKED MY SISTER.
A tall, slender tree that stood not far away suddenly began to move. It was more than a breeze blowing through the leaves; it not only took on animation, it took on a new form. Branches lowered and became arms, shoulders rolling a little as they completed the transformation; bark fell away and there was a body. A lovely, curvaceous female body. Pear-shaped tits standing out away from the body, the nipples darker but glistening as the sunlight hit them. A nice, rounded belly, nicely swelling hips, a lovely cunt covered with dark hair. The hips undulated a little as the tree, roots still in the ground, made its way toward the wheelchair. It (a faceless "it") smiled and said, "My brother fucked me, too, Karl, but then I ran away from him."
Karl looked up, frightened. "No," he cried out. "No, I'm not going to fuck you."
"Of course not! Nobody fucks another boy's sister!"
Karl shook his head, shoulders slumping forward. Tears began to stream down his face. "Davie fucked my sister."
The tree smiled. "Ah, you see, he betrayed you! And he should have known better, knowing how he felt when Rod took me away. But we'll show them, Karl, we'll show both Rod and Davie. You and I'll fuck, and that'll ... "
"No!" Karl screamed out again, clutching his cock, "no, I'd jack off first!"
"Yes," the tree cooed seductively, "oh, yes, Karl, and it'll be a lovely fuck, I promise you. It'll be so lovely that you'll want to stay with me the rest of your life."
Still undulating, the tree moved closer to the wheelchair. Still clutching his hard cock, a look of panic on his face, Karl put his hand on the wheel of his chair and started it moving. Using only one hand that way, the chair moved crazily, then suddenly it went between cars and plummeted over the rim of the hill. His scream lasted for an eternity before it finally died slowly away.
I tried to run, wanting to save him, but someone had flattened me onto my back and I couldn't get up. I was caught in some gooey substance; every time I raised an arm or a leg the gooey substance strung out with it and then snapped it back. I tried to raise my back and the same thing happened.
"Oh, God," I cried, "oh, God, let me go catch him. I'll never fuck again as long as I live if I can only save him!"
The tree laughed. "Liar! You'll fuck every chance you'll get. You'll drop your pants for anyone who'll go down on you. You're fickle! Love! You promised love, to love until death do us part, but you couldn't keep your cock in your pants."
"No! It was you!"
The tree shook its head. "No, it was Cindy."
"No, it was Rod."
A skinny little teen-aged whore, throwing her hips from side to side, came along. She let out a squeal when she saw me and ran the distance between us. She threw herself to her knees in a darkened doorway and started mouthing my cock. I couldn't help myself, I started humping, and Johnnie-boy cried out, "Don't fuck her, Davie! Don't fuck her, let me go down on you!"
"You'll fuck anything that comes along," his big-titted, blonde-haired wife snarled. "Eat my pussy!" she commanded.
"No!" Karl screamed. "The only pussy I ever ate was Cindy's, that's the only one I'll ever, ever eat!"
A whole chorus of bitter laughter came from some distance point, growing louder, crashing against the inside of my head and then receding. Rod and Marge stood on the stone steps and turned toward me; our eyes met and Rod sneered. He opened his fly and hauled his limber cock out, worked it playfully until it started to rise. Turning to Marge, he said, "Pull up your skirt and drop your pants, honey, I'm going to fuck you."
"No," Marge shook her head. "No, Karl's the only one who can fuck me."
"But Karl is dead."
"Oh, Christ!" I cried out, trying again to get up, every muscle straining. "Please, please! I promise. If you'll let me save him I'll never fuck Marge again."
"Of course you won't," Rod laughed, bouncing his huge, half-limber cock in his hand. "This's the cock Marge wants now, she wouldn't touch yours!"
"Please, I've got to get away..."
Hands grasped my shoulders, shook me. They shook harder and I blinked my eyes open.
"Heavens, Davie, you must have been having an awful dream the way you were yelling and tossing around."
"Yeah," I answered, "I was." I closed my eyes again and breathed heavily, aware of Cindy's tits brushing against my chest as she leaned over me, her muff pressed against my hip.
"You all right now?" she asked worriedly.
"Yeah, I'm all right."
I could tell that she was still looking down into my face, probably studying my features under the dim light from the table lamp she had turned on. It seemed like time had stopped, then she said, "Davie, do you remember...? Do you remember the day we got married?"
I reached out, slipped an arm around her waist, and tried to smile. "Sure, I remember."
"No, seriously. I mean, do you remember your sister coming there and..."
I tensed, gritted my teeth. I closed out a part of her sentence, but I heard, " ... is that what's wrong? I mean, you've been acting sort of funny all evening. Is your sister's coming bothering you or something?"
I didn't want to think about it, let alone talk about it, but I knew that there was only one sure way of sidetracking Cindy.
Opening my eyes, looking into her face, I finally smiled at her and said, "Honey, you know why I had that damn dream? Because you let me get soft without doing anything about it!"
She laughed, as if relieved, and cried out, "Well, I can remedy that awful fast! What is your wish, m'lord?"
Going along with the game, especially because I had started and needed it, I answered, "Well, it seems to me that it's been a long time since I got a really good blow-job!"
I felt her tits sliding down my stomach as she pulled away from me, then she was between my legs and had my balls in one hand and the root of my cock in the other. Her mouth came down over my cock and I reached out for her.
"Suck me off, Cindy!" I whispered, thinking to myself that maybe while she was sucking me off I could forget ... and God, how I wanted to forget!
I knew then, from the dream and from this (with things from the past that hadn't really registered) that it had been far different for Karl and Cindy from what it had been with Marge and me. Had he never been hurt they would never have gone into their sex thing; with Marge and me it had been a kind of needing-each-other love that had grown from the early days of our childhood. The two situations could not be compared; and, sadly, I still could not tell my own wife about it. I tried, instead, to just lie back and enjoy the feeling of her playing with my balls as she slid her mouth up and down my now-turgid prong, her nice little titties brushing against my leg with the movement. She was doing a masterful job, taking it until the head was part way down her throat, sliding back up the full length with full suction; every once in a while she'd slide her lips off, lick her way down the pulsating shaft, go under my crotch and take first one and then the other almond-shaped ball into her mouth for a tongue-loving, then start back up. It was really great, but I suddenly knew I needed more than that. I didn't need merely to be sucked off, I needed to share!
I reached down for her, struggling until she finally got the point and started to move. Grasping her hips when they came into reach, I turned her around; she left her mouth on my cock, swiveling around, and as I buried my face in her crotch she started sucking again. I smelled the pungent odor of her entire crotch, then started licking all around it. I ran my tongue up and down the valley, then went to the bottom again and as I started up, sent it into the soft, pulpy love-hole. I ran it around in circles as she sent her tongue in circles around the ridge of my cock, then as she started working up and down again I sent my tongue searchingly into her, as if for the first time. I tasted of the soft lining, the female juices, then stiffened my tongue and began working it up and down, in and out.
In a matter of minutes we both started moving our hips, and at last as I felt my own cock go into its final swelling, quivering for a moment before spurting out its juices, I felt her inner-being doing the same kind of quivering and tasted her juices as they ran down my tongue and into my mouth. I sucked her dry and was sucked dry, then we both collapsed. This time, exhausted, we slept end to end through the rest of the night.
I woke up first, and it was fortunate. Half-stumbling out into the living room in search of a cigarette, I found the two books (my diaries or, if you would, confessions) still sitting on the table, the two pieces of yellowed paper under them. God, I told myself, if Cindy had gotten hold of them all hell could have broken loose. She had known that I was no Puritan when she married me, but I doubt that-despite her own taste for sex-she would have been pleased at knowing the extent of my activities. And I certainly didn't want her to know about the Marge thing, especially after the night just passed and with Marge winging her way in this very day. Especially because I still didn't know what the hell to expect myself.
I took the books back into the closet and buried them at the bottom of the footlocker, lit my cigarette and sat down on the edge of the bed. Cindy had kicked the blankets off, as she often did, and her naked body was in full view. I sat there taking in that view and thinking more. The dawning day had brought no solutions, no decisions with it.
I looked at her body, remembering that (despite her sexual activities with Karl) she had been virgin when I met her. I had taken that virginity, breaking her maidenhead with my overly-large prong. From that day on there had been no turning back; that was the ending of her adolescence for sure. In the intervening years she had matured both physically and psychologically. We both had. But now, looking down at her as her lips pouted a little in sleep, I had to ask myself again: Do I really love her? Or has life just been comfortable, satisfying with her?
What I was asking was whether Marge could interfere with out marriage. But then, I told myself, it was perhaps foolish to even think about it; I hadn't seen Marge for six years nor spoken to her for eight. Last night could easily have been merely the opening of old wounds, wrestling with thoughts I had kept submerged (thoughts and feelings). A lot had happened in those six years. I might be, excuse the cliche, building mountains out of molehills, the only trouble was, I wasn't sure!
The old pains hurt, I couldn't deny that. It hurt to remember how much I had loved Marge and how I had felt when she had so strangely disappeared with Rod MacIver. It hurt to remember Karl, to admit again that I might have been a cause of his death. Even now I could tell myself that I should have just buggered him that morning, a casual sexual experience, and let it go at that. I should never have gone home with him ... except that, when you really analyzed it, things seemed to happen for a purpose and as if they were part of a preordained plan. But if that were the case...
I shook my head, in total confusion, and then leaned over, ground out my cigarette, and with the end of the motion buried my face in Cindy's, crotch. I reached up for her tits, taking one in each hand and gently massaging them. I didn't want to fuck her, I just wanted to feel her; maybe I could find some answers through that It was a mistake, of course; touching Cindy like that was like putting a match to a firecracker!
She stirred a little, spreading her legs as if to give me better access, and her hands came down and pressed mine harder against her tits as she wiggled her tits into them.
"Hmmmm," she murmured, "what a lovely way to be awakened!"
What could I do? My prong started stretching out, swelling as it grew harder. Cindy reached out for it, stroked it.
"Ummm," she mumbled again, "Looks like I'm going to get my favorite high-protein breakfast!"
I tongued her gently in response, kissing all around that forest of dark hair and then getting the tip of my tongue between her pussy-lips and flicked it back and forth. She wriggled her hips a little, showing her pleasure, so I sent it deeper into her, sloshing it around the warm, moist channel. She twisted and turned, moaning, then pulled on my hard cock and cried out softly, "Oh, give it to me, Davie! Give it to me one end or the other!"
I kissed my way up over her soft belly, pulling my hands away from her tits so that I could give each of them a thorough going over, then buried my face between them. For just a moment I thought: What am I doing? I shouldn't be fucking her while I'm trying to figure this out.
Raising my head, pushing my lower-body up, I reached down and flipped her over. Taking hold of her hips, I pulled her mid-section up off the bed and ran my shaft between her legs. She groaned with pleasure from the feel of it as I ran it back and forth along her cleavage, then maneuvered so that on one stroke the head caught, hitting against the upper edge of her cunt. I wiggled just enough, slid it inward, then gave a long, slow thrust that sent it gliding smoothly up her channel. Her muscles tightened around it; I reached under to get a breast in each hand and began screwing with fervor. Everything else was forgotten!
I sprawled out in a chair in the living room, legs stretched out in front of me, and stared up at the ceiling. I was trying hard not to think.
"You're getting quieter and quieter," Cindy said.
"Yeah, I guess so."
A moment later she was on the floor between my legs, her tits brushing against my legs as they always did. She reached out and almost unthinkingly ran a finger up and down the length of my limp cock.
"You're not too sure about Marge's visit, are you?" she finally asked, voice soft and trembling slightly.
I raised my head and looked down at her, seeing her beautiful face with shadows cast on her cheeks from lowered eye-lashes, the upper portions of her tits. She raised her eyes and I saw tears glistening in them. Finally she managed a trembling smile. "I've known for a long time, Davie."
I swallowed, feeling a knot in my gut. "Known what?" I asked, afraid of her answer.
"About ... you and Marge. I think I knew ... well, not long after you and Karl and I started doing things together. I wasn't sure, but then that day at the church, the day we got married ... I was sure then."
My head was back down against the cushion, eyes closed, hands brought together with an elbow on each arm of the chair, fingers bouncing against each other. There seemed to be no sense not even any reason to deny it.
Cindy lowered her head, her cheek soft against my cock. She didn't say anything more. Finally, resting my hands on her head, I said, "Does it bother you?"
She didn't answer for a few moments; when she did, she started slowly and with a soft, almost nostalgic quality.
"I have to be honest with you. When we were growing up Karl and I were very close, then he started ... well, it wasn't fast, it was gradual, but he began to move away. He was sixteen or seventeen, I guess, when I came across him one night ... screwing a girl. I almost died. I cried and cried and even thought about suicide. I didn't know what it was, of course, but after the accident ... "
She sighed deeply, then went on. "One day after he'd gotten borne he told me that ... well, what it added up to was that even though he was hurt he still had sexual urges, but he wanted more than merely using his hand. He told me about what the fellow in the hospital had done to him. Anyway, when we started doing sexual things I thought that I was just helping him, giving him pleasures that life had cruelly denied him."
She went silent again, but I didn't prod her. She was usually happy-go-lucky; I had never seen her this feeling, this deep. She had obviously hidden a lot, and now it was coming to the surface.
"You know how we started. I mean, I got that dildo, and I'd fuck him in the ass with it while I masturbated him. That seemed to satisfy him for quite awhile, but then he started wanting more. He'd want me naked so that he could see and fondle a female body, and then he started ... using his mouth on me.
"I still knew that it was just his getting pleasure. I mean, I knew that if he hadn't been hurt he'd be out screwing other girls instead of me. I think ... looking back ... looking back, I think that I loved him but wouldn't admit to it, because I knew that he didn't really love me. When you came along..."
She went silent again, but the silence was filled with many thoughts and feelings. Finally, after raising her head enough that she could brush a kiss across my prick, she said, "I guess it does bother me a little-any woman would be jealous if her man felt strongly or did something with another woman-but ... but I've been trying to understand it."
Her eyes were filled with tears, her lips trembled. "I love you, Davie," she half-whispered.
I moved quickly, changing position so that I could lean over and bury my head on her shoulder, but I didn't I couldn't-answer. If anything, she had just added to my confusion. Finally I mumbled, "Christ, Cindy, let's not talk about it any more for awhile, okay? Let's just wait and see what happens."
"Sure," she answered, trying to smile bravely. She pushed herself up, smiled down at me and then went into the other room. She was, I knew, giving me time to be with my own thoughts now that she had at least partially expressed herself.
One thing haunted me-at least one thing in particular. She had awakened memories, and among them was the memory of them that first day in their apartment. The way they had looked at each other, briefly touched, used certain inflections in their voice. Then I knew what it was; Cindy might not have believed it, but Karl's feelings had changed. He had gone from using her as a sexual object to really loving her. He may not have known it, but I was sure of ft now. I groaned a little; it seemed a shame that they had not been able to admit to and express their mutual love as Marge and I had. Then I wondered, too ... had Cindy been able to transfer her love to me because of her suspicion that I had been one of those capable of loving his own sister? Was I, in hef subconscious, the brother she had wanted to love? The brother returning that love, fucking her as a boyfriend or a husband would?
In other words, just what the hell kind of a foundation was our marriage founded on? The answer, elusive as it was, seemed to hold the key to the whole thing ...
... or maybe the key was within the dark-haired, attractive woman who was at this very moment on a plane bringing her from my past into the present. I groaned again, pushed myself to my feet. "Fuck it!" I spat. "I'm not going to worry about it any more. I'll just play it by ear!"
Going into the kitchen where Cindy was standing at the sink doing the dishes, I rubbed a hand over her ass and said, "Madam, I know that it is improper to make a pass at the housekeeper, but as long as my wife is out...[I slid my arms around her, crossing them under her tits, and pressed my cock against her ass end.] ... do you think that I might interest you in a little of what they call bedroom sports?"
She giggled and wiggled her ass against me. "Prithee, sire, I was told by the madam..." She let out a little squeal, then, because I had moved my hand down and was feeling her pussy, teasing the lips with a finger before sending the finger Up into her.
"What were you told by the madam?" I went on with the game.
"Lor', sire, I've plumb forgotten! her words were loud, but that what's in me, and that what's pressed against my butt speaks far more loudly and drowns her out!"
"Prithee," I mimicked her, "And that is good. This what's against your butt, in case you haven't been told, is called a 'piston,' and belongs where [I wiggled it] this finger is!"
"Nay, sire, I've been told by my dear uncle, who uses it himself, to nary let another man's cock in it. But if you would like, m'lord, I've heard that there are other ways of going about it."
I kissed her smooth neck. "Such as, my little wench?"
"Well, it's been told to me-I've never done it m'self, you understand-but it's been told to me that the mouth is nice, that it fits as well; or the butt-though heaven help me, your piston does feel so big I fear to take it that way! But I've heard, too-just heard, mind, I've never done it m'self-that titty-fuckin' is nice in itself."
Moving my hands up to squeeze her tits, to tweak the hardening nipples, I said, "And, pray, what is titty-fuckin'? "
She giggled. "As I said, I've only heard. The way I heard it is that you would place that implement, that is now against my butt, up between those that you're squeezing, and..."
"Enough talk!" I cried out and, without giving her a chance to even dry her hands, I swung her off her feet and carried her into the bedroom. Tossing her onto the bed, moving quickly to straddle her, I looked down into her face for a moment and said, "Woman, like it or not, you are about to be fucked!"
She giggled, raising her arms and putting them around my neck as her legs slid over my hips. "Never would I admit that I like it, sire, but neither can I deny your masterfulness! Fuck me if that is your will!"
"And fuck thee I will!"
And fuck her I did!
Cindy didn't have to give me an explanation. She had only to say, simply and quietly, "Don't you think it would be better if you went to the airport alone?"
Getting there early, I went into the bar. Sitting at the bar with a drink in front of me, I quickly recapped what had happened in the last six yearssince that last time I had seen Marge as she and Rod stood on the church steps:
I had just crossed the line, become twenty-one (and legally on my own) when Cindy and I got married. I had been washing dishes and living in a dumpy hotel. It took no arguing on the part of her father for us to agree to move in with him, especially because he was still working swing shift-which meant that, except on weekends, we actually saw very little of him. I had been contented enough, especially with all my extra-curricular sexual escapades, but as a married man the life I was living no longer fit. I sure as hell didn't want to wash dishes the rest of my life!
Marriage, then, the assuming of responsibilities, lifted me out of the rut I'd gotten into. It not only took me off the streets, out of the sex pool that seemed to exist in the city, but gave me incentive. I went to work as an apprentice window-decorator in one of the city's larger department stores; now, six years later, I was head of the department. In those six years Cindy and I had buried her father (he died of a sudden, unexpected heart-attack), and moved into a nicer apartment. We picked one with two bedrooms, looking ahead to the beginning of a family, but when time passed and (despite our lusty sexual appetites) no child appeared, we went to a doctor for check-ups. It was a simple matter, and in a way explained what I hadn't thought of in the past-that despite all my activity I had never to my knowledge impregnated anyone. I was incapable.
I realized again that those six years had been enjoyable. During them I had as good as forgotten the past, my job was satisfying, and Cindy and I continued to thoroughly enjoy each other. All things considered, I could feel that I had actually made something of my life-perhaps even more than could have been expected. I had been contented with it. It had been like sailing on a smooth sea with nothing ahead but more of the same. But now...
It suddenly occurred to me that Marge, when she called the day before, had said nothing about Rod. It suddenly occurred to me that he might even be with her, and if he were ... A vision of them standing on the church steps crossed my mind; I closed my eyes and saw Cindy talking to them, then the two of them walking slowly down the path, their faces clouded. What would I do if he were with her again today?
I didn't want him to be.
I drained my glass and pushed it across the bar, but before the bartender could even reach for it, I heard, "United Airlines Flight 704 is now landing at Gate 22..."
I grasped the edge of the bar for a moment, then slowly pushed myself to my feet and started for Gate 22.