Chapter 3
June and December
"My name is Franklin, but I'm usually called Frank. Not just Frank, but 'Old Frank,' or 'Over-the-Hill Frank,' or 'Grandpa Frank,' something like that. Not that I'm all that old, mind you; I'm only in my early sixties-which isn't really so bad, once you get there. At least, you can say you've outlived a lot of the kids you grew up with, kids that got killed in one of the wars, or who got shot robbing a store, or who were the cops who got shot by some damned criminal. Of course, I'm around kids most of the time-kids who get into trouble in one way or another. I'm a youth counselor, and I really dig being around kids. That's why I get called all those names, because most kids think you're old at forty, and in your sixties--well, forget it! You might as well climb in the grave and save them all the trouble. That's the way most of the kids feel. And, really, I guess I felt that way when I was their age, too.
"I don't have to be a youth counselor-in fact, I should be doing only administrative work at this point-but I enjoy working with young hoods who think they're the toughest guys ever. Some, I've been able to help; the others are still in jail, or dead. But who would have thought that an old guy like me would fall for a young chick the age of Bertie ? I sure wouldn't have; in fact, I thought I was too smart to do something like that. I've seen older guys fall for young chicks-and just drive themselves crazy while the young vixens twisted them around their finger, screwed every young joint in sight, ate up all their money, and then dumped them, leaving them older, broker, and maybe wiser. They say, 'There's no fool like an old fool,' and I guess there's a lot of truth to that.
"But I can't complain. Bertie has done me a lot of good, really-and she would have no reason to pick up and walk out on me, leaving me holding the bag, so to speak. That's because I did a smart thing-but, let's not get ahead of the story.
"I met Bertie through one of my boys, a kid named Gary who thought he was as tough as they come. Gary was up for stealing a car, and I was trying to get him put on probation so I could work with him, and try to get him to realize that it was cheaper-and easier-to work hard and buy a car. That's a hard concept to get across to a lot of kids, and it isn't always true, either. But anyway, Bertie and Gary's girl friend, Carol, were there in court with him. I didn't pay much attention to either Carol or Bertie; after all, I was intent on getting Gary off with probation-with keeping him from getting sent up, where he was almost certain to become a hardened criminal, and be all the harder to get through to.
"Both Carol and Bertie were as sharp as they come. They were dressed in miniskirts, showing off their smooth, soft thighs, and their blouses were cut so low the nipples were almost ready to fall out. You know the type: sexy as hell-and they know it, and they're going to play it for all it's worth. A lot of the boys were staring at them openly or trying to look up under what little there was of their skirts; but you get to be my age and you learn to be a bit more subtle. Actually, you don't miss a thing; you probably get to see as far up under their skirts as the young cat who
makes it so obvious that's what he's trying to do. But at my age, you learn to take it all in without missing a syllable, while you're discussing some totally unrelated subject.
"Well, that was the first time I saw Bertie. She was a friend of Carol's, and she just came along to offer moral support. But Gary's case had a lot of complications, so it went on for quite some time, and pretty soon I got to know Bertie fairly well. Now, I'm hardly the type of guy who falls in love every time a cute young thing flips her miniskirt. In fact, I'd say I was fairly stable. After all, I've been through two marriages. The first ended in divorce, with no kids; I was in my mid-twenties then, and I had played the field for a while before I met Alice and settled down to a nice marriage which lasted over twenty years and left three sons. Alice died nearly ten years ago, and all our sons are grown up and married and have kids of their own. I've lived alone since then. My sons have each, in turn, suggested I come live with them; but, no, that would never work. I wouldn't really like it, and I know they'd get tired of it pretty fast. Oh, we see each other at holidays and at an occasional party now and then, but I figure they've got their own lives-and since meeting Bertie, I've sure as hell got mine.
"Anyway, by the time we'd gotten Gary's case worked out more or less to the satisfaction of everybody concerned, Bertie and I had gotten to know each other fairly well. One thing, she was bright; she could tell when I was trying to get Gary to talk, so I could understand him well enough to be of some help to him, and she sort of fell in and helped me. I've since suggested she go into youth counseling or social work or the like, but she isn't really interested that much. She's a legal secretary to a local communications firm, and she loves it-or did up to a few months ago when she had to quit for a while. That's one of the ways we've made our marriage work: we each have our own independence, our own life. Neither of us tries to own the other totally.
"I was fifty-eight years old when I met Bertie, and she was just eighteen. What a fool I would be to think that I could totally satisfy her all the time, as much as some young fellow her age. I mean that I'm having no trouble getting a hard on-it just doesn't get as hard as it did when I was eighteen, nor does it get hard as often. At eighteen, as I remember, it would get hard at least once an hour, if not more; now it's more like once a day. Which is usually more than enough. I don't really have the strength anymore to fuck five or six times a night. That is, I still might be able to do it for one night like I did when I was eighteen, but the next day I'd really be dragging. And I sure as hell couldn't do it for two or three nights running. But to most eighteen-year-old kids, it would be no big thing. They might be a little tired after the third night, but not totally exhausted, as I would be.
"As I say, it was just about three years ago that I first met Bertie. We would sometimes--all four of us, Gary and his girl, Carol, and Bertie and I-sit up fairly late at my office, and then we'd go out to dinner or coffee. Since Gary and Carol were together, Bertie and I just naturally sat together. And within a week, it seemed not only quite natural, but I missed her when she wasn't there. I said to myself, 'Whoa, boy.' And I started giving myself a good talking to; after all, I'm no kid anymore; I'm hardly the sort to fall madly and uncontrollably in love-and my youngest son is a good ten years older than Bertie. But age doesn't really mean much. It is very true that usually a man or a woman should stick within his or her own age-group-within ten or fifteen years, anyway. But there are always exceptions. And I can only look at Bertie and me as one of those exceptions.
"I mentioned how I started to miss Bertie not being close to me. Well, it was just at that time that my secretary quit; she went off and got married and her husband was from another city, so she naturally went with him. And Bertie quickly applied for the job. Not through me, but through the regular channels. I came to work one morning, and there she was, sitting there being broken in on her duties by Miss Reynolds, my temporary secretary. That was a funny day; I still remember it. Nothing seemed to go right. I just didn't get anything accomplished that day. Every time I'd start one thing, I'd think about Bertie and come out to see how she was doing, and then I'd forget what I'd been doing, and I had to start all over again.
"Well, within a week, she knew enough about what she was supposed to do to be on her own. But by that time I was hooked, and I insisted on taking her out to lunch every day and to dinner nearly every night. I suppose I had sexual designs on her from the start; but you learn to sublimate, as the psychoanalysts say. The thing is, you can be pretty sure that a girl of eighteen isn't going to leap at the first opportunity to have sex with a guy who is somewhat beyond his prime. Young people do it; old people talk about it. Oh, yeah, there are always the exceptions. But most girls of eighteen would look on a guy my age as a 'dirty old man' even if I smiled at her a little too warmly. If I were eighteen, too, she might just think me a little too aggressive or fresh, but after fifty-or is it thirty?-you suddenly turn into a dirty old man for wanting to do the same things you've been doing right along. And since you usually have fewer opportunities by that age, you're usually hungrier and tend to come on a little strong.
"So, no thanks. I don't need all that hassle. So even though I made quite a play for Bertie, I tried to keep my cool. I took her to dinner at some plush restaurant-no nightclubs, since she wasn't old enough-but I tried to impress her with my sophistication, my knowledge of the world: emphasizing all my good points, and not really trying to hide my weak points, but, you know, not trying to make them too plain. In a way, this is being dishonest, but after all, don't we all act that way when we're hooked? I mean that it makes a guy feel like he's a better person, and he just naturally tends to feel that his weak points don't exist, or at least that they don't really matter. A young guy in love tends to glow all over, and he acts as if he were the luckiest man in the world. And, in a way, he is. But he also tends to love extravagantly, wildly, passionately. Everything he does is colored with his emotions. An older man is somewhat more subdued, usually. He fits love in its 'proper place' and goes on about his business without letting it take over his whole life. I don't think that his love is any less deep or sincere or total-but it's just that he's lived longer and is able to take it in its stride more.
"For example, I fell hard for Bertie-but I kept telling myself right from the start that it was a one-way love, that she couldn't possibly feel about me the way I felt for her, that the relationship was doomed from the start. So I never made a pass at her; I never asked her to go to bed with me; I certainly would not have wanted to embarrass her-and meby asking her to marry me. What can a man my age offer an eighteen-year-old? Experience. Security. A quiet steady existence. That's about it. But most eighteen-year-olds are eager for some excitement-the unknown, the untried. They want to push themselves till they're exhausted, sometimes. A man my age gets exhausted much quicker than any teen-ager ever does.
"So I cooled it. I gently, subtly, let her know that I cared a great deal for her. But I left it at that, knew that it was only kindness that kept her going on dates with me. Sure, I knew she liked me. I was an uncle or a father-figure-but hardly the person she would choose for a sex partner. But fortunately I was wrong.
"After about three months of quiet dates-and no pass-she finally asked if she couldn't come up to my apartment with me for a drink. I was very pleased, of course, and I had to keep telling myself not to drink too much. I could easily have gotten a little high, and then made a silly ass of myself with her. So I gave her a fairly weak drink, and I drank a weak one, too. And we sat and talked. The lights were blazing, and I'd put on some quiet music : not especially romantic, just not loud or obtrusive.
" 'Do you mind if we turn off some of these lights?' she asked, kind of flirting with me.
"I told her to go ahead, and we were left with two soft, dim lamps. Then, I decided I'd better call her on it. I had the feeling that she was testing me, trying to push me to make a pass at her, and then she'd say no and leave me with pie on my face.
" 'Bertie,' I said, 'you must know that I like you a great deal. But ... ' I hesitated, unsure quite how to put it.
"She interrupted. 'But what? Don't you think I'm capable of caring for you in return?'
" 'Of course,' I smiled at her. 'But I'm not
a young man anymore. I can hardly compete with boys your age.'
" 'You wanna bet?' she challenged me. 'You act like you're ready for the grave. I think I know you better than that.'
" 'Well, no. I'm hardly that old yet. But. . . '
" 'But what?' she insisted, and she threw herself into my arms. How could I resist? She is really a beautiful, sexy young thing. How many times I've glanced at her breasts and found my mouth watering. Her breasts are not huge, but they jut forward at a saucy angle-just begging you to grab a handful. Soft, taffy-brown hair, worn fairly long; a slim, sleek waist, well rounded hips, and an ass that sticks out as if she were getting ready to sit down on your hard prick. And gorgeous legs. Some men are 'leg men,' others are 'breast men,' and still others are 'ass men.' That's what turns them on and that's what they keep looking for and looking at in a well-built girl. I've never been able to decide which category I fit into. When I see a groovy ass, I'm an ass man; when I see great tits, I think I'm a tit man; but when I see a pair of legs that makes me certain I'm a leg man. Let's face it. If the girl's pretty, I dig all of her.
"Anyway, when Bertie threw herself into my arms at that point, I threw caution to the winds. Take it when you can get it, I told myself. You may never get another chance like this. So I started kissing those soft lips of hers, and I felt her tongue probing into my mouth. And pretty soon my tongue was having a love duel with hers, searching out her mouth, tasting her subtly flavored lipstick, and swapping saliva. My hand found her breast and began to stroke it, playing with the nipple. And then it traveled on down to her waist. She lay back in my arms, and I moved so I was almost on top of her, careful not to put all my weight on her. Then my hands were free to move, and I began to stroke her thighs, which were exposed under the miniskirt. She wore no stockings, but had on red panties to match her skirt. Within no time, my fingers stroked through the thin cloth. Did I really turn her on that much-or was she just a hot number? I didn't stop to figure that one out; this was no time for such questions. Sexual desire took over, and I began kissing and caressing her every place I could reach. I nibbled at her breast through her blouse, and she lay back and shoved it in my mouth, letting out with a sort of purring moan.
"At that point, Bertie raised up and started to take off her clothes. I helped her; there's something stimulating about helping a girl undress. When she stood nude before me, I feasted my eyes on her beautiful, lush body. 'Ripe' is the best word to describe it. She posed and turned and twisted to show me her body at its best advantage from every angle.
'"Well, aren't you going to undress?' she finally had to ask me.
"I woke up then and began ripping off my clothes, but she insisted on helping me as I had helped her. I haven't the best body in the world, but I've managed to keep it in fairly good shape. A few sags here and there, a bit of a paunch, but nothing to be ashamed of, really. She took in my body with lustful eyes. Especially my prick; she found it very fascinating. And I could see she was being turned on as much as I was by looking at her. Then she moved toward me and I opened my arms and held her close, pushing my prick up flat against her belly. What a warm, soft body she had-and still has. I never tire of holding her close when we're both nude, just rubbing flesh against flesh. Of course, I'm a little more gentle right now. But what a terrific feeling that is.
"Then I kissed her again, and I began nibbling at her nose and her ears, and I let my tongue wander down her soft throat till I was once more nibbling at her nipples. She caressed my back and then worked down so she could grab my prick and squeeze it and move it back and forth. Anyplace is a good place for making love, but I decided the best place was still the bed, so I picked her up and crushed her to me, rubbing her breasts against my chest, while my prick jerked and hit against her beautiful ass every once in a while. And I carried her in and put her on the bed. Then I turned on the bed-lamp, so we could see what we were doing. Sometimes, it's more fun to feel your way in the dark. You cover the same territory, to be sure, but you're guided by touch rather than sight. But this first time-and for all I knew at the time, the last-I wanted to see everything and not miss a thing, and maybe fix it in my memory so I could at least remember her in every detail at later times.
"The sex act is sometimes unsatisfactory. There are times, and maybe people, that you screw who just don't do anything for you, or you for them. As some of my kids would put it, 'The vibes are all wrong.' When you push your prick in real hard, it hurts her; when you nibble her nipples, it tickles, or you bite too hard. You can't seem to reach her and get her to groove like you're doing, and by the time you're through, you're worn out. She hasn't been able to come, and by this time you're so irritated and fed up that you don't really give a damn. You just want her to get up and leave-or you just get up and get dressed and take off. I suppose nearly everyone has had episodes like that at one time or another.
"But, with Bertie and me, it was not at all like that. If I nibbled her hard little nipple, that seemed to be just what she wanted at just that moment. We just instinctively knew what the other person wanted, and we were both eager to do it, for our own pleasure, but also for the other's pleasure, too. Maybe for her pleasure more than mine. Anyway, we just did all the right things.
"I hadn't had any cunt for a couple of months. Usually, I wait till I get pretty horny, since it seems like such a hassle sometimes. And, while the girl you get into finally may be satisfying, still, she's not exactly what you wanted, so it is a limited satisfaction-though, I might add, a very necessary one. Without it--well, I'd rather not think about going without; that's a painful subject. People somehow go on the assumption that you lose your sexual desire as you get older. Maybe some men do, but I think that with most men, they have the same desires they always had-and they're just as strong and demanding as ever. It's just that it takes a lot of energy to go out and pick up a girl and go through all the routine of wining, dining, and then finally getting to bed. Besides, you don't have quite as much zip to attract the girls as you had when you were younger.
"Anyway, I was hot and ready. And Bertie seemed to stay hot and ready. I wanted to take my time with her, and hot and eager as she was, she seemed content to build up slow. When you just shove it in and fuck and let it go at that-well, I've done that a few times, too. And I don't knock it; sometimes a quickie can be great fun. But taking it slow and easy, you really build up to a peak that you had almost forgotten existed. It's worth all the effort, and it isn't really any effort. Half the fun is getting there.
"I lay half on top of her and kissed her once again. And nibbled and licked. My tongue flicked its way down to her nipples again, circling each one tenderly, then sucking the nipple into my mouth and really working on it. Then I worked down to her belly and tickled at her navel for a few minutes. Then I reversed my position so she could play a little, too. She grabbed my prick hungrily and started kissing it and licking it all over, up and down the shaft, till I thought I would shoot off in her face if she did it just once more. But she suddenly switched to my balls and sucked them, one after the other, into her mouth, getting them sloppy wet and tickling them with that evil little tongue of hers.
"I didn't just kneel there and luxuriate in the sensations; I was busy burying my face into her pubic hair and licking all around her crotch area. Her little clit was as hard as my prick, and I gave it everything I had. Kissing, sucking, licking, nipping at it lightly with my teeth. Every once in a while I would hear that purring moan of hers; a couple of times, though, I heard other moans, and I suddenly realized that it was me. I licked down around that sweet little cunt of hers-and was it ever sweet. A fresh young cunt somehow seems to exude juices, and an aroma, that seem to fade away with age. Maybe it's a hangover from our early animal heritage when the female in heat exuded a fragrance which aroused the male and made him wild to fuck. At least, that's what the odor and taste of fresh young cunt does for me-and for most men, I guess. I really lost all sense of what I was doing; I just buried myself in my work. And, from the sensations I was getting from her mouth and tongue, I could tell that she was in the same semiconscious state I was. Her first climax came while I had my tongue buried in her cunt, with my chin rubbing her clit.
"She grew even wilder and raised her legs up higher, and my tongue worked as hard and fast as it could, trying to prolong the orgasm and heighten the intensity of it. But I suddenly found myself at the peak, and I closed my eyes and ate furiously. The come juice seemed to take forever working its way up my, shaft--I was intensely aware of it-and it suddenly spurted forth into her mouth. At which point, she didn't pull back and choke, as some have done; instead, she plunged her head down and engulfed all of my prick. I could feel her teeth nibbling at the base, and the head of my prick was buried in her throat. She worked her throat muscles just as I came. There are just no words to describe the warm, agonizing pleasure of that moment. I sincerely believe that it was the most ecstatic orgasm I had ever had up to then. Since then, of course, we have repeated that intensity many times-not every time, but often enough that it has become almost commonplace, if such a sublime experience can ever be called commonplace.
"When it was over-and I hung in her mouth for what seemed a long time, until she was forced to move back in order to catch her breath-I collapsed on her, breathing and panting on her cunt. Then I pulled myself around and we lay in each other's arms for an hour
or more. We both dozed off briefly, only to awaken to the wonderful warmth of each other's bodies still wrapped in our arms. I kissed her now and then, a brief kiss on her ear, her cheek, her chin, her shoulder-whatever part of her was closest to my lips. And then I began to get a hard on again. And my kisses became wetter and more prolonged, and she reacted immediately. And soon we were starting all over again. The second time was not as intense as the first, but we still were feeling the glow of that first time, so it seemed just as beautiful. I licked at her cunt again and brought her to two orgasms before I finally turned around and slipped it in. What a hot, juicy, tight little cunt that was! She gasped as I pushed my rod in: not because it hurt, she was far too well lubricated for that, but because it reached parts of her that had hitherto been untouched during our session.
"Then I lay there on top of her with my prick in her cunt, just letting it soak for a while. The mouth has the advantage that the tongue moves around and causes all kinds of exciting sensations, but a tight cunt-warm and wet like hers-grips every inch of the prick, and it arouses exciting sensations all its own. Plus the fact that you can kiss each other at the same time and your hands can be busy playing with her breasts and watching her.
"At last I began to move back and forth slowly. No hurry: it felt too good to rush it. Just back and forth, a kind of around and around at the same time. When I felt her orgasm coming, the shivering and shaking of her cunt and pelvic area, I didn't increase my movements but just went at the same slow, agonizing pace. It was only when she was at the peak of the climax that I suddenly began to plunge in and out and in circular gyrations furiously. And, within seconds, I shot off into that soft warm wet pouch. My mouth was practically devouring hers at that point. And she came again, and one more time before I quieted down.
"We lay there for a while, me on top of her, not resting the full weight of my body on hers. That got a bit tiring, so I rolled over, pulling her on her side with me, slowly, making sure my prick stayed inside its newfound home. It wasn't fully hard, but it still hadn't gotten all the way soft yet, and it felt so good, just letting it soak in there. I suddenly thought maybe she should douche, but she assured me that she was pretty sure that nothing would happen. She kept good track of her days, and this just wasn't her fertile period. Even so, I was a little anxious. My second son arrived just that way, and you can never be absolutely sure when it comes to sex. But it just felt too damned good, so I really didn't give a damn at that point.
"After a while, after we'd dozed a little again-and sleep at that time is the best ever, it's all part of the dreamy, close wonderful feel of the overall situation-I finally moved my arm out from under her. It had gone to sleep from the pressure of her lovely body. I hated to move it, but I knew I was going to have to use it later when I drove her home.
" 'Bertie,' I said, 'you have made me the happiest man in the world. This has been the most wonderful time I've ever spent with anyone.'
"She didn't answer, but only kissed me affectionately on the mouth.
" 'I won't say any more,' I added. I wanted to say a lot of things, and just keep talking, and tell her all about how I felt toward her, how much I loved her and all, but I hesitated. After all, just because I'd fucked her didn't mean she was in love with me. I could tell she was happy, too, but it was the afterglow of a wonderful sexual encounter. It need not be anything deeper than that, and I still couldn't bring myself to say something that might be embarrassing to her. Sure, maybe she would say that she loved me, too; at a moment like that, you may actually feel that you are in love. But later, when you're yourself again, you think differently about it. But this had been an evening that I knew I would never forget for as long as I lived, and, as you can see, I haven't forgotten it. We've since had many similar sessions, but they all blend together in a sort of dreamy haze which has become the high point of my marriage with Bertie. The first time was somehow more memorable, probably because it was the first time.
"A little later, I got some coffee going, and we had snacks and coffee in bed. And then we got dressed and I took her home. I did push my luck a little by kissing her good-night, but it seemed to cap off the evening, and it didn't upset her....
"That all took place on a Saturday night. Ordinarily, I would call her on Sunday just to chat and ask how she was doing-nothing special. But the next day I didn't call. I stayed home all day and thought a lot about the night before and the situation, and how to handle it at work next day. 'Never mess around with a girl you work with.' How many times had I heard that admonition. But here I'd gone and done it. The next day she might well have had time to realize exactly what she had done and regretted it. She could be quite cool and distant; and that seemed---likely-but I somehow couldn't believe it of Bertie. I felt that she would be just as warm and friendly-on the surface-and any coolness would be down underneath where I could catch it, but no one else would.
"Bertie, after all, is a bright girl. Her emotions are in the right place. She isn't an immature girl who gets her kicks by creating scenes and ugly situations. My only desire at that point-all I could hope for-was that we would continue essentially the same as before. I desperately wanted at least to keep our friendly relationship. And I knew that if I took the wrong attitude, I would lose even that-and fast.
"Monday finally came, and I went to work. Bertie arrived a few minutes later. She smiled-I wish I could describe that smile. At once I knew that it was going to be all right. She sort of glowed and seemed very pleased to see me. And I relaxed right away-and then I goofed.
" 'How did your weekend go?' I asked, meaning, of course, how did you make out on Sunday? But then I realized as soon as I'd said it that sounded as if I were asking her how the lovemaking session had been. I coughed and
added, 'I mean to say, how did yesterday go for you?'
"She smiled delightfully and answered, 'I knew what you meant. Yesterday was okay--but I missed my usual phone call.'
" 'Well,' I hesitated, 'I thought maybe you'd want to be alone to think things over.'
" 'Was that really all?'
'"Yes. Really.'
" 'I'm glad. I'd hoped that was what it was. I know I'm not everything a man could want in a girl, but I had hoped that. . . well.... '
"She paused, and I rushed to assure her that she was indeed everything a man could want. And I added, finally, 'Bertie, I think you know that I love you.'
"She looked at me warmly, expectantly, and, thus encouraged, I went on. 'I have no right to ask you to marry me.'
" 'I think you have,' she answered.
" 'No. No, I haven't. I'm practically an old man, while you're ... you're ... well, you have so much of your life still ahead of you. It wouldn't be fair.'
" 'Fair? To you or me?'
" 'To you, of course. For me-oh, God. I don't deserve to be made that happy-no one does.'
" 'Are you asking me to marry you?' I wasn't
sure whether she was just playing with me, but I wanted her so desperately that, at that point, I didn't care if I did make a fool of myself.
" 'Yes, I am. I'm not young, but I can give you security of a sort-and I do love you very much."
" 'I thought men got down on their knees when they proposed marriage,' she teased.
" 'I will, if that's what you want.'
"But she rescued me from the misery I was beginning to feel. 'Oh, Frank, darling. Wait till tonight to get on your knees. I accept. Don't you know that I love you, too?'
"What a terrific feeling that is, to find that you weren't butting your head against a brick wall, that the one you love loves you in return. Life certainly has its ugly, tragic moments, but it has its wonderful, joyous moments, too. I didn't give a damn about anything or anyone but us at that moment, and I grabbed Bertie and crushed her in my arms and kissed her passionately. And, of course, at that moment, one of the aides had to walk in. He was startled, coughed, said loudly, 'Excuse me,. . . ' and then grinned lewdly.
" 'Bertie has just agreed to become my wife,' I told him, and his lewd grin turned into a proper sort of smile, though I think I detected a bit of envy there, too, for Bertie was easily the sexiest girl in the office. And before the day was out, we got congratulations from nearly everyone.
"But then the planning began. First, the wedding. I decided that Bertie would want a big church wedding ... but she didn't. She wanted a quiet affair with just a few friends. I was relieved at that-though I would willingly have gone along with a big blast. Anything, for Bertie. But Bertie is not only sexy and bright, she is also very sensible. But then came the part that I really feel was the masterstroke. I knew that if I tried to hang on too hard to Bertie, I'd end up losing her altogether. So I told her, over and over: 'Look,' I said. 'I know you're young and eager; you're going to need more excitement than I could ever give you; and you'll need a little variety now and then. I don't mind.'
"She tried to hush me up, but I insisted on finishing. 'Oh, Frank,' she said, reproachfully, 'I love you. I don't love anyone else; if I did, I'd have married him. I don't want anyone but you.'
" 'I know, Bertie. But this has nothing to do with love. It's a matter of physical needs, maybe psychological needs. I just want it understood that I'm not going to tie you down and try to keep you in a cage or something. I love you, I want you, I need you. But you're free to do what you feel like, okay?'
"I know a lot of people would consider me crazy. You latch onto a sexy little number like Bertie-and then tell her to go out and fuck with anybody she feels like. To many people this wouldn't matter. But, in my opinion, each couple has to make its own rules when it comes to marriage and sex and constancy, and all that. We usually see marriage as being a point where two people who have been playing the field suddenly have to give it all up and settle down to a dull, routine life. Well, if that's what you want, fine. I don't knock it. But different rules for different people. Sometime, maybe not right away, but sometime, Bertie would begin to feel the need for some excitement, for something different. I was just trying to let her know that I understood this, and that I was not going to get all upset and jealous and try to tie her down all the tighter because she strayed a little here and there.
"The important thing was that I loved her and that she loved me. And I didn't really see that anything she did would change that. It didn't mean that she loved me any the less just because she felt like having a strange prick in her cunt once in a while. And, actually, if anything, it has made our love more secure and brought us closer together. It's like when I get a young girl to work with as one of my cases. I work hard and I get very much wrapped up in her, trying to understand her and help her to cope with some of life's problems. Should Bertie get jealous just because I get so deeply involved? Of course not. It's just a human being that I'm trying to help. In the same way, it's just a prick that finds its way to Bertie's cunt now and then, and, at the moment it will concern her deeply--and hopefully give her a bit of excitement and a great deal of pleasure-but it means no more than that.
"But then I found that Bertie was going to add a twist of her own to the concept, as you'll see. For the first year or so, I'm sure nothing happened. The reason I'm sure is that Bertie would have told me if it had. Maybe not right away, but eventually. But after about eighteen months, I began to notice that Bertie was looking a bit pale and listless. At first, I thought maybe she was coming down with something. Our lovemaking was still great, but it had lost something. A certain zest or tang or something. It seemed to be getting almost routine. I decided to spark things up a little by trying a couple of new things, like fucking in the bathtub when it was full of water.
Something different, you know. And it helped, but it didn't solve the problem.
"At this time, Bertie was working again. She had stayed home for about ten months, but then decided she needed some outside stimulation, so she got the job I mentioned as a legal secretary. That helped some. And then, I found her talking about some young guy who came into the office quite a bit. She didn't say much about him, but I could see that she was attracted to him. He was in his twenties and overflowing with a zest for life. So, finally, one night when we were getting ready to go to sleep, after a sort of routine, somewhat less than average sexual session, we lay for a while with my arm under her shoulder, and I sort of stumbled around, not quite sure how to say what I wanted to. But I managed to get it across to her that she was free to play around if she wanted to.
"She protested violently, and she swore that she hadn't the slightest inclination. 'Okay,' I said, 'I understand. But I'm just saying that if you do feel any inclination, play it by ear. Don't feel that getting ahold of a young, strange guy and doing what you want with each other is going to make any difference in our relationship. You know what I mean?'
"She insisted that that was the farthest thing from her mind, but I could tell that the thought had crossed her mind before, and now she was beginning to think about it. Anyway, it was a couple of weeks later that she told me she was going out for a night with her girl friend. She and Carol went out together every so often, or just stayed home and yakked about things. There was something about her tone of voice-a little too intense or something-that kind of clued me in that this wasn't at all what she was going to do. And, after all my talk, I found that I was just a little bit jealous. But I quickly talked myself out of that. It meant no more, actually, than if she had been going out with Carol, except that it would probably be a lot more exciting and more fun.
"She came home around eleven and kissed me. I was sitting watching TV, and I was careful not to ask any leading questions. I appeared to be unconcerned. But, if I think I can read Bertie like a book, it works the other way around, too. Maybe there was a little edge to my voice or something. But she caught it right away.
" 'Is anything the matter?' she asked.
" 'Oh, no. Nothing at all.'
" 'You sure?' she insisted.
"Then we started talking, and she broke down and started crying and confessed that she had been out with the guy she had mentioned. Names don't matter. I held her in my arms, and I kissed her and told her how much I loved her, and she sobbed out how much she loved me, and that it didn't mean a thing, and so on. I knew that, of course, and I reassured her and told her that she shouldn't cry. Was it fun ? She then began to tell me the whole story.
"She had met him at a place they'd agreed on, and he took her to his apartment. Soft lights, soft music, cocktails. All the right touches. He had sat next to her, and his hand had brushed her skirt. In a little while, he kissed her, and they began to get more passionate. He was fairly young, but he was an accomplished lover. He took it fairly slow and easy, working his hand slowly up her thigh. He worked his finger in under her panties and finger-fucked her for a while, and then he suddenly unzipped his pants and thrust his prick into her hand. It wasn't as big as mine-and I couldn't help but get a secret charge from that. But it was nice and hard, and she got turned on playing with it while he finger-fucked her. Then, they undressed quickly. He didn't help her, and she didn't help him. They just got out of their own clothes as quickly as possible.
" 'I'll bet he came as soon as he saw your naked body,' I threw in, looking at her.
"'How did you know?' She smiled. 'Yes. that's exactly what he did. He shot all over my thighs. He couldn't help himself.'
"We both laughed, and then we both relaxed as if she were telling me some story about an exciting episode of the day-just something that happened that was kind of interesting. He was awfully embarrassed when he came all over her, but she told him it was all right. And in only a few minutes, he was raring to go again. He didn't go for sucking cunt, and Bertie seemed disappointed. She also wanted to suck his prick, but since he hadn't done it to her, she was a little embarrassed and thought he might think she was terrible or something. But he did suck her nipples and squeeze her breasts, and then he put his prick in her cunt and started fucking almost right away. She managed to come just as he did, but he seemed unable to hold himself back long enough to let her get in a good orgasm.
"All of this, of course, made me feel superior. It's not that she didn't enjoy it. She certainly did; she loved every minute of it. And the idea that she was doing something 'forbidden' added a tang to it. And he did have a way of moving his prick which is hard to describe; he would sort of rock back and forth from side to side while he was plunging in and out. She found that very stimulating, so I insisted that next time we got in bed, she'd have to teach me how to do it.
" 'Oh, it's nothing special,' she insisted.
"But I insisted more strongly that anything we could do together that would enhance our pleasure was worth a try. Anyway, she went on describing her affair, and by this time we were both relaxed and unembarrassed and having a drink and thoroughly enjoying the whole thing. After he came the second time, he pulled out almost right away and got a towel and they wiped themselves off. Then they started again. He would let her play with his prick, but she had the feeling he would have been horrified if she'd tried to kiss it. She fondled his balls, too. He had huge balls, she said. She doubted that she could have gotten them in her mouth-but it would have been fun trying. And when they kissed some more, he put his prick in again and fucked like crazy. They both came again, and the wiping-of f procedure was repeated, followed by another and another session. Altogether, he fucked her six times, which is pretty good, I'd say. Thaf s besides his first climax before he got in her.
'"It was fun,' she admitted, 'but I'm glad to be home.'
"She snuggled in my arms, and added, 'And I'll never do anything like that again.' " 'Why not?'
" 'Oh, Frank. You're awful,' she said, not really meaning it. 'You'd make a good pimp. I'll bet you'd send me out to pick up guys on the street.'
" 'Well,' I said, pretending to be serious, 'I'll bet we could make a lot of money that way. You certainly have the talent for it.'
"She slapped my face lightly, and I buried my mouth on hers. I didn't want to get too passionate, because I was sure she was in no mood for lovemaking that night. She had had more than enough. But I was wrong. That little episode had only served to turn her on, and after she showered, we jumped into bed and had one of the greatest sessions we'd had in a long time. I spent a lot of time sucking her cunt, since that was what she had missed earlier; and she lavished her full attention on sucking and licking my prick and my balls. And finally, after her fourth orgasm-good, full, wild climaxes-and my second, I turned around and worked my prick into that sweet crevice of hers, and she reluctantly taught me the little rocking trick that had turned her on. It turned her on again, and she had three orgasms before I finally couldn't hold back any longer. Then we fell asleep in each other's arms. I doubt that any two people could have felt closer to each other than we two did that night.
"Things went along at an even pace for a while after that. Our lovemaking was zippy and a lot like the first time, almost, for quite a while. Then it began to taper off again, and I could tell that she was beginning to need a little outside stimulus again. I wondered if maybe I should suggest it, but I decided to let matters take their course. And, sure enough, about a week later, she went to visit Carol again. She visited Carol about once a week, anyway, but she just couldn't lie to me, and I caught the tone in her voice that told me that she wouldn't be seeing Carol that night.
"Her return was later, this time. It was about midnight, and she seemed tired. I fixed drinks and she sat down and took off her shoes and relaxed. She didn't have as much trouble telling me this time.
" 'You know where I went tonight?'
" 'I suspected you weren't going to Carol's.'
"And then she told me how she'd met a fellow she ran into at the lunch counter where she usually had lunch. He was about twenty-five, and nice-looking. Strong and virile. He set up a double date with one of his buddies, but when the time came, the buddy's girl was hung up and couldn't make it-so the three of them went out. Bertie had never been in a three-way before, and she found it exciting as hell.
"Jack, her date, took them to his apartment and they sat around having a few drinks. Paul, the buddy, was of medium height, stocky build, dark hair. He was about twenty-five, also, and neither of them seemed quite sure how to start things going. So Bertie helped things along by taking off her shoes. Paul and Jack took off their jackets and their neckties. And then they sat as before. Finally, Bertie started caressing Jack's thigh, and he began to caress her breasts and started kissing her. Paul sat like a third wheel, feeling very uncomfortable but not sure what to do, so Bertie beckoned him to come sit on her other side, and while Jack kissed her lips, Paul played with her breasts. Then she reached out and grabbed both pricks through their pants. They didn't need much encouragement after that. Pretty soon all three of them were nude. Jack, for all his height and muscular build, didn't have a very big prick, but Paul surprised her. He was hung like a horse.
"They fucked on a fluffy throw rug in the living room. Jack was finger-fucking her while Paul sucked her nipples. It was Jack who worked his way down and put his prick in first. Despite its small size, it felt good inside her, and he was considerate and tried to make sure she came before he did. Meanwhile, she couldn't resist sucking Paul's mammoth prick into her mouth. She tried hard, but she couldn't get it all in. He shot off in her mouth and was apologetic as hell about it, figuring that she would be angry, but she reassured him.
"After they'd all come once, they sat around and relaxed for a while, having a couple more drinks. Then Jack started getting hard again, so Bertie sucked his prick into her mouth and he almost screamed when he finally came. Meanwhile, Paul pushed his big prick into her cunt with a remarkable gentleness. She was surprised that she could take it all, and she described it as feeling like he had his whole fist up inside of her. It took him a little while to come, but she got in two good orgasms before he made it. All the time, he sucked her nipples and kissed her cheek, but he avoided kissing her on the mouth, as if she were somehow contaminated because she had sucked their pricks.
"They rested again and had a few more drinks. The next time around, they took turns. Jack fucked her while Paul watched, and then Paul fucked her while Jack watched. And Bertie got one fairly good climax with each of them, but after they came, that was it for them. They were finished. After one more drink, Bertie washed up and they brought her close to home. She wouldn't let them drop her off in front of our apartment building. 'Too many nosy neighbors,' she told them. It was exciting; after all, it's not every day a girl gets involved in a three-way. But, once again, she was glad to be home, to be in my arms once again.
"We repeated our performance of the previous time. I worked long and hard at sucking and licking that sweet, fresh cunt of hers, since she'd gotten none of that from Jack and Paul. And our orgasms were created with love, which does make a difference.
"Well, this pattern went on for some time. About every two or three months, Bertie would begin to get a little irritable and listless, and we both knew it was 'her time.' Most of her encounters were nothing to write about. One of the fellows was kind of brutal, but most were gentle enough. I never had the slightest jealousy after that first time. Well, only once, and that didn't last long. Bertie had gotten to know a black man of about thirty who was nice looking and very neat in his appearance. Bertie's taffy-colored hair may have had something to do with it-though with a sexy body like hers, a guy would have to be dead not to get turned on. As one of my black kids told me once, 'If you're gonna fuck a white woman, you feel cheated if she doesn't have blonde hair.'
"Anyway, Ted was apparently a very sweet guy who took a lot of time and care in making sure that she got as much pleasure as possible. I think that's what made me jealous; I just hadn't expected any other man to feel for Bertie like I do. He took her to his apartment and they smoked a little grass and had a few drinks, and then he closed in, slowly and gently, caressing her with sensitive fingers till she was about to come just from the tactile sensation on her flesh-even though he hadn't gotten anywhere near her cunt, and they still had their clothes on.
"They undressed little by little, just a piece at a time, and Ted would work over the exposed area with a master touch before proceeding to the next article of clothing. He sucked her toes, which just about sent her up the wall. He tickled her armpits with his tongue and she gasped at the strange pleasurable sensation. He refrained from kissing her on the mouth-as if he were afraid she might be offended. But she pulled his face to hers and kissed and licked at his lips till his tongue answered hers. When they finally were completely nude, Ted carried her into the bedroom and, there, with soft lights and soft music, they got down to serious business.
"He began licking at her cunt, and he was crouched down between her legs so she could touch no part of him but his head and shoulders. She pulled at him and said, 'Give me some, too.'
"He turned around then, and she sucked his black prick into her mouth. She was a little embarrassed as she told me all this, because it had been such a great evening. And maybe because he was black. But her pleasure and excitement were so great-her eyes sparkled as she related her story-that they were infectious, and I began to glow with the feeling that she had really had a great time. And her pleasure was so important to me, even if it hadn't been me who gave it to her, that I relaxed and encouraged her to tell it all.
"It was Bertie's first bout with interracial sex-though not her last, I might add. And I also should point out that she never found another lover quite as competent as Ted, either. (I guess I'm still a bit jealous of that one.) Anyway, she lost count of the number of orgasms she had, and he came in her mouth twice, too. But they didn't stop; his prick would relax and shrink a little, but as she worked on it, licking and sucking, it gradually sprang up rigid again. And then she felt his tongue licking at her ass-hole. She hadn't been opposed to it, exactly, she just had never thought of her ass-hole as being in any way erotic. That is, not till Ted's tongue worked it over. She had another orgasm while he was doing that, and then-I had to drag this out of her, she didn't want to say it-she started licking at his ass-hole, and found that it wasn't so bad.
"He traveled all over her body once again with his tongue, and she licked every part of his body that came anywhere near her mouth. Then finally he put his black prick in her pink cunt and he worked in and out slowly and carefully-in just the way I did it. That's about the only way I can express it. She had several orgasms before he finally came again inside her. And then they lay together, as she and I often did, just luxuriating in the feeling of closeness and the satisfaction of a truly wonderful sexual session.
"It's hard to describe our night in bed after that. It was as if I had a different Bertie in bed that night. She just couldn't get enough. But I had learned a few new tricks, too, and in the nights that followed, believe me, we tried every one of them. I found myself trying desperately to compete with Ted, but Bertie-that wonderful girl-caught on, and she called a halt to it. 'Come on, baby,' she soothed me. 'You just relax, now, and do what you want, do your thing. You're the one I love-the only one. The only one I'll ever love. What you do is the greatest, and don't you ever forget it."
"Well, that helped. I realized suddenly that I had been afraid of losing Bertie to a master love-maker. But, while Ted was terrific, that wasn't enough for Bertie, and it never could be. She loved me-not Ted or any other man, no matter how good he was in bed. For we both realized that, while sex is certainly one of the most important aspects of a marriage, there are a lot of other aspects of equal importance.
"Bertie never saw Ted again. I felt a little guilty about that, since it had been a wild, memorable session, and I did truly want her to have pleasure. But she found other men. She didn't go out for about four months after Ted. But when she did, she surprised me by coming home early. She'd left at about seven, and was home by eight-thirty. I knew right away that she was up to something. And this is where she added her twist. A fellow and his wife were waiting downstairs in a car, and she wanted to bring them up for a four-way.
"I was reluctant at first. I just hadn't expected anything like that. But I finally agreed.
Chuck was a nice-looking fellow of about thirty, and he was friendly, and I liked him right away. Sue, his wife, was a little younger and very pretty. She was almost as sexy as Bertie-but, as far as I'm concerned, no one could ever match Bertie. Anyway, the party started off slow. We had a couple of drinks, and then Chuck brought out a couple of joints and we all began to get high. After that, what happened just seemed natural. We all took off our clothes and went in on the bed. Even with the drinks and the grass, I found it hard to get started with Sue, but she was a sweet girl and she seemed to understand my reluctance. She didn't rush me, but started to caress me and play with my prick, and she kissed me. I kept watching to see what Chuck and Bertie were doing. Finally we got into a wild sort of daisy chain where I was sucking Bertie's cunt, Sue was sucking my prick, Chuck was sucking Sue's cunt, and Bertie was sucking Chuck's prick. It was about the same size as mine, so neither of us had to worry on that score.
"Then we switched around, and I was sucking Sue's cunt while Bertie sucked my prick, and so on. We all came at least once; I shot off in Sue's mouth and Chuck let go in Bertie's. The girls were having numerous orgasms and I was really beginning to get with it. I fucked Sue-and she had a nice cunt. It was fatter than Bertie's, and also wasn't as tight, but it sure felt good when I got my prick in it. I found myself kissing Bertie while I fucked Sue. And Chuck and Sue were kissing, too. I felt good about that. I realized that here was a couple who lived by their own rules, the same as Bertie and I-and it was obvious that they were wildly in love with each other. That made it all seem okay, somehow.
"When we were all pretty much satiated, we sat around and had a few more drinks, and our nude bodies seemed the most natural thing in the world. I got to like Chuck and Sue-or Suck and Chew, as I slipped and said one time-and we all had a good laugh since it seemed to sum up so appropriately our daisy chain. We all became close friends after a while, and we often get together for a swinging session. By 'often,' I mean about once a month or so. They'd been married about ten years and had two kids. They were always very careful to make sure their kids weren't around when they had a swinging session. And they seem to be very good parents ... but then it seems to me that a happy parent is almost always a good parent. Oh, they're bound to make mistakesdon't all parents? But they love their kids, and, more important, they love each other.
"And now Bertie is pregnant. She's due at almost any time now, so we've curtailed our extracurricular activities altogether. I sometimes think a woman is never more beautiful than when she's pregnant. That is, if she is loved and is in love, and is happy to be having the baby. Yes, it's my baby; we double-checked on that. This will bring about a big change in our lives. At least, for a while. But once Bertie is in shape again-a couple of months, maybe-we plan to take up with Chuck and Sue again. We'll have to be a little more discreet, especially when the baby begins to grow up. Kids don't miss much. They may appear to be blind to all sorts of things-but they can be sharp as hell and act as if they haven't seen a thing.
"I'm sixty-three now, and I haven't noticed any lessening of my sexual powers as yet. But with a wife like Bertie, I plan to stay young forever. I've already got three sons, as I mentioned, so I hope our baby will be a girl. And I hope she looks just like Bertie. She'll sure as hell make some boy happy as can be in a few years. Boy, hell! Maybe she'll make some 'old man' happy. I wouldn't put it past her."