Chapter 1
Her legs were open and the man was caught
in the photograph slamming his hard cock into her pussy. The next photo was her
being fucked from behind. She had a look of pure lust on her beautiful face.
The other ones were similar in nature; photos of her being fucked in a variety
of positions. It was my wife who was being fucked and I was looking at the
photographs because it was raining. I'll explain...
I was finally getting around to cleaning
the garage. Lori, my wife had been on my
ass for over a year. Paul Ryan, that's me, doesn't like to get in a hurry about
some things. Cleaning out the garage was one of them. I tried to explain to
Lori that it was something that needed the perfect time to start.
Because it was raining too hard for golf
and it was a Saturday, Lori deemed it the perfect time for me to get my ass in
gear. It amazed me how much shit two people could accumulate and why we
bothered to keep it.
Lori and I had been married nearly half of
our lives. I married my beautiful bride the summer after we graduated from
college. Only the young and bold could have managed to do what we did. After we
both finally made it through college and Lori finished her nurses training, I
went on to law school and now we both work at our chosen profession and we both
love what we do.
Lori and I started out the same age, but
somewhere over the years I got ahead of her. I'm forty-one and she's holding at
thirty-nine. I'll have to admit the years have been kinder to her then they
have to me. She can still turn heads. Except for a few small wrinkles around
her eyes she could pass for twenty-nine in a heartbeat. Her big beautiful
breasts are still works of art and only sag a little bit from their own weight.
Thirty-eight D, if you must know. Lori keeps herself fit by working out.
Like most young professionals we wanted to
get started professionally before having a family. When we did decide to have
children we found out Lori couldn't conceive. It took some time for us to get
over that news. In spite of that, except
for her nagging me about the state of the garage, she's nearly perfect.
While I toiled in the hot garage, Lori
kept me supplied with cold beer. I wasn't fooled because I knew she was doing
that just to keep an eye on me. My good
wife brought me a sandwich at lunch. By that time I had already made a hundred
trips to the curb with crap. She could see that I had been busy because you
could actually see parts of the garage concrete floor.
Not long after we moved in to the house, I
built some shelves along one side of the three car garage. They were packed
with boxes and other junk. That's where I was when Lori came out with another
beer.
"Standing there looking at it won't get
the job done, boy," she chided me. I thought that would have been a great time
to tell me what a Herculean job I had already done and declare it enough for
one day. Not my Lori. Apparently her view was, 'never mind the mule, load the
wagon'.
"I'm not sure what to do with all that
shit," I told her. "I might throw something away that you would want to keep."
"Nice try, Sport," she said laughing. "Throw
it all away for all I care. Anything I want to keep is in the house. That's
mostly all your stuff, so have a look at it. I'm going to the store. Anything
you need?"
"Beer."
"On the list. Anything else?" I told her
some pretzels and chips would also be nice. I didn't have any hope of getting
any. The quacks had noticed my blood pressure was up a bit and Lori considered
their recommended diet to be written in stone.
I put my foot down at no beer and Lori had conceded, but salty stuff
like chips and pretzels was only a fond memory. I watched her drive away and
set out on the task ahead of me.
Lori was right. Most of the stuff on the
shelves was mine. Twenty years of accumulated junk. Old phonograph records,
magazines, and the like. That's how I ran across the photographs. They were in
a cigar box inside another larger box.
The instant photos had been taken nearly
twenty years previous. I know because I had been the photographer. They were
faded, but not much. The guy on the backside of the cock that was in Lori was
my best friend, Dallas Murphy. I had not seen the pictures in almost twenty
years when I put them in the cigar box and stored them away.
Seeing the pictures brought back a flood
of memories. They also gave me an
instant boner. I took some of them not very long before Lori and I got married.
We were living together while I went to school. Lori was working as a nurse and
supporting us while trying to get her master's degree.
I had to smile looking at the old photos.
That was what we did for fun because it didn't cost anything. I remembered the
first time I shared my soon to be wife with Dallas.
Dallas had scored some weed and we were
smoking a joint, drinking some wine, and getting high. It was a hot night and
the air-conditioner in our rented rat hole wasn't doing much of a job to keep
it comfortable in the small apartment.
Lori had stripped down to shorts and a tee shirt sans bra. Dallas and I
were down to just shorts. After a while as we got mellow we stopped noticing
how damned hot it was. I started fooling around with Lori and got her shirt
off. Neither of us were paying much attention to my buddy who sat watching
us. If Dallas hadn't gasped loudly at
the sight of her exposed naked breasts, I guess we would have completely forgot
him.
"Are you enjoying the show, Dallas?" Lori
asked with a tipsy giggle.
"You bet," he answered. "I knew you had to
have great tits and now I'm finally getting to see them." Lori giggled. I went
back to nibbling on her hard nipples.
Blame it on the wine, the weed, the heat,
or whatever, but I asked him if he wanted to help me play with her tits. Next
thing I knew he was beside us on the ratty old couch, his mouth clamped on one
nipple. It didn't take long before Lori was a seething caldron of passion. She
was sizzling and ready to fuck.
Since I was the host, I offered Lori's
pussy to Dallas first. He pounced on her like a cat on a mouse. I got sloppy
seconds and he got even sloppier thirds. That night set a pattern. It seemed to
me that Dallas was in Lori's cunt almost as much as I was, even after we tied
the knot. Two days after I was admitted to the bar, Dallas shipped off. He was
Naval ROTC, and he was killed in some sort of freakish training accident a
couple of months later.
Looking at the old pictures, I found that
tears were streaming down my face when I saw one that clearly showed his face.
I hadn't realized how much I missed him even though the years had softened the
hurt. After we got the news that Dallas had been killed, his name, for some
bizarre reason, wasn't ever mentioned by us again. Neither was the subject of
sex with others ever mentioned. It was almost like Lori and I suddenly became
two completely different people.
I was still looking at the photos when
Lori returned almost an hour later. I put them back in the box and returned the
box to the shelf then I went to help her carry in the groceries.
***
"What's wrong, Paul," Lori asked me. We
were in bed for the night. "Did you over-do it today in the garage?" I almost
told her that I was dying from the stress of working in that damned garage, but
I knew she wouldn't think it funny.
"No, I didn't over-do it," I said. "What
makes you think something is wrong?"
"You've been quiet all afternoon and
evening. What's got your goat, Paul?" I didn't answer her for a long while.
"I was thinking about Dallas," I finally
said. "I guess it put me in a blue funk."
Of course she kept on digging until I told her about the old
photographs. She went silent for a few minutes.
"Oh my God! I forgot all about them. They
were in the garage?"
"Uh huh. I forgot about them, too."
"Can I see them?" she asked quietly.
"Now?"
"Yes, please," she answered. I got out of
bed and went out to the garage and got them.
"Oh my God," She said looking through the
top few photos. "Look how young I look." I looked over her shoulder at the
photos.
"Lori," I said. "You looked like a million
dollars back then, but to tell you the truth, you look a lot better now." She cut her eyes at me and laughed disbelievingly.
I was serious and I told her so. Maturity works great on Lori. She went back to
looking through the stack of pictures then started over again. "Look," she said
holding one out for me to see. It was taken just after we got married. It was a
picture I had taken of Lori sucking Dallas' cock. Dallas had even gone with us
on our honeymoon. "Dallas," she said softly then repeated his name again. "Do
you still miss him?" she asked.
"No," I answered, shaking my head. "Not
for a long time. Not until today, anyway. I had forgotten how much fun he was.
How much fun we had together. Me, you, and Dallas. What a fucking threesome,
huh? A lot of good memories." Lori got up, gathered up the scattered photos and
put them back in the cigar box. She put them on the dresser and came back to
bed.
"Yes, Paul, a lot of good memories.
Goodnight, Love," she said, kissing me. I was almost asleep when I heard her
softly say, "A lot of great memories. We should make some more."
Chapter 2
Her words were on my mind the instant I
opened my eyes the next morning. I wasn't sure what she meant by 'making more'
memories. I thought maybe she meant that we should find another friend like
Dallas. Problem was, I didn't want another friend like Dallas had been. Of
course I've had a lot of friends over the years. The guys I played golf with
were friends, but nothing like Dallas had been. I considered myself lucky that
I had one such friend. Lori and I got together with friends for dinner or to
play cards with. After I considered what she said I concluded she had not meant
finding a new best friend. I wasn't absolutely sure I knew, but I thought she
was talking about sex. Even after we stopped the threesome sex, our sex life
had always been active and good. After a few years of marriage we settled into
a comfortable routine. Routine was the exact word. Comfortable might be another
one. Did Lori mean we should open it up again? I thought I was reading her
right. Now my problem was how to bring it up. I wanted to proceed slowly, but
the idea excited me a great deal. I had thrilled watching Lori and Dallas.
Would it be a similar sensation with someone else?
The first time Lori and I did it with
Dallas was special. In fact each and every time we fucked it was special, but
nothing like that very first time. I realized, as I contemplated it, I was hard
as a rock.
Lori was outside scratching around in a
flowerbed. I got coffee and went out to watch her. Lori is always fun to watch.
She glanced up when the storm door slammed.
"Good morning," she said. "Are you over
your blue funk?" I laughed and told her I was over it. "Good," she said wiping
the sweat from her brow. "We're going to have to go, you know?" I knew exactly what she meant. After Dallas had been killed they shipped his
body back to his home of record which was Philadelphia. I've always thought we
hadn't gone to the funeral because we couldn't afford the money or the time. I
knew better, of course. It had been the profound act of cowards. We had been
too stupid or too afraid to realize we needed the closure. A rainy Saturday had
apparently changed our thinking. Lori was absolutely right. We would have to go
close a chapter that had been open for way too long.
We hadn't known his parents at all and we
had only met his younger brother once. I spoke with Chad, the brother,
sometimes just after the funeral and never again. Once a few years ago got a Christmas card
from Chad Murphy telling us his parents had both died earlier that year. That
was the last message we had from him. I responded with a card telling him how
sorry we were, but I hadn't followed up.
Since I have a lot of resources at my beck
and call, I didn't have a lot of trouble finding out where Chad Murphy lived
and worked. He was still in Philadelphia. He was surprised to hear from me, and
even more surprised when I told him Lori and I were coming to visit Dallas'
grave. I'm sure he was curious, but he didn't question me about the sudden and
long overdue journey. He volunteered to meet us and take us to the military
memorial park where Dallas was buried.
Since Lori and I both had vacation plans already in the mill, it wasn't
any trouble to shift them around a bit. I called the airline and made
reservations for the following Monday.
***
Being in Philly was a first for both Lori
and I. I'm bound to say the flight time did not seem quite as long as the
check-in through security. Air travel has become a pain in the ass since 9/11.
Chad met us and we all took a minute to
appraise each other. I remembered him as a pimple-faced teenager. Of course he
had matured. He had changed from a gawky boy into a handsome man, full of
confidence. Chad had a startling
resemblance to Dallas. Not so much in looks, but in action, and mannerisms. His
laugh, especially his laugh, took some getting used to. He sounded exactly how
I remembered Dallas laughing.
"So, do you want to get to your hotel
first or go to the cemetery? I've cleared the whole day to do anything you want
to do," Chad said. I told him that we didn't want to put him out and that we
could get a taxi or rent a car. "Are you kidding me?" he said with that oh so
familiar laugh. "Big brother would rise out of the grave and thrash me if I
didn't show his friends around. Tell me what you want to do."
"Cemetery," Lori said. "Too long overdue."
That settled it.
Chad kept up a running commentary as he
drove us out to the military cemetery. He told us he was divorced and not even
looking. He told us that his next woman would be a rental. Lori seemed to think
that was funnier than I thought it was.
The thing I had dreaded the most turned
out to be...well, okay. Of course there were tears, but nothing like I expected.
We said hello to the grave site and then we talked about all the good times we
had enjoyed together, and then after about half an hour we said goodbye.
Closure, so simple, yet sometimes so hard to get. Now we had it and it felt
good. I felt, and Lori agreed later, that a great weight had been lifted.
Chad took us to the hotel and dropped us
off, but not before we agreed to let him buy our dinner that night. Over dinner we discovered that Chad owned his
own consulting firm.
"Yes sir, we're the people who will borrow
your watch and charge you to tell you the time of day," he said laughing. "I
hope you'll let me show you my city," he said. "I have plenty of time and I'd
really like to do it." After getting Lori's nod, I agreed. Our travel plans
were very flexible. He took us back to the hotel and said he would see us in
the morning.
"Chad seems nice, doesn't he?" Lori said.
We were getting ready for bed. "A lot like Dallas, I think."
"Yeah, I wonder if he's hung like Dallas
was?" I asked. Lori giggled. I had to
wonder if she wanted to make some new memories with Chad. Lori and I made love
that night. When I made the overture she indicated she was more than ready.
After we finished I lay awake for a while thinking about the different levels
of sex. Making love, for example, was always nice. It's the loving and friendly
coupling of two people who are in love. The other extreme was fucking. Similar,
but vastly different. Hot sweaty passionate fucking was my favorite, but it had
been a while since we had done that. Monkey love was what Lori used to call it
in the bygone days.