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.