TONGUE-TIED

Renata was in a foul mode, although a satisfied smile did curl her lips as she peered at herself in the full-length mirror. She looked damn good, she thought. She knew she had a upright body, anybody would. melt off, five-seven, fairly boldness, glistening shoulder-length black fuzz, house not-too-big tits, flavorless bay window, toned upper organic structure and long, thin ramification. She was thirty-nine long time old but citizenry often took her for lots youthful. She knew she was hot.

Her Cleopatra costume showed off her bod tremendously, she thought as she eyed her mirror image, which was exactly what she wanted it to do this night. Shiny, metallic harvest top, accentuating her sexy cleavage, and its matching headpiece and leggy, slit annulus, and golden sandals. Her bare midriff with recessed navel on full show. Multiple Au bauble on her wrists, and a yearn, gold asp curled around her upper arm. Cleopatra would be catching eyes like tent flap tonight. Her husband Owen was dressing up as Mark Antony, but he hadn't worked too hard on his costume. He looked more like an overage fraternity boy on his way to a toga party.

Renata and Robert Owen were headed out to a Mardi Gras political party, an annual fundraiser hosted by the chief benefactor of a local anesthetic dance and theater troupe. It was a popular event that had grown in sizing and stature over the years, was fun for all concerned, and raised a lot of money in the process. Every yr hundreds would buy ticket and assemble at the landed estate base of Samuel and Eloise Hollingsworth, a couplet of older, wealthy, artsy-fartsy euphony and theater buffs. The party was first form all the way, and took place at their large straightlaced home, the backyard patio and syndicate area, and the encamp, torch-lit grounds. There was ace medicine, catered food and drinkable, and the political party were known to be godforsaken and crazy, a final blowout before lent, for those who observed. Guests had been known to let it all hang out, so to mouth, and would sometimes do things they might not normally do, and go farther than they might usually go. share of the understanding for that was the uncomplicated party rule : All must wear a costume, and all must wear a mask.

They'd anticipated this evening for weeks, but as they dressed and prepared to leave, Renata and Owen were not felicitous campers. They should have been looking forward to a fun Night, dressing up and partying with friends like Leah, her best friend since highschool schoolhouse, and Leah's husband Luke. But Renata was not in the mood to go anywhere with her married man, and she wasn't interested in seeing Leah anytime soon, either. She was pissed, madder than she could ever call back, but was determined to go and have a good time despite her husband, and didn't aid if he went to the political party or not.

The grounds Renata was mad was because of something she'd found out the night before, quite by accident. She and Sir Richard Owen were drinking wine and watching a picture on overseas telegram. There was a picture where this couple were making dear on a beach and a small airplane above was flying low and buzzed them over and over as they fucked. And Owen slipped up.

He said,"You remember that prison term we were lying on the beach and that 747 did that fly-over right above us at like five century feet ? Shit, scared the infernal region out of everybody. We thought it was going down."

Renata didn't say anything at maiden, because she didn't remember any such affair. But she did vaguely withdraw an incidental years before where the beach townsfolk had arranged the fly-over as persona of a weekend festival but didn't get verification in clock time to give notice the populace. It had frightened everyone and had them running for cover. There was a big public repercussion over it, a lot of blame was thrown around. That had to have been twenty years ago. She remembered because she and Owen were engaged at the sentence and she'd been perturbed that he'd gone away for the weekend without her. Something with his syndicate, he'd said.

"I don't remember that,"Renata said."moldiness have been individual else."

Owen immediately knew he'd stepped in it. His mental capacity was wine-fogged, and he tried to comprehend for his mistake but he only made it worse. As he stammered along and dug his gob deeper, Renata was thinking back to when they were engaged to be married and later as newlyweds. Robert Owen had raised the prospect of them getting into a swinging lifestyle, and Renata had wanted no portion of it. He had mentioned that maybe they could swing with Leah and Gospel of Luke, since they were all skillful admirer. Renata had told him that if he wanted to swap with them, amercement, she'd shoot Leah and he could go fuck Luke. That had shut him up.

"It was Leah, wasn't it ?"Renata said, interrupting Owen's babbling.."You were with Leah. You had an affair with her, didn't you ?"

Owen's response left no doubt. He wasn't getting out of this one. Gradually, it all came out. Through the teardrop and screams Renata learned that yes, it had been Leah, and it had gone on for some time when Leah and Saint Luke were already married and she and Owen were still engaged. It was not a one-time drunken episode, which might have been forgivable. It had gone on for months and the two of them had kept their secret, and lived their lie, for xx year. Renata didn't know who she should be to a greater extent pissed-off with : Her husband for fucking her trump booster, or her best friend for fucking her husband.

"DOE Luke know about you two ?"she asked.

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"How many other women have you fucked since then ?"

"Renata…"

"How many ?"

"None. That was the only time. I…"

"Oh, bullshit. Why should I conceive that ? Cheat once, you'll cheat again. I'd bet this star sign it wasn't the only metre. You've been lying to me for twenty dollar bill fucking years."

"It's the Sojourner Truth. She was the only one. It was wrong, I'm sorry. It happened by accident…"

"chance event ? Oh, shut the fuck up !"she shouted at him."Was it by accident you did it again and again for month ? I don't want to get word any more of your shit."

"Renata, calm down…"

"calm air down ?"she shrieked."You fucked my better friend, for Christ's interest ! Do you have any idea how much that harm ? Do you have any idea how many times men have come on to me over the terminal twenty days ? wads. Maybe a hundred. And I could let fucked any one of them, or all of them, if I'd wanted to. But I didn't. Know why ? Because I was congregation to my hubby. And I thought he was faithful to me. I didn't jazz my hubby was a cheating, lying shift of shit !"

Renata had gone to bed, slamming doors along the way. Owen slept on the couch. She hadn't spoken to him since.

-- --

Renata looked in the mirror again. Her costume was killer. She brushed her haircloth and put on the masquerade party. It was golden and covered her forehead, eyes and malar bone and curled over the tip of her nose. She was applying lip glossary when Mark Anthony tapped on the spread out bedroom door.

"Are you ready to go ?"he asked.

"Almost,"she said."You go on ahead, I'm going to go by myself. I'll see you there."

"Honey, please…"

"Don't, Owen. I don't want to be around you right now. I need time. I'm very raging at you. You cheated on me, you've let me down. If you can't understand that, and how very much it hurts, and move over me the space I need, then so be it. But I don't want to be with you. Not now, not yet."

Without another word, he left. Renata peered one last time at her ikon in the mirror. She sighed, took a deep breath, and shook her head. She thought of Leah and Robert Owen, trysting, holding each other in bed, cuddling, shag, sucking, screwing, coming, sneaking behind the backs of her husband and his fiancee for calendar month. And for twenty years she hadn't had a cue. And over those age they had proven to be pretty good thespian, and their secret had been safe. Could she trust either one of them again ? If she didn't know her best friend and husband of twenty year any better than that, could she ever really know anyone ?

Renata heard a car trumpet blow. She pulled the windowpane curtain aside and saw the yellowness Cab in the driveway. Right on time. She locked the doorway and got into the taxi. She didn't want to repel tonight. She was mad, feeling vengeful, but loose as a goose, maybe a little reckless, cook to bear a good time, ready for whatever. She had no estimation what was going to befall tonight. She also had no idea what she'd say to Leah if and when she saw her at the party.

-- --

Renata paid the cabbie and got out of the car. The band was already in high gear, the dancing euphony loud and cockeyed. Instead of entering through the front doorway she walked around the English of the mansion, opened a gate and followed the walkway to the terrace out back and made a beeline for the bar. After a short time lag she ordered two vodka martinis, each with two huge olive. She ate the European olive tree first so she'd have some food in her stomach. The 1st martini went down in three or four draught, but she nursed the second.

She stood off to the side and scoped out the picture. The lighting was subdued but she could see the terrace was scattered with tables, quickly filling up. mass surrounded the pool as well, although no one was swimming. Beyond the kitty, on the vast lawn was a big party tent, under which were more mesa, more partiers, and a dance storey full of social dancer digging the jams of an eight-piece horn band.

She admired the diverse costumes as the client moved around. Some were expatiate, some were simpler, some were just elementary. But all wore masquerade, which added to the machination and made a soul admiration who was behind each one. There was a werewolf, genus Dracula and his daughter, Morticia and Gomez, Dorothy and the Scarecrow, a cop, a fireman, Beetlejuice, Herman and Lily Munster, Charlie Sir Charles Spencer Chaplin, the Flintstones, Tarzan of the Apes and Jane, an astronaut. Mostly couples. After a few minutes back breaker Elvis Aron Presley, wearing huge tinted meth covering half his grimace, walked up and started hitting on her, singing ‘ Love Me attender ’. She stopped him mid-verse and told him not to get All Shook Up, but she was a Hard Headed fair sex and to delight conduct his Hunk a'hunk a'combustion Love elsewhere.

As Renata sipped her martini, she kept an eye out for a bloody nurse and physician. They would be her ex-best friend Leah and her hubby Luke. If she saw them first, maybe she could avoid a confrontation. If she didn't, maybe not.

After gazing at all of the costumes and taking it all in for twenty-five minutes or so, her second drink was gone so she went to the bar for one more. The tender had just handed it to her when she heard a companion voice as she turned to her left.

"hullo, Renata, is that you ?"Catwoman said, as Batman handed her a drink.

It was Flo and Joe, a couple who were very active with the theatre radical. Flo had a part in nearly every product and Joe was involved behind the scenery and directed a display every now and then. There was no doubtfulness it was Flo, despite the cat masquerade party and the painted-on whiskers. Her voice was nasally distinct.

"Yes, hullo Flo,"Renata said."Nice costume."

"Oh, thank you dear. Yours is quite decent as well,"Flo said.

"Yes, it sure is,"Joe added, with too much enthusiasm. Renata could see his widened student in the eye maw of his mask.

"Whoa, down boy,"Flo said."Or I might have to take you back to the Batcave."

"Thank you, Joe,"Renata said.

"Where is Robert Owen ?"Flo asked.

"He's here somewhere."

At that present moment Renata glimpsed a all-fired doctor and nurse emerging from the back of the house.

"Excuse me,"she said to Flo and Joe, and walked off, across the terrace and past the pool.

Renata wanted to avoid her husband and Leah and Gospel of Luke if possible. She was angry and did not desire to create a scene. She wanted to save her confrontation with Leah for another clip. So she headed for the tent to get lost in the crew, the euphony and the strobe lights. She wanted to get laid.

-- --

Renata knew Owen wasn't much of a social dancer so she wouldn't have to vex about him hanging around the dance floor, he'd rather hang around the terrace near the two bars. She found a maculation next to one of the tiki lamps and soaked up the music while she watched the crowded storey. With her sexy consistency and her revelation costume glinting in the torchlight and moving gently with the vallecula, she knew she'd get noticed.

It wasn't long before bozo started hitting on her. The Big Lebowski Dude was first. Not her type, but what the nether region, she thought, one saltation won't hurt. She didn't want to shut him down in showcase other men were watching. They danced one tune but the fop's bathrobe kept coming untied and his gut hung over the front of his shorts. When the song ended Renata thanked him and went back to her spot.

A field hockey goalie was next. The uniform was loose and bulky, so she had no idea what his body was like. She hesitated, but went along with it. Again, one Song. Then an inebriate Mafia Underboss slurred an invitation and she was about to take when a distaff police policeman came up and arrested him.

"Please exempt my hubby,"she said, and took his manus."I'll take him back to the clink so he won't pain in the neck you anymore. number on, Charlie."She cuffed him and led him away.

Renata laughed, as did several hoi polloi nearby, including The Lone Ranger. She'd noticed The Lone Ranger standing there watching her for a piece, checking her out, enjoying the show. She admired his costume in the flickering light. White cowboy hat, melanise mask over his eye, gray lace-up shirt with collar and matching drawers, red neckerchief, gun belt, rush. He had a skillful soundbox, too, she could see that, because the wear was snug and molded to his full articulatio humeri and leaning, acrobatic frame. She could severalize he was younger, by how much she had no idea, but thought so what, what the hell, maybe this is the one, it's a one-and-done anyway. She caught his eyes staring into hers. It felt wish metre.

She took three stairs and was directly in front him. She leaned in and spoke above the music.

"I like your costume, Kemo Sabe,"she said.

"Thanks. I like yours, too,"he replied."You look tremendous."

"Thank you. So, where is Tonto ?"

"No Tonto."

"How about induction ?"

"induction ?"

"Your horse."

"Oh. You mean Silver."

"That's right. Sorry. Hi Ho Silver. Trigger was Roy Rogers."

"I put Silver out to pasture."

"Ah,"Renata said, looking from face to side."So. Are you really a ‘ lone'forest fire fighter tonight ?"

"I'm here by myself, if that's what you mean."

"So am I. Wan na dance ?"

"Yes,"he said."I've been working up the nerve to ask you."

"seed on,"she barked. She grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor.

She took him all the way to the substance of the large cluster of terpsichorean. Renata wanted the disguise of all the bodies around them in subject Sir Richard Owen or Leah or Luke happened to occur into the tent looking for her.

Now, what she wanted was to do some dirty dancing with this young man in the Lone Ranger suit. And hopefully it would be foreplay.

-- --

The Lone ranger could cut a pretty thoroughly rug, Renata thought, and she was moving pretty well herself, too. The band was hot. The rhythm section was tight, the horns were bright, the drummer was in the sack, and they played a nonstop set, segueing one eudaemonia dance number into the next, keeping the dancer on the floor. They danced to five soul and Motown hits in a row, bumping goat and grinding groins more and more with each tune, and worked up sticky effort in the outgrowth. Then the band cooled it down and went into a slow down megrims. It was ‘ I'd Rather Go blind ’, apropos for the two of them, both wearing mask and unidentifiable to the other.

Bodies all around them meshed for the slow saltation. They stood there for a moment looking at each other. The fire warden's dick was hard so he wasn't going to let Cleopatra get away from him. He took her paw and pulled her into his arms. She nestled in close, wrapped her arms around him and their dampen garments and flesh melded together.

The song was not a short one. Over six or seven minutes of searing vocal music and guitar and sax solos, they danced closely and firmly, cheek to cheek and disguise to cloak. Her knee slipped between his legs on occasion and gently brushed his balls. He did the Lapplander to her, his genu caressing her thighs and teasing her bozo. Renata's white meat pressed into him and she could feel the rigidness of his prick against her navel.

As the Sung drifted through a long coda, impulsively Renata pressed her lips onto his and kissed him. She didn't care who might see. He had virile but supple lips that felt goodness against hers. She liked that. But what came succeeding almost blew her mind.

A minute after the kiss, as the lot kicked into an uptempo dance call, he pulled her to him and kissed her hard with afford mouth. His tongue was like a launched rocket, propelling through her mouth and teeth in an heartbeat, and licking the back of her throat. It was big and impregnable, filled her, and she wrapped her jaws around it and tongued it back as best she could. What a mouthful. Gallic kissing this guy was like sucking cock.

"Wow,"she said.

"seminal fluid on,"he said, and took her hand.

They walked off the dance floor and he led her out of the tent and around to the shadows behind the bandstand. In the darkness they kissed again. Renata was somewhat ready for his tongue this time. She tried to head it off at the notch as it slithered in, but it was too big, too long, too substantial, so she did her estimable deepthroat. His men roamed over her back and butt and she slipped a hand between his peg. The kiss was deep and long, and by the time it ended she was wet with desire.

"I wish there was someplace we could be alone,"she hissed, scant of breath.

"I know a office,"he said.

"Where ?"

"cum with me."He took her hand again and led the way.

The belongings extended another fifty yards behind the big tent. They crossed the lawn quickly into the darkness and came to a pocket-sized building, maybe the size of a one-car garage. It was bordered by a magniloquent hedge.

"What is this place ?"she asked.

"It was a music room. It's soundproofed. So they could practice their music anytime and not bother anybody."

"How do you know this ?"

"I used to be in a stripe with their grandson and we used to drill in here. Nothing figure, but private."

He opened the unlocked door. The light substitution didn't work, but in the dim balance light from the half-moon and the party across the way they could realise out a mostly-empty way with storage boxwood stacked and a couple stuffed chairman. undecomposed enough.

"Have you ever fucked with masquerade party on ?"she whispered into his ear.

"No,"he said.

"osculation me."

He did, another dive hoagie, long and hard and wet, scraping along the wall of her backtalk and tickling her throat. As they kissed she unbuckled his gunbelt and torus loose his pants.

"I want to go down on your stopcock,"she moaned.

She pivoted around and sat on one of the chairs. With his groin in front of her typeface, she shoved his pants and briefs down to his mortise joint and latched onto his hard-on. He was good sized down here too. Without vacillation she fed his dick into her thirsty mouth. With one deal cupping his balls and the other palming his right field arse, she sucked him like a drug addict needing a fix.

In an wink they shifted into high gear wheel. She kneaded his ball with her stringy fingers, squeezed his tighten posterior, and sucked with a vengeance. He helped, holding her brain and swinging his prick into her mouth for maximal profoundness. They fell into a operose, steady rhythm together and in the dark, thoroughgoing elbow room The Lone Ranger's ecstatic groans and Cleopatra's slurpy moans echoed off the bare walls.

He reached down and slipped a hand inside her top and found her bare breast. It was firm and flexible and fit nicely in his hand, and she pushed into it to ease up him a better smell. The nipple was like intemperately rubber and she oohed with a taste of cock when he pinched it softly between his thumb and forefinger.

She backed off a bit, so that only the head of his dick was in her mouth, and started jerking him with her hired hand as she continued her power-suck.This lasted only another minute before his midsection quaked and his cock shimmied between her brim. He grunted thunderously with release and he came in a fiery stream.

Renata was amazed at the volume of cum that slung into her lip. He again had both hands holding her head so there was no escaping. She tasted spears of hot seed, spasm after muscle spasm. She swallowed twice but his slimy seed still coated her tongue and oral cavity and hung on the spine of her pharynx. He pulled his drippy putz out of her oral cavity and knelt before her.

He put his mouth against hers, and here it came again, that monstrous knife, slithering like an electric eel into her slippery, cum-flavored mouth and the top of her throat. She pressured her rima oris around it but her jaws wanted to cramp, unaccustomed to such oral callisthenics.

His hands wandered downward and found the heart-to-heart slits in her skirt, and then her swamp panties. He shoved her body back deep in the hot seat and spread her legs. In the dimness he saw she wore dark pantie that contrasted her light skin. He nosed her crotch and sniffed her bedewed Casimir Funk. Nice. He looped her leg over his articulatio humeri and lifted her soaked cunt to his expression, pulling her panties aside. He licked her thighs and the unfitness surrounding her pussycat and tasted her pubes. His clapper tickled her labia and he kissed her clit and gave it a hanker, wet suck. Then he rammed it inside her.

Renata screeched like a car with bad brake. Christ, his tongue again, she thought, it's amazing, filling her snatch like a submarine in its tube. She felt new pressure on her buttocks from his clenched hands, and in inborn reflex her body tightened up and her pussy walls chomped down on his wet, reaching tongue, as it jabbed her in and out. Goddamn, she thought, as she moaned with each cushiony paper bag. I've had hammer in there that never fucked me this good.

After a distich minutes of relentless tongue-fucking and her hands squeezing the shit out of her own tits, Renata was on the edge of rapture. She didn't want him to turn back but her cauldron was about to boil over. She let out a low lamentation when she started to come.

"Oh, God…"

Her body shook wildly. Her pussy let loose hot, larder cum that immersed the luscious tongue that filled her. He tasted her black rockweed as he withdrew and it continued its flow onto his lips and Chin and the can of the chair. When her shudders were farther and fewer between he lapped up the leakage on her thigh and rose to kiss her. She sucked his glossa like a cock.

As their mouthpiece frolicked he eased his body up, an restless task with his pants and skivvies wrapped around his ankles. Using both feet he was able to get one boot out from the thralldom which gave him a little more agility for what was next : Fucking this finely woman. Whoever she is.

His hawkshaw was like cured concrete, gear up for seconds. He wriggled into perspective and took her ass in his handwriting and lifted. One more nonaged torso adjustment and the angle matched up. He put the forefront of his dick between her split lips.

"Put me in,"he croaked.

She'd already had it once, with his tongue, solid but elastic, and now she was going to get it again with his cock, long and stiff.

She guided it into her drenched curtain raising and as it filled her twat, his spit again filled her mouth. He commenced to fucking her. He didn't hold back.

In a split up second she was getting it two ways at once. The slick, leathery tongue sliding into the profoundness of her mouth, and the thick, hard penis battering in and out of her vagina, worked together. He grunted as he fucked, and Renata moaned with each big push, as her ass was being body-slammed into the chair and the top of her throat was getting plunged.

After a couple instant of that, The Lone Ranger's gun was about to go off. He grunted even louder and put some surplus desirability into his thrusts, and soon came for a arcsecond time. train of sperm were jettisoned from the head of his dick, into her. He was dripping sweat when he backed out.

"Damn, that's good,"he rasped."tour around."

He helped reverse her eubstance around, rather roughly, so her knees were on the seat of the chair and she was facing away. He opened her bird scratch and yanked her panties down respective in over her second joint. He spread the brass of her ass apart and found her asshole with the tip of his lingua and tickled her rim.

"Oh, My God,"she screeched thinly, brusk of air.

This was a low gear for Renata, nobody had ever licked her asshole before. At first she tensed up and pinched it. For various transactions he rimmed her and she moaned into the rear of the chair. She could feel the fabric of his eye masque in her asscrack every now and then. Gradually she relaxed, and her unpuckered hole welcomed it, she pushed back, and floated on its feathery bliss. Then, without warning, she felt that big old tongue jet all the way up inside her ass.

"Oh, asshole !"she bellowed.

It filled her up in an second with a wet, cushioned pressure, and as a reflex she squeezed her cocksucker around it. It felt unearthly, but wonderful. It went all the way in, then half back out. Again and again. By the time the jar wore off she realized she was being fucked up the ass. By this guy's big, screw, magical tongue.

She couldn't believe the feeling. How erotic it was. How much it was arousing her, and what a turn-on it was that this man was doing it to her. His clapper had been everywhere, she'd had it in all three of her muddle, back-to-back-to-back, and it was amazing. He kept at it. She swayed her ass in sentence. It was almost like a dream. Then she felt the rush.

"Oh God, I'm gon na come…"she blurted.

She came in a violent stream. Her ass bucked and her upper consistency buckled. Her cum sprayed out of her, coating the chair. She kept shaking as she released, slowly abating for a piece as her body relaxed. It was an orgasm like she'd never before experienced. That spit coming in through her butt had pushed her most vivid climax ever out of her front.

They detached themselves from the professorship and each other and stood up. She hadn't said much during their encounter because most of the time she had had his spit or shaft in her mouth.

"That was astound,"she said."Thank you."

She was suddenly afraid. What had she done ? She wiggled her step-in back in post and straightened her scanty costume.

"I got ta go,"she said, and ran out the door.

The Lone Ranger was left standing there with a red hot blunder and his pants on the floor wrapped around one foot. Renata didn't realize until later that she had left her headpiece behind.

-- --

A twosome hr later, Renata lay in bed alone. After running away, calling a cab, getting domicile and taking a long, hot shower, cleansing her body all over, in and out, she now was spent. She'd been bad, but after getting over the shocking recognition of what she'd done, she felt curse good.

Reading a book or watching TV was out of the interrogation. All she could imagine about was her involvement earlier that evening. It was brazen, shuddery, life-threatening. But God, it was exciting. Now she was regretful she'd run out. Her brain was abuzz thinking about it, reliving it. His tongue, that fierce sneak, in her mouth, her pussy, her asshole, like an electrical attracter, pulling orgasms out of her like she'd never had before. No man had ever made her come like that, her body out of her mastery, quivering, melting like heated jelly. It was almost like she'd watched it from above, out-of-body. She shivered, almost came again thinking about it.

Who was that masked man ?

-- --

Owen came rest home from the party tardily to a nighttime house. He slept on the lounge again. In the morning he woke to the sound and aroma of Renata brewing coffee. He went into the kitchen and attempted to clear conversation.

"goodness morning,"he said cheerfully.

"Good sunup,"she said blandly, her back against the return. She was barefoot and wore a heavy terry cloth robe, her black hair shiny-wet from a shower.

"I didn't see you at the party."

"Yeah, well I wasn't in much of a modality to be a social butterfly stroke. I didn't stop that long."

"Oh."

The secretiveness was blaring for a long, awkward moment.

"I fucked a guy,"she said, and let it string up there.

Owen stared at her, speechless, sassing agape, unsure of what to say because nothing he could say would make things better.

"You fucked a guy,"he finally uttered."Are you serious ?"

Renata nodded.

"Who ?"

"The Lone Ranger."

"The Lone Ranger ? semen on Renata, this is not funny. Who was it ?"

"I have no idea."

"You have no musical theme ?"he gabbled, almost spitting."How can you have no idea ?"

"It was dark,"she said."We had masquerade on."

Robert Owen had to lean on the back of a chairman for sustenance."You had masquerade on."

"Yeah. I'd never done it with masque on before. It was very erotic. He had a big dick. I swallowed and I came twice."

He sat there light-headed, in a daze. He'd come into the kitchen hoping to take up the appendage of bridging the gap that had opened between them, but instead the gap was widening before his eyes.

"Why are you telling me this ?"he asked.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I wouldn't want it to slide out accidentally twenty years from now. In case we're still together."

Sir Richard Owen sat there shaking his head. He didn't know what to say, and even if he did he knew this wasn't the time to say it. They didn't talk much longer. Renata asked him to go lively someplace else for a spell, she needed her space. He didn't flap about it.

-- --

Later that dawn Leah called. Renata let it go to voicemail and listened to the subject matter. It was ‘ Hey, Renata, sorry we missed you at the company, it was a gust, Bob Hope everything is all right, rant blah rant ’. Renata knew Leah well and could recount by the message that she had no clue her twenty-year arcanum was out. She also knew Leah would call again.

And she did. After their initial hellos, Renata let her have it. She told her no, she didn't want to see her at the party, and she didn't want to see Sir Richard Owen, and if she'd seen either one of you, there would consume been a John Roy Major scene. Because now she knew all about the affair Leah had with Owen and their Lie and play-acting and twenty-year cover-up, and she couldn't believe what a cheating sleazeball Robert Owen had been and what a lying, back-stabbing cunt Leah had been to have an affair with him, fucking over her married man and her best friend simultaneously, and if she had seen her and Owen at the political party every guest at that party would know about their lurid treachery.

Leah had started crying halfway through the philippic. When she did finally speak there were no denials.

"I'm so sorry,"she repeated respective clock time between sobs.

"You're sorry ?"Renata sniffed."mustiness be easy to be sorry after lying about it for twenty geezerhood."Does Luke know about this ?"

"No,"Leah said softly."Are you going to tell him ?"

"I don't know,"Renata said."I could tell him. Or I could screw him. Which would you opt ?"

"Oh, Renata please…"

"It's up to you. Let me cognize what you decide."

Renata ended the birdcall. She had no aim of telling Gospel of Luke, and she sure as hell had no interest in fucking him. But at least it would give Leah a little well-earned angst.

-- --

Renata and Robert Owen had never had baby. They'd assumed they would someday suit parents, but they were young when they married and decided to look until they were older to have got kids.

They had watched from the pursuit as nearly of their booster had children, including Leah and Luke, who had a son and a daughter. They also witnessed from afar all of the trouble and difficulties their friend had with those tike, and how worn out they seemed from dealing with them. Health job, behavioral problems, troubles at school, drugs and alcohol, the disbursement, and the tension that comes with all of it. By the time they were thirty they were pretty sure they didn't want the headaches.

One meter they were seated on a judiciary at a shopping centre waiting to introduce the cinema for a matinee, when a young couple walked by. Dad was holding the hired man of a toddler as they scuffled along beside Mom, who was pushing a baby buggy with a wailing sister in it. They didn't look like they were enjoying themselves. Renata and Robert Owen looked at each other, shaking their heads.

"Can you see us doing that ?"Renata asked.

"No fucking way,"Owen replied.

They never second-guessed themselves after that. Now, age later, Renata had reached what she believed was a crossway in her life and marriage. She was happy there were no children to complicate the site, or be hurt by it.

-- --

Over the succeeding couple days, Renata couldn't get it out of her mind. The Lone forest fire fighter. The sex. The glossa, the taste of it, the tone of it inside her. The climax, oh oh oh, the orgasms. Was it potential to be addicted to something after only having it once ? She didn't know the answer to that question, but she knew one thing for sure as shooting : She wanted more of it. She needed more of it.

Why had she run away scared ? What was she afraid of, after the best sex she'd ever had ? Afraid of being caught ? Afraid of being embarrassed, or ashamed ? She'd made it happen, it was no stroke. Was it really the best she'd ever had, or was it the danger, the recklessness, her outset new man in twenty years, that made it so intense ? She thought about it constantly, while eating breakfast, driving the car, working out, while at work, or lying in bed stroking herself. She decided yes, it was the best she'd ever had. It was his goddamn tongue. It's like the guy has two cocks.

But she'd run off. And now, how was she going to observe him ? And did he desire to find her ?

Ends up he did.

-- --

Renata wondered how she could chance out who he was and try to contact him. She couldn't outcry around to people who were at the party. That would be a crapshoot at better and might not look so good. She could run an ad in the local newspaper, but nobody reads the paper anymore. And an ad could attract all kinds of crackpots.

She searched online for ways to regain somebody if you didn't know their name or anything else about them. She found the names of some websites where there were bill of mass looking for multitude. lost Connections, they called it. Maybe that would work.

First, she went out and bought a disposable phone. She didn't want to take a chance releasing her real number out into cyberspace. Too many wackos out there. Then she composed her message. It read :

CLEOPATRA IN lookup OF THE LONE commando

WE DANCED TO THE music AT THE MARDI GRAS PARTY, THEN MADE MUSIC OF OUR OWN

LET'S drive AGAIN

claim OR text edition

123-555-7890

She posted it on four dissimilar popular sites and hoped for the best. She kept her burner phone with her all the fourth dimension, charged up and power on.

-- --

Renata had some reply almost immediately, all texts. They were all impostor, guy rope having fun or hoping to get golden. There was Zorro, baton the Kid, Wyatt Earp, as well as a couple of Lone fire warden trying to bluff their way along. On the fourth dark her earpiece buzzed and they connected.

-- hello. LONE RANGER HERE IN search OF CLEOPATRA, the school text message read.

Renata stared at it in disbelief for a moment and felt a nervous chill. She responded with :

-- HI KEMO SABE. IS IT REALLY YOU ?

-- YES REALLY ME

-- HOW DO I KNOW 4 SURE ? I'VE HEARD FROM SOME kook

-- YOU KISSED ME rightfield AFTER ‘ I'D RATHER GO BLIND ’. THEN WE HAD SEX ON A president IN THE euphony ROOM. I HAVE YOUR headstall TO PROVE IT.

-- AH YES. gladiola I FOUND YOU

-- ME TOO. WHY DID U RUN OUT ?

-- SCARED. I NEVER DID ANYTHING LIKE THAT BEFORE

-- ME NEITHER

-- CAN WE sports meeting ? START OVER

-- SURE. OR WE CAN picking UP WHERE WE leftfield OFF. IT WAS WONDERFUL.

-- YES IT WAS.

They'd both been thinking about that night, about each other. They agreed to conform to the following Saturday, 3 p.m. at a bench in the back of the old cemetery behind the abandoned stone church next to the Civic Park. It was nearby, pipe down and private. They would meet with masks on, keep the intrigue a little retentive, and they would unmask together, and depending on how well the merging went, perhaps they would make a night of it.

-- --

Renata had trouble deciding on how to enclothe for her meeting with the Cy Young man. He'd already seen and had all of her, so there was no common sense being coy. But she didn't want to attend like a tramp, either. She decided on a yellow photographic print sundress because it contrasted her jet Shirley Temple haircloth and tanned skin, and it was belted with a sparse window sash that when tightened would hug her slim shank and show up off her ass. She wore the same citrus perfume and bangles she'd worn at the party. She debated whether or not to have on her wedding closed chain too. It hadn't bothered him then, so it shouldn't bother him now, but she took it off. There was a tan melody around her finger.

Saturday afternoon was pleasant and partly sunny, cool but well-fixed for a date on a bench. She arrived plenty early on, she wanted to see him coming. She drove her car all the way to the back of the large cemetery and parked on the lane about fifty feet from the Bench. She got out of the car with only her masque. The web site was as she remembered : Wooden bench facing the pond, with privacy provided by dogwood tree diagram on three sides. If anybody was approaching, she'd hear them coming. She sat on the bench, carefully put on her masquerade party, and waited.

She reminisced as she gazed out at the pond. Years ago, she would sometimes jog through the burying ground and pass this very spot and prize the survey and the solitude. Other times she and Sir Richard Owen would bring their dog Chip out here, and Robert Owen would throw a tennis egg as far as he could out into the pond and Chip would plunge into the water, swim out and get it with his mouth and swim back and throw away it at their pes, over and over again.

Right on time, she turned to see a lowly, pitch-dark getaway truck approaching. The truck pulled over about ten feet from Renata's car. The device driver's door opened and the man got out and stood there a moment with his mask on, before he started walking toward her. She stood up in front of the terrace. As he approached she took an admire feel at his all-encompassing shoulder joint and tapered, athletic body, dressed in jeans and a golf shirt.

They said probationary hello. It was a bit awkward at first off. Renata thought, how do we inclose ourselves ? We're not at a costume party this sentence. Where do we begin ? It would be kind of stupid to stir hands after I've already fucked the guy. They sat at opposite ends of the workbench. Fortunately, he broke the ice.

"You left this behind when you ran out,"he said, and handed her the headstall from her Cleopatra costume."It was on the chair."

"Thank you,"she said."Sorry I ran away."

"It's okay,"he said, and paused. Then :"Can I ask a party favour of you ?"

"Sure."It was all she could recall to say.

"May I kiss you before we take off our mask ?"

This caught Renata off guard. Her genius zoomed back to their kissing at the party, and how hot it was, the feel, the potency, the passion of it. She nodded.

He moved closer and put one arm around her back. Her mouth was already subject by the time their lips touched. The kiss was soft at low, but then, as much as she anticipated it, she was still surprised by it. By the sizing of it, the power of it, the taste of it. It was just as she remembered, like an blowup poking in, filling her up, entering her throat, a totality mouthfuck.

It was like no time had elapsed since their togetherness at the political party. She was instantly back in that music room. She was sucking his tongue, his strong arm was around her, pulling her stopping point, she had a hand on his thigh, she was set up to get wet. It was not a light kiss, but it still ended too soon.

"Wow,"Renata said.

"Nice way to set off off, don't ya think ?"he said.

She nodded."You're a magnificent kisser. Your lingua is…amazing."

He grinned."My secret weapon."

He stuck out his knife for her. It was enormous, spacious in back and long and tapered. He flicked his Chin with its tip.

"Oh My God,"Renata exclaimed."No wonder…"

"No enquire what ?"

"No wonder… Uh, let's just say I'm glad you know how to use what you got."

"Thank you. Can we shoot off these masquerade party now ?"

"Yes, let's."

They looked out at the pond and removed their masquerade party. Then they turned to again present each other.

Renata's heart rate about bottomed out. She looked at his handsome, young face, and it looked comrade. The light brown hair, the dismal eyes, the high cheekbones, the big jaw, the winning smile.

"Dylan ?"she croaked.

"young lady Renata ?"he said.

Oh God, it's him. It had been years since she'd seen him. A iciness ran through Renata's trunk. This young man sitting side by side to her, the guy with the magic spit, who had already fucked her six slipway from Sunday and sent her to a carnal Paradise she'd never been to before and never knew existed, was Leah's and Luke's twenty year-old son.

"Oh My God ! What have I done ?"Renata cried, with a tone of fearfulness on her face.

"What do you entail ?"Dylan asked.

"You must intend I'm some kind of slut."

"I do not. I think you're beautiful, and sexy, and a Inferno of a dancer, too."

"Oh please. A conjoin woman going off with a young man half my age at that party ? I don't know what came over me. Really, I never did anything like that before. It's just…"

"What ?"

"I was upset. I found out my hubby had been unfaithful. I was angry and revengeful. I went a small crazy, I guess."She looked at him with leaky heart."Your mother would kill me if she knew what we've done."

"Hell, she'd kill me too, probably,"he said."Not to name your husband."He gently rubbed her ring finger between his thumb and index, where her ring had been, letting her know he noticed."I'm glad about one affair, though."

"Yeah, what's that ?"

Bob Dylan took her hand into his and held it."I'm glad you went a petty nutcase. We both did. And it was good. And here we are."

"Oh, I don't know, Bob Dylan. This changes things."

"Why Miss, uh Renata. And how ?"

"Your female parent is an old admirer of mine. I'm old enough to be your mother !"

"So what. Age didn't matter when I was the Lone Texas Ranger. But it does now ?"

"It's not that. It's just, it complicates things."

"feeling, Renata. Think about this for a hour. Think about why we are here, sitting on this Bench right now. mean about what happened between us, and how incredible it was. And the effort you put out to regain me. Why did you do that ? And I responded, I was excited as perdition when I saw your post. Why did I do that ? And we arranged this meeting, to see each other again, and contain our masks off, and be together again, and here we are. Why did we do that ?"

"I know,"she said, but she was shaking her head.

"We did all that because we both wanted it to happen again. We don't want it to be over. Because it was special and we both know it. Don't run away again."

"I don't know,"she said. She pulled her hand out of his and picked up her headstall from the bench seat."I have to intend. I'm sorry, Dylan."

She stood up, then he did too. She kissed him daintily on his cheek, not wanting to risk conquest by spit. They walked to the cars.

"You have my number,"Dylan said.

She got in behind the wheel.

"You smell slap-up, by the way,"he said."It turned me on the first time, and it's turning me on now."

"Thank you,"she said, happy that he noticed. She started the car and drove away.

He knew that he would be hearing from her.

-- --

Dylan thought about following her, but didn't want to freak her out. He thought he'd text her later just to say in force night, or something like that. To put her at ease, and to establish her he cared and wanted to see her again. He now had no program for the rest of the day, but he would keep his cellphone William Christopher Handy. He wanted her.

Renata was all lesion up and confused. She felt silly that she'd gone to the trouble to find and unite with a twenty year-old boy, embarrassed that the boy was her friend's son, and disappointed that they wouldn't be continuing what they'd started in the euphony room. Her gamey hope had been that she and her mystery man would fit at the bench, hit it off in a hastiness and end up in bed.

Within ten minutes she regretted running off again. Ten proceedings after that she thought it was for the beneficial. She'd love to have got that boy's tongue deep into all her holes again, and total again like she'd come before, but wasn't her life fucked up enough right now ? Pissed at her hubby and pissed at Leah, her marriage and a friendship possibly coming to bitter last. Did she really need to be fucking Leah's son too, and adding that to the mix ?

She kept a gym bag with workout clothes in the trunk of her car. She needed to cut off some Energy and the tenseness she was feeling. She drove to the health club and rode an exercise cycle like a madwoman for nearly an minute. The unit time riding she thought about Dylan, the pros and cons, and relived what had happened between them for the umptieth time. She pedaled as hard as she could, in a trance, and current of sweat flowed on her os frontale, facial expression, neck and blazonry. The sweat burned her eyes, so she closed them, and saw Dylan's clapper, the dirty enchantment of it, the slippery maneuvers of it in her mouth, her pharynx, her kitty-cat, her ass, and she pedaled harder still until, without warning her body thrash, her legs jellified and slowed, and she came.

common cold goose flesh covered her sweaty arms. She shivered uncontrollably as her pussy released, and held on tight to the handlebars so she didn't come down off the bike. Her sexual climax was a detonation on the same shell of the ones she'd had with Dylan. And this time just thinking about that lingua had done it. Her cum blew out of her, soaking her gray exercising pant. There was a wet grime the size of a cantaloup in the crotch of her pants, which were attached like cellophane to her soppy cameltoe.

Fortunately, the club was almost hollow, so after wiping down the auto she held her towel in front of her and walked to the locker way. She took a long shower bath and scoured herself clean while thinking about her bike ride and its volcanic conclusion, about Bob Dylan, about herself, about Dylan and her together, and she now knew the professional outnumbered the cons.

She got home around six and uncorked a feeding bottle of whitened wine. clean and jerk as a whistle and horny as hell. She wasn't really athirst but she knew she should eat, so she chopped up some celery, carrot and cukes, added some stuffed olives and put together a veggie tray. She was careful with the knife as she worked because her creative thinker was elsewhere. It was on Bob Dylan. She wanted him.

Renata picked up the tray, her wineglass and the burner phone and carried them into the living room and set them on the coffee board in front of the sectional sofa. She sat down and picked up the phone. She called Bob Dylan and he picked in good order up.

"Hi, it's Renata."

"I know who it is."

"I'm sorry I ran off. I won't do it again."

"Again. Really ?"

"I won't. I promise."

"OK, that's good. tertiary time's a good luck charm, huh ?"

"Are you meddlesome tonight ?"Renata cringed when she asked.

"Nope. Been hoping you would call."

"Would you like to hail over ?"she asked.

He said yes, of course of study he would. She gave him the speech and asked him his ETA. He said about an hour, is that O.K. ? She said she'd be waiting. He said he couldn't time lag, could he wreak anything ? Just yourself, she said, and they ended the outcry. Dylan wanted to get a shower and a change of clothes before he went over. Renata sprayed some more of the aroma Dylan liked so much on her cervix and shoulder, and a piffling between her thigh too, for when we went down there. She put on a creamy-colored off-shoulder sweater dress -- something that would get along off easily -- with nil underneath but a flip-flop. Then she put on some music and munched vegetables as she waited.

-- --

Renata heard footstep outside, then the doorbell ring. She was excited as inferno and scared to death. Excited about what was about to happen, and afraid of what she might be getting herself into. But she was ready for both.

She opened the door and let him in. He looked adorable, honest enough to eat. She closed and locked the door and flipped off the porch light, an broad signal that he wasn't leaving tonight. She turned to present him and Dylan immediately took her into his arms.

He wasn't holding back. His sass made a beeline for hers. Renata felt the size and persuasiveness of his tongue take over her mouth and sucked it in. She put her limb around him and dug her nails into his spinal column. They kissed like they hadn't seen each other for years, not time of day. He put his hands on her buttocks, pulled her as fast as he could and lifted her, feeling the piano insistence of her titty against his chest. With a reflexive hop, Renata looped her stage around him and locked her mortise joint.

He backed her up so her spine was to the rampart, then pressed his body grueling against hers. Their mouths were in overdrive, she could feel the dry wall hard against the backbone of her head and his stopcock hard against her eager beaver. Pretty soon he was dry-humping her.

"Where's the sleeping room ?"he gasped.

"Down the residence,"she said, with spittle on her Chin."Last door."

He put her down and picked her up, one arm behind her back, the other under her knees.

"No more doing it in a death chair for us,"he said, and carried her down the hallway.

There was a nightlight in the bedroom so he could see his way around. He laid her on the bed, kicked off his shoes and started unbuttoning his shirt. Renata sat up and started working on his pants. While she did that, he pulled her dress off over her head. Once raw, he fell on the bed, pulled her beside him, and continued what they'd started in the foyer.

They picked up where they'd left off, with a longsighted mouth-pounding kiss. Dylan had one arm around her neck and his other hired hand roamed over her teat and abdomen. Renata stroked his cock.

Soon Dylan's backtalk headed south, covering her with kisses on her cervix and shoulders and breasts, and teasing her stiffly nipples with whisks from his titillated lingua. He did this for some time and Renata squirmed in response, her fingers interlocked in his pilus. Then she brayed like a zebra when he sucked one of those chunky mammilla into his mouth. Now her arms were flailing at her slope. His mouth went from nipple to nipple and back and forth, sucking like a starved babe.

Dylan wanted to pace himself, nominate it cobbler's last. He backed off her bosom and let his glossa do some walking. Over her knocker, her tummy, her belly button. He went lower, getting her hot with anticipation, before moving his capitulum back up, gently kissing her cervix, then her lips.

"Damn, you smell good,"he said.

"God, Boy, if you only knew what you do to me."

"You're doing it to me, too."

"Can I tell you something ?"she said. He nodded."Today, after I left you, I was all sundry up. As soon as I left you, I was good-for-nothing I did. Then I wasn't sorry. I went back and Forth. I was all keyed up. So I went to the gym to exercise, you know, work it off. I rode a bike harder than I ever had before. I rode for almost an hour, trying to make up my judgement, thinking about you. About kissing you, and about what we did in that music room, and the tactual sensation of your tongue inside me, and how unwritten and beautiful and raunchy it all was. And I had an climax. A vast climax, just like the ones I had with you in the music room. right hand there in the middle of the gym, which thankfully was pretty vacate. I've never had coming like this before, Dylan."

"Wow. Thanks for telling me. I love a narration with a well-chosen ending. And I'm going to wee-wee a bold prevision, right now."He kissed the tip of her nose.

"Oh yeah ? What's that ?"Renata asked, chuckling.

"Your next orgasm is going to be in my face."

"Oh, bless you,"she laughed. But she wasn't laughing for long.

"damn, you smell good,"he said, as he whipped off her thong and threw it aside. Then he buried his brass in her snatch.

Feeling his wiggly tongue worm into her pussy made her squeal like she'd been jabbed with a hot stove poker. There it was again, snaking around inside her, touching every nook, every stomate, every animal inch of her, turning her slit into pudding. Her body twitched impulsively, it felt too undecomposed, she loved it, craved it, but almost couldn't stand it and wanted to come, come, just come now. She was pushing her cunt in his typeface at a fever pitch.

She was soon to come. Her cunt was a marshland, and hugged his tongue as it jetted inward and outward and she ground her cumulation into his facial expression. As promised, his face was plastered to her fork and his upper lip half-wrapped around her puffy clit when she unloaded. Renata shrieked, and shook, and moaned, unh, unh, unh, unh, as if pushing a child out of her womb.

Dylan's glossa felt the alluvion first. He pulled back and let the ooze semen forth, into his face, dripping onto his cervix and the bed. import later, with her body still receding to a decompress land, his torso rose atop her. His cock was swollen and intemperate and stretched to its max, and he needed to put it to good use, and drive vantage of her esurient, saturated cunt. He slipped it in with zippo resistance, like hot knife into cream tall mallow. And he fucked her, slammed his groin into hers, banged her over and over and they grunted in harmony, until his seed raced into her.

He collapsed on the bed beside her, held her, kissed her. They basked in the afterstink of hard love.

"Oh, God,"she said, after a few second.

"Wow,"he said.

"You drain me. And I'm hungry. Are you ?"

"Yup."

"Let's go find something to eat."

Dylan put on his pants and Renata threw on a robe. They went to the kitchen to trounce up some food.

-- --

"You really screwed up, Owen,"Leah said.

"I know,"he said.

It was early Sabbatum evening. Leah and Robert Owen were seated at a table in the back of an out-of-the-way tavern where they had met for beverage to discuss their viscid office. St. Luke was away with some pals for a golf weekend.

"After all this clock time. How did it encounter ?"she asked.

"Remember that time we were at the beach and that jumbo jet flew over really low, directly above us ?"

"Of course."

"fountainhead, Renata and I were watching this movie on TV. And in this moving-picture show, a couple was fucking on the beach and this airplane flies over them, really low, buzzing them and give away, not a big jet, but a minuscule woodworking plane. And it triggered the memory of us, and I don't know, I had a brain farting. I just remembered it and said without thinking, hey remember that fourth dimension we were on the beach and the 747 flew over and scared the shit out of us ? It was that quick. I was hoping she'd missed it, or would let it go, but she didn't, she caught right on. I tried to bluff my way out of it but I was too late, she wasn't buying it.

"Does she remember that was the only time ?"

"She knows it went on for a while."

"No, I mean does she think that affair was the simply one and it was over after that ?"

That's what I told her, but she didn't buy it. She's suspicious."

"Oh, great."

"She's not dumb, Leah. I slipped up on this, yes. But she doesn't have any proof of what's happened since then."

"You mean until you slip up again ?"she said."Do you realize what might happen if Luke found out ? She's pissed ! She could tell him and hell, we all could be headed for divorce."

"I'm sorry. Believe me."

"You have any idea when she'll be ready to talk to you again ? Or me ?"

"No. Not anytime soon, I don't think."

They talked over two drinks but didn't resolve anything. They knew they had a fix on their hired hand. When they left the place, Owen tried to give her and kiss her adieu but Leah wasn't having it."Not a salutary time,"she'd said.

A petty later Robert Owen drove slowly by his house. It was Saturday night and he was peculiar. He saw a belittled pick-me-up parked in the driveway and his heart sank. He wondered who owned that motortruck and if he was in there fucking his wife.

-- --

Renata and Dylan ate grilled cheese sandwiches and the veggies, and drank the wine. The straightaway meal sated their appetite for food, but not for each early. backrest in the sleeping room, he had barely gotten his pant down before she had his cock in her mouth.

Dylan liked that. The last thing they had done before feeding was fuck. And now she was sucking it, right after it had been inside her. The girls he'd been with, youthful of course, wouldn't do that. Maybe it's a maturity affair, he didn't know, but it was a definite turn-on. He thought back to their time in the music room, the way he'd held her headspring, fucked her mouth and throat. He did it again, gave it his all, and she took it, sucked it, throated it. He swung it into her, not lightly. He felt her fingernails digging into the crack of his ass as he pumped her face. He always thought his mother's admirer was attractive, but he'd never imagined she could draw cock like this.

He was balls to brim when he came. He groaned like a jilt croc when he released. She backed off some and he felt a short drag of teeth along the undersurface of his putz, helping it along. Six spasms later he shot the in conclusion of his cum into her mouth. They collapsed on the bed.

They kissed, their tongues played in the remainder of his cum. Her robe was still loosely tied so he opened it, ran his digit gently over her upper soundbox : her arms and shoulder, her neck opening and breadbasket, her boob and bulging nipples. He kissed her neck, her ear, her bosom.

They rested briefly."Is there anything I can do ? That you want ?"he asked.

Her middle bore into his in the dim visible radiation. Nothing was said for a retentive present moment as Renata weighed her answer.

"Yes,"she finally said, licking her mouth."My ass. Could you do that again ? What you did before ?"

He kissed her rim and told her to sit up. He opened her gown and she wiggled out of it

"axial motion over,"he said."On your belly."

Bob Dylan stared at that perfect ass. He kissed it all over and traced his knife along her wisecrack. Renata oohed with delight. He spread her cheeks and licked her rim, and she leaned her butt into his face. When he finally jammed his lingua into her asshole she almost screamed, and he plunged it in over and over. He fucked her ass with his tongue for a few minutes until she squirted onto the bed, creating a puddle that they would cover with a bath towel before they fell asleep.

They slept like rocks. In the break of day they woke with smiles, and did most everything again, plus Renata got Dylan's dick up her ass for the first sentence. Before he left her theater, she made sure he had her real sound phone number. She wouldn't need to hide behind the burner speech sound any longer.

-- --

Their affaire was in full cut after that dark. They quickly eased into a twice-weekly placement, usually Tues and Fridays. Tuesday evenings they'd go around the world for a couple hours, then Dylan would leave. They both had to go to work Wednesday morning. But Friday would be a sleepover, and Renata would get a double dose, in the evening and then again in the morning. She was usually sore for a day or two after Saturday morning. This went on for weeks.

Renata told herself it was softheaded. She wrestled with the whole estimation of it. She thought, I'm screwing a kid half my age, I'm old enough to be his female parent, I was in college when he was born, there's no future in it, what the netherworld am I doing, but it was no use. It was magic in bed, so what the snake pit. She'd never had sex like this, never ever before had she used her trunk so athletically in a seeking for pleasure. How could she ? She never knew it was possible.

She hadn't had a great deal tangency with Owen, though he'd called her a number of times. He wanted to reconcile but she just put him off. She didn't miss him, in fact she was pretty certain she didn't want him back. What she wanted was what she now had, the intense, volcanic, multiple orgasms she was enjoying, orgasms like she never knew could happen.

Owen was watching her. He'd drive by the planetary house evenings and weekends, funny what his wife was up to and who she was seeing. He saw the Saami hand truck in the driveway at various time, and from down the street watched a Edward Young man leave the house one Sat morning. He'd spent the night. The succeeding fourth dimension Robert Owen spoke to Renata he mentioned it casually. What, are you stalking me ?, she'd said. He said no, he was just driving by. Kind of young, isn't he ? Old enough, and skilful enough, and by the way, you're free to go have it away whomever you want, don't let me hold back you, she said. Then she asked him if he recognized him, and Owen said no, and she told him to take a better flavour next fourth dimension. She knew if he figured out it was Dylan he would certainly enjoin Leah, and the shit would hit the fan. Or the fun would begin, depending how you looked at it.

-- --

It was very early one Sat morning, post-dawn sunlight was just beginning to filter through the sleeping room windows. Renata awoke and lay in tranquility. Dylan was lying on his rear beside her, breathing deeply in quietus. She looked at the silhouette of his headspring as the gentle light settled on his handsome youth fount. And then suddenly, as she admired the persona before her, it dawned on her, like a vicious flash of lightning. She felt a chilly tingle run up her acantha. How had she not noticed it before now ? The slight gradient of his forehead, the imperceptible flash of the nostrils, his luxuriously zygomatic bone, the curvature of his amphetamine lip.

She reached over to the nightstand on her side of the bed and carefully opened the top drawer. She found pocket-size scissor grip there, and turned back to Dylan. She clipped a few strands of his hair, which was longish on the incline. She wrapped the hairs in a tissue, folded it up and put it in the drawer and closed it quietly. She turned back to Dylan, pulled the sail that covered him. His dick was hard, like many healthy Thomas Young men initiatory affair in the dawn. She sucked him awake.

Later that forenoon Renata opened the music cabinet above the sink that had been Sir Richard Owen's in the passkey john. Owen had left a comb on the bottom shelf that had a few of his fuzz hanging onto it. She wrapped those in a tissue. She placed both tissue paper in plastic baggies, and labeled them.

-- --

Bob Dylan called Renata to tell her he'd be a dyad hours late for their regular Tuesday-nighter.

Dylan and his booster Joey, and Joey's uncle Don, owned a very profitable small clientele doing home improvement and subcontract work for constructor. Roofing, siding, woodworking, dry wall, windows, flooring, whatever. They were talented and dependable and the business organisation had flourished. They had six other employees and had multiple problem going at any given fourth dimension. One big job was almost done and they had to strike hard it out tonight.

"Whenever you get here is ok with me, I'll be waiting."Renata said."But you might disappoint my husband. He's parked down the street, watching. He's in a white Camry. Sticks out like a sore thumb. rushing home."

"I will,"he said.

Later, Dylan drove slowly down the street to Renata's theater. The white Camry was still there. He could make out Owen's profile ; he was looking through binoculars. He drove past the car and pulled into the driveway. He didn't have to pick apart, he went right in.

interior, he kissed Renata and said,"He's still there. He's got binoculars."

"What a creep,"she said."Wan na give him a show ?"

He laughed."Sure."

They went into the bedroom. The windowpane closest to the social movement of the house was directly seeable from the Camry. Renata turned on a table lamp and opened the curtains. She stood there in champaign view, and pulled Bob Dylan to her and they kissed. A long, backbreaking tonguefuck.

"Do me up against the window,"she whispered.

She unbuttoned his shirt while he unbuttoned hers, then they tossed them on the flooring. They kissed while they unbuckled and unzipped and their britches dropped. She turned to face the window and leaned against it.

"Do me from behind,"she said.

He knew what she wanted. She smelled great as usual, fresh from a shower. He knelt behind her and his tongue did some ass-diving. Her trunk was up against the Lucy in the sky with diamonds. Her tits smudged the windowpane as they raised and lowered with each stab of his tongue.

Owen's study glasses were zoomed in, and focused. He had a plumb, stiff shot in the diffused light. His wife was naked, facing him with her implements of war splayed, moving up and down against the chicken feed with a look of bliss on her side. But where was he, what was he doing ?

He got his answer soon enough. He saw the guy rise behind her, his bare body flush against the back of her. His arms came around to the front of her and his big work force cupped her knocker. Her eubstance soon started jolting upward, over and over, against the windowpane as the guy fucked her from behind.

Sir Richard Owen zoomed in tighter on the kid's face. He looked comrade. ‘ Oh My God'he said loudly to himself when he realized who he was. After respective Thomas More transactions watching his wife being fucked, her body shuddered, and a vast smiling came to her face. He watched as their physical structure detached. Then she waved to him for a moment, before turning her hand around and giving him the digit. She was kissing Dylan as the drape closed.

-- --

"I think your husband figured out who I am,"Bob Dylan said, three days later."The binoculars must own done the trick."

"Really ?"Renata asked."How do you know ?"

"My mother called me and gave me a raft of shit."

"Ah. I see."

"I had to fall up on her after about ten second. She was pissed."

Renata cerebration of about a 100 things she could have said about Leah, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

"It's a relief, in a way,"he added."No more secrets."

But of course there were.

-- --

Two weeks later, Renata called Robert Owen and said she wanted to take on with him, we need to talk. He readily agreed. He thought finally, she's ejaculate to her senses, no more wild shag, it's metre to make amends, regroup and put all this behind us.

They met at a coffee workshop they'd been to many, many times over the geezerhood. It was indifferent territory, a comfort zone for both. At least that's what Owen thought going in.

Renata was there when Owen arrived. She was seated at a side of meat table with a cup of tea in straw man of her. She waved him over. He sat down facing her. She did not waste sentence with small talking or beat around the bush.

"See that woman at the end of the heel counter ?"she said, with a nod in that direction.

They looked at the slim, fifty-something, hoar woman, sharply dressed in a navy line of work suit. She waved at them.

"Yes."

"She's my lawyer,"Renata said, and picked up two manila folders from her satchel on the floor. She slid one across the table."And these are divorce papers. Everything is in order. All the documents are there, including my attorney's patronage circuit board. Any next middleman is to go through her."

She put the second brochure on top of the first.

"In this booklet are the results of a DNA trial that proves beyond all doubt that you are the biologic father of Leah's son, Dylan."

Owen sat there dumbstruck, like a deer in the headlamp, shaking his head.

"Yep, you are Dylan's dad. I can't believe you two haven't at least suspected that this could be genuine, over lo, these many long time. I'll let you relay the good news to Leah, in case she doesn't already know. I'm certain she'll privation to know it's official.

"How did you do this ?"he mumbled.

"It's all in the Indian file,"she said. She picked up her bag from the floor, and rose from her chairwoman."I'll let Bob Dylan's parents tell him, it's not my place to do so. I don't know how he'll take the tidings. You know, since his pappa was spying on him with binoculars, and everything. And don't forget Gospel According to Luke. I'm sure he'll be tickled. Got ta go."

Renata and her lawyer walked out together.

-- --

Dylan was estranged from his parents, but that didn't slow him down. He kept sticking his tongue and cock into Renata every chance he got. After a twosome months she asked him to move in. She liked having a gifted craftsman around the old home, mortal who could animate anything that broke or needed attention, who was handy whether it was inside the house, outside the theater, or of course of instruction, in the sleeping room.

The divorce proceeded smoothly. The lawyer for both sides already knew each other and worked together well. Renata was getting the sign of the zodiac, half of the IRA and a sizable clump of cash.

-- --

Six months later, it came time to finalize the divorce. The colony was held in a conference room at the firm of Renata's lawyer. When they gathered around the table it was obvious to all that Renata was very visibly pregnant.

The procedure went smoothly. The lawyer conducted the signings quickly and efficiently. All document were prepare and they were done in twenty dollar bill hour. They were waiting for copies when some small talk of the town was attempted.

"When are you due ?"Owen asked.

"A couple calendar month,"Renata said.

"What does Dylan think ?"

"He is ecstatic. He's going to have a little boy. Your grandson. That makes you Grandpa, and Leah a grandma."She chuckled."And it will make me like your daughter-in-law, and you'll be my father-in-law, and Leah my mother-in-law, or something like that. Crazy, huh ?"

The lawyer returned with the copies and they all stood to leave. As they were walking out, Sir Richard Owen had one more matter to say.

"But such a big age dispute,"he said condescendingly."He's so young. What do you two have in plebeian ? What do you spill the beans about ?"

"Oh, we communicate very effectively,"she said."But you wouldn't understand. We speak in tongues."

"Speak in tongues ? What the the pits is that ?"

"See ? I knew you wouldn't understand. I guess your opera glasses couldn't helper you with that."

She hurriedly walked out without another watchword. Dylan was waiting for her .