Page 92 In-laws In Love.

                                                       IN-LAWS IN LOVE.                                   7-25-11

                                                               Roy Garde.

     Every Sunday she tried to keep her three grandchildren reasonably quiet while she was dressing them and when they were having breakfast and while getting out of the house and until she had driven them clear down to and through the front gate. All of this so as to not wake their father who needed to sleep-in until around 11 o’clock on Sundays to catch up some.

     She rarely succeeded with the last part because she could hardly be expected to remember to cover all of the areas of possible contention every time and this time, although they had gone out to the car without waking him, the squabbling started up as soon as she’d opened the doors. The problem was not the easily controlled one, and already mastered for the long term, about whose turn it was to sit in the front seat but whose turn it was to sit on the right side in the back seat and thus be the last one to wave goodbye to the dog. That one must have been added to their list that very morning because it was a new one on her.

     Squabble. Squabble. Squabble.

     She shushed them urgently and in a little while she had managed to sort them all out and had made them fasten their seat belts and was in the very act of reaching to turn the ignition key when she heard her son-in-law calling down from his bedroom window.

     On hearing the very first syllable she knew exactly what he wanted and his words confirmed it.

     “Grandma! Don’t go yet. Leave the kids in the car and come on back inside for a minute, please.”

     She resignedly got back out of the car and she told the children to stay put and, as it was quite cool and the windows could be opened a little, and as, of course, they had many puzzles and the like to keep them occupied, she knew that she could safely lock them inside and then she walked back to the house.

  They knew that she’d only be gone for five minutes or so and although they didn’t know why their father called her back inside most Sundays they did know that on those days she always came out in a good mood and she wouldn’t check them harshly on the way to church. Also she would sing their favorite songs with them instead of her favorite hymns and, best of all, she would buy them ice cream after church for being good and patient while sitting the car in their driveway and not letting the youngest one blow the horn.

     Her son-in-law, Ron, had already come down to the kitchen, after seeing that she’d corralled the children, and he was totally naked and he had a huge erection that had presented itself a few seconds after the kids squabbling had woken him up and it was pointing directly at her.

     All through her life, every time that she’d seen one of them angry and purplish like that, she had thought how ugly it was and how suitably that went along with its menace. His was bigger than most and thus uglier than most but it didn’t faze her because it’s menace was muted in that she well knew how to tame it and then turn it back into a dear little, pink, hanging appendage that was about as threatening as her six year old grandson’s.

     She saw that he hadn’t brought the air cushion down with him and she berated him for not doing so and then she brushed aside his usual reasoning – “It will only be a quickie and so a cushion isn’t needed for the two minutes that it takes.” – by saying that the hard wood hurt her body too much lately even for one minute and how many times had she told him that she wanted the cushion to be there every time that they did it.

     She was a little exasperated because he hadn’t seemed to notice it that she’d worked hard to lose some weight for him and had thus also lost some of her natural cushioning.

     She nagged at him as to how she must have told him ten times already about bringing the air cushion and had warned him the same number of times that he wasn’t to forget it again when he called her back from the car the next time, “That is if you have any real hopes of getting any.”

     Her thinking was that she should regularly demonstrate that she was in charge else he might think that owning a penis gave him the power to give all of the orders all of the time.

     It was a battle that he couldn’t win and he knew it and so, knowing that she’d be getting the cushion herself and that he’d have to get the plank of wood from the shed – it was needed to lift him up and restore the best angle of attack, as it were – he moved over to the back door but she then told him to put a robe on before going outside even though there was nobody around who could possibly see him. She went up to get the air cushion which, to keep from harm or loss, she always hid in her closet.

     In her room she took off her dress, so as not to get it creased, and then her panties and she applied a little judicious lubrication and then gave a puff of perfume to her lower belly and then she went back to the kitchen and she placed the cushion on the table and then bent over and rested her upper body on it and she turned her head a little so as

to be able look at the door that he would come through and she waited with an anticipatory grin on her face.

     He came in with the plank and he put it in position but when he threw off his robe he realized – just as she’d known it would – that the distraction caused by having to go for the robe and then for the plank and the exertion of lifting it and then carrying it in had made his penis ease off until it was no longer erect enough for it to be of much use to him, and certainly of no use whatsoever to her.

     She giggled inwardly as dismay showed on his face and then she waited for a delicious moment before she reached back with both hands and slowly eased her under slip up and up and she saw him start to react at once when her bottom – along with the strands of curly black hair low down and pushing backwards, as if wanting to escape – came into view. That sight always had the same immediate affect on him and he never remembered that it would and, as always, dismay changed to exaltation in seconds.

     He fell to his knees behind her preparing to going on a little rediscovery mission but at his first touch her bottom turned into marble because she had clenched her buttocks tightly. She’d also closed her legs, he was dismayed to find, and was pressing her thighs tightly together thus totally cutting off his access to happy valley and before he had time to switch control back to his other brain to get it to start working on trying to solve this monumental set back she said, “You haven’t asked me if you can yet, have you Ron?”

     “What? Oh! Sorry. No, I forgot. Please let me. Please?”

     The marble turned back into soft, smooth, yielding flesh and she opened up the passageway to nirvana for him.

      He went in and on through.

     She would never have let him make her late for church, that would be unacceptable and disrespectful, but he did make her only borderline early enough.

     As she sat there during the sermon, which always went on for far too long, she struggled to hide the smile that came to her when she visualized him at that moment sleeping like a baby after having had all of the pleasure and the easement that she had been able to give him. She had experimented, for the first time, with rippling some of her inner sheath muscles at a crucial point of stillness and the increase in his pleasure was so intense that he hadn’t been able keep from shouting out in ecstasy. (“Grandma, did we hear Daddy shouting at you in there?” “Aah — yes dear you did. He-aah, wanted me to get a splinter out of his finger and it was in really deep so it hurt him.” “Oh, Poor Daddy.”) She determined that she wouldn’t try that again unless they were completely alone in the house and when no one was within hearing range.

     She hung her head down to hide the blush that came to her face when she thought of the incongruity between the two scenes that had taken place in her life in the space of less

than one hour. The lurid, animalistic one in her kitchen that had had her face-down on the table with her legs spread wide and her bottom up in the air and clutching for dear life to the table-top sides in order to stay exactly in line and completely opened up to keep from getting hurt while receiving each thrust – each one of which seemed to her to be more massive and farther reaching than the one before – while continuing to remember to clench herself a little on each of his withdrawals to help him and especially in the final few seconds when he, heedless of all else in the grip of passion, simply grabbed her hips tightly and pounded away as fast and as hard as he was able.

     She compared that scene with her present one, in church, with everyone dressed in their best clothes and facing forward and paying attention to their limited but shielded Pastor who had almost certainly bought, and then memorized, his sermon from one of the publishers that provide that service and, as usual, was delivering it while looking over the heads of all of his flock so as to not cause any discomfort if his admonitions were particularly appropriate and were hitting home to one or more of them.

     She was fairly devout as a Christian but she felt no shame at all for having used the body that God had given her in the manner that He’d designed it for.

     Even though, like most women and notably Molly Bloom of course, she had always thought that the design, overall, was an absurd one. Putting a hole in the middle of their bodies! What could He have been thinking? She knew that all men thought that the design was perfect ‘as is’ but she was of the opinion that politely delivering a neat little package of sperm, like some male spiders do, and then touching his hat as he handed it over while saying, “There you go, Ma’am. Thank you very much and do have a nice day,” and then going away was the ideal system to aim for.

      She knew very well that she shouldn’t entertain lascivious thoughts in church, or anywhere else really, about giving and receiving pleasure by finding unconventional uses for kitchen tables and she determined to not think such thoughts again. Not until next

Tuesday at least, she amended, and then she felt herself begin to blush again.

     She looked down at her well-behaved grandchildren and she hugged herself mentally as she realized how good she had it now compared to the early part of her life.

     She was 45 years old to her son-in-law’s 36 and her daughter, who had been his wife for seven years, had been killed when a truck driver who had lost all of his braking power had veered into the bus stop that she had taken shelter in from the heavy rain on her way home from work. The driver obviously could not have known that someone was inside it and he had decided to try to use it to slow his truck down some, or maybe even stop it completely, and had demolished it and her.

     That had been two and a half years ago and the three children had been two and four and six years old and, having no other family still living, she had moved into their home on that same day to take care of them full time instead of only until their mother came home each weekday night. She had done that without a moments thought and at no one’s request.

     Her son-in-law was a good father but because he had to work long hours six days a week he was very grateful to her for moving in and taking charge and solving the immediate and, it turned out, the long term problems too, for them all.

     He worked in a factory that produced various Electronic Control Systems and his Company had so many orders that every employee had to work six days a week and on shifts, which meant that they did alternate weeks of days and then nights, in order to keep the place going around the clock to keep pace.

     He rarely came home until eight o’clock each night on the ‘day’ shift and the children would have eaten by then so he’d wash up and change and then take them all up to their

beds and read to them and then he’d come down for his own meal which was always put in front of him a few minutes after he’d sat down at the table.

    On the ‘night’ shift he’d come home at seven o’clock in the morning and he’d eat breakfast with them all and then he’d see the children safely onto the school bus and then he’d go to bed until around three o’clock and would be sure to be there to greet them when they got home at three-thirty and he’d help with their homework and then play with them all for an hour or so and they’d all have dinner together after which he’d drive off to work.

     He always did the clearing up, whenever he had to eat alone when he was on the day shift, and he washed his own dishes. He never dried them because, being an engineer, he

hated the thought of wasting energy and he knew that if left alone in the rack they would dry themselves perfectly well.

     Afterwards he’d join ‘Grandma’ in front of the TV in the living room until around eleven when he’d go upstairs to his bed and she’d stay to watch the news and the talk shows.

     He worked so hard and for so long each day that it was only on Sundays that he had enough energy to deal with the fact that he needed more comforting than his family could give him and he’d go out in the early evening on a mission to find it.

     He found some occasionally but none of it gave him much satisfaction, and only fleeting pleasure, and positively none of it could be even considered for anything approaching taking up a long-term position in his life.

     When his third annual two weeks vacation, after he’d become a widower, came around he, as usual by then, took the children to a cottage near a beach for the first week to give ‘Grandma’ a break but they all stayed together at home for the second week.

    On the second night of his second week of vacation he had put the children to bed and had come down to have dinner with her and an impulse or a whim had made him take the usual carafe of box-wine that she had put on the table back to the kitchen and he went to the cupboard and he brought out a bottle of Merlot that had been in there for at least a year waiting for a special occasion.

     They ate, they drank, they laughed, they reminisced, they cried some. They cleared the table together. They washed and dried the dishes together. His objection to drying them

manually was strangely absent that evening.

     He had put the stack of now dry dishes down on to the able and was standing behind her and when he’d reached past her to get the cutlery tray she, at that exact same moment, had bent over to get a new sponge from the cupboard under the sink and his thighs came up hard against her bottom.

    They both froze for a moment.

    Neither of them knew subsequently which of them was the first one to move slightly sideways several times instead of moving away to decrease the pressure so they must have it done it simultaneously.

     The message given out, and received, was unmistakable.

     He helped her to straighten up and then he turned her around. They pulled close and they hugged hard and that was corroborating message enough. They went into the living room holding each other tightly and they locked the door and put out the lights and they undressed quickly and they made love on the carpet or on the couch, as fancy took them, until the dawn showed itself at which time they went to their separate beds.

     He lay there and realized, with a shock, that up until that night, as far as technique was concerned, he had been a meat-and-potatoes-and-draught-beer man and that she had just introduced him to caviar and foie gras and champagne!

     When he came down the next morning he mouthed “Thank you” to her and she blushed and turned away and then caught herself up and turned again to mouth “Thank you” back at him.

     After breakfast, when the children had all run out to play, because of those two “Thank you’s” they both knew that it was going to happen again and so they could talk freely about how it had been wonderful and how much they had needed to get good loving back in their lives.

     They got it together every night for the rest of his vacation, after putting the children to bed and after having dinner themselves, but when the normal workdays started again

his ardor seemed to have worn off some and on the first night that he went to bed without touching her she decided that she’d have to try to take charge of the situation so that it wouldn’t just fizzle out on its way to being just an embarrassing memory.

     She liked having him do it to her almost as much as he had to do it to her but she figured that she’d better not let him have total access to her whenever he wanted and that

she’d best make some ground rules too to keep up his interest.

     He was told to ask nicely every time and was to limit himself to asking on Tuesdays and Fridays only and was to keep his hands to himself on the other days and, most importantly, they were to stay out of each others bedrooms to preclude any chance of the children finding out that they were now more than just ‘Grandma’ and ‘Daddy.’

     They both knew that they were mostly only using each other’s bodies for relief and that the pleasure that came with it was happily incidental and thus they could be honest about it all.

     On one occasion, after a particularly draining session, he admitted to being troubled by knowing who she was and she told him that she quite understood and would always give him plenty of leeway but, “Life goes on and we should go with it or we’ll just wither away and probably get mean and cranky far too quickly. Don’t you agree?”

     He didn’t tell her why he never kissed her on the lips except in the dark but she surmised that it was because that way he could fantasize about her being anyone that he chose to dream up as a substitute.

     Insulting? Yes, a little, she thought. Maybe a lot, but it was a hundred times better than not having this wonderful man touching her marvelously and filling her void wonderfully.

     He had no problem with making love with her when he was working on the day shift because on the Tuesday and Friday evenings it was dark enough for him when the time came for them to go to the couch. But on the night shift he came and left in daylight and it was after putting the children onto their school bus and then going indoors again that he wanted to make love the most but, though consumed with need, he could not maintain an erection long enough to push it into her whenever there was enough light to see her face.

     She gamely went and laid down for him every time that he asked her to on the allotted days – his appetite was constant even in the face of knowing that maybe he wouldn’t be able to perform – but they both knew beforehand that it was going to be frustrating for them both and because of it they were rapidly approaching the time of seriously thinking about not even trying to do it on Tuesdays and Fridays when he was working the night shift.

     They knew that making a room pitch-black in the daytime would have worked for him but they both thought that that would be accepting defeat and somehow too demeaning for her. Anyway, how could they have explained the rigging of such a thing to the kids?

     She decided that it was up to her to do something to solve the problem – good men are hard to keep and she didn’t want him to get needy enough again to have to go to town searching for relief and, besides that, unappeased natural urges might well lead him to search out someone to bring into his life and she’d be ousted PDQ – and one morning when they were lying next to each other – he was close to whimpering with frustration and she had given up trying to find new ways to help him get it up – she got off the couch and when she moved over and bent down, facing away from him, to pick up her panties the solution came to her.

     She’d realized that it was seeing his wife’s mother’s face that was putting him off and while she was stuck with her face, and couldn’t do much about that, she could hide it

from his sight couldn’t she and what better way to hide it was there than to interpose all of her charms between his eyes and that face?

     Her bottom and her thighs, she well knew, were still as attractive as they had been when she was eighteen years old and, of course, her pubic-hair covered center was ageless and as powerful and alluring and mysterious to all men – not more so but not any less so either – as was any girl’s or woman’s who was alive on the planet. So, she figured, if she let him see only her bottom and thighs at the right height and angle so that he could catch glimpses of her labia through their protective bush of curly hairs then nature would surely take care of his little problem.

     She knew that she was taking a chance in that he might think it too whore-ish a thing for her to do but if, as she believed it would, the blood rushed from his brain to his penis quickly enough he’d probably find a way to act and then, having acted to beat the band, would then think up a way to forgive her if only to ensure repeat performances.

     She brought up a chair and positioned it ten feet or so from his head and then she bent over it, supporting her upper body by putting her hands on to the seat, and then she

moved so as to give him the best angle of sight and then she called his name to get his attention and, after seeing him look her way, she spread her legs wide and she started swaying and doing little knee bends and wiggling her bottom. After a while she lowered her shoulders and moved them back and fore so that he could see her breasts wobbling and bouncing around while being framed by her thighs and capped by her very essence.

     By Woman’s Very Essence.

     She heard a vast sigh coming from him that turned into a moan and then that changed into a throat-rasping roar and then he was up and coming at her and following an almost instantly obtained erection that was as big as any that he’d ever had in his entire life.

     However, the chair that she’d brought was too flimsy to take the new use that it was being put to and it slid forward four inches or so with his every thrust and they both had to shuffle after it or she would have lost her balance and he might have been left out in the cold, as it were. They both wanted to indulge themselves completely while taking advantage of this miraculously resurrected ability of his and not to have to stay aware of their surroundings and be constantly compensating for the chairs movements, so she asked him to pause for a moment while she gave it some thought and then she came up with the idea of moving to the kitchen table.

     He, himself, didn’t have enough upper brain function left to use for focusing on their problem so he accepted, gratefully, that her idea was ingenious and then they both, being very reluctant to disengage, frog-marched over to the living room door where she reached up to unlock it, and then turn the knob, and then they backed off enough to let her pull the door open then they went on through – pausing for her to take a look around first – and then on down the passageway to the kitchen.

     There was no lock on the kitchen door so they had to do some – not at all unpleasant for either of them – shuffling back and fore until he’d positioned one of the kitchen chairs so that it blocked the door.

     They had to make a space for themselves on the tabletop and, still determined not to uncouple, they had to go through some more difficult maneuvering to accomplish that.

     Their efforts weren’t helped at all by their almost constant giggling while having to back up and make turns and hand items back and fore between them to be re-located

elsewhere while, at all times, staying aware and ready to deal with any impending peril to their union.

     They quickly got serious again when, at last, there was enough room cleared for her to rest her upper body on the table and provide him with a stable, non-retreating target to work with and on and at.

     The table couldn’t have been better as to sturdiness and was, amazingly and gratifyingly, at the perfect height to allow their interrupted endeavor to proceed safely and magnificently and then reach its goal, explosively.

     With their new-found firmer-footing-for-fucking, as you might say, they were sure that they would be able to use his allotted time fruitfully every time that they got together but, even so, they both looked forward more than ever to Tuesday and Friday evenings, when he worked days, and on those nights the children found themselves tucked up in bed at the stroke of their bedtimes with not a minute of lee way. On the week of his night shift the kids’ father and their grandmother escorted the children to their bus on Tuesdays and Fridays and neither of them hung around long to wave goodbye to them.

     Every time that they used the kitchen table on his other shift he’d “Ooh!” and “Aah!” over her lovely bottom as if he’d never seen it before and he’d do lots of licking and kissing and of course there was much reaching under and around for stroking and caressing and the tension was so intense when he had to stop playing and enter her that the eventual release totally drained him every time and yet, paradoxically, he was left more complete every time. So much so, in fact, that he knew that he was starting to catch up with some of the loving that he’d missed out on over the last three years or so. He was positive sure that that kind of loss maintains its own void forever if it’s not made up for avidly and adequately and appropriately.

     As for her, except for on the Sundays when the children were waiting for her in the car, whenever they had to use the table she not only let him kiss and lick and fondle her for all the time that he wanted to she reveled in his attention. His every caress confirmed what she already well knew and had known since she was fourteen years old, which was that any sane man should delight in having her body made available to him for touching and loving.

     Sadly, she didn’t have just three years or so to catch up with missed-out-on loving. She had practically her whole life.

     Her ‘fooling-around’ experiences in high school had never been very satisfactory and when she left school and had started on the ground floor of her chosen profession she was saddled with having to work long, odd hours and so she found herself locked into a frighteningly long hiatus from any physical contacts at all with men. Because of that, and close to despairing, she chose to accept a marriage proposal from a neighbor of hers who was nearly twenty years older than she was.

     It turned out to be a huge mistake because he’d already had a family and he hadn’t liked any part of it and because of that he made her buy a diaphragm, and keep it handy, from the very beginning.

     He had a strong urge to be with a woman – it was that that had forced him to find a new wife after his first one had left him – but it was far too easily assuaged. There was never any planning, nor foolishness, nor love play, on his part and thus, of course, none on her part either. When they’d settled down somewhat he’d come up with an erection every other night or so and usually the only warning she’d have to get ready for him was when he woke her up, or got her attention, by pulling her over on to her back and then he’d put his hand between her legs and squeeze and then she’d hear, “Let’s do it,” or some such command. He would get out of bed to take off his pajama bottom and that was all the time she was allowed to get ready for him and she’d hasten to slip off her panties and then to pull her nightdress up and out of his way and while doing that she’d be working her mouth quietly but frantically to make some saliva to do duty as a lubricant that she could then transfer down with two fingers.

     He’d come back to bed and he’d get on top of her and he’d go at it as hard and as quickly as he could possibly manage. She never knew if he disliked doing it but had to get it done and wanted it to be over with as soon as possible or if the roughness gave him added pleasure. There was no way she could ever talk to him about anything to do with sex, or about much else of import.

     After several years of this abuse she finally accepted that he would never change and so she started to deliberately position the diaphragm incorrectly to try to force her own change.

     He was very angry when he found out that she had gotten pregnant but he could only believe her when she lied about having been faithfully following the directions that the nurse had given her.

     However, she knew better than to do that more than once.

     Her daughter, Helen, brought her joy but received only indifference from him and she had to sleep in a different room with her to be sure that she didn’t wake him with her crying.

    He died at fifty-two of brain cancer when his daughter was eight.

    She sold the house and generously shared his entire estate with his other children and then she went to live with her mother again.

     She did not lack for suitors, she was in her early thirties still and was quite attractive, but most of them barely lasted through the first real date. She found that they were either going to be over-dependent on her or were too domineering or they were boring or quirky. Of the ones that made it into her bed only one was invited back and he was the last of them.

     His name was Brian and he was her age and was divorced and he was good looking and had widely diverse interests and he was very gentle with her.

     He was astonished to learn how little she knew about sex play and each time they went to bed he showed her something that was new to her. Either he simply went ahead, slowly, and did it to her or, when he had gotten her aroused and eager for more of anything, he told her what her role would be in his latest innovation.

     Within a month he had her happily and unashamedly doing 69 with him regularly and then he got more daring and his directives started to get more and more kinky but, because he was gentle and considerate and expert and was the first man that she’d actually enjoyed having a lot of sex with, she went along with all the rest of it because it was obviously giving him a tremendous amount of pleasure.

     This all happened a year or two before the scourge came and drastically limited such practices and one night he persuaded her to go to a party with him. Lots of champagne was drunk and much white powder was inhaled, quite openly, and at midnight everyone took their clothes off and got into the pool and when they came out they did not get dressed again.

     All around her in the darkened garden she glimpsed and heard people having sex, most of them in groups, and she saw some astonishing sights but, much as he urged her to, she wouldn’t wander around to see more nor would she let Brian leave her side.

     After a while, when some of the shock had worn off, she felt foolish being the only ‘hold out’ there and so she let him coax her into to doing it with him but when they’d laid themselves down on the grass, off to one side where he’d led her, and he had gotten on top of her and well into her and into it, two men came up to them and they touched her wherever they could reach and tried to kiss her mouth and then more came and they made Brian turn onto his side and they laid down behind him and behind her and they held her in place to let them penetrate her in the anus while various other men’s penises poked at her and she was forced to hold, in both hands, the penises of the ones who were waiting for their turn to enter her somewhere, anywhere.

     She saw that the same thing was being done to Brian and that he wasn’t making any protests whatsoever and she then realized that he was enjoying it all and obviously this was why he had been so patient with her for so long a time – clearly, you had to bring a partner to attend this kind of party.

     As soon as they let her get up and get away from them – a mortifyingly long time later – she ran to the pool and jumped in and washed out her mouth and then she immersed her head to rinse her hair and she washed her face and then her whole body, rubbing vigorously.

     Luckily for her most of the straight men who had ganged up on them had only wanted to ‘sample’ her because a climax would have meant the end of the party for them as far as further participation was concerned – as the saying has it, “An orgy soon becomes a bunch of people searching for an erection,” – but a few had realized that they had never seen her there before and they had jumped at the chance of being able to draw on the novelty factor of using her for the first time and by doing so extract extra pleasure and be able to cut another notch in their belt, as it were.

     She was ashamed and hurt and scared and astonished, but she wouldn’t let herself cry because she guessed that breaking down in that place would bring her danger not help,

and so she dried off with a robe that was hanging in a cabana and then she found her clothes and had someone call her a cab.

     She would have nothing more to do with Brian after that and she never saw him again and the only thing that she was grateful to him for was that he had already introduced her to all of the things that had been done to her at the party. If he hadn’t she doubted if she could have ever gotten over it. Or have kept her sanity, perhaps.

     She hadn’t had sex again after that with anyone until the night that she and her son-in-law had succumbed to nature’s demands in his kitchen.

     The only thing that spoiled the catching-up pleasure that she got from Ron’s love making had been the hard tabletop that hurt her by pressing into her body for too long so she bought herself a four inch air mattress – which forced him to fashion a piece of four inch planking to re-adjust his height off the floor, after first using books which proved to be unstable – and from then on she’d happily loll there for him, content and nearly purring, for as long as he wanted to continue showing his well merited love for her body in general and for his favorite parts of it in spades.

     They had one of those extra curricular sessions on about two Sundays out of three and she always told him on those days, after he’d finished and she had douched and gotten dressed again for church, “You’ve made me late again, you insatiable man so don’t dare ask me for some more of this next Tuesday, you hear me?” but she never kept to her word although she did insist that he ask extra nicely on that night before she’d take off her panties so that he could secretly cop a feel now and then as she prepared dinner and when the kids were engaged elsewhere. They both found that those snatched moments made the plainest meal epicurean and made their ordinary wine taste like the best vintage wine available anywhere.

     They settled into their regime and a year went by with no major changes in their lives but then, one day, he was asked by his Supervisor to go to Milwaukee to help assemble and start up one of the company’s plants that they’d sold and that he had been working on for months. The company was so busy that their regular ‘start up’ technicians were swamped with work elsewhere.

     He was given a deadline, that came as no surprise to him, and he and his team had to work twelve hour days seven days a week for three weeks to meet it.

     On the day that he got acceptance for the project and thus knew that he could leave the next day – that is, after he’d picked up the signed forms that ensured prompt payment – he called home and told them to expect him. When he got on the plane he called again from the phone on the back of the seat in front of him to tell them that he’d be there at around eight o’clock and that they should please wait up for him if he was late.

     The cab dropped him off at home and his three children came running out to greet him and he was surprised to see that they were already in their pajamas, a good hour before their usual bedtime.

     ‘Grandma’ had stayed in the kitchen when they had all heard the cab pull up and she stayed out of the way while the hugging and the, “Let me sit on his knee now.” . . . “No! It’s my turn,” squabbling went on and she stayed there through the opening of the presents that she’d bought and had told him where they were hidden. She gave them a few more minutes after that to get re-acquainted then she swept in and announced, “Will you look at the time now? It’s after nine-thirty and way past your bedtimes. Come on lets go. Alley oop! Now, and I mean it! Now! You can be with your daddy all day tomorrow.”

     He hadn’t hardly seen her properly since he’d gotten home and when he did so what he saw took his ability to speak away.

     It was just as well because what he had been about to say was, “Nine-thirty? No! You mean eight-thirty don’t you, Grandma?”

     During his first week away in Milwaukee she had realized how much she missed him and how badly she needed him in her life and not only because of the lovely loving. She’d decided that he was worth an extra effort on her part and so she went into town and she bought nicer panties and bras and slips than her usual ones.

     She went to the library and searched out a tougher diet for herself and she started using it at once and she bought a video that promised to get rid of belly fat as it was toning up her muscles and she played it and followed along for a full hour in the morning and again in the afternoon, everyday.

     When she got the phone call that told her he was coming home on the following night she put the second part of her plan into action.

     She drove into town the next morning and she had her hair dyed dark brown.

    Her daughter’s had been light brown as was her own natural color.

She got herself a short haircut that hugged her head.

Her daughter had worn her hair loose and hanging to her shoulders.

She then kept an appointment that she had made with a professional make-up artist and she let her trim and shape her eyebrows and put mascara on her eyelashes and she got her nails painted and she encouraged the woman to experiment with lipsticks and eye shadow and rouge, and all the rest of it, and she took mental notes so that she’d be able to do it all for herself in the future.

     Her daughter had only used a trace of lipstick and nothing else.

     She bough shoes that had three-inch heels.

    Her daughter had been five feet seven as was she.


     When she got the second phone call telling her that he would arrive at eight o’clock that night she told the children that he would arrive at nine o’clock and then she went around the house surreptitiously turning every clock in it forward one hour.

     She bathed the children and had then fed them according to her new time and then she made them change into their pajamas and to stay indoors until their father arrived.

     At seven thirty real time she went up to her room and changed into a low cut burgundy dress that she had bought for the occasion along with a set of matching necklace and ear-rings and a bracelet. She was wearing a recently bought push-up bra and only an inch of her dress was covering her aureoles and the necklace’s pendant lolled drunkenly on or between the mounds of her bosom.

     Her daughter had never shown much cleavage and had never worn jewelry of any kind other than her two rings.

     After her announcement about “long past your bedtime” Ron had just sat there staring for a long minute but he pulled himself together enough to help her settle them down in their beds and when that was done they met in the kitchen and he had time to look at her and to analyze his feelings.

     He was a little disappointed that the same woman that he had left at home wasn’t here now because three weeks is a long time for a man who’s accustomed to good loving to have to go without it and if that same woman had been here they would have been undressing two or three minutes after he’d asked her, “Please. Can we go to the living room couch?”

     He was more than a little apprehensive. She was definitely more attractive now, sure, but did the transformation also mean that things were going to be different between them from then on?

     He was strangely shy with her and nearly tongue-tied and so she took the initiative and she said, “Welcome home”, as she went up to him and she offered up her mouth to be kissed.

     The new position that she’d taken up was that she’d had quite enough of dark rooms with fantasizing going on in them and so, seeing that she’d made a big effort for him, now was the time for him to decide if he wanted her to be his woman or to continue to be his housekeeper with special roles and privileges.

     He put one arm around her shoulders and he held her chin with his other hand and he looked into her eyes and she saw apprehension in his and she guessed that it was related to the old inhibitions that he’d had but as she watched it faded and was replaced by – Yes! – love! No doubt about it.

     It had come to him in that instant that he’d loved her as a person since she’d come to live with them and had shown herself to be kind and caring and hard working and all the rest.

     And he’d loved her body since the first time that they had lain together.

     He certainly loved the marvelous new things that she’d taught him about sex on the couch and on the table.

     He certainly loved the way she looked now.

     What else is there, he thought.

     Clearly he loved everything about her.

     He let go of her chin and he bent down further to kiss her inviting mouth.

     They then lost all thought of taking time out for eating and they went to the couch and hurriedly undressed and with all of the lights blazing they made love and then they made more love. They did it the first two times without even uncoupling and as he was explosively transferring his banked-up fluids into her care at the end of the first time – she’d known enough to keep still while opening up completely for him – his whole being told him that, “Yes!” he was coming home – as it were.

       As for her – when he was pulsing into her once then twice and then yet again – she’d never before in her life felt as all-around complete as she did when he’d flooded her core and she concentrated on receiving and welcoming every last one of his several million spermatozoa and, while regretting that they wouldn’t find an egg to penetrate at the end of their journey, she knew that by absorbing them the make-up of both of their  bodies would, perforce, have to become more and more compatible.

     When nature wisely forced a respite they decided that having something to eat would be a good idea and so they found their robes and went to the kitchen.

     As she was micro-waving what she had prepared earlier, and was putting together a fresh salad, he couldn’t keep from reaching into her robe and touching, touching, but what gave her most joy was the way that he kept bothering her for long, deep, questing kisses such as she’d never before been given and she found that returning them needed very little effort on her part because of the amount of sheer need that he was putting into them. She noted, in passing, that they weren’t anything like the myriad, hungry, rougher ones that he’d given her on the couch.

     After they’d eaten they went back to the couch and they laid down together again with the lights left on and they stayed there until dawn.

     In the morning they met up in the kitchen with the children milling around, busy with their breakfasts, and so they exchanged only smiles but their contentment was so

tangible that its aura filled the room and the children went quiet without knowing why.

     It lasted only a moment because he broke it by saying, “Good morning, children. Good morning Grandma. Did you all say `Good morning’ to Grandma? I hope.”

     “I did but she didn’t.”

     “Did too!”

     “No you didn’t.”

     “Did too!”

     “All right stop it now, all of you. Good morning Ron.”

     When they were alone for a moment he gave her another one of those probing kisses and he held her to him so hard for so long that it could only mean one thing and she felt nicely reassured.

     But why, she wondered, hadn’t he yet told her that he loved her? Why was it so difficult for him?

      It occurred to her that if he refused to admit it now then perhaps, when he’d gotten used to her new looks, they might well have to go back to switching off all the . . . but then she arrested that thought before it had formed properly. From now on, she promised herself, she would never, ever, make love with him again if darkness and fantasy had to play a part.

     Doing it in furtively was over forever and, following up on that, she made a mental note to insist that they work together to find a way to let her sleep with him in the big bed every night whether that meant having to install interconnecting doors between their two rooms, like some hotels do, or – whatever, but a solution would have to be found.

     Sure, they’d use the kitchen table again often but from now on it would be from choice and because they both liked doing it that way almost as much as lying down and getting full body contact.

      Anyway, she thought, the table was very handy for their Sunday mornings quickies and it came to her that they should find a way to fit them in on every Sunday in future because he got so much pleasure from them and it was wrong to miss such a splendid opportunity to direct all of that energy of his to her in a wholesome way.

     Unless, of course, she thought mischievously, they ever got a new Pastor who could look his congregation in the eye!

     She vowed to herself that while she couldn’t do too much about getting older – it was certain that she’d always be nine years ahead of him and have to admit to seven – what she could do was to battle middle-aged spread and buy clever bras to deal with drooping breasts, when that happened, and either hide or eliminate her wrinkles and keep dying her graying hair and remember to put on make up so as to look her best every time that he came home.

     When she’d rounded up the kids, and had made them finish eating breakfast and had then let them run off to play again, she was re-arranging some eggs into an omelet for Ron’s breakfast and he came over to her and he wouldn’t stop nuzzling at her neck and, although she liked it, her brain was still in turmoil from having gone through all of those new resolutions of hers so she forced it to calm down and instructed it to think about how to seize the moment and then she turned to face him.

     When he’d clamped onto her mouth the solution came from she knew not where.

     After a half minute or so she disengaged enough to be able to say, “Ron, dear. You do remember that my name is ‘Alice’ don’t you? . . . Yes, of course you do. Well, I really don’t think that you can go on calling me ‘Grandma’ anymore. Not after last night. Do you agree?”

     The wisdom that was patently obvious in her words startled him and forced him to accept his role and face up to it and so when he lifted his head she saw that his face was positively beaming and his eyes were bright as he said, “That’s right! Yes, it’s Alice. Yes. Your name is Alice. Clearly you are my darling Alice. I love you, Alice and you’re right – Grandma doesn’t live here anymore.”

     He then he dropped his mouth on to hers again and her delight made her respond equally fervently and the combination took the strength from his knees and he had to lean back to get support from the kitchen table/altar.


       Believe me it can happen. That last part I mean. A woman kissed me like that once but, unfortunately, it wasn’t because of what I meant to her but because of something far more inconsequential (I had merely saved her only son from drowning.) But, anyway, it took three hours before I could walk properly again after it.

     That will go down as one of the most satisfying things that ever happened in my whole life and I mean the kiss of course, not the saving of a life. Remember, this is me we’re talking about now, not Ron and Alice.

     Imagine how you or I would feel if we received a kiss like that if it was given because of what we are.

     A man mired in sin would die with a smile on his lips if he had ever in his whole life been given such a kiss on true merit of the moment.

     Perhaps a good definition of what heaven might be like is imagining what you would feel like if you were being kissed like that all the way through a prolonged session of love


     The thought is enough to make a man decide to try to be good forever more!

     So, I cherish the memory of that kiss but it doesn’t really count. Does it?