FIRST AND LAST TOUCHES. 2-7-11
When Brian Boerman started feeling his oats at fourteen he also started feeling his foster sister, Alison Colstar, who was twelve. To be fair to him, that got started only after she’d triggered his interest by brazenly telling him that she’d recently sprouted exactly three black and curly ‘poobric’ hairs, along with some bumps under her nipples that she was calling breasts, and then offered to, “Show you mine if you’ll show me yours” which was admittedly shop-worn but it was also highly effective,
She wanted to get some attention, any kind of attention, because she’d never known her parents and all of her foster parents had been stingy with their affection ever since she could remember.
Their playing at doctors developed into standard practice for them both and it went on for years. Nearly every night – the exceptions were when he was exhausted from football or baseball or had gotten lucky on a date or just needed to sleep – he’d pass her the secret signal and she’d go to his room when she knew that his parents had gone to sleep. They’d get naked and do lots of smoothing and cuddling. When he had to get relief he’d use various parts of her body to achieve assisted-masturbation or, when she agreed to ‘help’, he’d get some friendly masturbation-by-proxy.
After dealing with the mess that he’d produced her favorite part of the session would come. He’d lie on his back and let her climb up onto him. She’d lie full on him so that she could kiss his mouth, when he’d initiated it, and could kiss the side of his face whenever she wanted to. When she was settled he’d slowly and gently smooth her bottom with both hands and it was then that she felt as if she belonged and was both wanted and cherished.
However, she had enough sense to never fall asleep in his bed and he had enough of his own to never so much as attempt to penetrate her.
When his hands stopped moving it meant that he’d gone to sleep and she’d stay where she was to revel in the full body skin-contact for a few minutes and then she’d ease off him and go back to her own room.
Over time, those three hairs of hers got to be joined by a lot more until they formed a bush that had to be trimmed regularly and her breasts filled out to become worthy of serious fondling and her bottom bloomed and spread nicely and, consequently, having her in his bed became more and more satisfying for him, and for her too as he got to be more accomplished, and so, because of that, before long they both gave up on all thoughts of going out on dates.
Their liaisons might well have gone on for who knows how long if it hadn’t been for a piece of unfortunate timing by her.
What happened was that early one morning her foster-mother, her name was Maureen but she was known to everyone as Mobo, had gotten up to use the bathroom and when she’d opened her bedroom door to walk along the hallway she saw that Alison was leaving her son’s room, naked and carrying her pajamas in her hands.
Naturally she was aghast and was also angry at being burdened with such a heavy new problem to deal with and her anger wasn’t eased by knowing that if she’d woken her husband up to tell him about it he would have turned over after grunting something like, “Hmmmmph! Let’s deal with it in the morning, for crisake.” and in the morning he would have found a way to opt out of meeting his responsibilities. Perhaps she’d get a, “Jeeeesus, woman! Who the hell in their right minds would want to have kids?” and then he’d disappear behind his newspaper.
She caught her by the hand and made her follow her into her small bedroom and then she closed the door and put the overhead light on and did a crude but effective gynecological examination and when she found that the girl was still intacto she simmered down a little but then she laid the law down so categorically that Alison feared that she wouldn’t dare to as much as try to get any more lovely loving at home, ever.
When she was allowed to get into her bed her foster-mother stormed out and then went into her son’s room and because he’d heard her shouting at Alison he knew what was coming and had had time to muster a defense which was, pathetically enough, to pretend to be fast asleep and when ‘woken up’ he planned to play the innocent card and repeat as often as was necessary – “What? Me?” and “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” and “ I’ve been asleep for hours.” – until she gave up and it would be over.
His mother did indeed have to give up after a few futile minutes because she couldn’t be really sure what had gone on between them – because of what her probing finger had told her and, because it was her darling son who was involved, she wanted to believe that it had only been an extended form of ‘playing doctor’ and that both sides might well be completely blameless and guilty of nothing more than having done some friendly fondling – so she delivered a few choice words of reproof and then retreated to think things through.
When she’d gone, Brian knew, with a sunken heart, that it would be a very long time before the girl and he would be able to lie down together again and that he’d have to call on his memory, when he got his next non-ignorable erection, to relearn the needed techniques of playing solitaire. That bothered him for the rest of that sleepless night together with whether he’d be able to muster the drive to start dating again and put up with the nonsense involved and, there’s the rub, if he could do so would it be possible for him to ever find a girl so nicely endowed and so compatible. Towards dawn he came to the realization that what had happened was probably for the best anyway because otherwise both of their lives could well have been totally and irretrievably messed up.
His mother stayed awake for an hour or two when she’d gone back to bed and she only dropped off after she’d decided on a plan to follow.
The next morning she got ready for work and then she waited around after giving the two youths their bowls of cereal and when Alison had gone upstairs to clean her teeth she cornered her son and she laid down the law, “You’d better listen carefully to what I’m going to say because it could well affect the rest of your life not to mention Alison’s.
“I know that up to now you’ve only been cuddling together at night in your room but if you forget yourself one night, and knowing men as well as I do that’s almost inevitable, and she finds herself pregnant because of it believe me she’ll be in a cab and on her way back to the institution that she came from about ten minutes after I find out about it.
“You must see that I can’t have it known that fornication has been going on in my home and I certainly don’t want to have to care for any more babies, thank you. And, hear this, when they, the authorities, find out what her condition is they’ll have to call the police, it’s the law, and they’ll come looking for you because she’s way underage and no matter how much you protest that she consented it won’t wash because it’s called statutory rape of a minor in this State and that goes on until she gets to be eighteen.
“So, to stop that from happening I want you to promise me right here and now that you’ll never let her come into your bed again or I’ll do some thinking about it and if I have to tell your father about this he’ll probably insist on sending her back where she came from to avoid a potentiAlison huge problem for us all.”
At first Alison wasn’t overly puzzled when she found that Brian was ignoring her overtures completely – she guessed that his mother had laid down the law, forcefully – but she figured that he’d eventually find a way for them to get back together even if it meant that they’d have to meet up in the woods, or some such, but when he kept it up for months, with never so much as a hint of asking her to be patient, she got worried.
When it got to be early spring in his senior year Brian found that he actually liked going to school, for the first time in his life, because very little in the way of tuition was going on and his whole class played outside or inside games all day and every day.
Alison had a part in the current school play and she’d persuaded her family to come and see her. Her role was a maid and although she only showed up towards end of the last act, and she only had three lines, the last one was vital to the plot.
She didn’t have any classes that day so she decided to stay home and drive in with Mobo after lunch but Brian, who was looking forward to a whole day of games, went in on his bike at the usual time after promising that he’d go to the main hall in time to see her perform.
As she was about to get into the car with Mobo, who, naturally, wanted see the play from the beginning, she nearly doubled over in pain.
Neither of them were unduly alarmed because she regularly suffered from what was euphemistically called ‘stomach cramp’ – it was, in fact, a mild form of diverticulitis – and although it was very painful – indeed, the pain was so intense that she couldn’t sit down nor stand still because it made her strain upwards on tip toe to try to rise above it and so the only thing for her to do was to keep walking back and fore and suffer through it – it wasn’t serious as long as she stayed near a friendly toilet to wait until nature aided her in making it go away.
She’d been suffering from it for several years and when she’d asked a gynecologist about it she told her that it was a well known phenomenon that was thought to be associated with stress and that there was no known long-time cure for it but that even the slightest BM stopped the pain at once, as she already knew.
Because she was really familiar with the problem she insisted that Mobo go on without her seeing that there was plenty of time before she had to appear on stage and that she’d follow her in on her bike later and that’s what happened.
Sure enough, fifteen minutes later Nature relented and the pain disappeared altogether and so she was able to get on her bike and pedal off.
When she was going along a road through the park a van passed her and then it pulled to the side about fifty feet ahead of her and stopped.
The driver’s door opened and a dog jumped out and came towards her and it wasn’t barking but it was snarling and its lips were drawn back and its teeth were huge and frightening and seemed to form most of its entire head except for eyes filled with rage.
She stopped and got off her bike and she stood behind it and used it as a shield expecting that the dog’s owner would hurry over to curb it and to offer copious apologies.
He did hurry over and he did order the animal to quit but when he got all the way up to her he tore the bike from her hands and threw it over some bushes and then he clamped one hand over mouth and lifted her bodily and carried her around those same bushes and into the trees.
He told her that if she tried to scream he’d kill her and he pulled out a knife to further intimidate her before taking his hand away from her mouth which he had to do to use it to help his other one to slice through the crotch of her cut-off jeans and then up the center. He then moved the two pieces aside before cutting her panties away in the same manner.
He lowered his pants and underwear and then tried to get into position but she wouldn’t open her legs for him so he put the knife to her neck – it was so sharp that just by placing it against her skin it drew blood – and that made her decide to accommodate him PDQ.
He had difficulty with finding her so he raised the knife again to where she could see it as he grunted, “Guide it in, bitch. Now.”
By having to touch him, albeit with just finger and thumb, she knew, with a part of her brain that hadn’t frozen up, that although it was a little longer than Brian’s it wasn’t nearly as thick and for that she offered up thanks for “small mercies.”
After he’d breached her hymen she didn’t feel as much pain as she’d feared and a little later she was astonished with the amount of fluids that she felt pulsing into her. It didn’t seem possible but she was careful to not comment lest he took it as a criticism for some reason or, worse, as compliance.
When he’d finished he lay still and full out on top of her and he was so heavy that she had difficulty breathing and so, after a few minutes, she squirmed to alert him and he reacted by brandishing the knife again as he said, “Keep still, bitch. Don’t move ‘cos I’m gonna fuck you again soon. Just wait.”
She kept really still and tried as best she could to draw air into her lungs and when, after a few minutes, she felt him get big inside her again he said, “Ha! Didn’t I tell you?” and he gave her a few token, vicious thumps to further illustrate his macho-ism and then he pulled out and told her to turn over.
When he’d finished the second time he lay still for a while again and then he eased out of her and he used her destroyed cut-off jeans to clean himself with and then he grunted what might have been thanks but was probably only satisfaction with his success and then he went off without a word, buttoning and zipping up as he went.
She waited where she was until she heard the motor of his van start up and then she felt for blood, and found it in three places, and then she covered herself as best she could by tugging her t-shirt down and she then made her way back to the road where she flagged down the first car that came along. The driver didn’t have to ask what had happened to her, he saw blood on her neck and more of it running down her legs, and he took the time to put a floor mat on the passenger seat before hurrying around to help her. He lent her a hand to get in and sit down and then he drove her to the hospital.
Her history with the Boerman family had gotten started on the day that they’d decided to augment their meager income – he, Mike Boerman, was a store security guard and she, Maureen Boerman, known as Mobo by everyone outside of her family, was a waitress in a diner – by taking in a foster-child.
When they’d done all the paper work a Social Worker had come by and after inspecting the house for cleanliness – and after extensive questioning and after snooping around until she was satisfied that there were no drug paraphernalia around – she told them that she was going to approve them for fostering.
Seeing that she was under orders to try to place more ‘foundlings’ she went on to suggest to them that seeing that they were going to take in one foster-child why not two? Before they could answer she listed the accrued benefits that they’d get and she offered to solve the problem of there being only one spare bedroom by bringing in two bunk beds and another chest of drawers, “on loan and at no charge to you, of course, and then, Bob’s your uncle! What do you say?”
The extra money persuaded them to accept a second girl and they followed her suggestions about putting rugs and curtains and pictures in the room and on the morning of the day that the girls were to arrive Mobo made a splendid lunch to impress the Social Worker and to get the girls to see that they were welcome.
When the van dropped the two girls off – they were named Alison Colstar and Tashia Evans – the Boermans were astonished to see that Tashia had dark, dark brown skin and was sporting an aggressive and impressive ‘fro,’ as they were calling that hairstyle back then.
Tashia goes out of this story almost as soon as she came into it. After a few days of awkwardness because the Boerman family didn’t know how to cope with a black girl, especially Mike, and so, in the absence of any kind of advice, they individually and then collectively decided to treat her in exactly the same way that they did Alison. That worked well inside their house but at school Brian was subjected to never ending wise-ass remarks because his new ‘sister’ was an exotic who formed a minority of exactly one in the school and in the community.
The enmity and rudeness that she received from all sides was nothing new to Tashia but she didn’t have to fake being indifferent to it for a very good reason – she knew that as soon as the welfare worker had checked her situation three times; the next day and then the next week and then the next month, she wouldn’t come around again because she was so overworked that she’d then happily ‘mark’ her off on her report as ‘settled’ and the system would then wash its hands of her seeing that she was within spitting distance of being eighteen years old.
She’d saved enough money for a bus ticket back to the hinterlands of Pennsylvania, and to the man who lived there whose mother was caring for the baby that they’d produced together. She’d been still fifteen when she’d started showing and so she’d been taken from her home and put in the system and, because she’d refused to name its father, when she’d given birth to it ‘they’ agreed to let her mother care for it until she could reclaim it at eighteen and, as a part of the plan that they’d worked out long before, her mother, who was heavy with her own ninth child at the time, took the baby girl home with her and was more than happy to hand her over, a day later, to its other grandmother who had no daughters.
Consequently, six weeks or so after Tashia had come into the Boerman household they woke up one morning and there she was, gone.
That left Alison and she and Brian got on famously until the night that his mother caught her going back to her own room naked and holding her pajamas in her hands.
When she got home after being treated and held overnight at the hospital everyone interacted with her kindly but somewhat distantly. She guessed that most of them were partially leaning towards blaming her for what had happened – “She was always far too nice to strangers,” and, “I warned her several times that she shouldn’t wear those cut-off jeans.” – so wherever she went she didn’t find much sympathy.
Brian, however, was very nice to her – for instance, she only had to so much as hint that she’d like to see a movie and he’d read the paper to find out what was showing, and he’d then look up the starting times of the one that suited her fancy, and he’d drive her there. She found that he wouldn’t so much as hold her hand when they were watching the movies and so, because he’d always sneaked feels when they’d been ‘nice’ to each other, she felt unwanted again.
Every night, when she was lying in bed, she was very aware that Brian was just a few yards away from her and she knew that they wouldn’t have to limit themselves to cuddling any more because she was now a woman – seeing that she’d accommodated a man, ‘had known and had been known by a man,’ and therefore would no longer have to be considered as off limits – and so, when the time came when she could push two fingers into herself without feeling any pain, she was happy about knowing that she could renew her efforts to get back into his bed and she decided to start doing so the very next day.
It was a Saturday and she stayed in her room until she heard Mobo leave the house on her way to work and then she took a shower and after drying herself, and blow drying her hair, she pulled on a robe and went down to the kitchen.
Brian was eating cereal and he grunted ‘Hi’ and then went back to reading the sports section of the paper.
She went around to the other side of the table and said, in a low voice that quickly got his full attention, “Bri, I’m all healed up and seeing that I’m a woman now and no longer, uh, intact, if you have a rubber we can go upstairs and make love properly” and when she got to the “go upstairs,” part she loosened the belt of her robe and then pulled both sides of it apart and let him look all that he wanted.
When they got to the top of the stairs he led her along the corridor to the big bedroom with it’s queen-sized bed and then he stripped his own clothes off and joined her on it.
He only had one condom and he filled the bulb up to near bursting the first time and so, knowing instinctively that the woman has to be the one who’s aware of these things and has to deal with them, she made him stay still as she eased it off his slackness and then she took it to the bathroom where she emptied it and then washed it out and dried it. When she got back alongside him she received lots of lovely, languid caresses and when he was ready again she slipped the rubber back on and from then on it stayed in place as it gradually got filled up again by lunch time. When they got up to get something to eat he took it off and knotted it and flushed it away because he knew that it would only take him a few minutes to go to the drugstore and buy more.
From then on they couldn’t get enough of each other and she spent most of every night in his bed because of their burgeoning need to be together.
One night, about a month after they’d started being with each other again, Mobo had been woken up by her bladder – which was nothing unusual for her – and when she was passing her son’s room she heard them going at it, hammer and tongs, and there was no mistaking what they were at.
She was appalled and very angry – she’d thought that that problem had been dealt with already – and so she reached for the doorknob, intending to deal with it again and much more forcefully this time, when she heard her son burst out with, “Ooooh, Ooooh, Ooooh!” and she was familiar enough with that kind of action to wait until he’d followed up with, “Aaaaaahhhh,” and when that had happened she grasped the doorknob but when she was about to turn it she heard him say, “Jumping Jesus! That was the best fuck that any man ever had.”
The blasphemy and the heart-felt praise was familiar to her too but it had come out of her husband only a half dozen times in twenty years of marriage so it made her pause before turning the doorknob because she was, in spite of her indignation, pleased to know that her darling son was getting an enormous amount of pleasure at that moment and, almost certainly, on a regular basis too. She remembered vividly that that same amount of pleasure had made her husband be very nice to her for several days after experiencing it himself on those few and far between occasions.
That pause allowed her to decipher the next signal that was crowding her brain and it was the fact that he, Brian, had become much sweeter and nicer to her of late and he did things like taking the garbage out without having to be asked to do so ten times and he actually dried the dishes for her a few times which had been unheard of before. She’d assumed that it was because he was maturing but now she knew better.
The next signal that became clear to her was that their doing the dirty deed didn’t carry the same import anymore because someone else had taken Alison’s virginity, as was well known by everybody, and so Brian was clearly blameless in that department and it very definitely wasn’t the nearly the same thing and the stigma that would come down on him, if he was found out, wouldn’t be nearly as severe.
Adding it all up and putting it altogether made her take her hand off the doorknob and continue on her way to the bathroom to obey the increasingly urgent demands of her bladder.
When she’d emptied it she dabbed at herself with a pad of toilet paper and as she was doing so another signal came at her – this one, she suspected, was self generated – she realized that she was very envious indeed of Alison and she wished, for an instant, that she, herself, was the one who was lying under her darling son after having giving him all of that pleasure and was being thanked for it.
When she’d managed to banish that terrible thought from her mind she realized, with a start, that her dabbing had changed to rubbing and so she let the pad fall from her fingers and she got up and didn’t bother with flushing, nor with washing her hands, because she found herself caught up in a huge, overwhelming, need to get naked and get into bed alongside her husband and then wake him up in a special, rarely used way of hers that would stifle his protests as soon as he became awake enough to know what was happening and by knowing that he would also realize with delight what was about to come at him.
The next morning, in a very contented mood just like her husband, she wondered about whether or not to tell her son that he had her permission to be open about his relationship with Alison – she was an open minded woman and she’d never liked sneakiness in anything – but then she remembered how old Alison was and so she said nothing.
As the pair of lovers got more and more into discovering each other’s preferences, and as they experimented, and succeeded, at searching out nuances that made them even more special, their appetites grew in direct proportion and because of it they found themselves in an upwards spiral and so whenever they found themselves alone in the house they’d get naked and get it on in whichever room they happened to be because the intensity of their urges demanded action right there and then. When those urges had cooled a little they’d always gravitate to the master bedroom, with its big bed, where they could go at it in comfort and could spread themselves out and be better able to enjoy doing their favorite things.
They’d reached that stage just after noon one day and were well into doing sixty-nine, with Alison on top, when disaster struck.
Mobo’s boss – the owner of the diner where she worked as a waitress – had fired her on the spot when he found her taking a smoking break just as the early lunch crowd was beginning to arrive. There was a legitimate reason for her having to have a soothing cigarette – a customer had sent his steak back to the kitchen, via Mobo, because it was too rare and had then sent it back again, via Mobo, because it was too well done and at that the chef, via Mobo, told the customer to go fuck himself and although she didn’t say that to the customer she had to tell him, as politely as she could, that there wouldn’t be another ‘adjustment’ and on hearing that he, and his companion, stood up and stormed out without paying, no matter about leaving a tip, which meant that she, Mobo, would have to pay the bill herself – but her boss brushed her protests aside and she found herself unemployed.
It wasn’t all that big of a deal for her because she’d been fired many times before – owners of small restaurants are notorious for rapid staff turnovers, indeed they’re only content when their wives are the cashiers, and their sons and daughters are the cooks and the waiters, because they know that that way, although they’ll still be stolen from, at least it will stay in the family – and she knew that she’d be able to find another job quickly but, the injustice of what had happened to her rankled and so when she walked into her bedroom and saw what the two of them were up to she almost lost it.
The little hussy was industriously – and obviously enjoying every moment of it – doing what her husband had begged her, many times, to do for him but although she’d been able to hold it for him and smooth it, and even kiss it if he was doing sterling work down at his end, she’d never been able to make her mouth open to encompass it and then get on with it as she’d seen being done in a few movies that her husband had selected and, indeed, was seeing it in living flesh at that very moment! And, to top all, it was getting done on her own bed!
Restraint was clearly out of the question and she screamed her recriminations and disgust and outrage in their direction and if she’d been carrying an umbrella, or some such, she would have hit them, or at least she would have hit the little, shameless hussy, with it.
We’ll skip describing what she was forced to witness as the two miscreants were separating and scrambling to get off the bed and trying to re-orientate themselves as they did so and then flee out of the room but we will say that Mobo was surprised to see that her son had to use both of his hands on his ‘tiller’ to guide himself around the bed and over to the door.
Neither will we go into what the two lovers were thinking and experiencing as they were frantically trying to get away from her incandescent wrath. Suffice it to say that when they got into their rooms they both slammed the doors shut and then locked them before getting under the bedcovers, which was the quickest way to cover their nakedness and help assuage their guilt, and they didn’t show their faces, contrite beyond belief, until the next morning.
Mobo knew that she couldn’t say much to Alison but she could and did lay down the law to her son. She put the fear of God into him when she told him what his father would have done if it had been him who’d surprised them ‘going at it’ on his bed and then she saw from his newly stricken face that she needed to say no more.
Alison accepted being ostracized by Mobo but she kept on hoping that Brian would, uh, resume relations and she only gave up hoping on the day that he went off to the army which was on his birthday, and which was, by no coincidence whatsoever, the day that he reached the minimum age of acceptance by them.
A few months later he wrote a letter home and Alison was devastated when she read in it that he liked life in the military so much that he’d already decided to make a career of it and that he didn’t think that he’d be able to visit home very often.
It took Alison a long, long time to become reconciled with her loss and it hurt so much that she couldn’t bring herself to accept dates even though they came few and far between because no one was about to forget the ordeal that she’d been put through.
Her grief was only somewhat ameliorated when she realized, after a few months, that even with all the stress that his desertion of her had caused, and was causing her, she hadn’t once been incapacitated by her diverticulitis since the, uh, incident in the park.
So, she had a very good idea what her cure had been but she also knew that she was never going to tell anyone, not even her Gynecologist, what it was.
Brian’s father deserted the family a few weeks after he’d joined the army – he just packed a bag one day and drove off without a word – and Alison and Mobo never could figure out how the two things were related precisely although they both harbored the suspicion, no matter how tenuous it was, that Brian’s leaving had been the catalyst that had made his father give in to a long held, deep need to find freedom out there even though he must have known very well that there’s none of it out there to find.
By the end of the following year Alison and her foster-mother had to leave their home because they couldn’t keep up the rent payments and they found some poky rooms and Mobo often cursed her runaway husband in uncharacteristically nasty language.
As soon as she’d finished high school and had found a job in a large company Alison desperately wanted to improve her life and so she married the first man who asked her. There were literally hundreds of them to pick from in her office building and because she’d turned into an attractive woman she had no trouble getting dates. Her main reason for accepting that one for a husband was to get away from Mobo and the tiny apartment.
The marriage didn’t last long because her new husband developed a lazy bone after a few years and, because it turned out to be located firmly in his backbone, a year or so later she’d taken all that she could and one evening she found herself asking Mobo to take her back.
She did so but – having gotten used to living alone and only having enough room for herself anyway – with the proviso that she was to leave again as soon as possible and Alison was forced to marry hurriedly again when another eviction hint turned, a month later, into a non-negotiable order to leave.
Again it didn’t work out. This one ‘forgot’ to mention until well after their wedding day that he’d spent a good deal of time in prison and it became obvious to her that he hadn’t been rehabilitated while inside because the number of things that he brought home that, he said, had fallen off a truck when he was in the vicinity was alarmingly high and strangely varied. Also his income was constantly fluctuating which left him having nothing one day and having big rolls of folding money the next.
One day the police, with drawn guns no less, came for him and she found out in due course that she wouldn’t be seeing him for eight to ten. She got a divorce before he’d even been transferred from the jail to the penitentiary.
That time Mobo wouldn’t let her move back into her place and so she was forced to find herself a studio apartment whose rent cost her more than a half of what she brought home from her starting wage job and so she stayed there and lived in fear of not getting a single paycheck, for some reason, because inflation kept off-setting the meager raises that she got.
Over the next ten years she met up with the occasional man for a one, or three, night stand and one of them said that he loved her but he turned out to be even more destitute than she was and she had to force him out of her life after several months of having him living with her and expecting to be served three meals a day along with a six-pack of beer and two packs of cigarettes.
‘Gray’ was the color that she thought best described her life overall and she struggled on until, at forty-five, despair started playing a major role in her life and she found herself unemployable because of it and was, soon there-after, reduced to living near the town dump in a shack that had no mod cons and was so small that the single-bed mattress that was on the floor took up nearly a half of the space. There was a sink of sorts in there that sat on top of a bucket and she had a little butane stove but could rarely afford to have her two tanks filled and she often had to resort to lighting a wood fire outside to get boiling water for coffee and soup. The shack boasted an outhouse but it had been in dire need of being moved to a new location, and was proclaiming that to the world, when she took up residence and still did five years later.
One day she was checking out her major supplier of food – the dumpsters that were around the back of a super market – when an old acquaintance of hers, also living in ‘gray’ land, asked her why she hadn’t showed up at Mobo’s funeral and that was how she found out that she’d been ‘orphaned.’
When she got to be sixty-two a zealous Social Worker sought her out and she was then able to get a few hundred dollars every month from Social Security and with that she bought herself a few comforts – like a new mattress; and regularly filled butane tanks; and a roof that didn’t leak – and, for the first time in years, she could regularly eat food, other than soup, that hadn’t been thrown out by someone. The Social Worker was friendly and she dropped in from time to time to say hello.
She was well aware, and was grateful for it, that her standard of living had increased by a huge amount and that someone cared and consequently the ‘gray’ began to lift a little and she started to care for her appearance again and to buy more attractive clothes in re-sale shops.
And then Brian came back into her life.
She didn’t exactly welcome him because she was ashamed of her home and the shame stayed with her until he told her that he’d been living rough in Florida for years. He said that he was tired of the heat down there and of the near certainty of never getting ahead again if he stayed in his rut and so he’d decided to try for a new start up north and had hitch hiked all the way. Obviously, he had nowhere to stay and so it came to, “Can I stay with you for a few nights, please?”
She found it hard to believe when he told her that he wasn’t getting Social Security yet and then he explained that it was because he wanted to try to keep living frugally on his army pension – which, up to then had rarely lasted a half way through every month because his friends, Jim Beam and Jack Daniels, had always forced him to give it to them – until he got to be sixty-five and a half, which would be in less than a year’s time, because that way the amount of his SS check would increase and the two checks would give him a total income that was sufficient to let him live comfortably for the rest of his life.
He’d brought a bottle of bourbon with him – to celebrate with and to mark the end of his old ways – and when they’d emptied it, she’d only had about a fifth of the fifth herself, it seemed to be established that he was going to be allowed to stay the night and that supposition was enhanced when they found that neither of them could stand up no matter about walk somewhere.
They slept in the same bed – how else? – and when they woke up the next morning they were both so hung-over that they didn’t care, nor hardly take note of, that they’d slept next to each other all night long.
They spent the morning and the afternoon drinking a few beers to try to ease their headaches and they slowly got re-acquainted and later he went and got dinner at a take-out place and the evening passed amicably. It became obvious that he wasn’t going to go away that night either and so it inevitably it got to be time to lie down on the only mattress again although this time they were both close to being sober.
She knew that there was no alternative because there was literally nowhere else in the shack where he could so much as stretch out fully.
She looked for a way to save face and the only thing that she could come up with was that they should sleep head to toe, which would keep their heads well apart and she decided to ignore the fact that their centers wouldn’t be one iota farther apart than they would be if both of their heads were on the same pillow.
She managed to get to sleep after settling down but he tossed and turned with need until he could stand the frustration no longer and less than a half hour after she’d fallen asleep she got woken up due to the fact that he was groping her.
She sat up and protested, vehemently, and in his enormous need the only answer he could come up with was – he’d given up on trying to find the right words to wake her up with and plead his case and nor could he find any when she was awake – was to take her hand and force her to feel what he was sporting.
Although she’d thought that she had zero interest in whatever his plight as a man was when she felt that his erection was hot to her touch and was clearly close to bursting her hand automatically changed from reluctant touching to soft caressing as it would have done in order to comfort a crying baby or a frightened kitten.
The gesture was taken by him as a carte blanch go ahead and he came at her so forcefully that she knew that there was zero chance of reasoning with him and that to avoid getting hurt she’d have to comply by going along with it and try to make the best of it. Although she’d decided to bow to the inevitable almost at once it was by then too late to save her nightgown from getting torn open although she managed to take her panties off in time to save them.
It was brutal for her from beginning to end. She knew enough to guide him through her pubic hair – it was long and tangled through not having been so much as trimmed for fifteen years or so due to there not having been a reason to do so – because it probably would have cut him otherwise. She also knew enough to guide him all the way in to avoid the possibility of one of them getting hurt if his weapon somehow got diverted. When she’d done that he took over and bulled himself all the rest of the way in and then he moved his hips as quickly and as forcefully as he could manage.
When he came she knew that he hadn’t been with a woman for months, at least, because she lost count of the number of spurts of fluid that he injected into her. Knowing that, and not wanting to have all of it run back out when he ‘pulled the plug’ – it would soil her body and then the sheet and the mattress – she put one hand on his back to keep him where he was and then searched around with her other hand for her panties. When she found them she folded them into a pad and she put it in place after she’d gotten him to vacate the premises and then she got off the bed and went to the chamber pot where she first emptied herself and then she further employed them to douche herself using water from her bucket.
She found some clean panties and another nightgown and then she said to him, “Whewww man! Is that ever it for you? Talk about being your own worst enemy. You’re out of here and out of my life for good first thing tomorrow. You hear me? What? Do you think that I’m some kind of whore that you can use whenever and however you want? Get off my bed right now and I don’t want find that you’re still here when I wake up in the morning”
He well knew that she meant what she’d said and so, not wanting to antagonize her anymore, he got up at once and laid himself down on a small mat and he bent his body to fit around the legs of the little table and its chair. Although he felt totally relaxed and could have slept easily he forced himself to stay awake and concentrate all of his mental powers on working out a scheme that would let him get back onto her good side because doing so wasn’t just important for him for the next few days, or weeks, it was essential if the idea that had come to him in Florida and that had propelled him to come and look her up would take place and ensure a much easier ride for him in his old age.
He waited until it got light and then waited some more until she’d turned in her sleep and had taken up the position that best suited his plan and then he eased onto the bed at her side and he ever so slowly pulled her over and up until she was lying squarely on top of him. He moved her head until it was resting near his face and then he began to smooth her bottom, ever so gently.
Before she came fully awake she started to make ‘Mmmmmm-ing’ sounds and then she began to nuzzle his face.
When she woke up enough to realize where she was and with whom and had remembered what he’d done to her she stopped with the nuzzling and tried to get away from him.
His hands changed from caressing to clutching and he held her in place and then spoke quickly and forcefully to head off her protestations, “Alison. I’m sorry, really sorry, about last night. It was the beast in me coming out. I guess that you realized that it’s been a long time since I was with a woman and it was that together with the fact that it was you who was here in bed with me that made the urgency so stronger. I’m really sorry for what I had to do but please try to remember this one thing: yours was the first female body that I ever got to see and to hold and I’ve kept an image of it in my mind ever since and last night there it was – right here within reach. It was too much for me to bear. I’m very sorry. I’ll leave today if you insist but I sure do hope that you’ll remember that we’re both all the family that we’ve got and I’d really like to stay with you for always. So please take into consideration that we’ll be able to get a nice apartment somewhere in about a year’s time if we pool our money and think about this – you surely don’t want to live in this dump for the rest of your life, do you?”
All of her basic animal instincts were telling her to stay where she was, on top of him, because she felt way more than merely comfortable there but she wouldn’t allow them to influence her. The loathsome creature had to go!
“Stop holding me down or I won’t even answer you – – – there. Well now, ‘dump’ did you call it? You mean my home sweet home here? Well, the truth be told, I don’t want to stay here for a minute longer than I have to . . . but leave that aside . . . what you did last night was just plain, outright brutal and unacceptable, you hear me?”
“I know it was and I’ve already said that I’m sorry and why I had to do it. Listen to me, please. I want to tell you how much I care for you and how much I want to be here with you from now on. We’ll be a family again. Let me try to make it up to you. Please?”
“Well first you can take that hand away – – – there. Now then, how are you going to ‘make it up to me, pray?’ I’m listening.”
“Well. As I said, I’ve not been with a woman for months and months, right? Jesus! I thought that I was going to fill you up to over flowing because it kept on, uh, coming, right? Well, the truth is that besides not being with a woman for many months I haven’t been with a woman who wasn’t a whore for years and years before that and when I saw your face this morning, before you woke up, I looked at it for a long time and I got to be certain in my own mind that I’ve had enough of that old life of mine. I never want to be alone again and I never want to have to use a rubber again for protection and I never again want to have do it up against a wall to save a few bucks. And another thing – you know what? – it just came to me that I haven’t felt or seen a woman’s breast since I don’t know when. I’ve always held that getting off is just animal lust and so that can and should be bought and paid for like anything else but being allowed to freely see and touch a decent woman’s breasts is entirely different. That’s real loving. Are yours still nice and firm? Like I remember them? Be a darling and let me see one for a minute. Please?”
Her outright hatred had softened into mere dislike by then because when he’d mentioned ‘family’ something inside her responded to the word because she too was really tired of being alone and lonely. And then, a little later, even her ‘dislike’ had softened when he’d talked of their sharing a proper apartment because she truly didn’t want to have to go through many more winters like the last one that she’d suffered through in this same shack. And then she’d felt her last defenses slip away when he asked to see one of her breasts because his sincerity about how he revered being allowed access to them, ‘that’s real love,’ had moved her and she didn’t know how to refuse him that little pleasure and, besides that and truth be told again, she was proud of how hers weren’t drooping much and, she remembered ruefully, how, over the years when she’d been taking a shower, or some such, there they’d both be – pert and soft and proclaiming her womanhood to the world – and she’d be painfully aware that there was no man there to see or care no matter about wanting to touch them.
She decided to let him do what he wanted – what harm could it do her? – but she couldn’t bring herself to say so, seeing that she was supposed to be still mad at him, and so she breathed in deeply and then uncrossed her arms and let them both rest at her side and while she was doing that she didn’t let make eye contact with him.
He got the message at once and he moved in but, of course, although he’d asked to be given access to one of them they both knew that that wasn’t true and, sure enough, he got them both out into the open air and he cleverly took time to admire them, while murmuring how beautiful they were, before touching them and then he gave them his full attention and he licked them and rained kisses on them and sucked on them all the while making sounds like a kid in a toy shop.
After a few minutes of that – who could have guessed she asked herself? – he started pleading to be allowed to ‘touch her belly’ and so, because she’d enjoyed being treated with such unaccustomed reverence just before, she conceded while knowing full well what he meant by ‘touching her belly’ and so, to let him know that he could go ahead without having to tell him so, she lifted her hips up to be able to bunch her nightgown up into a roll and then she lay still but even then she kept her head turned away from him.
A moment later she found herself to be effectively naked except for her panties because he didn’t stop until he’d undone every button of her nightgown and had moved the two sides aside. He spent a good deal of time kissing her belly, while not neglecting her breasts for a second, and his hands frequently strayed to lightly smooth her pubic hair but they both knew that he hadn’t yet been given permission to kiss her center much less search her out with his tongue which, of course, would automatically give him carte blanch to do whatever else he wanted. They both knew that they hadn’t gotten that far yet and that total, uninhibited access to her would have to be negotiated for and that it would take a whole lot more than sweet talk and vague promises to get that done.
He knew that he needed to work on finding a more effective strategy so, when he’d had his fill of kissing her belly, to get time to think he got off the bed and then, feeling a bit grungy, he dipped one of her wash-rags into a bowl of water and he used it to wash under his arms and then the hair on his chest and then his crotch area and then he dried off and, although he hadn’t yet come up with a brilliant idea, he opted to lay down next to her again on the small mattress and then he took the liberty of re-opening her night gown before pulling her close.
He was still naked and so there was a whole lot of skin contact taking place and he could tell that she liked the feel of it as much as he did and then, when she buried her face in his neck, nostalgia came flooding in and it took a decisive part in bringing their coy maneuvering to an end.
By freshening up he had, inadvertently and luckily, washed off the cheap cologne that he used in lieu of taking a bath and by doing so he found the key that he needed in that by exposing her to his natural body odor her sense of smell – which is first among equals as regards the most primitive ones that humans have – had taken her back to the time when giving him pleasure in any way that she could had been her number one goal in life.
When he heard, and felt, her taking big breaths and sighing deeply with each one he cottoned on to what was happening to her and with that he felt sure enough of himself to risk pushing his luck a little and he arranged his lolling, half-hard erection so that it was lying nicely on her bare thigh and was happy to find that she couldn’t stop her hand from moving down to be able to hold it for him like she had in days of old and of fond memory.
She’d let her hand move down because it had been a long time since she’d been able to hold one lovingly instead of trying to fend one off and she’d always liked the unique heft of them before they got to be overwhelmingly commanding, his especially of course, but she didn’t do anything to it nor for it because she wanted to have him continue with trying to persuade her to let him back into her life on a permanent basis.
He sensed that she hadn’t come around properly yet so he did some more thinking and as he did so his one of his hands found its way past her panties and began to fondle her bottom.
She didn’t object because it wasn’t exactly a serious breach and it sure did feel good.
When he’d put together in his mind his all-important spiel he said, “I already told you that I’ve held the image of your lovely body in my mind all these years. Well that isn’t the half of it. Not by a long chalk. When I was a buck private, in my bunk in a camp somewhere far from a town, or when I was broke wherever I was, to save my sanity I’d bring your image to the front of my mind and I wouldn’t jerk off because that would have dirtied it somehow. I’d try to hold on to it as I went to sleep and, sure enough, I’d nearly always have a nice, long drawn-out wet dream that would see me through for days. And when I got to be a sergeant, and could afford to pay for a woman now and again, I’d usually have to recall your image before I could get hard enough to do the job.
“Well now, seeing that I’ve gotten started, let me tell you the rest. I’ve been married twice and both of them were to mean bitches and I really wasn’t very interested in them a few months after the honeymoon because their mouths were their worst enemies and so, from then on when they insisted on my paying some attention to them in bed, I had to concentrate hard on bringing to mind the details of you and your body and try to replace their ordinariness with your specialness before I could even get around to obliging them.
“To this day, and right now at this minute, if I close my eyes I can picture your lovely breasts as they were back then, and your bottom and your belly and every crevice and every hair on your darling little pussy and the whiteness and the pinkness and the redness of the different parts. I remember how they smelled and how they tasted and how they felt to my tongue and to my fingers.
“And what’s more,” he said as he got warmed up and, encouragingly, felt her hand change from weighing to grasping, “whenever I had enough need, and enough time to get to conjure it up properly, it appeared to me under a kind of aura, as if a spot light was on it.”
He figured that he’d shot his bolt with that ‘aura’ bit and so he wound down with: “Well now, because of all that I’ve known for a long time that the only thing that makes any sense for me is to come and live with you full time and, also, being allowed to have access to you, also full time, is the only way that I’ll be able to come even close to experiencing what I think going to heaven must be like.”
“Wow! Stop already! You win hands down. Let go of me so that I can turn onto my back because God forbid I should keep you from experiencing heaven for a minute longer – – – there. Oh! But wait. You know what? I’d better get some scissors so you can trim back my mess of pubic hair or it’ll maybe cut you. I let it grow as long as it wanted to because it’s a kind of protection for me and I don’t mean from the cold. Besides that, if you cut it short you’ll be able to see it like it was all those years ago. Yes?”
“Do I ever. You know something? My life was ruined when Mom made it impossible for me to stay in our house. That’s why I went into the Army and why I never came back home to visit ‘cos I knew that I couldn’t bear to be near you if I couldn’t get to kiss you all over every night.”
“Wow! Really? Well, I sure wish that you’d told me that at the time. It would have made a big difference in my life. – – – – – Wow! I can hardly get my mind around it. – – – – – Let me tell you that hearing you say that means so much to me that if I hadn’t already decided to take you back into my life that would have done the trick for me. – – – – – – – – Well, here’s the scissors. Do you want to do it or shall I? Ah. I thought so. Let me put a pillow under me so as to be able to open up properly for you – – – there – – – Oooh! – that’s not the way to cut hair – is it? Well. Keep on doing it your way as long as you like. Ooooooh, yes! You darling man. God in heaven! Man, have I ever missed your kind of loving.”
When he’d shorn her and had had enough of eating her all up, both hirsute and bald, he experimented with positioning her body so that the various parts of her most resembled what he remembered. Her breasts assumed their proper role if she half turned away from him so that his palm could cup one of them perfectly. Her bottom took up its correct shape if she lay face down and he placed a pillow under her hips to make her buttocks firm up a little. Her belly felt exactly right when she was turned all the way away from him and he’d reached over from behind to smooth it and to weigh it just so.
When, at last, he wanted to get it on again she insisted that they do some sixty-nine first so that she could fully indulge her nostalgia and, also as they’d done back then, to ensure that he got to be as hard as he possibly could be.
Nature had been ninety-five percent in charge the first time that they’d done it but the second time She only showed up at the end to oversee the transfer of seed.
When he’d first entered her, that is when he had her full permission, she realized that her whole body was welcoming him back and when he got into his fondly remembered rhythm she couldn’t keep her ankles from going up onto his hips, to help him with the down strokes, and her hands from caressing the back of his neck and the base of his spine and when all of that was happening she felt her center open up for him like it had done all those years ago and never, for anyone else, since.
He was very aware of each stage as it happened but when he felt her very core open up to welcome him he rejoiced because he knew that it signaled the end, for all time, of his having to hear, “Hey soldier, hurry up will you man? There’s a line of horny guys waiting out there and time is money.” Nor, since then, “God in heaven! It’s still coming out. Turn off the tap for chrisake. Don’t you ever jerk that thing off, man?”
He stayed with her in bed for the rest of that morning and every time that he remembered another one of their old routines, or she reminded him of one, they’d indulge themselves but, knowing his limitations, he carefully kept himself in check to be able to see to it that Alison climaxed each time – he knew that by doing so he was building up precious points with her – before he finally had to give way to the demand of, ‘Do not mock me,’ Mother Nature.
When she finally felt him ejaculating into her she realized that when that had happened the first time, the night before when he’d forced himself on her, what he’d nearly filled her up with then had been the nasty, smelly essence of a predatory, dominant male that had made her want to oust it from her body ASAP – and the producer of it from her life – but this second time she’d wanted to, and had, held him close while he was making the transfer and had continued to do so for a minute or so afterwards to be sure that her body was given enough time to welcome and absorb all of his fluids. When he’d come that second time he’d also come home.
They both needed to rest after all the strenuous effort that they’d put into re-discovering themselves and she wasn’t surprised – delighted but not surprised – when he pulled her on top of him and then smoothed her bottom until he fell asleep. As she was dozing off herself it came to her, seemingly out of nowhere, that rape, per se, couldn’t be said to be all bad because in her case having had to suffer through it had been directly responsible – twice! – for bringing a whole lot of lovely loving into her life. The first time had only lasted for a month or two but this time it would clearly last into the foreseeable future.