Life has a way of changing suddenly.
Or, at least, how you view it.
Mine changed suddenly and I faced a lot of surprises.
One of my co-workers is a woman of wonderfully exotic appearance almost 9 years my junior. She joined our department 6 years before this story began.
Her arrival left an indelible mark on me that I had to work around.
In other words, I fell for her at first sight.
Mind you, I did my best to not act on it. Not only did I take my marriage commitments seriously, I was also fairly certain that my feelings for Amy were not reciprocated, so I did my best to not expose myself.
I'd had some bad luck in my life; exposing "that loving feeling" made rejection painful and humiliating. Despite being married I'd never fully recovered from a lot of these experiences.
Workplace rules aren't helpful either; there are a lot of things that cannot be said between co-workers, especially about sexual issues. I did my best to not antagonize or otherwise annoy her. Admittedly I have never been all that good at political correctness but I have learned some control over the years.
Despite therapy over the last year, I was still working to get a grip on my own perceptions of various interactions in an effort to recognize that I was not facing constant rejection and that I was not being looked down upon. Instead of trying to analyze what someone meant when they spoke to me, I was paying more attention to my own emotional responses and making efforts to figure out which responses were self-destructive.
Y'know, looking at yourself under a microscope isn't always fun, especially when trying to understand why you react in negative ways to the seemingly simplest remarks. Being in the middle of learning how to evaluate and understand the genesis of my own feelings sometimes made me far more sensitive to both the positive and negative transactions from family and my co-workers.
Of more import, and what I was trying to concentrate on, was why I over-reacted to any even mildly critical comments and didn't trust anything that sounded even vaguely like praise. I'd carried these habits for a long time so my efforts to recover from them was not going to happen overnight.
Despite the bouncing of my self-confidence in the middle of this maelstrom, an in-water boat show was coming to town and I planned to go see it. I like sailboats. I like sailing. It was one of the few activities in my life where I felt like I wasn't a "loser".
For me, blowing off a Thursday afternoon was easy to decide on given how much overtime I'd cranked up already this week.
Now, because of my enthusiasm and the emotional lift, I did something I'd not normally do: Try to invite co-workers to the show. I want to share what I enjoy. So, early on this Thursday morning, as I felt buoyed by enthusiasm over the show, I sent a co-worker named Amy an instant message:
Got enough O/T week stacked up to blow off the afternoon?
There's a boat show down in St Pete. Wanna go? I'll drive!
All right, my emotional strength was much improved over the previous year since I would never have stuck my neck out this far before. I really didn't expect her to agree, but, hey, sometimes hope does spring. I was getting to the point where I like to have as many friends around me as possible.
All right, so I have what one co-worker has called a "jones" for Amy, all right? And I loved the idea of getting her attention.
Did you know that even when suffering from a deep infatuation that you can still step back just barely far enough to appear functional? Especially for a crush that hits you in your forties? It isn't easy, of course, but it is doable.
It didn't help that Amy wasn't merely physically attractive to my eye. Oh, no, she was also brilliant, witty and had a voice that had entranced me from the first moment we met.
In other words, despite the fear of exposing my infatuation, I found Amy fun to be around.
And, because of the infatuation, I avoided spending "too much" time by her cubicle.
So I didn't get my hopes up high at all, which left me very startled to get her reply:
Sure, sounds like a plan. What time?
Half of me was ready to dance on my desk; the other half was busy telling the dancing child to control himself and be quiet so as to not scare her away.
We worked out the logistics; I'd drive us down and then I would bring her back to her car at the office afterwards. We would also get something quick to eat in the Cafe on the ground floor before leaving the building.
I did my best to not drool while sitting across from her at lunch. I also was extremely careful to not drip food or drink on my shirt and, despite the distraction, was unusually successful.
We headed for my car, dumped our laptop bags in the trunk, and took off for St Pete, windows down and the wind caressing Amy's short hair and running across my crew cut.
There are several CDs I keep in the car with mixes meant for varying moods-- when I'm down it's a mix of "active music" which includes cuts from soundtrack albums for action movies to bring me up, soft romantic music when I can stand to hear it and, today, I chose a "mellow out" mix to keep my own feelings reined in. For me, a mellow mix does not include any of Barry Manilow's "music to slit your wrists by" but did include a lot of Basia and Enya. This helped calm me down and smoothed out my mood swings just enough to comfortably hold a conversation.
As we drove we talked about work, our decompression starting to take hold as we crossed the Howard Frankenstein (all right, Frankland) bridge on I-275. It felt good that she was comfortable enough to relax so deeply next to me in the car.
Yes, I'll admit to some concern that I'd been scaring her given my almost worshipful demeanor. It also seemed that she had her own issues to work out. It seemed strange to see someone I saw as perfect carrying a lot of the same self-doubt that I carry. I'd never before paid any attention to self-critical assessments.
I was fortunate that, once we'd found a good parking lot in St Pete (i.e. "covered or in shade"), she spotted the tram stop for the show which would take us down by the Pier.
Even with all the time I've lived in the area I've only been near the Pier despite all the years of living here four or five times-- and three of those previous times were for this kind of in-water boat show.
For my own comfort, I paid for her ticket, making my own for two days, figuring I'd be back during the week-end.
We smiled at each other as we got the wrist bands and I signed up for a chance at a shopping spree before we entered the main tent.
Now realize that I am left-handed. I'd already noted that Amy was also a south-paw and, oddly enough, this handedness seems to make us more sensitive to how things are organized. This tendency to find patterns will go a long way to explain the serpentine route we followed through the tent, going along one aisle and then down the next...
You know the pattern.
There was equipment that triggered massive drooling-- sheet blocks, boom vangs, all kinds of things I wanted to replace on my own boat. Oddly enough, what I did buy wasn't a requirement of any kind: I bought some hats with the boat name for myself, my wife and my youngest daughter, figuring that they'd be a hit. I sure liked mine.
We worked our way through the second tent and even perused the smaller separate tent that "Latitudes and Attitudes" had set up before we stopped for something to drink.
It would have really helped had I brought sodas in for myself and Amy given the high prices. Amy opted for a beer and we sat down to go through the collected swag and drool over the soft-core sailor porn in the Sailing magazine issues I'd gotten.
Finally off my feet for a rest, it was time for me to field some questions from Amy so I did my best to explain sailing to someone who had no experience with it at all.
Someone wiser than I once remarked that "anyone can be taught to sail" adding the corollary that "it's almost impossible to teach someone why they should sail". I could tell that most of what I was saying wasn't immediately resonating with Amy and may have been going so far over her head she wasn't even hearing a 'whooshing' noise.
So I finished up by telling her "I'll have to take you sailing some time so you can feel it. Once you get a feel for it you can figure out if it's an ordeal or an adventure."
Yeah, I stole that motto. It was too clever to resist. It was worth it, though: I got a nice smile from her and she patted my arm as she got up "I need another one of these" to get herself another bottle.
As a tee-totaler I don't know shit about drinking or how it can affect someone; Amy came back with two more cold bottles.
Given that she weighed less than 95 pounds I didn't realize how much I was in for an "entertaining" afternoon.
We headed over to the docks where the boats were on display in the water, skipping the trailerables sitting on the lawn.
I am such a snob; to me, a boat belongs in the water.
Hunter's sailboats have never done much for me and none of these caught my eye. Amy liked exploring the interiors and she was learning the basic layout quickly.
Wiping up my drool after looking over a Southerly, we worked our way past the Island Packets (with prices posted showing that they cost a packet), through the Beneteau (if you have to ask you can't afford 'em) collection and finally the Catalina sailboats.
My own boat is an ancient Catalina 30 which has served me well in the three years I have owned it. This goes a long way to explain that soft spot in my heart for the brand.
Amy was having a blast having finished her third beer just before we'd reached the boats. I didn't realize then that the beers were only starting to hit her while we were crawling around the boats. By the time we got to Catalina's end of the floating dock, though...
She was not swaying just because the floating dock was alive with the small motions imparted by the others walking around on it and... ummmm... No, I didn't realize Amy was, by now, at least as fully loaded as some of these boats we were seeing. At one point she had to be dissuaded from crawling into the v-berth of the 440 to take a nap despite her attempts to talk me into crawling in with her...
Guiding her out of the show wasn't a simple prospect since she leaned more and more on me and my body was responding.
Laugh all you want. This was the woman who'd fuelled quite a few of my fantasies. You try supporting your dream girl and not get a hard-on, all while trying to keep your hands in "safe" places. Especially when the unsafe places seemed to find ways to move to where your hands were, necessitating another move to maintain some semblance of propriety.
The tram ride wasn't a problem to get back to the parking garage and I soon had Amy sitting-- well, laying-- in the passenger seat, having cranked it back so she could rest.
We were driving down the ramp when Amy leaned over from the passenger seat to me and stroked my arm. "Alan, I'm feeling really, really horny and I want you to take me somewhere so you can fuck my brains out. I need to get laid."
This time it was me that was feeling faint. I managed to recover enough aplomb to pull up to the booth and pay the parking lot attendant. I even managed to pull into the street.
Her eyes drew mine and she repeated "I wanna get laid. By you. And soon!"
At this point, despite the car being stationary at a traffic light, my brain was suddenly flying in two wildly different directions, one segment scared to death and travelling at 113MPH and the other, claiming to speak for my body, at about 72MPH. I was not in the mood to use the math needed to compute the resultant vector, especially not with a horny woman and her self-made perfume fogging my mind.
This was not, as I am sure you can understand, a moment for trigonometry.
On top of these issues, I am a married man but, at the same time, I am not particularly happy with everything within I saw within that relationship. I'd been feeling like I was there for my wife but, for various reasons, didn't feel like she was there for me.
In other words, like so many other men seem to complain, I felt sex-starved. Yeah, yeah, I know that this perception isn't "objectively" true, but, hey, no human is completely free of filtering reality through their own prejudices.
Given my unhappiness and need to "get my shit together", I'd chosen to sleep on the boat one night a week, so that I had time for myself without distraction to think and consider what I wanted to do for myself. I'd chosen Thursday nights for this and, as you may recall, this particular night was a Thursday.
Now realize that I wasn't sleeping on the boat as a "bachelor pad" in hope of getting "lucky". Hell, given the disappointment I believed my wife felt, I was actually afraid to "get lucky". Just like the line from Ray Romano, I did not want to disappoint a second woman in my life.
So what did I do?
It's been said that a man only has enough blood to run one of two organs: his brain or his penis. When a man's penis gets first dibs on the blood in circulation, well, almost all capacity for thinking of something other than sex is out the window.
So I turned to head towards the gulf side of Pinellas where my boat was docked. Yes, my little head was giving the orders. It didn't hurt that my big head had been drooling over Amy for years, either, so that part wasn't resisting.
All right, so I tried to justify this course by thinking she was not up to driving herself home.
When I made a stop for ice Amy pulled enough of herself back together to join me in the store, bringing me a six pack of beer at the check-out. I paid for it all, loaded the ice in the cooler I kept in the trunk, and we continued on.
Amy was not sobering up much. I kept on hearing terms of endearment that made me harder and harder. I joined her in showering affection as well, proof that I am not a complete fool by showing that I care.
Even though I'm not used to hearing sexually flattering words from a beautiful woman, I felt that if a woman is willing to tell me she finds me attractive, I am going to let her know how I feel, too. This was a surprisingly new experience for me.
I felt she was flattering me. It felt good. So I told her the truth about how I saw her. As I waxed rhapsodic about my feelings for her and how much like a goddess I saw her as, her face reflected some shock. Despite being reasonably sober, I didn't realize I was seeing evidence of her own insecurities.
C'mon, the woman's a goddess, right? So what could she ever possibly feel insecure about?
When we got to the marina I made sure she could get into the ladies' room and went into the mens' room to take a whiz. We got back to the car, headed for the entrance to the dock my slip was on and Amy had steadied down somewhat as I got the cooler and my bag of extra clothes out of the trunk. I had to discourage Amy from trying to carry either of our laptop bags since she seemed likely to fall into the water without my active assistance.
I sighed, relaxing, when we got to the slip and felt thankful that she wouldn't need to climb over the foredeck to get to the cockpit. I soon had her sitting and relaxing in the cockpit as I unlocked the companionway and slid the hatch forward. I could feel her eyes on me as I pulled out the boards to open the rest of the way into the boat.
Climbing down to turn on the shore power in the boat, I got back up on a step and grabbed the cooler and busied myself in getting the icebox loaded as Amy watched me with eyes warm enough to have melted that ice before I got it all put away. I placed the cans from the six pack of beer she'd picked out next to the soda cans and water bottles that had been waiting here. Emptying the ice bag on top of everything in the the icebox would cool things down quickly.
Well, almost everything. I was hot and Amy, when I reached to help her down the companionway, was hotter. And wetter, as I was soon to discover.
Her arms, when she got to the bottom step, wrapped around me and I got a dose of beery breath from her. This last wasn't much of a turn on but then she started kissing me all over again. Her kisses had enough enthusiasm to turn me back on, fast, but she lacked coordination.
It was easier to carry Amy to one of the berths in the main cabin where, seated, it was easy to shift her to my lap. Once safely placed on my lab, I could cuddle, kiss and touch her. Even though she wasn't the most co-ordinated, her hands were further inflaming me.
As if having your dream girl sitting in your lap wasn't enough to steal all of your cognitive abilities.
All right, so at that moment I couldn't have pronounced "cognitive" much less spelled it or explained what it meant.
Somehow, without me paying much attention to things, I found us both topless, her small breasts with her little nipples showing, hard and wrinkly, giving me something to feast my eyes on. It didn't take long for my lips and tongue to jump into the act and feast on them properly.
We stripped on our way to the vee berth and our bodies quickly entangled as we kissed each other again and touched each other, fanning flames of desire. She finally started moaning "Fuck me, Alan, fuck me..."
Somehow hearing her say it that way woke me up, shocking me out of this sex-fogged stupor I'd happily entered.
Why?
Even though I've been awful at romancing anyone in all of my life, I felt the need to be more romantic. I didn't want to "merely" fuck the woman of my dreams, I wanted to make love to her, to make her know I loved her, all so she'd see me as a candidate for her dreams.
Make that "I wanted to make love with her"... which the alcohol she'd already consumed made unlikely.
Yes, I'm weird. I admit it. I have my insecurities and emotional baggage. I have my vulnerabilities, like every other human being walking this earth; no one is ever truly free of such weaknesses. Part of my insecurities made it far more important to me that she would choose, of her own free will, to make love with me. The thought that the alcohol in her beautiful body was doing the talking spooked me more than I want to admit to.
I'm sure you understand how it is when you still have many problems feeling lovable, much less loved, and why you feel the need for an enthusiastic and active partner rather than someone merely tolerating your attentions, much less loaded and "painlessly non-present".
Realizing that the alcohol made this more of a unilateral activity, I decided to make love to her in a different way than she expected. My tongue and lips seductively worked their way down her torso to the junction of her legs and, joined with my fingers, soon worked her up and over.
There is something fulfilling in hearing your partner tell you-- and anyone else listening-- that they've enjoyed the sexual attention. I was getting more massive infusions of confidence and pride just by the noises Amy made that night under my tongue than I had gotten over all of the years I'd been married.
I didn't give Amy a chance to even try to reciprocate or get me to jump on top of her; every time it seemed she was rallying after an orally instigated orgasm I'd again use my mouth and fingers to take her up and over again. Each time I learned something new as I paid close attention to her responses and discovered that I'd been "missing the mark" with my wife over the years. I learned more in that hour of oral attention to Amy than I had in all of the time trying to orally please my wife.
At the end, when she finally drifted off into a comfortable sleep, I worried. I worried for myself. Amy was definitely a sexual dynamo, having ridden through 5 orgasms to get her to fall asleep. It would not take long for her to kill me if she set her mind-- and body-- to it.
Fortunately for our privacy the marina does not allow true live-aboards, so very few people were likely sleeping aboard their boat on a Thursday night. I will tell you that this level of quiet and solitude was one of the deciding factors for choosing Thursday nights and it was strange how this worked to ensure some privacy given Amy's more than "merely audible" expressions of enthusiasm. I really hoped no one else had been listening.
Let me revise that: I was of two minds. One of them was still cowed by my wife and wanting to maintain a low profile while the other wanted to be able to proclaim "Look what I can do to make a woman happy!" Discretion is nice, of course, but isn't as emotionally satisfying.
While the idea of holding Amy and just fading out in the vee berth had a great allure, I managed to get the energy together to climb out, turn out the lights, and, with a few strokes, emptied my prostate into the t-shirt that was going into the wash.
I didn't wipe my face down; even if Amy and I never "got it together" again I wanted to luxuriate in the smell of both her regular lubricant as well as the ejaculate I'd gotten with her third climax. I didn't dress either as I climbed up next to her in the vee berth, dragged a sheet over us, pulled her to my side, arranging her for my comfort.
Yeah, I'm selfish. I had her head on my chest, one of her arms across me and a leg over mine. She felt wonderfully warm and took mere seconds for me to join her in sleep.
My awakening was very sudden as the night passed almost instantaneously. I woke up in the middle of a powerful orgasm, my body and muscles spasming. It was only as I grew soft afterwards that my eyes were able to unroll themselves from looking at the back of my own skull and saw Amy using her mouth to clean my suddenly over-sensitive penis.
It was pretty obvious to me where the rest of my ejaculate had gone given the notable lack of evidence elsewhere.
This was strange because I'd often dreamt of worshipping her body; instead, it looked like she was enjoying this process almost as much as I had my efforts the previous night.
The sudden shock that the woman I'd felt "out of my league" or otherwise "unavailable" was treating my sex organ so lovingly left me with no defenses worth mentioning.
My hand reached down and caressed her head, my fingers gliding through her short hair to caress her scalp and... "I've loved you for a long time, Amy. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you before now. But I do love you. And not just for how you woke me up, either."
My dick wasn't completely hard but it wasn't all that soft either being half in her mouth as she smiled around it, her eyes glowing.
With a pop from broken suction she pulled off my dick and said "Really? Like I couldn't tell? Could it be the way you licked me silly? More than once? Even with me pleading for you to stop licking and just fuck me?"
I shrugged as I nodded. "I didn't want to take a chance of doing something that, when sober, you might regret, so..."
She giggled which had a whole huge set of goosebumps march down my spine before forming up and hardening my "resolve". "If you don't think I've been wanting you for a while and really got turned on when you invited me..."
"Well, the beer..."
She shushed me. "Oh, I figured that you wouldn't be able to resist taking advantage of me if I seemed affectionately drunk. That was three times my usual allowance of beer, just so I worked up my courage to open up and express what I was feeling for you, too. Oh, sure, I was pretty loaded last night, but, man, I was fucking horny before I even chugged that first beer. It doesn't hurt that I'm one of the lucky ones: I've seldom gotten a hangover from beer."
I nodded and asked "Can you come up here so I can hold the most beautiful woman I have ever seen?"
The flash of anger in her eyes hurt me. She backed off from me, glaring. "You..."
I was shook up. What did I say? "What's wrong?"
"Oh, c'mon, you know I'm not that beautiful."
But... "What? The woman of my dreams isn't the most beautiful woman I've ever dreamt of? You may be pretty damn blind, Amy, but I'm not. I've never seen a more perfect woman in my life. Live or on film."
The anger on her face faded into confusion as she asked "Why would you think I'm beautiful?"
Gawd, how do I explain it?
I sighed and held out my arms to her. It took a couple of seconds of her staring at me but she finally moved to occupy them and the warmth I felt with her cuddled up to me hit me like a rush. The look on her face let me know she still wanted an answer. "Amy, when I come into the office and see your face I get a real lift. When I wave to you and you smile back... I feel like a million dollars. You have a face that is wonderfully expressive. I love to see your face when you feel content. You have a small body which, I'll be honest, turns me on. I've theorized that I have a 'thing' for small women because I don't think I am properly equipped to please anyone larger, even though I know, in reality, that size isn't really all that important."
She looked at me. "Beautiful? But I don't like the way I look in pictures!"
I laughed. "I've yet to see a picture of you where you look happy or content. Heck, you try not to show your smile... which, Amy, my dearest little one, qualifies as a weapon of men's distraction. Any man you smile at will walk on air for at least an hour. Or, at least, until he walks into a wall. I can't believe you don't realize how fucked up we men get just seeing you smile at us."
There was some hope I was getting through with her until the next question of "Well, what about my mosquito bites?"
"They sure tasted good to me, last night," I replied, almost in reflex, "And they look so nice, too."
She looked in my eyes, soulfully, I think to see if I was telling the truth. "But your wife has... ummm..."
In my own reading I've heard about cup-size envy, the female equivalent of penis envy. The only problem, of course, is that it's always "in view". I laughed. "I didn't marry her for her hooters, you know, and more than a handful is wasted... especially if they're usually off-limits. I seem to have the worst timing..."
She looked at me. "So..."
I sighed and squeezed her in my arms, feeling her nipples push against my chest. "I like the way you look and how you are built. I also like how you smell. And now I'm learning about how well you fit my arms, too, which I'm finding more that a little bit addictive."
She giggled. "Your arms seem to fit around me pretty well, too."
I nodded.
"So, you find me physically attractive, huh? I thought that no one would..."
I laughed. "Of course. That's the first step, of course. Sight. Then comes hearing. You have a beautiful voice, too, captivating me right away."
She shot me a perplexed look. "But I hate how my voice sounds."
This got a funny look from me, I'm sure. "Haven't you ever heard yourself in a recording?"
Amy nodded, her eyes suddenly downcast, "Of course! It's horrible to listen to. I hate it."
What the fuck is wrong with beautiful people? She was more beautiful than any person who has ever claimed to be one of the "beautiful people". "Amy, I don't know how to explain this to you. I'm sorry, but... your voice is enough to get an erection out of a two-week-old corpse just by having you read from a phone book, so, if I die before you do, be very careful not to trip when walking across my grave. I think that the beauty implicit in your voice goes a long way to explain why so many people want you on their conference calls... though, to be honest, that you actually have more brain cells to rub together than most of those so-called project managers put together could be a good reason, too."
A pair of saucer-sized eyes stared at me. I suspected she was shocked hearing something like that from me. Especially since I said two good things about her in one statement.
I sighed. "All right, I'll let you keep your low opinon of your voice, OK? Just don't be cheap with it, I happen to rather like to hear it, all right? And I might have you read some books or stories so it can be shared with more people who will fall in love with you... and your voice."
She stared at me some more. I wasn't sure if I was getting through to her. It was time to reinforce what I'd been telling her.
"Amy, sweetheart, you need to factor in your less tangible but far more important assets, too. Sure, your merely physical attractants are powerful, all right? You can entrance any man you want, just as you have me, just with your face and voice. Mix this in with your sharp mind, warm heart and quick wit along with a tolerance for idiots that I lack. I think the biggest miracle I've seen yet is how you can give me a second look, much less a first." I sighed, realizing how much of my soul I was exposing to her, before continuing with "Amy, it's a miracle you don't have a long line of prospective suitors." I finally ran out of words, my heart suddenly empty. I'd taken a big chance in telling her how I felt about her. It did not help that I'd implied she could do a lot better than me.
In retrospect, it was strange that a lot of her problems with who she was came so close to my own insecurities. But, despite the shock fading from her face, she decided to address the last thing I'd said. "Alan, you're cute, too. And I've been attracted to you from day one, too, and, to be brutally honest, I'm surprised you ever found me attractive. You've got brains, you've got a nice smile, you are amusing, you treat anyone you work with like a friend regardless of your mood and you have always been there to help anyone. So I've found you attractive from the day I met you. I just didn't think that you'd find me-- being half japanese and half black-- attractive enough."
I squeezed her and laughed. "Amy... I have no idea why, but your exotic appearance must catch the eye of every man who sees you. If a man doesn't fall fast for you then he's either brain-dead or just plain dead."
She smiled. I seemed an almost sad smile as she told me "I've not had that good luck with men, you know."
I squeezed her. "Anyone who hurts you is an unfeeling ass." "And, on top of that, I am supposed the be the one here suffering from insecurity and inferiority. As a goddess you are not allowed to be more screwed up than me." I smiled at her as I squeezed her again. If she couldn't tell that I was happy just holding her...
I felt her squeeze me back. Her voice was muffled as she told me "You always treated me with consideration, even when we teased each other. You never went too far with me and so I started thinking that you're a good man to spend time with. I was worried when you seemed to be avoiding me, on and off, that..."
Squeezing her shut her up for a moment. "I occasionally have to back off because I was getting too distracted by you. I didn't want to fuck things up given workplace rules, number one, and I was afraid to let you know how easily you could hurt me, too."
Amy sighed in my arms. "So it was because you loved me that you had to avoid me so much?"
"Of course. There were times when my inner cave-man has had thoughts of throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you off to have his way with you, which was very difficult to resist, but anything less would not be showing you respect. Now I will admit that, in the midst of me trying to resist these impulses, if I'd heard you laugh, or, worse yet, giggle, I don't know if I could have kept myself from acting like a complete neanderthal."
I heard silence. Amy shifted and so I laid flat on my back again as she re-positioned herself directly on top of me, her legs straddling my body. She initiated a kiss.
We were silently communicating for an extended time as we kissed, our lips and tongues dancing with each other's.
Reality has an odd way of intruding, dammit. Her cell phone chose that moment to ring.
I looked at a clock I'd mounted on the bulkhead and saw it was still fairly early as Amy got up to dig out her cell phone. She answered it.
There was no doubt in my mind from the way she was talking; it was someone from work, giving her a head's up on a call she'd need to be on in two hours' time. Personally, I had my own worries that it was someone who'd also fallen in love with her and who wanted to keep her from me.
Gawd... I get paranoid, don't I? And possessive?
I was getting clothing together for us and, when she closed her phone, she told me stop, saying "Not yet. You still have to make love to me, using", as she pointed at my crotch "that thing."
Being limp at this point seemed reasonable until she made that invitation. The giggle she made following it, though, is what woke up my little head.
The sudden feeling up and down my back was startling. How fast my dick hardened, though...
"I hope," I replied, "that you want to make love with me."
She giggled and then stopped, suddenly pensive. Her eyes met mine and she said "That's important to you, isn't it?"
I nodded. "I'm sorry, Amy... but I need the feedback. I am weak, so I need to know when I'm getting it right."
Her eyes were fixed on mine and it felt like our souls came together. It took a fishing boat's wake, despite the no wake zone, to break this lock as the boat moved around us on the docklines.
Amy's own insecurity showed itself again: "You want me? You really want me?"
Oh, yeah, I wanted her. "Yes, Amy, I want you. And, now, how do you want me?"
She looked around. "I wanna be on top, so sit here," she explained, pointing to the single berth. I did so.
How fast can a woman slide down on a man?
Well, this was fast. Amy proved to be both wet and ready and so slid all the way down onto my hard organ, massaging it once she had all of me in her.
Her groaning and grunting told me that this massage wasn't voluntary; she was already coming, her arms and legs poorly controlled as she tried to get as close to me as possible.
I had a long way to go but enjoyed the feel of her orgasming around me. This was the first time in my life that I'd felt anything like this and...
Now I understood why some people get concerned that they can become addicted to sex. It can be claimed that this experience only strengthened my existing addiction to Amy.
She tried to ride me but, after her second climax, her nervous system was toast. I got up, holding her, brought her back to lay down on the vee berth and, awkward as the position was, pumped into her while still standing, her feet now on my shoulders.
There is nothing so flattering to any man as much as a woman who can reach orgasm more than once through penetrative sex. I mean that. If her smiles had made me feel like I was ten feet tall, well, sexually, I felt like I was 15 inches long!
I know size doesn't matter and I know I'm a bit smaller than the average, but it was still doing a surprisingly good job for the two of us.
Amy wasn't in any condition to complain when my prostate finally emptied my second load of the day deep into her spasming pussy. If anything, her orgasm seemed even harder as I sprayed her cervix with my load.
As soon as we'd calmed down enough I climbed onto the berth next to her and held her close to me. She held me close as well as we relaxed and, seemingly, melted together. Among the other words of endearment she told me that I was more than 'merely adequate' which certainly helped to ensure my male insecurity stayed away.
The downside to being in a marina is that we couldn't share a shower. I brought her over first and sat while she used my soap and shampoo and then it was my turn on the men's side to bring myself to being presentable at work.
We spent a lot of time holding hands as we drove to the office. For once, somehow the traffic between St Pete and Tampa didn't bother me.
Getting to the office we released each other before entering the door to the building and went to our desks.
In the workplace we settled down to the appearance of our "old" pattern.
The first real change wrought by our new relationship was in choosing to share our lunch times more often. She started by seeking me out but, by the second day, I was extending invitations to her. Often we'd be going with co-workers so we would be surrounded by people who provided us an illusion of distance. It did not hurt that I was learning to enjoy new foods, things she liked. Anything tasted good while our eyes communed.
The second big change arrived the following Thursday as we stayed overnight on the boat a second time. This time she wanted a lot of pounding. "Gotta make up for the last week. I got my drive back, now I want to make up for lost time. I want you to act like a cave man now!"
At the office's workout room we saw more of each other as we started to work out together, just to be near each other. When no one else was around it was easy to talk to each other affectionately which went a long way to encourage the new habit of exercise. I was finally losing weight and feeling stronger physically which complemented my emotional state. Finding that my blood pressure was normalizing to the point that I was taken off of the meds could have been credited to the exercise but I felt that the sexual satisfaction I felt having Amy in my life did more for me.
Hey, I spent a lot less time feeling angry.
Along the way I learned how sweet "stolen" kisses can be.
We had a lot of fun just talking, too. It was nice to be able to open up to someone who never laughed at me. I was also warmed inside that she'd be willing to tell me so much about herself; I felt very loved and trusted. At the time I didn't recognize we were reflecting each other.
So we spent Thursday evenings and nights together and, on Fridays, I made sure the boat got a good airing out before the week-ends. We also took to using towels under us which were easier for me to clean.
Many week-ends were spent on the boat with my family, either working on it or sailing. After the third week-end, Amy dropped by, dressed fairly conservatively, one Saturday while we were preparing to go sailing and joined us. It was tense at first but I soon relaxed as Amy made efforts to talk to my wife and daughter. I was glad my wife didn't have any real racial issues with her.
The next week-end Amy repeated the "drop in" and my wife Alyssa was soon actively encouraging her to join us.
It took three months before the bottom fell out.
Although Amy was only 42 years old, she'd been certain of being post-menopausal, not having had a period in over a year.
No one ever thought to explain "oopsies" to her. I didn't either and, so, I was the problem.
When she started to have serious attacks of nausea in the morning she didn't tell me, thinking that it was some kind of virus. When she finally told me about it I think my hair stood straight up. On our way to lunch that day we picked up a pregnancy test.
Shortly after 5PM that Thursday she brought it to my desk and showed me the indicator window with a dead rabbit showing.
Yes, she was pregnant.
With few people still in the office I pulled her down onto my lap and cuddled her to calm down her panicky demeanor. She told me she was frantic, not knowing what to do. She even said "What about my problem?" she finally asked me.
Now don't get me wrong: I'm an egotist. I might have tried to keep my ego down, but it's there. I'm also male. My "Y" chromosome imposes it's own "twists" on my personality.
Well, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
"Amy, dearest," I said, pulling her close and kissing her forehead, "this is our problem. And, really, I will do my best for you."
She sighed and squeezed herself closer to me. I knew, at that moment, that I was an incredibly primitive man. I had a woman I'd impregnated cuddling in my lap and I felt wonderful.
I asked "In a perfect world, what would you want to do?"
She cried for a moment and then told me "Despite my nieces and nephews, I'm not sure if I'm cut out for motherhood. I don't know if I can handle the changes I need to make. I'm afraid."
I kissed her forehead. Of the four children I had raised, only two of them were biologically mine, having inherited the first two when I married. "You need to see a doctor. You need to know if your body can support this pregnancy, what it would take to deliver if you could, and, most important of all, at our age, we would have a problem coping with a child who has special needs."
I could feel her nod.
I went on, adding "So, if the baby isn't defective and your body can carry and deliver it with minimal risk to you, there is nothing stopping you from having a baby. And, to be honest, I would have liked more children. A lot more children. But, then, I came from a large family."
"But... the baby will be..."
"If the child is really, really lucky, she will resemble you. You are, in my opinion, a superior woman. You should have been dropping litters just to bring up the IQ of the whole human race."
I got a smirk out of her before she turned pensive again, asking "But what about Ali? I know you still love her, too."
I nodded. I didn't know how to deal with it since Ali had been getting into a lot more religion than I liked. There had been a time, long ago, that her possessiveness of me had been flattering. Nowadays it was smothering me and the night sleeping on the boat had started out as my time to be alone to think things through. Since Amy and I were a pair my Thursdays re-charged my ability to cope with the rest of the week.
"It'll have to work out, hon. She needs my support given her health problems, but, if she decides to divorce me, I'm all yours, OK?"
Amy placed a finger on my lips. "No, there'll always be a part of you she has a hold on. You love her. You love me, too, and I find that I need your love, too, and, because of how we fit together, I think you and I are stronger now because of we each manage to provide for each other. So, I think, in order for this whole mess to work out, your wife Alyssa will need to accept that I need her to share you with me and that you need to have me in your life, too."
I nodded, hugging her again.
Her bright smile as she backed off to look me in the eyes lit up my cubicle like the dawn. "Dinner? And then some serious cuddling all night?"
"Deal" I replied.
Of course I'm no fool. Nor was she. Neither of us hurried her warm and bony little bottom in leaving my lap.
It was three weeks later that we came out into the open with Ali. All right, so my wife wanted me to use her full name of "Alyssa". You can tell, I hope, that I am not the most cooperative man on earth.
Driving this was the euphoria of learning, through amniocentesis, that my unborn son showed no genetic abnormalities.
We were sailing, on vacation. My youngest daughter Dani, a pre-teen, likes to go sailing and often tries to have her friends along. This trip she couldn't bring guests given that it was a long "vacation" trip. Ali and Amy had been able to get along together pretty well, especially given how much help Amy was in handling the boat. Occasionally Amy had teased Ali about how I was "so handsome" but this did not amuse my wife. Usually I heard complaints later on that would become "orders" to avoid Amy.
Y'know, for a woman who'd been so badly burned in her first marriage, she was quick to give orders while refusing to fulfill requests, much less orders from me.
So, our three week vacation sailing trip was likely to be even less amusing to Alyssa. We were on our way to Key West, an easy three day run, and so we'd all be "trapped" with no escape until reaching Key West, ensuring that we'd be working out our relationship. We'd planned our trip to Key West and then to the Bahamas despite the customs and entry fees. We had all of the necessary paperwork in hand for this trip.
At lunch, sailing south in the Gulf well off-shore of Port Charlotte, Amy opened the can of worms. I expected an explosion but it seemed, at first, to fizzle.
"Alyssa, I need to tell you... I'm pregnant."
Looking at Ali's face I could tell that she was ready to say "That's nice, dear" and to forget about it but I caught her short. "Hon, Amy's son is mine. Dani is going to have a baby brother."
Ali looked at Amy, then at me. Dani looked at Amy and went, with a happy sound to her voice, "Really? I'm going to have a little baby brother? Couldn't you make a baby sister for me instead?"
This broke some of the tension I saw gathering in Ali's face but enough remained as she said "Does this mean that you're leaving me? Or..." she continued, suddenly looking scared, "was this timed to throw me over the side?"
It was my turn to look horrified. A glance at Amy's face mirroring my horror was reassuring before I answered "Of course not! It's better to have you in the loop! Amy wants to continue working, and, since you really can't work outside the house..."
Amy picked it up here "...I figured that, with the practice you've had, you can help me by taking care of our son. I do want to be a mother, but I have very little practice at it. So our son will be Dani's little brother which makes sense to combine house-holds."
It seemed Amy's words mollified Alyssa enough that she was no longer ready to kill, but Amy had obviously figured out where a most of Ali's "on" switches were: Appealing to Ali's maternal senses was a key way to calm her down. It was working, too.
It was strange; Ali seemed tickled by this despite her obviously mixed feelings. There was no doubt, however, that she wasn't really happy. It seemed that she was dealing with the idea of having another baby to hold a lot easier than I would have believed possible.
That evening, as Amy slept so that she could pick up the watch around midnight, Ali and I talked while at the wheel.
We talked a lot. About our relationship. About how I fell into loving someone "extra" rather than "new". About how I couldn't abandon my wife or try to hurt her...
Somehow, as it usually did, Ali didn't bring up the subject of sex. When I tried to steer it in that direction she steered it back away. I didn't think she was thinking about that aspect of my relationship with Amy.
Around 10PM, Ali went below. I could feel the boat shift under her weight as she took care of her bladder before she climbed in the vee berth and, from the sounds of things, faded quickly.
At 11:30 Amy was up and moving, making herself a pot of coffee and pouring it into a thermos. She seemed to be in a good mood which certainly lifted my spirits as well.
The autopilot had been doing it's job as best it could and we were fortunate that we had a steady wind out of the west.
Amy had some practice already on overnight runs with Ali and I, so I had confidence in her abilities to manage the boat at night. I gave her some warming kisses and, when she opened her shirt, pawed and then kissed her breasts, thanked her for fuelling my dreams, and went below.
I climbed in with Ali and passed out almost immediately.
Over the time we spent sailing to Key West and then along the Keys in the Gulf Stream to get to the Bahamas, our new family order shook itself out.
Well, part way, at least. I suspected that Alyssa was blind to the reality of a sexual relationship between Amy and I, all because she had her issues with sexuality in general.
When Amy had to sleep apart from the me, Dani would sleep with her, cuddling up. I once noticed her cuddled up to a sleeping Amy and talking to the bare belly where her little brother was growing. I even saw some kisses given to the "not quite" bulge between Amy's belly-button and mons.
I don't know about you, but seeing that brought tears to my eyes. There was no doubt that my daughter was happy with the idea of having a little brother around.
Dani's enthusiasm did a lot to calm Ali, whose mood shifted more often than the wind did. I would have preferred to deal with wind shifts, of course. Eventually Ali settled down.
Ali did, finally, discuss sex, mostly to say "don't you dare have sex". The timing wasn't all her choice and having to deal with the subject at all put a rather irritated look on her face. She chose to bring the subject up at breakfast the morning after Amy and I had been more than a little bit athletic in the early morning hours, having put off sex for over a week. Ali was not happy we weren't trying to hide it from Dani. I suspect that Ali also didn't like having her face rubbed in the fact that I was having sex.
Ali's initial sally woke Dani up, who came to the table. "So what's wrong with you, Daddy and Amy, Mom?"
My wife asked an open-ended question she really should not have asked: "What did you think of Daddy and Amy waking you up last night?"
Dani looked confused. "It's not like they're married, Mom. And it doesn't look like they're really in love, are they?"
That stopped everyone. All three of us adults stared at my youngest daughter. Ali was not looking happy but I saw some shock on Amy's face. Amy was the first to speak after that confusing thunder-bolt. "What make you think your Dad and I aren't in love, sweetie?"
"Well," my daughter started, "you don't yell at daddy. You don't tell him to do things for you. You don't look angry at him. You say please and thank you to him, as he does to you, so, you must not have the kind of love with him that Mom has."
Ali's face turned white as her eyes opened wide like saucers. I sat back in shock wondering where she got that idea. Amy was the only adult present at the moment with working brain cells.
"Oh, no, Dani, what your dad and I were doing is making love."
My eyes flipped between them like I was watching a tennis match from the sidelines, stunned.
"But mom says that they love each other but all they ever do is yell at each other. I hear mom say 'I love you' to dad and dad say it back but mom often gets angry with him about something and I hear her complain that dad doesn't do things for her." Dani was trying to explain why she thought that Ali's way was loving.
"But that's not..." Amy tried to explain, but Dani had more to say.
"I hear about this being normal with a lot of my friends. It looks like marriage means that the mom and dad are supposed to be angry with each other. At least my mom and dad don't hit each other, I don't think I'd like it if they liked to get hurt like that."
I had to jump in and try to sort things out before Ali turned blue from not breathing. "Hon, mommy and daddy did things like Amy and daddy did last night but we did it quietly in our bedroom."
This obviously didn't make much sense to my daughter. "You mean what you and Amy did is something you have to hide?" She then turned to Amy and asked "Is it really bad to have sex?"
Amy shook her head. "No, it's the way I think people who love each other should be showing it. There are other ways, too, but that's one of the easiest ways for a couple to tell each other how much they love each other."
Dani's brow furrowed as she tried to digest this. It was obvious to all of us at the table that she was still a very confused girl. "So if you're supposed to hide this way to show love to each other, why didn't you hide it last night?"
I sighed. "Dani, we didn't expect you to wake up and see or hear us. There are people who believe that children should never learn about sex. I didn't realize that hiding this so much could confuse the signals to you."
My daughter didn't look completely convinced. "So why did you do it then?"
Amy took point, starting "Because I'm pregnant by your dad, I get upset if we don't hold each other enough. So I woke him up and had him come to my berth and we..."
"I saw you, you put dad's penis in your mouth. Wasn't that icky?"
Ali's eyes rolled up and she fainted. Amy was sitting by her and moved her to a more comfortable position, then eyed me before answering the little girl. "It's only icky if he doesn't love me or I don't love him. I wanted him to want to make love with me."
I giggled. "Like I didn't already. I was more than ready, you know."
Amy smiled, a brilliant flash that felt good as she teased me "I noticed, yes, you were quite ready."
Dani asked "What do you mean he was ready?"
I sighed, not wanting to answer but now there wasn't a whole lot of choice. "You know the term ejaculation from your sex education classes?"
Dani nodded.
"Well... I did that in her mouth."
My daughter's eyes got real wide and she looked at Amy. "Was that why you hummed and smiled?"
Amy nodded. "Yes. I wanted it to feel the best it could for him."
Ali chose that moment to fade back in from her faint as Dani asked "OK, so you think it feels really good for daddy?"
I nodded and said "Yes, it feels very good for a man. It's very flattering and makes me feel important to her."
"Amy, it still sounds... icky. How does it taste?"
With this question, Ali checked out again. She really could not easily cope with this kind of discussion.
"Your dad loves me, right? You understand?"
Dani nodded, finally agreeable.
"So, because it's a measure of my love for him and his love for me, the taste doesn't matter."
Dani was mulling this for a moment as Ali faded back in, moving to sit back up when my daughter hit the subject again in a way she didn't expect. "So, dad, was that why you were licking her between the legs?"
I nodded. Ali looked like she was up to staying with us, this time though just barely. We were on a set of details that didn't squick her immediately, so I answered Dani "Yes. She loves me, I love her... and, to help me get another erection, I like the smell and taste of my lover. It also helps that I was able to listen to her enjoy the sensations of what I was doing. I wanted her to feel it and know how much I love her."
Ali was still with us though she seemed to be stunned into silence. Dani asked the next question "So it wasn't because you wanted to do that? You did it because you had to?"
I shook my head. "No, I did it because I wanted to. I like doing that for her. It doesn't hurt that she tastes good to me, either. So, for me, because I love her, it isn't, ummm, 'Icky'."
Dani nodded, understanding more and trying to connect it to her own experiences. "I don't have to ask Amy what it feels like, do I?"
Amy giggled. "It does feel better than your own fingers, girl. And having him do it for me is, well, I feel special. He does it and I feel so loved and special. I feel valuable to him, like..." Amy's beatific smile provided the rest of an answer.
I smiled back and said "And when she does that I feel very loved, special and worthy of her."
Dani next did something unexpected by turning to her mother and asking "Do you and Dad do that?"
Ali checked out again. This was not a subject she even wanted to admit existed. I answered "I have. Your mom did not want to like it, though. So I've been there for her. She doesn't like to do it for me."
My daughter's eyes were like saucers.
I sighed. "I don't understand mommy either, hon. There are people who say that sex is disgusting and I sometimes think that mommy listens to them too much. She thinks that all oral sex is degrading to the giver, at least when she's the giver. She has usually been unenthused when I've tried to do for her, too."
Dani looked at me and Amy, closely. Ali was fading back in but didn't seem to be relaxed at all, and, in fact, seemed to be building up a head of steam, starting her attack by snarling "What kind of crap are you corrupting her with? You should be ashamed of yourselves! You should have controlled yourselves!"
Amy and I looked at each other; this version of Alyssa was breathing fire and, finally, the shit was hitting the fan.
"Mom?"
"You are too young to know about sex, Dani. They should be ashamed of having sex. Especially at their age. And, most especially, doing perverse sex."
I spoke up "Dani, mommy hasn't really liked sex and never has been more than tolerant of it."
Sadly, this didn't defuse the situation at all. Ali chose to snap at me "I've been willing, you just haven't tried , it's been your choice whether to have sex or not, so don't blame me when you say you never get it!"
I snorted and fired back "I didn't think your heart was ever in it, so I didn't try! If you aren't interested in talking to me and letting me know what you want, then I don't want to do something you won't appreciate! I've controlled myself for a very long time and Amy is lovable and loving-- and told me what she wanted-- and what she wants, and it feels good that she enjoys it! I'll be damned if an act of shared love is something to be ashamed of!"
Amy seemed perplexed and asked "What does she mean that she has been willing?"
Ali said "I have a way to let him know that he can have sex with me. And, because he doesn't act on it, he claims we don't have sex."
Amy's face frowned in a way signalling that the answer was not clear enough. "I don't understand. What did you do to tell him? Ask him to fuck you? Give him a blow job? Got on top of him?"
"No, I go to bed naked so he'll know I'm willing."
Amy looked at me and I nodded that yes, this was her signal to me that she was open to 'making love'. "That's all?"
Ali nodded her head. "That should be clear enough!"
Amy looked at me, saying "Now I understand. No wonder you were so desperate for me to show interest and why you went at it when I took an active role, right? I told you I wanted you, and that made a difference?"
I nodded. "Yes, and you told me how you wanted me. I like that, it makes it harder to make a mistake. It makes me feel like I'm good enough for you."
Ali looked at Amy and, brow furrowed in anger, spat out "Are you some kind of a slut?"
That got my hackles up as much as Amy's and I snapped out "How dare you insult a loving woman? Who is willing to show me that I am both worthy of love and , on top of that, am loved? That I'm worth her time and attention?"
Ali sat back, her mouth hanging open.
"Ali," I continued, "It is NOT about sex! It's about love! So what if it's expressed sexually?"
I reached to put my arm around Amy as Dani asked her mother "What is a slut?"
Ali is fucked up, which I've known for a long time. "A slut is a loose woman who'll fuck anyone."
"Dani," I called out, trying to undo the poison that Ali seemed hell-bent on injecting into the four of us, "Mommy is using the word to hurt someone. There are women who don't think it's 'right' to enjoy sex enough to want more. Mommy also thinks that a slut is automatically promiscuous, which is another word for 'fucking around'. Mommy, however, can be called a whore. She makes sure that any sexual contact is as expensive to me as possible in order to get something else from me. For some, love and sex, together, are their own reward. Mommy isn't thinking that love and sex can be put together."
Ali was breathing fire at this explanation, since I'd just escalated this argument. "You and her just fuck like animals!"
I laughed. "We might fuck like animals but we also make love to each other as human beings. Both halves of that equation are important." I decided to bring Amy back into this fracas by asking her "Amy, dear, is it a punishment for you when we make love? Do you regret it or look forward to it?"
Amy laughed, a wonderful sound. "Of course I don't regret making love with you! And I look forward to the next time we can make love, too! Oh, there are times when I want you to just fuck my brains out, but I love it so much since you are always so sweet to me. I feel loved and lovable each and every time we touch..."
I loved how dreamy her eyes got; I wasn't watching Ali's reaction to this until I heard her snarl again "God, she is so cheap, Alan!"
I laughed. "Of course you'd think she's cheap! She's a lover, not a whore! She doesn't prostitute her body for money, emotional dominance or social position! She does for love what you think she should begrudgingly offer! Love can be very expensive, too!"
Ali looked like she was stunned as I heard Amy ask "Do you really think I'm cheap, Alan?"
Turning to her I saw an unhappy face. "Maybe in money, sure, but in love? In how warm my heart feels? In how much I want to warm yours? In how much of my soul is invested in you? No, you're not cheap, Hon, you own a large chunk of my heart, but I'm not sure Ali can measure this in a currency exchange she can understand, so she doesn't understand why you're not cheap to me ."
Seeing Amy's face transition back to a position of warmth did wonders for my own feelings. "Oh, I didn't understand."
"Ali, here, doesn't want to see sex as part of love, she's wanted something 'pure', which, to be honest, I'm not really happy going along with. Her expressions of affection for me, the things she's told me I should recognize as her 'loving me' have tended to feel sterile since they're all distinctly separated from sexuality and sensuality. Some of it was my own damn fault, of course, thinking that she should appreciate my sexual attentions as much as I wanted to get hers, but I've since learned a lot about the various emotional needs we humans all have to one degree or another."
Ali tried to speak up but I stared her down "You are not always right. You are not an objective observer. It also took me too long to see that I can't listen closely to your critiques given your conflicts of interest. You don't want to hear my critiques, and it took me a long time to learn to reject yours. Amy wants your help with our baby; if you can't accept that I love her and she loves me, and we will be expressing this love in ways that include sexual congress, then you may file for a divorce. I care about you but if I'm not worth your time, then, fine. You need to do what is important for you."
It was strange; this time I had fire in my eyes and steam coming out of my ears and Ali just sat there, staring at me.
I made my voice as gentle as I could. "So, Alyssa. What do you want? A role in an extended family where both Amy and I provide support for you and the children? Or do you want to divorce me so I can marry Amy?"
It was a silent tableau as Ali seemed to withdraw to think things over. The silence was broken as Amy got up to start another kettle of water for coffee and tea. Dani finally moved to get herself some cereal for breakfast. I sat there watching Alyssa as she seemed to be furiously thinking.
The next move was the ultimate catalyst to bring Alyssa's thinking to a head: Amy sat on my lap and cuddled up, her head on my shoulder. My arms went to hold her close to me and I heard Alyssa sigh. "I can't cuddle with him like that, Amy, I'm too big."
Amy nodded. "But you like having him spoon with you, don't you?"
Ali nodded. "Especially when I'm feeling cold."
"So if he sleeps between us we'll be all right, right?"
Another nod from my wife. "I don't want to share him, you know."
My lap's passenger spoke again "I know, but he needs more than you are able to give him. And he gives me what I need, too."
Dani watched all this, as if watching a tennis game from mid court.
A sigh from Ali signalled her first compromise. "I'm sorry I called you a cheap slut. I should realize that my husband has high enough standards and so you'd have to be something special. Just like I was when he and I met. I miss that."
I stayed silent as Amy nodded again. "Yes, I didn't realize I was special. He was the first who managed to tell me in a way that I could believe. He didn't realize how special he is, either, but I think I managed to get the message across. Even though he feels hurt by you he still loves you... and he must feel you're good enough to be a mommy to our son."
You know, it took me a bit to realize that they were doing all of the negotiation over me and that I wasn't allowed in the loop. Amy gave a lot of ground up front by not choosing to monopolize me and, it seemed, this softened some of Ali's own position.
By noon the two of them had everything hammered out, my only contribution was saying "OK, I can live with this" when they finally asked me.
We spent the rest of our vacation sailing from place to place as an extended family before bucking the Gulf Stream again and wending our way along the ICW to get back to the Gulf. Dani did her best to not take notes as I spent time pounding into Amy when she let me know she feared that the pregnancy would reduce her desirability to me. Alyssa was present for all of these so that I was no longer "doing it behind her back" and, if anything, it seemed Amy was even hotter given this level of exhibitionism.
While Alyssa wasn't comfortable watching us, it wasn't actively hurting her, either. Only once did Ali want me to jump her during the whole trip.
As Amy gained weight with the pregnancy I got more and more sexually aggressive with her as she showed more and more "down" moods which worked as a reminder that I wanted her. Our child was likely to be a "happy" baby given how much his mom's womb bounced him around.
Alyssa wasn't doing without my attention, either, though she still preferred cuddling to any kind of sex. On infrequent occasions she would let me know that she needed sex as well and having Amy as a voyeur didn't help matters. Alyssa had some deep-set hang-ups, but, we'd learned that she needed to feel I cared for her and wasn't out to abandon her.
All of this helped us bond together as a unit which further consolidated housing and finances.
By the time Drew (short for Andrew) was born we'd managed to move into a nice Condo and bought a larger boat for our extended family.
Alyssa had her issues on and off but being Drew's mommy did steady her, which helped me recognize that the "empty nest" had been haunting her. Dani loved her little brother and spent a lot of time cuddling him. Amy, given the amount of attention I lavished on her, seemed to go even farther at work despite the time lost on maternity leave. Our two incomes didn't hurt matters, either.
It didn't take long for Amy to "have another accident" and we had a little sister for Dani and Drew; with this, Amy had her tubes tied.
It's never completely easy with two women, of course, but we did work things out well enough. It always worked smoothest when the two women worked out issues dealing with me by not consulting me until the last minute.
Even so, I'm pretty happy with my women and my children.
Though, really, it seems that they think I am more "theirs" than they as "mine".
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Why provide feedback? Feedback is the lifeblood of authors here on asstr-mirror.org; we don't get paid in any currency beyond hits on the pages and feedback from our readership. Encouragement, questions, critiques, typos... as a reader you may be surprised how much your words mean to us.
It is a good feeling to know my words have been read ... and enjoyed.
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Author: Jack C Lipton Title: Show and Toil Part: Universe: Crossings Summary: Keywords: MF cheat Revision: $Revision: 1.2 $ Archive: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/CupaSoup/www/ Mailing List: FAQ: RCS: $Id: showAndToil.x,v 1.2 2006/01/10 22:15:18 jcl Exp $