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Message-ID: <27827asstr$976489804@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Mr Backgammon" <mr_backgammon@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Sailor's Wife Part 1
Date: Sun, 10 Dec 2000 18:10:04 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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A formatted and illustrated version of this story, along with my other 
published works, is available at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/mr_backgammon/www.

The only reason I put up this site is to share my stories with you, and to 
find out what you think of them. Please, take a moment to send me a note by 
emailing me at mr_backgammon@hotmail.com

All stories on these pages (unless otherwise indicated) are copyright 
(c)1997,1998,1999,2000 by Mr. Backgammon. All rights reserved. Please do not 
post them on other web pages, or distribute them electronically or in any 
other format without the previous permission of Mr. Backgammon. For 
permission, please email Mr_Backgammon@hotmail.com

-------------------------------------
The Sailor's Wife
By Mr. Backgammon

She laid on the sands of Alameda sunning herself, her back to the behemoth 
of the Naval Station, attempting to ignore it's overwhelming presence in her 
life.

Perspiration glistened on the twenty-five year young body, and a sip of the 
wheat-colored liquid refreshed her as it slid coolly down the throat. 
Stephanie tried to think about something, anything other than the loneliness 
and frustration of the separation from her husband. He adored her and would 
anxiously do anything for her. But how could he give her what she needed 
when he was at sea? The immense aircraft carrier wouldn't be back from 
practice runs for another week. She'd be there, waiting on the huge docks at 
the station as the gray warrior slowly approached the pier. Glen would be 
peering from the flight deck, attempting to catch a glimpse of her, and a 
half-hour later he'd come flying down the gangplank. They'd go to the 
apartment halfway up the Oakland hills, walk down to the Baskin-Robbins for 
a hot fudge sundae, and perhaps make love that night.

Stephanie had plenty of practice being a sailor's wife. Two years at Mare 
Island began to teach patience when he didn't come home every fourth night, 
standing guard over school buildings and barracks that no one would ever 
bother to attack. During the first cruise she'd gone back to the Midwest to 
live with her mother, a frustrating experience during which she realized, 
for the first time, that she was a woman with mature needs and desires, and 
a girl no longer. The second cruise she stayed out in California, living in 
an old apartment building near Lake Merritt next to another wife. Lenore was 
fun, and they'd assuaged the temptations of being alone by constantly 
checking up on each other. But then her friend's husband was discharged, and 
Stephanie lost her girlfriend, confidant and chaperone. Now Stephanie lived 
in a much more modern place, but the lack of company was driving her nuts.

She looked around the beach in the hopes of finding a diversion. Girls like 
her sunning themselves. Were they waiting for their husbands to return from 
the sea, too? A volleyball game played by bronzed youths. A frisbee landing 
in the tiny waves of the Bay retrieved by a Labrador. A solitary youth in 
cut offs, patrolling the beach. He had long brown hair, tumbling down his 
back. Would Glen look good in long hair? Even if the Navy would allow him to 
go unkempt, would he let it grow to please her? The man, or was he a boy, 
checked her out and then moved on down the beach. She didn't mind, the 
ritual was part of the beach scene, and she knew that the yellow bikini 
showed off her best feature, long legs on a five foot ten frame. She had 
full breasts, not too large, and some men's glances lingered there, 
pondering the flesh beneath the bra. Most men never got up as far as the 
face framed by long brunette hair, a little stringy, with the nose that was 
long and pointed that she hated.  If they bothered to talk to her, most of 
the time she just flashed her ring finger at them, and they'd move on.

Damn, the next year was gonna be hard. Glen would be back for a few weeks, 
but then he'd be gone again for nine months as the ship voyaged 14,000 miles 
across the Pacific to launch bomb-laden airplanes over the jungles of 
Southeast Asia. Would this war ever be over? But soon after the deployment, 
Glen's term of service would be finished. After four and a half years, she 
could hold out another fourteen months, couldn't she?

The guy in cut-offs, now a hundred yards away, turned and started back. She 
enjoyed his trim silhouette against the glint of sunlight. He was really 
young, she could tell now.  Stephanie remembered how Glen treated her when 
they started making love in the summer after she graduated.  When they could 
get a chance, they'd do it over and over again, sometimes three or four 
times in a single hour.  She didn't have the experience to appreciate the 
attention then. Now, it was all changed.  Didn't they say that a woman's 
sexual peak was in her mid-twenties? Just because her husband wasn't around 
didn't mean she didn't have desires. Quite the opposite, in fact. She 
recalled with shame how just last month she sampled illicit relief.

What had she been thinking? A Friday night, and isolation had driven her to 
a bar a few blocks away. A good-looking guy bought her a second rum and 
coke, and then a third. Dancing to the beat of the jukebox, he tried to hold 
her intimately, and without really meaning to, she knew she gave him some 
hope. After the fourth drink, she told him she had to go home, and when he 
insisted on driving her, she didn't resist very hard. She let him kiss her 
in the car, and then she took his hand and led him up the stairs to the 
apartment. Somehow, she was a little surprised when she was naked and lying 
on her back, the first time she'd been with a man other than Glen. She 
wasn't even sure she had an orgasm, but that wasn't extraordinary; most of 
the time with Glen she didn't come either. After the guy drank a beer, he 
escaped into the night, clutching her phone number, but of course he never 
called. Just as well, she lamented. For a few days, she tried to tell 
herself that she was drunk, that she'd been raped, but she knew it was a 
lie. Deep inside of her that night was a need to get laid, and she'd walked 
to the bar subconsciously wishing for it. In the following days, remorse 
made her ill.  For the first time in months she fled to the confessional, 
promising the hidden priest that she wouldn't ever do it again, and 
returning the next day for Mass. She dreaded her husbands return, sure that 
with one glance he'd discern her adultery.  In the end, she'd been able to 
act naturally, showering him with consideration, baking his favorite cake, 
letting him choose the movie, and even giving him the unusual treat of a 
blowjob.

Still, she remembered the sensation of the other man's attentions, how he 
kissed her, undressed her, gently laid her on the bed, fondled her breasts 
and then covered her with himself, thrusting his member into the dark gully 
of her sex.  In some indiscernible way his lovemaking had been different.  
Perhaps it was that his tool was a novel size, or that there were exotic 
scents, or that his movements in her womb touched unexplored regions.  When 
he spurted, she remembered pushing her groin firmly against his, wanting to 
secure all of his juice deep in the innards, almost as an animal instinct. 
Lying here on the beach, she was certain that the reminiscence of the 
strange body on top and inside of her was causing her to blush. She wanted 
to put her hands between her legs, to bring herself off as she often did in 
her bed at night, to pretend that he was still fucking her.

Suddenly she heard a voice say "Hi," shocking her out of retrospection. It 
was the good looking kid, returning from his inspection of the seashore.

Damn, he probably caught her staring at him. "Hi yourself," she smiled, and 
he sat down in the warm sand beside her.

"My name's Chuck."

"Stephanie.  My friends call me Steph." His pick up lines were na ve, and 
she figured he was still in High School. She decided not to blow him off, to 
let him stay. Just someone to talk to. He watched her as she raised the beer 
to her lips and swallowed the last.

"That looks good."

"It is," and she got the last two bottles of Olympia out of the cooler, 
pried the caps off, and handed one to him. She could tell from the tentative 
manner of swigging the beer that he wasn't used to drinking, at least not in 
public. Despite his youth, he was likeable, and Stephanie appreciated the 
company. He really was handsome, and the firmness of his young build aroused 
her. The John Lennon glasses were pretty sexy. If he was a few years older, 
and she was single, what would happen, she wondered? Chuck guzzled his beer 
while Steph sipped hers. By the time she was done, the late afternoon wind 
through the Golden Gate was beginning to chill the sweat on their bodies.  
It was time to leave, but the idea of another night spent by herself 
depressed her.

"Want another beer?"

"Sure."

"We'll have to go to my place. It's about five miles away. Do you mind?"  
Nothing was going to happen, she was sure, he was just gonna be company.

"Uh-huh. I've got nothing going."

Chuck gathered the beach towel, cooler and romance paperback while Steph 
slipped into her cover-up. On the way to the car, Chuck picked up a T-shirt 
and a pair of tennis shoes. Stephanie unlocked the red VW bug, got behind 
the wheel and leaned over to let Chuck into the passenger seat. She 
realized, too late, that he got a pretty good view down the bra.  The idea 
that he might have even seen a nipple sort of thrilled her. Oh, well, no 
harm done. A U turn, and they were soon passing through the Webster Tunnels 
and up into the McArthur district. "How old are you, Chuck?"

"Sixteen," he responded without hesitation. It might be true.

"Won't your parents be worried about you?"

"Naw. Lots of nights I don't come home till late. I've got a job at the 
Dairy Queen. My mom figures I'm over there."

East on Lincoln and a sharp turn onto a residential street lined with two 
story apartments. Stephanie pulled into a carport, led the kid up the 
outside stairs and opened the door.

"Listen, get us a beer out of the fridge. I'm gonna put some clothes on, 
okay?" She went into the bedroom, stripped off the swimsuit and donned 
panties, shorts and a sweatshirt. Chuck was on the couch sipping ale, and 
she sat down beside him, not too close.

"This is great. Listen, do you have an old man or anything?" The wedding 
photographs were hanging on the wall, and a pair of his shoes was still 
underneath the end table.

"Yeah, he's in the Navy, on a ship."

"Is he in 'Nam?"

"He will be soon."

"Bummer."

Steph changed the subject, asking Chuck what his school was like. As he 
described the intricacies of math, social studies and cross-country running, 
she thought about how he was similar to Glen. A little self-centered, but 
slightly shy, too. She decided she liked him.

The evening breeze was sweeping through the open window, and Stephanie 
realized she was chilly and felt gritty with the remains of the sand and 
salt water on her body. "Listen, I'm going to take a bath. Is that okay?"

"Sure." She left him with instructions to help himself to another beer if he 
wanted, entered the bathroom and filled the tub with water as hot as she 
could stand it.

She relaxed and let her thoughts wander once again to the other guy, three 
weeks before. Now that she was in private, she let her fingers wander 
through her pubic hair and play with the clitoris. When her breathing grew 
shallower and quicker, she knew that instead of her finger, she wanted, she 
needed!, a man to fill her.  Wouldn't it be nice if the California Adonis in 
her living room would storm in to take her? A knock came on the door, 
disturbing her fantasy, echoing abruptly in the confined room.  "Yes?"

"Are you okay?" Well, talk about timing. "Do you need anything?"

"The rest of my beer would be nice.  I left it on the coffee table."

"I'll get it for you."

"Okay."

The footsteps padded away.  She thought about his dense thighs, and gorgeous 
hair.  His young ass would be really firm wouldn't it? Dare she consider 
actually doing it? He was underage!  So what, no one would ever know. He 
didn't come knocking on the door just to see how she was; he wanted to find 
out if she'd let him into the bathroom, and into the bed. What about her 
husband? Just now, she didn't care; she could hide it from him. A few 
seconds later the door cracked open, "I'll just leave it on the floor, 
okay?"

The moment of truth.  Was she really going to let this happen? What if she 
was imagining things, if he really was just trying to be a nice guy?  She 
reached for a towel, and used it to cover herself. "No, bring it in, would 
you?  It's okay."

When he entered the steamy bathroom, his glasses fogged up.  He took them 
off and stumbled over to the tub.  Stephanie was sure he really couldn't see 
much of anything.  She stretched her arm out and caught his leg, letting him 
know where she was, and accepted the offered bottle. "Thanks.  You don't 
have to leave, if you don't want to.  Stay and talk," she invited.  Chuck 
sat on the toilet lid at her feet, grabbed a tissue, and began to wipe the 
glasses.  "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No, not a steady one." he huskily replied.

"You play the field, huh?  Do the girls let you kiss them?"

"Yeah, sometimes."

"How about touching them?  Do they let you do that?"

"One girl did.  Just her tit, through the bra."

"You liked that, didn't you?"  He nodded, and then placed the glasses back 
on his face.  She could tell that he was trying not to look at her, and he 
licked his lips as if his mouth was dry. Was he shy, or inexperienced?  
"Chuck, have you ever seen a naked woman?"

"Just in pictures.  Like in Playboy."

"Did you ever try to sneak a peak?"

"My older sister once.  Gee, that sounds dirty.  I mean, she was in her 
bedroom, and the door was open, and I got a look at her in the mirror.  She 
just had panties on.  When she caught me, she yelled and shut the door.  If 
my folks were home, I'd have really caught it.  Later she sort of teased me 
about it, told me she'd let me look if I gave her a buck."

"You didn't take her up on it?"

"Nah.  She's my sister, after all."

"Listen, why don't you come in and join me.  There's plenty of room."

"You mean, take a bath with you?"

"Sure, come on."

"Okay, yeah, sure.  I'd like that.  Should I keep my pants on, or what?"

"Haven't you ever been skinny dipping?  No, I guess you don't have a lot of 
chances to do that out here, do you?  It's no big deal. Take your clothes 
off and come on in."

For a few seconds he hesitated, and then he turned his back to her, pulled 
the T-shirt over his head, unzipped his fly and flung the shorts and 
underpants into the corner.  She scooted up, making room for him, disrobing 
herself in the process, and as he climbed into the water and sat 
cross-legged facing her, she inspected him.  One of her worries dissipated; 
his manliness, fully erect of course and standing straight from his body, 
was fully developed, easily as large as her husband and larger, she thought, 
than the guy of a month ago. Their bodies touched for the first time at the 
knees.

It was sort of funny, the way he was trying to look at the ceiling, at the 
wall, anything but her.  Here he was, with the first woman he'd ever had a 
chance at, and he didn't have a clue what to do.  "You okay?"

"Yeah, I will be in a second.  It's just a little strange, that's all."

"Sure, I understand.  You've never done this before.  Listen, it's okay if 
you look at me.  I don't mind."  He turned toward her, and gazed at her 
charms, first at the breasts, taking in the suntan lines and dark brown 
aureoles, and then further down, attempting to discern the dark brown pubic 
hairs distorted by the ripples, and the pinkness they hid.  "Enjoying it?"

"You're beautiful."

"I'll bet you say that to all the girls." Stephanie leaned forward, scooped 
water in her hand and poured it onto his shoulder.  "Feels good, huh?"

"Yeah."  She put her hand on his neck, caressing it.  She figured he'd grab 
her, kiss her, something, but he just sat there, looking at her, not knowing 
what was expected of him.

"You know, they do this all the time in Japan.  They actually wash each 
other.  Would you like me to wash you?"

"Yeah, that'd be really great." Steph took the bar of soap and began to 
lather first his shoulders, then his arms, hairless chest, and then under 
the water, rubbing his legs and then moved her hands to the sac and rod.  
Letting the soap drop to the bottom, she massaged the tool, enjoying the 
softness of the skin, and playing with the circumcised head.  Chuck leaned 
back, closed his eyes, and Steph saw the bath water begin to mix with the 
milky fluid seeping from the tip.  Chuck groaned in pleasure, and Stephanie 
realized she didn't mind; at that age, he'd be ready to go again in just a 
few minutes, and he'd last longer the next time.  As the pumping motions of 
his prick grew weaker, she leaned forward and placed her mouth upon his, 
injecting her tongue between his lips and tasting the sweetness of his 
breath.  He kissed back, greedily, and for the first time allowed his hands 
to touch her breasts, fondling the boobies.  When it was obvious that he was 
over his excitement, she broke the kiss and said, "I liked that.  I'm glad 
you came."  His only response was an appreciative shudder.   "Do you want to 
wash me now?"

Steph leaned back, uncrossed her legs, and placed her feet to the side of 
Chuck's hips, exposing everything to his eager view.  He grabbed the bar and 
began to soap her, beginning and concentrating, not unexpectedly, with the 
globes.  His handling was rough and inexperienced.  "Gently, Chuck, gently.  
Enjoy the feeling.  Pinch the nipples."  In response, he slowed and began 
twirling the tits between his fingers, just hard enough, and she knew the 
previously extended caps were beginning to crinkle.  She scrunched down, 
luxuriating in the motion of his hands, until her ass was on top of his lap, 
bringing their sexual organs almost into unison.

For minutes they sat like this, and Steph expected him to further explore 
her body.  Still he kept manipulating her mammaries until she took his right 
hand, kissed it, and placed it squarely over her pussy.  He began to finger 
her pubic curls, to probe her lips,  but it was clear that he didn't have 
the slightest idea of what was expected.  "You've never touched one of those 
before, have you?"

"No."  Slowly the single word slipped out, almost in guilt.

"Let me help you."  Steph reached down with both hands and spread her lips 
wide open.  Placing her index finger on her now extended button, she 
explained, "This is my clitoris.  When you rub it, it feels really good.  
Why don't you try that?"  Chuck's finger took its place, and began to rub 
the small rod up and down.  Then he lightly pinched it between his fingers 
and shocks of electricity scrambled through her body, causing a gasp to 
escape from her lips.  Observing the reaction, he repeated the maneuver, 
time and time again, bringing her desperately close to completion.  "Put 
your finger inside me," she begged.  He encroached upon her interior, 
probing.  It felt so good to her that moisture began to leak from her eyes.  
She knew that she wanted something larger inside of her, and grabbing the 
object of her desires, she knew he was ready for intercourse.  How to do it, 
what position?  She was certain the confines of the bathtub wouldn't let him 
go deep enough into her, wouldn't satisfy her.

Suddenly she stood up, grabbed him and cried, "Come on."  Without drying 
herself, she ran into the bedroom and flung herself onto the bedspread, 
spreading her legs wide, waiting for his arrival.  He was on top of her in a 
flash.  She reached between them and positioned his cock at her opening, 
relishing the passion as he slid into her.  She was wild for it, she was 
eager, and as he thrust in and out of her, she used her legs to push her 
vagina up, meeting his plunges with pushes of her own.  She grabbed his ass, 
imploring him to go deeper and deeper, and the pressure of his chest on her 
breasts enticed her to pleasure.  She was close, on the verge, just a moment 
from release when she felt him go rigid, stopping, and she knew he was 
exploding his first meaningful ejaculation into a woman.  She just needed a 
little more, and she pleaded, "keep going, keep going!"  but by the time the 
message was absorbed into his orgasm-fogged brain, it was too late.  She was 
off the edge.  'Damn, double damn,' she thought as he collapsed in a heap on 
top of her.  For seconds he laid there, recovering from his exertion, and 
then he tried to kiss her.

"Honey, screw me some more.  Make me come, too."  Once again his now 
semi-rigid tool began to slip in and out of the wet cunt, and she used both 
her hands and her commands to move him.  "Faster, over to the side.  Now, 
straight in, hard!"  But the more she implored, the less satisfaction she 
obtained.  Soon his used cock slipped from inside of her, and even though he 
tried to push it back in, she knew satisfaction was denied.

She rolled him off her, grabbed some tissues from the box and cleaned first 
herself of the sperm, and then his limpness.  He was on his back now, with 
his arm covering his face, and she took a minute to admire his beauty.  
Relinquishing the desire to quench the fire in her private parts, she took 
the opportunity to cuddle up to his side and stroke his smooth chest.  
Kissing him, she asked, "Well, was it as good as you thought it would be?"

"Even better.  I never thought it would feel like that.  Man, you made me 
feel so hot.  Did you like it?  Was I good?"

"You were fine," she fibbed.  "Pretty good for the first time.  You'll get 
better, with practice."  She kissed him again, this time deeply, hoping to 
assuage his tender emotions, and he responded by playing with her breast, 
pinching the nipple.  The tingle of excitement returned, stronger, and Steph 
welcomed it.  Soon he pushed his face down to suck on the teat. He was a bit 
rough, which was just fine. "Harder," she implored.  He bit her, causing a 
flash of pain that flashed into her loins, drawing a gasp from her.  "Not 
that hard."  He continued to suck, to probe, to pinch.

Stephanie let her hand slide between her legs. She'd never masturbated with 
a man before, but she badly needed to come, and was willing to do anything 
for it. With her index finger, she began a circling motion directly on her 
clitoris. Concentrating first on the pressure she was placing on her hot 
spot, and then on the sucking and pinching that Chuck was applying to her 
nipples, she soon returned to the state of sexual agitation. Applying the 
lessons he'd already completed, Chuck injected a digit and began moving it 
inside her inflamed womb. For minutes she aroused herself with assistance 
from the boy beside her, and finally, flashes of amber began to permeate her 
cerebellum.  Not the lightning of a full come, but mini-orgasms, lasting 
just a few seconds, then receding from the precipice.  In her frenzy, she 
placed a hand on his leg, and was overwhelmed to detect that he was once 
again in erection. Maybe a young stud was what she needed to match her 
insatiable desire.

She pushed the cub on his back and straddled him. She grabbed his cock and 
furiously sunk down onto it, burying the tool inside of her as high as it 
would possibly go. Taking one of his hands and placing it on her breasts, 
she exclaimed, "Don't stop." While she ground herself upon him, her other 
hand continued to excite her exposed clit. She moved her hips to her own 
secret rhythm, pleasing herself, using his body purely for her own desires. 
At long last waves of pleasure broke over her, to be followed by eddies of 
calm which just served as preparation for the next tremendous whitecap. For 
over ten minutes she stayed immersed in rapture, allowing herself 
satisfaction after satisfaction. A change of pressure deep within her 
indicated that her partner was coming; still she rolled on. His stiffness 
began to decline; she didn't care as long as he continued to play with the 
mammaries. She kept on with her finger. Five more minutes passed, perhaps 
ten. The phallus was too soft to be useful. She dropped to the bed on her 
back, still fingering herself. The boy tried to help her, kissing her face 
and flesh and rubbing her. His finger found it's way into her sloppy twat, 
bringing on yet another explosion. For the first time in twenty minutes, 
Stephanie pried her damp finger away from her genitals and allowed herself 
to surrender to the ministrations of the partner. For another five minutes, 
she shook with delight as Chuck used his finger to poke her to intense 
gratification. At last the intensity of her emotions subsided and the touch 
at her opening took on a gentler, soothing motion. She allowed herself to 
return to the world.

"Are you okay?"

"Better than you know," she panted.

"Do women always do that?"

"No, hardly ever. Sorry if I scared you. But thanks. You were great.  I 
really appreciate you staying with me like that.  It was just what I 
needed."

She cuddled up to him, and allowed him to hold her. They'd both reached 
contentedness, he in his first experience of a woman's charms, and she found 
the cravings within her soul and loins were at least temporarily appeased. 
Slumber swept over the lovers.

Steph woke first, to a room in which darkness had descended.  Groggily, she 
reached over to turn on the lamp.  Her hand bumped something, and it crashed 
to the floor with the sound of breaking glass.  When light from the bulb 
flooded the room, she looked down to see the picture of her husband, her 
beloved Glenn, staring at her from below the cracked pane.  Oh, shit, she'd 
done it again, hadn't she?  Turning over, now she was facing the gently 
snoring juvenile.  Covering her nakedness with the sheet, she implored, 
"Chuck, wake up."

"What?  Huh?" He wearily roused, and then realized he was lying, for the 
first time in his life, next to a naked woman. "Oh, hi."

"Listen, I better take you home, huh?"

"Can I stay just a little longer?"  He reached for her, and she knew he 
wanted more.  She allowed him to hold her, and she felt the warmth of his 
loins press into her again.  For a brief second she responded, kissing him 
and allowing him to hold her breast, but then she looked at the wall, and a 
picture of herself sandwiched between her husband and her mother.  No, she 
had to stop it now.  She swung away from him and sat up.  "Your parents will 
be worrying about you.  You should get dressed."

"Okay.  If you say so."  He climbed out of bed, and padded off into the 
bathroom.  Steph watched him, and the sight of the nude body filled her with 
confused passion.  By the time he returned, she had her panties and jeans 
on, and she noticed his eyes linger hungrily on her bosom.  Quickly, she 
threw on a blouse to hide her nakedness.

In the ten-minute drive back to the island, Chuck was quiet. "Anything you 
want to talk about?" she asked.

"No, not really. It's just been a really wonderful day." They were both a 
little shy now, fearful of what they'd done together, and she, at least, 
fearful of what might yet come.

"Where should I drop you?"

"Oh, over by the beach, I guess. I only live three blocks away, and it might 
not go over well if my mom saw me getting out of a car with an older lady. 
Well, not old, I mean, just . . . well . . ."

"Sure, I know what you mean. Don't worry about it." The couple arrived at 
the beach, overlooking the spot where they'd met just hours before.

"Take it easy, Chuck."

"Thanks for the beer and everything."

"No sweat."

Chuck fumbled out of the VW in the ungainly manner of an adolescent. He 
rambled over to her side of the car and leaned into the window. Stephanie 
could tell that he was searching for the perfect way to end what had been 
the perfect day.

"Hey, I really enjoyed myself."

"You sure? I mean, you weren't faking it, were you?" A huge smile. The 
twenty-five year old woman gave the sixteen-year old boy a good-bye kiss.

"So, listen, can I see you again?"

Twin emotions flooded her karma. First there was guilt, knowing that her 
husband was on a ship, fighting for the country, and how, now twice, she'd 
been unfaithful to him. And yet another sensation, one that she knew 
wouldn't just go away, one that was centered squarely between her legs.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll come down to the beach again tomorrow. Or maybe in 
a few weeks, when my husband's ship leaves. Why don't you keep an eye out 
for me?"

She pulled away from the curb, and the Bug sputtered down Shoreline Drive.






-----------------------------------
This story is based on historical fact.  You can read the author's 
commentary by visiting the web site at
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/mr_backgammon/www.
Or by downloading the file swnote.txt


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