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Subject: {ASSM} (SANTA) Basement Blessings 05 - by Ray1031  (Epilogue, No Sex)
Date: Fri, 26 Dec 2003 04:11:22 -0500
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Basement Blessings (or: The Summer They Invaded)  by Ray1031  (Epilogue,
No Sex)


This is my story ..... copyrighted and belonging to me.
Want to use it .... ask!

Check the codes before reading .... don't like them, don't read further.
Like the codes .... enjoy the story.
Ray



Basement Blessings (or: The Summer They Invaded)  by Ray1031  (Epilogue,
No Sex)


Journal: 12-19-03

Epilogue:


The preceding entries cover happenings that all occurred twenty-plus years
ago. Things I have not thought of in many years, but which have only
recently brought back to the fore-front of my mind. I wrote them down here
as a means of refreshing my memory, of reminding myself of my true sexual
awakening and my first real experiences with sex.

Rereading these entries already made by me - I find there are occurrences
which weren't really given their proper mentioned or completions in those
pages, so I will lightly touch on those here:


After my session with Pat and Alivia, I did my best to avoid sexual
contact with Pat, for a number of reasons. She scared me, she really did.
Though at most times she seemed almost submissive, in so many ways, there
was a point she could reached during sex, when she was really getting into
it, when her personality would seem to change. She became very domineering
and more than a little abusive towards whoever happened to be her partner.
She seemed to have, at those moments, both a love of feeling and
inflicting pain and I was always uncomfortable with that. This discomfort
was always present, whether I happened to be the pain inflictor or the
inflictee. Due to the specific circumstances we were living under, I was
seldom able to completely avoid that contact, and at least three more
times I had sex with her; twice more anally and once vaginally . . .
during one of those times, after I thought we were finished, she insisted
on using her panty-toy on me. I was forced to relent because she had taken
a Polaroid picture of Alivia, kneeling before me and sucking my cock, and
threatened to give it to our parents, along with the pronouncement that I
had forced her into it. (Before they moved out again I made sure I had
recovered that photograph and destroyed it.)

Alivia came to my bed a few times every week after that first morning and
sucked me to orgasm. Despite her words that I could not fuck her vaginally
or anally, and my acquiescence to her wishes, after that first morning she
always removed her panties first so that I could use my fingers and hands
on and in her pussy and ass. She never uncovered her breasts though and I
never played with them. I always felt intimidated by the pure volume of
flesh there. Still, not only did she regularly please me orally, but after
a session or two I began to return the favor, especially after Raquel took
the time to teach me how. The last night of their stay with us, Alivia
came to my curtained bedroom, after her sister's had both made their own
individual visits, and asked that I fuck her in earnest, saying that she
had changed her mind about it. I refused her, telling her that she would
later be sorry if she broke her vow and using the lack of a condom and my
fears of impregnating her for reasons. The lack of a condom was a lie . .
. I was, thanks to the three of them, already becoming more sexually
active with a couple of other girls in the neighborhood. Though it had yet
to advance beyond the touchie-feelie and necking stage, I had already
bought condoms in preparation.

A few days after the session with Pat and Alivia, Raquel was not only
speaking with me but asked me once again to 'go for a walk' with her.
Again we ended our walk at the sand pits and again the afternoon ended in
sex between us. This time, however, she insisted that I take her anally,
though I tried to refuse her since she'd already said it caused her pain .
. . I really didn't want to hurt her. It was a mess. She was crying in
pain through most of it, but refused to stop or allow me to, threatening
to never speak to me again if I stopped. It should be obvious already that
I loved her most of the three of them and could deny her nothing. That was
the only anal session between us though and she wasn't even mad at me
after, when she asked who's ass was better, hers or Pats, and my answer
was Pats. She understood when I told her that knowing I was causing her
such pain had removed all enjoyment from the act for me.

Raquel and I had vaginal sex only when we could be sure of plenty of time
alone, though we had mutual oral sex several times. Once she took the time
to teach me what she, and most women, liked orally I could give her at
least a little orgasm in the time it took her to bring me off. These were
lessons I believe I learned well, as some of the women I've known since,
including all three of my wives, have commented on my skill.

The entire length of their stay in our home was seven and one-half weeks.
Fifty-four days, during which time a boy became a man and learned some of
the ways of pleasuring a woman both in and out of bed. During which time
my original thoughts of their visit as an invasion changed drastically and
my familial love for them took on completely new dimensions.

I never knew, nor asked if either of my brothers had experiences similar
to mine with the three of them. Partly I found I was rather jealous of the
very idea, and partly because I feared what their reaction might be, and
my parents reaction might be, should my incestual actions come to light.
Then I was afraid to know . . . today, I simply don't care to know.
Besides, they are both happily married now, with children of their own,
and my twin has two grandchildren already.


The pending divorce, which brought them to our home, was finalized before
the end of July. In the end, Aunt Connie got the home, the girls, one of
the cars and the major portion of the family bank accounts - she was also
forgiven any of the court costs and lawyers fees associated with the
divorce. Uncle Bud got the other car and part of the bank account funds,
but the lawyers fees and court costs he had to pay took almost every dime
he was allowed to keep. He also had to vacate the house within a week and
was ordered to leave it in good condition.

Aunt Connie and the girls were back in their own home before the month
ended and quickly settled back into their normal, pre-divorce, routines
(only without Uncle Bud). Aunt Connie had to go to work, of course, for
what money she received from the divorce would not last long and even
though Uncle Bud was very conscientious in his alimony and child support
payments, they were not enough alone to support the four of them. Aunt
Connie soon had a revolving door of housemates and live in companions, but
most did not last long and she did not remarry until the girls had left
home, starting lives of their own. Then she married a truck driver from
Colorado and moved out west with him. Uncle Bud soon took another wife.
Before their wedding he very conscientiously visit his daughters and they
were welcomed in his home at any time. After he married again,  he soon
stopped visiting his daughters and they were made to feel very unwelcome
in his home by their new step-mother.

Raquel left home for college a couple of years later. We'd gone to the
movies together and shared dinner dates a few times after they moved out,
and while each of these occasions developed into a sexual encounter, we
each had our own lives to live, our own steadies, so we didn't meet alone
or make time for one another often. She attended a Culinary College in San
Francisco and after graduation remained out there to live and work. The
first year she'd left we exchanged weekly letters and monthly telephone
calls, always professing our love for one another and promising we'd each
see the other again soon. Then, the following summer she spent her
vacation there, working, rather than returning home, and the letters
became monthly rather than weekly - the telephone calls practically
non-existent. By the end of her second summer there, she had visited that
second Christmas, but again worked through her vacation, we had quit
writing, save for short notes added to the annual birthday and Christmas
cards.

Raquel settled in the San Francisco area after graduation, went to work in
one of the area's finer restaurants and began building herself a new life.
Her sister, Alivia, whom she stayed in contact with religiously, kept me
apprised of what was happening in Raquel's life, sharing with me those
pictures Raquel sent with her letters. Alivia also kept Raquel informed of
things in my life, she must have - the occasional card from Raquel would
sometimes mention things that only her sister could have told her.

About the time Raquel left for college, dad got himself killed in an
industrial accident. Mom went to work and both Phil and I wanted to quit
school and get jobs as well, but mom wouldn't hear of it. It was also
about that time that Pat got herself busted for cocaine possession. It was
her first offense so she was given probation and released.

Pat, after graduation, went to a college in South Carolina, she was
studying to be a teacher and minoring in fine arts . . . she always had
wanted to be an artist or clothing designer, but had gotten a scholarship
and grants to study teaching instead. She dropped out after a couple of
years though and moved in with a junkie friend who said he loved her.
Since then, she's been in and out of so many jail cells and rehabilitation
clinics that I wonder she had time for a life of her own. Over the years
she gave birth to three children and the courts took all three away from
her. Her sister Alivia made trips to South Carolina each time, trying to
recover them, keep them in the family by offering to raise them herself
and adopt them, but by the time anyone here heard that it had happened,
the children had already been placed in new homes. Her efforts came to
naught.

I drove down to South Carolina once, to visit Pat, after the divorce from
my second wife. I even managed to locate her, but it was a wasted trip in
more ways than one. Pat was a wreck by then in so many ways. When I saw
her she weighed less than ninety pounds, her once full body had become an
angular thing of jutting bones and swollen joints. Her proud sensitive
breasts had become hanging sacks of flapping flesh. The home she was
living in was nothing more than a junkie flop house and she was taking all
comers sexually to pay her way. Pat had never been able to hold a job for
long and, by the time of my visit, had quit trying to even get one. She
was so strung out the day I saw her that I doubt she even knew who I was,
or remembered the visit when it was done. I left the same day I arrived,
even though I had planned to stay for a week, and drove straight back
home.

Alivia also went to college, studying business and finance. She worked as
an executive secretary for a few years after graduation, did personal and
business tax work for H & R Block in her free time, and dabbled in
investments and the stock market. As soon as she had  saved enough money,
the first major thing she bought for herself was a breast reduction
operation. It had cost her; her first real job, her then boyfriend. Yet
she's always told me she has never regretted having it done. I know I have
always liked her new ones.

Some years back she bought lots of stock in Hush Puppies Shoes when they
were only pennies a share and looked to be going under. Within a year the
stock rose more than 100 points and she has been quite well off,
financially, since. She quit her jobs then, went back to school and took
advanced computer courses, She now makes her money with the dot com games.
 She never married but almost always has a housemate and bed companion in
residence. Over the years those companions have been of both sexes without
discrimination. She has also given birth to a son and a daughter and seems
to have been making a fine job of raising them, mostly on her own. She has
always visited me, and she's always alone when she does, at least once
every six weeks. Every visit has always included one of her blow-jobs . .
. she should patent those. I always have Thanksgiving dinner at Alivia's
home, with her children and whoever is her most recent 'companion of the
moment'.

Phil, my twin now lives in Texas. He has himself a Mexican wife and eight
fat and sassy kids of various and assundry sexes. He and his wife own and
run a small bakery, and everyone in the household seems to be happy when
we talk and during our annual visits. One year I will travel to Texas and
spend a week with the family and the next the herd comes here. We exchange
cards and letters about five or six times a year. We'd visit more often,
but the distance and costs are simply too great for us.

Chad went to college on a sports scholarship and did well in both his
collegiant sports and academics. He and one of his teammates moved in
together after graduation and went to work for the same company. They are
both still together and seem very much in love. They have a sprawling home
about three hours from here and I see the two of them every few weeks or
so. Steve, Chad's companion insures that we all stay in contact regularly
and I do drive down there three or four times a year on a visit, usually
on their birthdays and for a Christmas dinner.

I went to a trade school and learned about heating and air conditioning
systems. I worked for other people for the first eight or nine years after
graduation and made a pretty good living. I married and lost my first two
wives during that time and swore after the second divorce that I would
never do 'that' again . . . I did. The only good thing to come of my first
two marriages was Stanley, my son. Veronica, my third wife, and I met
shortly after I started my own business. She was my business secretary, of
course, and we married about a year after she came to work for me. We had
a little more than five good years together, and they were mostly good
ones, before her roving eye got the better of her and she ran off with our
accountant. Lucky for me, he was an honest sort and didn't rob me blind
when he left, regardless of how Hollywood always portrays such situations.
The only thing he took from me, when he left, was Veronica. She wrote
about a year later and asked for a divorce . . . I let her have it. She
and Harry, my ex-accountant, had two daughters shortly after and I hear
from my ex-brother-in-law that they are happy. Good for them.

I live in the old family home now, I own it (though when I was growing up
there we really only rented the place). After the divorce from my second
wife I was looking for a smaller place to live (her tastes in homes and
just about everything had been rather grandiose), and the Heatons, our old
landlords, were putting the old family homestead up on the market about
then. We were still friendly and they made me a good price, so when my
home sold I bought the old house.  I wouldn't sell it now if I could, it's
the only home Stanley has ever known and we do a lot of fishing and
swimming together on the chain of lakes. Stanley is twelve now.

Raquel married a couple of years after her graduation from the culinary
school. She married a fellow student she'd met her first year there, he
was why she did not return home during her summer vacations, and I
received an invitation to their wedding. Alivia and I flew out there
together - Alivia was still in college at the time and Raquel had arranged
for the wedding to be during one of her scholastic breaks. Things had
begun a little awkwardly for Raquel and I during that visit, Tom, her
husband to be, had been present, but things had quickly relaxed the
following day after he'd gone to work. Both the visit and the wedding had
been enjoyable affairs, ultimately, even though I believed my presence may
have caused Raquel some doubts at the time. Alivia confessed during the
flight home that she had felt the same as I. That was the last time I saw
Raquel in person. Raquel and Tom had a single daughter, then Tom saw a
doctor and had himself fixed. They had over eighteen years together, with
Raquel doing everything in her power to keep the home and family together
(according to Alivia). This wasn't an easy task because (again, according
to Alivia) Tom was a bit of a drunkard and a philanderer. Finally though,
last year, when Tom had come home drunk one too many times, when he had
beaten Raquel one too many times, and tried to get into bed with their
daughter, Raquel decided she'd had enough. Their divorce became final
three months ago (Alivia kept me apprised of the situation) and the sale
of their home is being finalized as I write this. Raquel and her thirteen
year old daughter, Wendy, have plans to move. Raquel plans to open her own
restaurant after the relocation. I guess she has enough money for it.

The letter arrived last week, which is what started this whole memory
thing in the first place. It is the first thing I have received from
Raquel besides a birthday or Christmas card in ten years. It consisted of
five lines:

Bill,

"We will be arriving and moving in on Christmas Eve."

"Get the second bedroom ready for 'our' daughter. I can't wait for you to
finally meet her."

"I can't wait to meet 'our' son. I hope he likes his new mom and sister."

"Keep 'our' bed warm."

"Merry Christmas."

Raquel

I think I'm happy . . . after all, she 'is' the only woman I've ever truly
loved.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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