Breakfast (Cereal) In Bed

WARNING:

The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and 
contains descriptions of explicit sex.  If you are not an adult, 
or reading sex stories upset you, or you are offended by 
subjects of a sexual nature - do not read any further! 

This story is for entertainment only.  It contains adult 
oriented material.  This is a work of fiction.  The acts and 
characters contained within are figments of my imagination and 
have no basis in fact.  I do not practice, advocate, condone or 
encourage acts portrayed here.  The characters in the story are 
entirely fictional.  You need to believe that all of the 
characters are over the age of eighteen.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without 
the written permission of the author.  This story may be freely 
distributed with this notice attached.

* * * * * * * * * * 

Breakfast, or thoughts of breakfast, must be a current 
preoccupation, because this is my second story having a cereal 
(as opposed to serial) theme.  Although because there are two, I 
guess theyÕre serial as well.  Hopefully, crisp, not soggy.

The other influence for this story is a series of get-togethers 
Mr. Marcus has with former school classmates, happening with 
increased frequency.  Perhaps as he gets older, he looks back a 
bit more.

In this tale, Mr. Marcus examines the life of one of his former 
classmates.  Oh yes, and the women with which he was involved.  
A very close examination, indeed.

* * * * * * * * * *

Somehow, I got on an email distribution list containing members 
of my high school class.  Maybe I'd given my email address to a 
former classmate and they'd done what they thought was a good 
deed and passed it along to one of those goody two shoes self-
appointed class secretaries.  About once a week, I'd get some 
drivel about a get-together at a local bar (for those still in 
the vicinity or willing to fly in for a beer), or scanned 
clippings from old issues of the school paper, or some brag 
about how a former classmate saved the world.  I had very little 
interest in most of these folks.  After all, if I had been 
interested, I'd have expended some effort to keep in touch.  And 
I hadn't.  

That fateful week, I got an email:  one of my former high school 
classmates had died.  Leonard "Goat" Humphries.  His nickname 
"Goat" wasn't because he was the "butt" of our jokes.  It was 
simply that Leonard was always horny, and I mean always.  From 
the first time he got intimate with a female classmate - I can't 
remember who I heard it from, maybe Leonard himself - he was 
always with some girl from our class, or when we were juniors 
and seniors, perhaps a freshman or sophomore.  Outside of 
school, he'd be seen with girls from other schools.  If anyone 
at our high school was getting significant action, it was Goat.

I avoided him because, to be honest, he wasn't very interesting 
when he had a girl on his arm.  Depressingly dull, to put a fine 
point on it.  With a sullen expression, as if his house had been 
robbed and all his prize possessions stolen, or some other 
emotionally catastrophic event.  Despite that aura, his current 
squeeze would be glued to his side.  He was a different person 
when it was just him and the guys, or him and me.  He was 
energetic and friendly, someone you could have a good time with. 
I never did figure out why he was like two different people.  
Maybe it was hormones.   

In our senior year, Goat stopped playing the field and went 
steady with our classmate Gloria.  She was smart, and kind of 
pretty in a plain way.  She must have seen something deeper in 
Leonard and roped him in before he knew what was happening.  A 
couple of years later, I'd heard in passing from a mutual 
acquaintance that he and Gloria got married while in college, 
pissing off both their parents.  A year after we all graduated 
college, I'd read an article in the local paper about Leonard 
moving to Arizona for an important job. It must have been 
important, because the paper didn't publish stories about folks 
getting menial labor gigs.  Until his death notice, that's the 
last I'd heard about Leonard.

We weren't best friends by any means, but we'd sometimes hang 
out at each other's houses.  Anyway, my heart pinged a little 
with the notice of his passing.  Memories of double dates, where 
his then current girl had an unattached friend, got me out of 
the house on Saturday nights.  Sometimes we'd have a daytime 
date at the beach.  Leonard loved the beach.  Oak Street.  North 
Avenue.  Sometimes we'd slum up at Foster, just for a change of 
scenery.  And on double dates, we'd park there for "submarine 
races."  Most times, my fix-up and I sat in the back seat, 
watching Leonard and his gal go at it, hot and heavy.  Goat 
never minded that I'd peek over the front seat and watch.  Most 
times, his girlfriend was way too occupied to notice.  I'd get 
horny, too, obviously, and turn to my date for some action.  The 
cooperative ones would let me touch them, but only in certain 
places on their bodies and with our clothes on.  No matter where 
we went, girls would be attracted to Leonard.  Animal magnetism, 
maybe.  I was grateful for the leftovers, many of whom where 
plenty attractive, even if I only got kissing and an occasional 
grope.

The mass mailing about Leonard's death included an email 
address, so I sent my condolences.  It was the proper thing to 
do.  The next day, the reply was a sincere thank you from the 
Webb family, plus directions to meet a private jet at Midway 
Airport for attending the funeral.  Huh?  I was flabbergasted.  
Someone wanted me at the funeral so bad, they'd offered to fly 
me there?  I guess old Goat had made it big, or at least 
connected with some dough.  Were they making this offer to other 
classmates?

Harriett was unusually solicitous about the news, and my boss 
was gracious to give me time off, despite the short notice.  To 
be honest, I think he was more jealous than anything else.  Our 
company had a private jet, which none of us peons ever got close 
enough to see, let alone ride in.  I was sure he'd want the 
details after I got back.

I drove down to Midway early the next morning.  The private 
facilities for corporate jets are on a road that runs behind the 
public airport.  I parked at Odyssey Aviation as instructed and 
entered the small one-story building, essentially a waiting 
room.  There were a couple of other people there, in suits and 
ties, huddled in some serious business discussion.  I didn't 
recognize any of them from school.  A chalkboard, hung behind a 
typical airline counter, announced the scheduled flights, but 
they were all in code.  

A man in blue blazer and khaki pants came out of a small office 
behind the counter,  "How can I help you?"

"My name is Harvey Marcus.  I'm here for a flight to Nebraska."  
I almost said it as a question instead of a statement of fact.  
"I don't know who-"

"Yes, Mr. Marcus.  Their crew is preparing the Groatz corporate 
jet for your trip."

Groatz?  That's the healthy cereal they give out free samples of 
at the grocery store.  Not like other cereals I've eaten, this 
stuff is chewy and doesn't get soggy in milk.  But you've got to 
really work in order to swallow it.  The last sample made my jaw 
ache.  How was Leonard connected with them?

The whine of a jet engine revving up broke the silence.  Through 
the glass wall, a plane taxied into view.  The Groatz logo and 
marketing phrase, "Great oats!  Great taste!" adorned the entire 
side.  The passenger door slid up.  A woman in a beige jumpsuit 
flipped out a staircase and crossed the empty asphalt.  When she 
entered the building, she headed straight for me.  "Mr. Marcus."  

She knew who I was.  "Yes."  

Her long brown hair had been blown into a tangled mess by the 
jet's turbulence.  At close range, I examined her face.  Very 
pretty.  A bit lower, the jumpsuit bulged, so the Groatz logo 
stood out prominently on one side.  Yuli, her name, was 
embroidered across the other breast.  "We're ready for you now."  
She took the handle of my roll-on bag and led me from the 
building.  When she pointed towards the stairs, I walked up.  
The pilot's cabin door was open.  Two smiling men, also in 
jumpsuits, grinned broadly.  "Welcome aboard."

I nodded and then turned to the right.  Swivel captainÕs chairs 
lined both sides towards the front, with plain seats behind, 
along the walls.  One flip-down flight attendant seat was 
mounted to a back divider.  At the rear, I guessed a small 
galley and a bathroom.

Yuli came up the aisle, minus my bag.  Must have been stowed 
below.  "May I take your coat?"   She put her hands on my 
shoulders.

"Sure."

She slid the jacket off my arms and carried it away.   I chose a 
seat on the left side, so I could see my car in the lot and the 
waiting room building.

One of the male pilots walked the length of the plane either to 
check things out before takeoff or to use the bathroom. Yuli's 
jumpsuit was a much tighter fit than his. Perhaps Groatz 
management was sexist, or maybe just their private flight 
management.  Or a simpler explanation, that Yuli had shrunk hers 
in the dryer.  Questions buzzed in my head, but neither the 
pilots nor Yuli were likely sources of information.  Was I 
really going to be the only passenger?  And what was Goat's 
relationship to Groatz?  Had Goat been a highly valued employee? 
 Maybe even a member of senior management?  I'd never figured 
Goat for an executive suite.

After both pilots were back in the cockpit, one of them 
announced immanent departure.  Yuli came back to make sure I was 
buckled in.  She took a long look at my waist.  Was she checking 
me out?  Even if she wasn't, I noticed that she'd unzipped, just 
a couple of inches.

It was odd, being alone in a plane.  Normally, I'd be wincing at 
noise from uncooperative children or playing dueling elbows with 
a burly guy in the next seat.  Not this time, just the sound of 
wind rushing past the fuselage.

Takeoff was the closest I'd ever come to being an astronaut. 
Almost vertical with g forces that plastered my tongue deep in 
my mouth. When we tapered off a bit, the flight attendant 
climbed uphill from her back seat. The zipper of her jumpsuit 
had traveled a few more inches down from the collar.  "It might 
be too early in the day, but may I offer you a cream soda?"  

Damn. How did they know I'm a cream soda freak?  Must have been 
Goat.  Who else?  How many details about me had he shared?  
"Thanks." 

She returned with a tray and poured the premium Doctor Brown's 
beverage into a chilled mug. No ice to water down the flavor. 
Perfect.

"Anything else I can do for you?"  She smiled. My eyes tracked 
the deepening V of her outfit.  It was even lower now, 
approaching the valley between the hills of her chest.   Her 
tits werenÕt huge, but big enough to capture my attention.  She 
noticed my focus and toyed with the zipper. 

Even if this was her way of suggesting the possibility, I 
couldn't have sex in the plane, could I?  Not with two pilots up 
front who might come back to check on things. "Can you tell me 
something about Groatz, or the Webbs?"

She opened the overhead storage bin and handed me a hardback 
book.  The title - History of Groatz.  "How's this?"

"Perfect."  I skimmed through the book.  Stanford "Stringer" 
Webb, who got his nickname from his previous work as a freelance 
journalist for the local newspapers in Nebraska, had founded 
Groatz Cereals.  When a large tract of farmland was about to be 
foreclosed, Webb showed up with just the right amount of cash to 
pay the back taxes.  Using unique imported seeds, he turned the 
land into a highly productive farm, delivering an extremely 
hearty crop and instant wealth.  The book had lots of photos of 
cereal production machinery and packaging designs, from the 
earliest mechanisms and boxes to the latest high tech processing 
gear and modern box designs.  Up to the publication date, which 
was three years previous, Groatz had remained an independent 
operation, with extensive distribution within the United States.  
There were some heavily cautioned forward-looking statements 
about making that pervasive across the country, as well as 
entering foreign markets.  On the last page, a full color photo 
of Stanford standing next to his grown daughter, Charlotte.

I shut the book.  I didn't know the Webbs, but Goat seemed to 
have been connected, and now, I was involved.

Yuli showed up, ready to attend to her only passenger.  "Was 
that helpful?"  Her smile gleamed, and the inside curves of her 
breasts were now on display.  No bra.  Shit, how far was she 
prepared to unzip that thing, anyhow?

"Yes, very."  I had a passing thought about joining the Mile 
High Club.  Shit, I was going to a funeral, and there I was, 
thinking about sex.  I stifled any physiological reaction and 
reclined my chair.  "I'll just take a nap, thanks."

She left the zipper where it was.  "Please let me know if you 
change your mind."

About what?  It felt like she was disappointed I didn't ask her 
to sit in my lap and see what came up. I closed my eyes and 
dreamed about high school and my adventures with Goat.

The bump of the planes tires on a runway woke me from my nap.  
It had been about forty-five minutes by my watch.  "Are we 
there?" I called back over my shoulder.

"Yes sir. Remain seated until the captain advises you to 
unbuckle.  I can assist, if you'd like."

Still teasing me, even after landing.  She really did want to 
get her hands on me.  Maybe it was a missed opportunity, but my 
mind was on Goat, his funeral, and the Webbs.

The sunlight was bright and the sky was clear blue. I pulled on 
my sunglasses at the top of the staircase.  In the foreground a 
brick shack and a limousine. Yuli extracted my suitcase from 
beneath the plane and rolled it over to the limo. "Have a nice 
visit."  She'd zipped back up.  Modesty in public.

Since when is a funeral the opportunity for a nice visit? 
 Strange.  "Thanks."

"Maybe I'll see you on the return flight."  Her hand pulled the 
zipper down an inch or two, just to tease.  Then she winked.  
Her waddle as she walked towards the plane was meant for my 
eyes, I was certain.

I had just landed and was anxious to climb back aboard.  Both 
that plane and Yuli.  But there were condolences to share, in 
person, with someone.  The Webbs?  Would any of Goat's family be 
there?

The limo driver put the bag in his trunk, came around and then 
opened the rear door.

When he got into the driver's seat, I felt obligated to say 
something.  After all, in the past, I'd always been the one to 
provide my limo driver a destination.  "I'm sorry. I don't know 
where we're going."

"That's not a problem, Mr. Marcus. I have my orders.  First, I'm 
to take you to the house, so you can clean up and get dressed 
properly. Then, I'll take you to the mortuary for the funeral 
service. You'll join the family there."

"Leonard's family?"  Boy, was I out of touch.  The only family I 
knew of was Gloria, from decades ago.

"Oh, I assumed you knew.  Leonard married Charlotte Webb several 
years ago."

No shit!  Goat married into big money.  That made him heir to 
the Webb's cereal business.  Except the idiot died.  What 
happened to Gloria, his high school sweetheart?  "Really?"

He continued, "No children, thank goodness.  Please, sit back 
and relax.  It won't take us very long, but we have to stay on 
schedule."

Dust plumed as my driver gunned it out of the private airport's 
parking lot.  I thought of a dust-caked Yuli unzipping her 
jumpsuit to take a shower.  God, the places my mind goes!

After about a half hour, during which I played with all of the 
buttons and controls on the TV, radio, and lights, the limo 
driver turned right, passing under a horseshoe-shaped arch, 
announcing 'Webb Estate - Home of Groatz.' "We'll be at the 
house in a few minutes."

The "house" was a huge building off in the distance, deep into 
the flat land that seemed to stretch to the horizon.  On both 
sides of the road, fields of grain.  This was a working farm, 
not just for show.  The driver pulled halfway around the 
circular driveway.  An older man in black blazer with the Groatz 
logo and grey slacks greeted me.

"Mr. Marcus.  How was your flight?"

This guy had no clue I was practically seduced by Yuli the 
flight attendant.  "Very smooth. I slept through most of it."

"I see."  He winked.  Shit, he did know.  But how?  "Let me 
escort you to your room."  He took my rolling bag from the limo 
driver in a hand-off smoother than the best I'd seen in any 
Olympic relay, and proceeded down a wide arched hallway.  On the 
right, at a door labeled GUEST ONE, he turned and entered.  
Inside, there was a king bed, armoire, dresser, nightstands, and 
a closet.  He pulled open the closet doors.  "We didn't know 
your exact size, so you've got a variety of suit jackets and 
pants to choose from."  The armoire held freshly pressed dress 
shirts and several ties, all in properly subdued colors 
appropriate for a funeral.  "Underwear and socks are in the 
dresser.  You have a private bath, that way."  He pointed past 
the closet to another door.  "Please, I don't mean to rush you, 
but you can't be late for the service."

He hustled out of the room and closed the door.  My own clothes 
in my carry-on were redundant, so far.  I took a quick hot 
shower, shaved to remove any unsightly stubble, and got dressed 
in stranger's clothes.  I was tempted to wear my jockeys instead 
of their boxers, but felt somehow like that was an insult.  All 
ready with a grey and red tie, I walked towards the front entry.  
The driver was waiting.  "You look perfect, Mr. Marcus.  What 
fine taste."

I stroked the lapels.  "Thanks."  I didn't deserve the kudos.  
Someone else had made the tough choices.

The driver sped around the circular driveway, down the entry 
road, and made a tire-squealing right.  "If I get you there a 
little early, you'll have time to speak with the family before 
the service."  Except that we had to cross freight train tracks, 
and there was a one hundred boxcar procession blocking our path.  
Seconds felt like hours.  The driver had succeeded in making my 
timeliness my problem, not his.  Smooth, and sneaky.  

Despite his rush after the train passed, everyone had already 
entered when we arrived at the chapel.  A string of limousines 
and fancy imported vehicles stretched behind a waiting Hearse.  
The driver ran around the car and threw open the door, handing 
me off to an usher.  He took my elbow and shuffled along, 
demonstrating urgency.  The sign at the doorway read: Service: 
Leonard Humphries-Webb."  Wasn't that backwards?  I thought the 
woman's maiden name came first when someone chose hyphenation.  
The rush continued as he scurried me down an aisle to the first 
row, where three people sat on a long couch.  Closest was a 
woman in black from head to toe, a veil obscuring her face.  I 
presumed she was Charlotte, the widow Humphries-Webb.  Next to 
her, the icon I'd just read about - Stanford Webb, founder of 
Groatz and according to the limo driver, Goat's father-in-law.  
On the far end of the sofa, a second woman in a simple black 
dress, this one younger with a family resemblance.  A second 
daughter?  She sat looking at the floor, hands folded in her 
lap.  There was just enough room for one more body - mine.  The 
usher planted me next to the veiled woman.

I was startled when she leaned hard in my direction.  I had 
nowhere to go.  My arm was crushed between our bodies.  I wanted 
to avoid accidental contact with her, so I snaked my arm up and 
put it along the top of the sofa.  She cooed and snuggled 
against me.  This felt too good for a funeral; Goat's widow 
nestled in my arm.  I couldn't see through the veil, so I hoped 
that Goat had good taste.  The Groatz marketing phrase, "Great 
oats!  Great taste!" jumped into my head.  When the minister, or 
whoever he was, rose to the podium, that's when I first noticed 
Goat's casket, sealed shut.

The minister's words were completely generic.  No mention was 
made of anything personal, such as Goat's humble beginnings in 
Chicago, or Gloria, which I guess would have been tacky.  Nope, 
this was pure boilerplate, read from a book as if the minister 
had never met Goat.  Probably hadn't.  Goat wasn't very 
religious.

The minister asked the family to depart the chapel before any 
other attendees through a grieving room behind the stage.  The 
three Webbs stood.   I would have stayed seated but Charlotte 
reached for my hand, pulled me to my feet, and dragged me along.  
God, she was strong.  From working in the fields?

In the grieving room, the minister closed the door behind us.   
Father Webb marched over confronted me.  "Who the hell are you?"

The minister threw one hand over his mouth at the cuss word in 
such a holy place.

Charlotte stepped between us and spoke out from beneath her 
veil.  "This is Mr. Marcus, Lenny's closest friend.  I invited 
him, remember?"

The designation "closest friend" was incorrect, but it saved me 
from Webb's wrath, so I accepted the lie.  Mr. Webb grunted, 
backed off and took his younger daughter's arm.  I guessed he 
wasn't he kind of guy who apologized.  The black dress she was 
wearing was slimming, but her voluptuous body and round curves 
were still obvious.

The minister opened an exit door that led outside, where the 
casket had been rolled.  Mr. Webb and I were joined by four 
audience members and handed gloves.  We marched along side, our 
covered hands merely guiding the coffin.  That's when it hit me 
that Goat was really dead.  I snuffled back a tear.  At the 
Hearse, we did our moment of physical labor lifting the casket 
gently onto a rolling belt that practically sucked the casket 
inside the vehicle.  Webb, his younger daughter still clinging 
to him, put out his hand for Charlotte.  She avoided it, 
grabbing my arm and leading me silently to a different limo than 
her father and sister, a double-parked one.  My driver helped 
Charlotte in on the curbside, directing me to enter from the 
roadside.  By the time I got in, Charlotte had lifted her veil.  
God, she was gorgeous.  I'm a terrible judge of age, which has 
gotten me into tons of trouble in the past.  All I could guess 
was that Charlotte was maybe ten or fifteen years younger than 
me, and well kept.  The advantages of money.  The boxers weren't 
constraining my growing erection, the byproduct of being so 
close to an attractive woman.

"Hi."  It was a breathless exhale.  "I'm so glad to finally meet 
you.  Lenny never stops-"  She realized her use of present tense 
and choked up.  She leaned close, and I put my arm along the 
seat top her, like I had in the chapel.  She fit well, cuddled 
next to me.  She raised the opaque shield between the driver and 
us.  He didnÕt react.  "Lenny told me so much about you, I feel 
like I know you already."

"Then you have the advantage.  It's been years since Leonard and 
I spoke.  I didn't even know he'd remarried."

Charlotte took my hand in hers, and let it fall onto my lap.  
"Three years ago, after that ingrate Gloria dumped him.  Can you 
imagine, dumping a treasure like Lenny?"

I never thought of Goat as a treasure, but than again, I wasn't 
female.  Then why did Gloria give him up, if that's what really 
happened?  Charlotte was not yet a trusted source.  "No, I 
can't.  First off, let me extend my condolences.  It must be 
hard for you-"

That's when she let go of my hand and placed hers on my thigh, 
just above my knee.  I fully understood the circumstances; a 
grieving widow seeking solace for her loss, accidentally touches 
the man she thinks is her husband's best friend.  "You've come 
to the real truth, haven't you? Oh, how smart you are.  Lenny 
said you were smart.  It's been soooo hard."  Her hand moved up 
a couple of inches.  God, she was going to be shocked as hell if 
her hand went any- Oh shit, a couple more inches.  Since my 
unencumbered cock had extended out of the boxers, she was 
dangerously close to holding the length in her hand,

"A terrible loss for you.  Leonard must have been a good 
husband."  I presumed.

"The best, but always struggling to be better.  You know how 
competitive Lenny was, don't you?"

Goat had never been into sports.  Never joined school teams.  
Wasn't much interested in watching the local teams on TV either.  
"No, I can't say that I do."

She blurted a single laugh.  "How ironic.  Lenny vying every day 
to make up for his deficiency, competing with you, and you were 
completely unaware."

"Me?"

"Yes, you, Harvey Marcus. What a strong name.  May I call you 
Harvey?"  She turned towards me, blue eyes glistening, her 
fingers wiggling.  "Evidently, at some point, he'd seen you 
naked.  He never disclosed the circumstances, but he described-" 
Her hand slid up, resting on top of my penis. "-how big you 
are."

Charlotte was a flake!  Goat hadn't yet been put to rest, and 
she was coming on to me?  I knew I needed to disengage from this 
interaction, but gently.  After all, this was Goat's widow, in 
the early stages of grief.  "We shouldn't be discussing-"

"Do you know how to be gentle?"  She patted my prick.  It 
lurched.

"I think I do."  Was she really expecting for us to get intimate 
right there, in the limo driving behind her dead husband's 
casket?

"Good. Then you'll take Lenny's place tomorrow."

At some gathering, or in her bed?  I tried formulating a 
question that didn't assume too much.

The driver's voice over the intercom startled both of us.  
"We've arrived at the mausoleum," he announced.  

Charlotte folded her hands and waited for the driver to open her 
door.  "We'll continue our chat later."

And your groping? I thought.  Charlotte wiggled over and stepped 
out, taking the driver's hand.  I was treated to a close-up view 
of her behind.  My erection didn't falter.  Perhaps my 
combination of boxers and pleated pants would mask my condition.

I pulled the gloves from my jacket pocket and returned to my 
position at the back of the Hearse, to walk beside the casket of 
my former classmate.  The cart jingled as we steered it from the 
parking lot, up the concrete path to the granite-faced building, 
through double doors, to the open crypt labeled "Webb Family."  

Once we'd positioned the casket at the open drawer, the 
entourage of pallbearers backed away.  Charlotte held on to me, 
as if she was unable to support her own weight.  Stanford eyed 
us, his younger daughter still on his arm, her cherubic face 
framed by long blonde hair, still counting floor tiles.  The 
same minister spoke additional generic phrases about loss, 
mourning, and an after-life.  I imagined the spirits of former 
female classmates, and perhaps other women, greeting Goat with 
open arms.  And, one at a time, open legs.  More important than 
life after death, was there sex in the Great Beyond?  There must 
be, otherwise how great could it be?

The attendees all went their separate ways.  Before we got into 
our limo, Charlotte whispered something to the driver.  Then we 
returned to our positions in the back seat, Charlotte's thigh 
against mine.  Heat radiated from her body.

I decided to reset the direction for our conversation.  "I had 
nothing on Leonard."  I decided not to confuse Charlotte with 
his nickname.  "He was always surrounded by women.  No offense.  
He had a charisma I never matched."

"Not from his perspective.  Lenny told me that his life's goal 
was to please women.  As a woman in Lenny's life, I can tell 
you, he certainly did.  We were so compatible.  Two peas in a 
pod.  We both loved sex, and he was a master."

This was too much information.  What next, sharing their 
favorite positions?  A play-by-play description of their last 
fuck?  "I'm happy for you, that you had a chance for happiness.  
Not everyone does."  My sex life with Harriett was nowhere as 
fulfilling as Goat's and Charlotte's had been.  Not even close.

"But Lenny wasn't satisfied.  He thought that, with a bigger 
penis, he could have been an even better lover, bringing me to 
even higher levels of ecstasy."  Her fingers returned without 
warning to my prick, which had deflated during the entombment.  
"But now, I'm all alone.  I need comfort.  You understand, don't 
you?"  

Did Charlotte expect me to take Goat's place in their bed?  "I 
understand you have needs.  I wish there was something 
reasonable I could do."  I threw in the word reasonable to set 
some threshold.

She hiked her skirt and fell to her knees on the limo's floor in 
front of me, working my zipper.  "The night they took Lenny's 
body from the bathroom, I tossed and turned in anguish.  Without 
my soul mate, how could I go on?"

Soul mate or sex mate?  Maybe to Charlotte, it didn't matter.  
The fact that my cock was exposed, sticking up from my pants, 
inches from CharlotteÕs face.  That mattered.  "Uh, Charlotte?"

She prattled on.  "And what's worse, I have myself to blame.  
Lenny would still be here if I hadn't insisted-" She was crying 
while she massaged my erection.  With each sob, she tugged at 
it, leaning ever closer.

No woman had ever held my penis while crying.  I tried hard not 
to take it personal.  Her manipulation kept my psyche from 
making it deflate.  Why did she think she was responsible?  
"Just how did Lenny die, if you don't mind me asking?"

Charlotte's fingertips fluttered the length of my prick as she 
spoke.  "I was on the phone in my office, just down the hall 
from our bedroom.  A west coast distributor threatened to renege 
on his committed quantities.  Well, I couldn't allow that.  I 
explained the contractual penalties, and he agreed to proceed as 
expected.  That's why I got to our bedroom later than our mutual 
bedtime."

"You go to bed at the same time?"  Harriett goes to be before 
me, so I can peruse porn before coming to bed, after cuming.

"Every night.  But that night, Lenny decided he couldn't wait 
for relief after getting none the previous week.  I was 
suffering too, but I didn't go and get myself killed over it."  

"Wait a second.  You weren't having sex last week?  I thought 
you said-"

She choked my cock.  "It's complicated.  You asked a question, 
and I'm trying to answer it."  

I nodded, and she went back to diddling.  "When I got to our 
room, I found Lenny on the bathroom floor.  It looked like he'd 
been masturbating while sitting backwards on the toilet.  He was 
wet.  Somehow, he slipped or fell and bashed his head into the 
toilet tank.  Coroner said cause of death was a fatal concussion 
and accidental."   My prick bumped against her lips.

So Goat died in a freak accident while jerking off?  That wasn't 
right.  Getting shot by a jealous husband?  Now that would have 
been a fitting end.

I wanted to know why they weren't having sex, but Charlotte left 
that out of her answer, so I didn't probe.  Maybe a more gentle 
question, to keep Charlotte occupied, would deter her from 
jumping into my lap for a quickie.  We'd been driving for what 
seemed to be longer than necessary to get us back to the Webb 
Estate.  "How did you and Lenny meet?"  It was the first time 
I'd used her pet name for Goat.

She smiled.  "We met down in Puerto Vallarta. I was taking a 
well-earned vacation and Lenny had just gotten fired from 
another university."

Another?  Charlotte made it sound like Goat made a habit of it. 
  "How many was another?"

"Over a dozen, I think."  She licked the underside of my crown.  
"Lenny was a very sexual being.  And you're right.  Women found 
him irresistible.  Wherever he worked, Lenny would eventually 
develop a relationship with a student or faculty member that got 
him in trouble.  He told me the stories, in bed.  Once, it was a 
professor's wife."

"That explains the series of moves."  Perhaps Gloria got tired 
of the infidelity or the relocations, or both.  "Did he divorce 
Gloria while this was going on?"

"After number seven, or maybe eight.  He was caught with a 
professor's daughter, in his classroom.  I guess that was the 
last straw." She choked back a laugh.  "Lenny and I are so much 
alike."  

Gloria had been extremely patient with Goat's behavior.  Did 
Charlotte suffer from the same affliction of constant horniness?  
Her stroking of my cock and random mouth involvement were rock-
solid clues.  "We've been driving for quite a while.  Shouldn't 
we be at your estate by now?"

She put the crown against her lips and hummed.  "I told Arnold 
to take the long route home, so we could have some quality time 
together."  She ran her hand all the way down to my balls and 
back up.  Her moist lips felt like velvet against the head of my 
cock.  "I have needs, but there are priorities." She took a 
lick. 

It took all my willpower not to hold her head and shove my prick 
onto her mouth for oral satisfaction.  "Sounds like you and 
Lenny were a match made in heaven."

"We were."  I'd dribbled enough pre-cum to allow Charlotte to 
slide her hand smoothly up and down.  This had become a serious 
hand-job.  "Let me know before you get close."  She continued 
slow, firm strokes.  "When we got back from our honeymoon, I 
learned Lenny's only flaw."  

Clearly, it wasn't performance anxiety.  Had she known his 
tendency to stray before they tied the knot?  "Infidelity?"

"Oh, no.  Daddy made sure Lenny knew that he'd have to give up 
other women once he married me.  No strangers or employees.  And 
especially no kinfolk like cousin Juliana. God, she's trouble.  
The consequences of him cheating once we were married- well, 
they'd be severe, to put it mildly."  She stared at my cock.  
"The problem was that, after we had sex, he'd take forty-eight 
hours to recover."

"Two days?"  I estimated that most men could get it up and 
deliver within a few hours, the next day at the latest.  For me, 
I'd been ready within an hour, but only under extreme duress and 
titillation.

"Yes.  He'd need that much time to recuperate.  I tried 
everything I knew to make him get it up sooner but nothing 
worked.  So I had to settle for sex every other day.  And for 
someone like me, that was tough.  But waiting for sex with Lenny 
was worth it."

The pressure was building.  "I think I'm getting close."  What 
would she do now?  Pull off her panties and take me in one 
glorious thrust?  Or maybe suck the cum out?

She pulled her hand back and returned to her seat next to me.  
"I wanted the feel of a hard penis in my hand again.  I hope you 
don't mind my getting personal, or leaving you in this 
condition."

Just to clarify, I had to ask. "So you're not planning on having 
sex with me?"

She straightened her dress, twisted from her change of position.  
"As I said, there are priorities.  I need you for something much 
more important.  Tomorrow."  

More important than sex?  That's all she had talked about:  sex, 
needs, and fulfillment.  So why was I there?  I recognized the 
road leading to the Webb Estate.  Just in time, we were back.  
"And that is?"

"I'll tell you tonight.  Just don't masturbate after dinner, 
okay?"

So it did have something to do with sex, or sperm.  Very odd.  I 
nodded in agreement as I put my prick back in my pants.  We 
pulled onto the circular driveway just as I got my zipper up.

Standing in the entry foyer, Charlotte took both of my hands in 
hers.  They were sticky from my juices.  "Why don't you wash up?  
We're pretty informal here for meals on weekends.  Come down to 
the kitchen and grab something from the fridge."

Was it that late?  My stomach agreed.  "Okay."  I walked down 
the hall to my room.  A pullover shirt and casual slacks were 
laid out on the bed.  That made selecting something to wear in 
place of the black suit easy.

I wandered around the first floor, learning the layout.  There 
were two family-style rooms or dens, one on each side of a huge 
eat-in kitchen.  From the kitchen table, you could view the 
entire back forty or sixty or however large the property was 
through floor to ceiling picture windows.  After rummaging 
through cabinets and drawers, I had an empty plate and a set of 
silverware.  The industrial-sized fridge had sealed containers 
of fried chicken, so I helped myself to a breast and a thigh.  
There were some fried potatoes as well.  Using the microwave to 
heat up my selections was easy.  After I sat down and stabbed 
the first piece with my fork, Poppy entered the room.  She 
looked a lot shorter, probably because she'd worn heels with the 
black dress.  She'd changed into sleeping clothes, a very long 
t-shirt style pajama.  Her blonde hair was in a ponytail.  When 
she walked past silently, I saw her breasts in profile, huge and 
wobbly.  A slit up the side flashed her thigh as she strutted 
past.  She grabbed a chicken leg and marched out without a word.

Charlotte joined me moments later in a floral print housedress.  
"Good.  That's all homemade.  We eat good out here."  She filled 
a bowl with yogurt, some kind of seeds and dried fruit.  "Girls 
got to keep her figure."  Dribbles of yogurt missed her mouth, 
staining the corners of her mouth.  It looked like cum, but then 
my mind is always in the gutter.

I stuffed my face to avoid any further conversation, although I 
was deadly curious about my role in Charlotte's plans.  But she 
didn't bring up the topic, instead describing the farm's 
facilities and operations.  It was almost the company side of an 
interview, without questions about my qualifications and 
credentials.

"You must be tired from the flight and the services and all.  
Why don't you go on to bed?"

I yawned.  "You're right.  It's been an emotional day."  
Besides, my balls hurt.  

"Get a good night's sleep.  You'll need your energy tomorrow."

For what, she didn't say.  "Right."  I recalled her admonition 
not to jack-off after dinner.  Especially facing backwards on 
the toilet.  Sheesh, what a way to go.

Once more, little elves had selected clothing.  This time, satin 
pajamas.  I left them there on the foot of the bed, stripped 
naked and slid beneath the sheets.  I had a choice of three 
pillows and placed the foam rubber one under my head.  I had 
just curled up and was about to doze off when light shone in.  
Someone had opened the door and entered the room.  Elves?  If 
so, in profile, they had nice tits and a round ass.  No elves, 
but a woman.  "Charlotte?"

She stepped closer.  "Am I disturbing you?"  Charlotte wore a 
see-through black peignoir outfit, black ankle-length lace gown 
over black bra and panties.  Good color for a widow.  I rubbed 
my eyes to get my first real look at her nearly naked body.  
Damn, Goat was a lucky guy to have had access.  Full breasts and 
hips, and a yogurt waist.  "I'm so sorry to disturb you.  It's 
selfish of me, I know, taking advantage of you like this."  She 
picked up the silk sleep shirt.  "You didn't like these?"

"I prefer sleeping nude."

"Can I see?"

My bare cock again?  She tells me not to masturbate after dinner 
and then shows up looking like this?  My cock was hard and 
ready.  If fucking me wasn't in her plans, then why the late 
night visit?  "You won't just look, will you?  You'll touch it, 
maybe even kiss.  Like in the limo."

She plopped down on the edge of the bed, facing me.  "It's 
selfish, I know.  To be honest, touching you just got me more 
excited.  I don't think I've ever gone this long without sex 
since, well, way before Lenny."

Charlotte's cauldron was boiling.  She needed sexual attention.  
Although I wasn't going to fuck her, there were things I could 
do.  Things I was willing to do.  I tugged the covers from 
beneath her and threw them off.  There, I'd exposed myself.  
"Have you ever done sixty-nine?"

In a flash, she straddled my stomach, head towards my crotch.  I 
stared up at her thong-covered cunt.  Not wanting to move too 
fast, I palmed her ass cheeks.  My thumbs stayed a couple of 
inches away from her pussy, although I tapped them, just to be 
provocative.  Meanwhile, her hands returned to a familiar 
location, my prick.  I felt her breath on my- nope, her lips, 
full on the head.  And, she was humming.  She escalated to a 
tongue whip.  So I upped the ante, and ran one finger gently 
along the damp crease of the thong.

She dove onto my cock, a couple of inches down her throat. So I 
pulled her thong to the side and raised my head so my lips 
touched hers.  Cunt juice dripped on my cheek.  God, she was wet 
like a swamp. Had her pussy been stretched by Lenny and her 
previous lovers?  I'd never know.  She squatted, driving my head 
back to the pillow, practically smothering me.  I defended 
myself with my tongue, a penetrating assault.  Her mouth moved 
up and down, taking no more than half my length, if my nerves 
weren't lying.  God, she was horny.  I changed from tongue to 
finger, inserting the full length in a repetitive motion.  She 
could no longer claim she hadn't been fucked in a week, if 
fingers counted.

"Oh God.  That's so good!"  Her lips jerked.  "But let me know 
when you get close, and I'll stop."

My hip heaves were involuntary.  I plunged into her mouth, over 
and over.  "You're not the only one who needs satisfaction, 
lady."

Her mouth was full of cock.  "Buff hoo knee to saa hoosef-"

"For Christ sake, I can't understand a word-"

She let my cock escape her lips.  ""Don't blaspheme.  I said, 
you have to save yourself." She sighed.  "For tomorrow, for 
Poppy."

Her proposal bowled me over.  "What?"  I pushed her butt one way 
and pulled the opposite arm arm, forcing a three-point turn on 
her knees.  Now she was facing me in a straddle, my cock doing 
its best imitation of the Washington Monument between us.  "Your 
sister?  You must be joking."

"That's why Lenny and I didn't have sex last week.  He was going 
to give Poppy a special birthday present, on her eighteenth 
birthday."

Again with the birthdays?  "And Poppy was okay with this?  She 
knew?"

"Poppy and Lenny were very close.  Sometimes, I even got 
jealous, that he'd prefer a younger woman to me.  Not that they 
did anything.  But if he had and Daddy found out, he'd never 
have survived."

With or without Daddy, Lenny hadn't.  "Does your father know 
about Lenny's special gift for Poppy?"

"Oh no!  Heaven forbid!"

More family secrets.  "Well, I'm not Lenny.  Poppy and I don't 
have any relationship.  We're essentially strangers.  She won't 
even talk to me."

"You spend some time with her tomorrow, and we'll see what 
happens.  That's why I need you to save yourself."  Her hand 
returned to my cock, which hadn't faded, given our discussion of 
a potential young sex partner.  "If I let you orgasm tonight-"

"Like I said, I'm not Lenny.  We could do it tonight, and I'd 
still be able to be intimate with Poppy tomorrow."

"You could?"

It hadn't been an offer, just a statement of fact about my 
resilience.  "Theoretically."

"You mean you don't find me attractive, in that way?"  Charlotte 
jumped from the bed and strutted back and forth, swishing the 
gown, undulating her hips, fucking the air.  God, if I hadn't 
been at full length before, I sure was in reaction to her dance.  
She ripped her thong from her hips and moved closer.  

By bragging, I'd opened a possibility she hadn't considered.  
"Charlotte, we should abstain, to honor Lenny's memory."

"Lenny would want the man he strived to be, to provide comfort 
to the love of his life.  He wouldn't want me to suffer."  She 
climbed onto my legs, her bare cunt poised for action.  Her hand 
guided my erection to her pussy.  

Was I really going to fuck Lenny's widow, the same day he was 
interred?  "We could sit and cuddle.  Maybe a mutual massage?  I 
don't feel good about this."

"Then maybe you should think about someone other than yourself 
for a change."  Her weight sunk down. "Oooh, that's a big one, 
Harvey."  She pulsed her hips, and I drilled deeper.

"You're sure?" Like I could unfuck her after penetrating half my 
length?

She lay down against me and nuzzled her head against mine.  
"Just lay still and let me feel you in me."  Her hip motions 
were slight but effective in absorbing my entire cock.  No rapid 
thrusts, no frantic lunges, just civilized slow motion, like 
waves on the shore, in and out.  

I almost didn't notice that Charlotte was building up momentum, 
it happened so incrementally.  She moaned with each hip advance.  
I ran my hands across her ass and back under the lace gown.  
When I got to her bra, I unhooked it.  She lifted herself up and 
flapped her arms, to throw off the remaining garment.  In the 
process, her bra fell away, her breasts suspended above me, 
unattended.  So I attended to them, first with my fingers, then 
bringing them to my mouth, one at a time.  Charlotte was more 
active, humping.  Instead of just laying there like a stiff, I 
moved in concert, rising up to meet her in mid-air.  "What are 
you doing?" she panted.

"Fucking you back."  Precisely what I supposed to be doing.  She 
was gasping, her chest heaving. I felt her pelvic muscles 
tighten.  She was approaching a big finish, and I let her 
achieve it, accompanied by deep breaths and head jerks that 
swung her tits.  

I was close.  I could have chosen to let my cock fade away, but 
I deserved an orgasm too.  So, while Charlotte was winding down, 
I took control, rolled us over and lifted her legs onto my 
shoulders.  

"What are you doing?" Charlotte panted, trying to catch her 
breath.

"Fucking you.  Didn't you notice?" In that position, my hands 
were free to run all over, and I took the opportunity.  Her skin 
was smooth for a farm girl.

"But Lenny never got on top.  And after I came, we'd wind down 
together."

"I told you before.  I'm not Lenny."  I punctuated that fact 
with a deep thrust.

"Oooh God, no more."  She was panting.

"Just a little.  Didn't Lenny fuck you?"

"Not like this.  Think about Poppy.  Think about tomorrow."  She 
was writhing below me.  Seemed like she was enjoying my sudden 
burst of active enthusiasm.  "Oh God, you're getting me all 
horny again."

"Terrific. Maybe we can cum together.  Tell me how it feels."

"Talk about it?  Lenny and I never used to-" She tilted her 
hips.  

Was she trying to get away, or take me deeper?  "Talking can be 
very sexy.  Like how tight your cunt feels.  And how perky your 
nipples get when you're turned on."  I tongued one for emphasis.  
I broke from a steady series of jabs, changing to a fury of 
short thrusts.  "I'm going to cum. And you're going to cum.  
We'll share the experience."

"Oh God.  Oh God.  I don't believe it.  I'm - oh shit - don't 
stop -  I'm -" She arched her back.  

I pushed deep, spurted, and held my cock at her full depth.  So 
after all was said and done, we'd done it, we'd honored Goat by 
getting our mutual rocks off.  Charlotte was satisfied, twice, 
and I'd reached orgasm, after a day filled with sexual 
conversation and teasing.  Charlotte didn't bother going 
upstairs to her room.  She laid on her side, legs pulled up.  I 
snuggled behind her, in spoon position.  When my prick inflated 
during the night, I didn't take another opportunity, despite the 
fact that she rubbed my cock against her pussy.  After all, I 
had to be ready for Poppy's indoctrination.

When I awoke, Charlotte was gone.  I showered and changed into 
my comfy clothes, jeans and a golf shirt with the logo of a 
company that had long since gone out of business.  The smells of 
breakfast were strong, even as I left my room.

Mr. Webb and his two daughters were on stools at an island in 
the kitchen.  Charlotte was in a different housedress from 
yesterday.  Hair in pigtails, Poppy wore a red checked blouse 
tied below her tits.  Her stomach was bare, with a cute little 
belly.

Webb spoke to Charlotte, as though I was invisible.  "I'll have 
Arnold take Mr. Marcus to the airport."

"Oh, that's already scheduled for later on.  Poppy is going to 
give him a tour of the farm.  As long as he's come all this 
way."

I'd cum last night, and hoped to do the same with her sister, 
who bolted from the table with a red face.  High cut denim 
shorts exposed the bottom of her butt.  Did she know what was on 
our joint agenda?  My joint, if she was willing and I was 
successful.  Her hasty departure, plate still full on the table, 
was not a positive sign.

I was quite surprised that there was no cereal at breakfast.  
After all, their fortune was made on "Groatz - Great Oats!  
Great taste!"  Instead of eating their own dog food, we were 
feasting on eggs, waffles, hash browns, farm toast with butter, 
and bacon. Oh, and fresh milk.  Really fresh, like right out of 
a cow.  It didn't look like the milk I was used to, so while the 
family members were busy, I filled a glass with tap water 
instead.

Mr. Webb smiled broadly.  "Everything you're eating came from 
the farm.  We've got chickens, a potato patch, and the bread is 
home made.  Do you like the bacon?"

Thick cut, it was just the right combination of salty and smoky.  
"Yes, very tasty."

Charlotte deadpanned, "That used to be Mr. Porker, Poppy's pet 
pig."

I choked, half-chewed food tumbling off my lower lip.

"You got him, Char."  Webb almost fell of his stool, laughing.  
"Farm humor.  But seriously, Mr. Porker got pneumonia real bad 
last winter.  But it worked out all right."

"Really?"  

"Yep, doc cured him."  Tears ran down old man Webb's cheeks.

Charlotte's smile lit up the room.  She was happy, teasing a 
city boy with corny jokes.  Much better than her wallowing in 
the death of her husband.  I wondered what would happen if I 
didn't perform up to expectations with Poppy?  Would I be forced 
to walk home from Nebraska?

I'd eaten everything I put on my plate, plus the second helpings 
Charlotte had forced on me.  After an hour or so to digest, I'd 
be ready for Poppy.  I grabbed the edge of the counter, ready to 
push back.

"Where do you think you're going?  It'd be a personal insult if 
you didn't have a piece of Poppy's birthday cake."  Webb 
strolled to the double-size fridge.

Wouldn't a piece of Poppy be a viable alternative?  After my 
food went down, I'd be ready to pork her.  "Really, I've eaten 
way too much already."

Webb was approaching with a huge piece of two-layer white and 
chocolate cake with strawberry filling and vanilla cream 
frosting.  "I won't take no for an answer."  

I dragged my fork through the tall pastry.  Swallowing was a 
chore.  I went to the sink for a refill but Charlotte grabbed my 
hand before I could turn on the faucet.  'Don't drink that well 
water.  Nasty chemicals."  My stomach churned.  What had I been 
washing my meal down with? She fetched bottled water, imported 
from Minnesota, and filled my glass.  Mr. Webb got called away 
while I carved small chunks from the Great Wall of baked goods 
on my plate.  It took twenty minutes more to consume Poppy's 
birthday cake.  I could barely stand up, let alone walk.

Webb returned.  "I'm going to need the jet this evening.  Big 
deal in Europe is about to pop.  You'll have to take your tour 
now.  Otherwise, it won't be back in time."

Charlotte scooted me out of the kitchen.  "You'll find her in 
the barn, probably in her loft.  Now go on.  She's waiting for 
you."  I held my stomach, with no lascivious thoughts in my 
mind.  

Waiting for me?  Shit.  My stomach felt stretched beyond its 
limits, about to burst.  I was supposed to give Poppy her gift, 
feeling like this?  Fuck Poppy? Fuck that!  At least my blood 
had already rushed to my belly, to help digest the food.  It 
wouldn't have as long trip to my cock from there, assuming I 
could raise an erection with such extreme gastrointestinal 
distress.

I slogged across the dirt back yard to the barn.  The barn door 
was open.  I checked my fly.  Zipped shut.  Horses in their 
stalls lined one side.   As I walked past, they stomped hooves 
and whinnied.  I'd spooked them, and they right back at me.

A voice called down from the upper loft.  "Stop botherin' 'em."

It was Poppy, on a third deck near the roof.  There was one 
ladder to the second floor, where hay and bags of grain were 
stored.  Wheat for Groatz, or the leftovers for the farm 
animals?  I grabbed the sides and stepped up.  My foot slipped 
on the wood rungs.  I took a quick breather on level two, 
looking up at Poppy's loft, but also looking down.  Heights and 
I aren't friends.  Not even close.  Climbing a wooden ladder 
this high triggered an emotional response and involuntarily 
tightened my stomach muscles.  Just what I needed after eating 
enough food for a small football team.  Slowly, I climbed the 
remainder.

Poppy sat Indian style, the cutoffs riding even higher on her 
thighs, practically at her groin.  Her face was in profile as 
she looked out a small window, shutters folded on each side.

I almost walked into an intricate spider's web clinging to the 
rafters.  I started to raise a hand to knock it away.

"Don't!  They've been making progress for weeks now.  I been 
watchin," she said.

"Sorry."

"You know, you're no replacement for Lenny."

"I'm not trying to be."

"Lenny made me feel safe."  She hugged herself, arms across her 
breasts.  The self-squeeze pushed her tits together, bulging at 
the tied knot of her shirt.  Any tighter, and they'd pop out.  
Or Poppy out.  "You give me the heebie-jeebies."

"How come?"  I sat a safe distance from Poppy.  Part of me 
wanted her to untie her shirt so I could see her large naked 
breasts.  Then again, I was in no shape to do anything about 
them.  Hell, sucking her nipples would probably make me gag, not 
a very kind thing to do to any woman, especially one who is on 
the brink of indoctrination to womanhood.  Or whatever they call 
it after a woman's been fucked once.

"You don't look so good.  Here, try one of these."  She handed 
me a crispy brown thing from a cellophane bag.  I took a nibble.  
"What is it?"

"Pork rinds."  She crunched down on one.

The joke about Mr. Porker bounced back in my head.  And 
Charlotte's expectation that I'd pork her sister.  I felt the 
rush of partially digested food up from my stomach.  I leaned 
over the edge of the loft.  The height was dizzying.  Vomit 
spurted from my mouth.  I gagged at the bile taste, bitter and 
chunky.  I heaved again, splattering the dusty floor below.  

Poppy had rushed to my side, holding her kerchief against my 
forehead.  "Are you all right?"

"I over-did it at breakfast."  I shook my head.  Maybe I was 
done, or not.  

"Here, wash out your mouth. Don't swallow."  She held a plastic 
bottle of water.  "Open wide."   

I tilted my head back and opened my mouth.  She poured a bit too 
much water around my mouth, some of it dripping down my chest.  
I swished the cool liquid around and spat the rinse out.  She 
did it one more time.  The process succeeded in refreshing my 
taste buds.  "Thanks."  Maybe now, she'd talk to me.  "Charlotte 
told me you and Lenny were close."

"Uh huh. We'd meet up here a couple times a week in private."

Maybe Charlotte didn't know how close.  "And what did you do?" 
 Not fuck, according to her sister.

"We'd talk about stuff. Life. The world. What it all means."

The Goat I remembered was never that deep or philosophical.

She continued, "He was sad mostly. I tried to cheer him up. You 
don't seem to know him very well, being his best friend and 
all."

"It's been a long time. We lost track of each other. So how did 
you cheer him up?"  A hand job by this zaftig cherub would raise 
my cock and my spirits.

"You can't tell. Nobody especially Char."

I held up the three-finger Boy Scout salute. "Promise."

"Okay.  Lenny liked laying out and tanning."  With the closed 
casket I had to take her word for it.  "Well, sometimes I'd 
touch him and let him touch me back."

I was certain he wasn't touching her 'back' back.  "Anywhere in 
particular?"

"At the beach, or up here, in private, like I said."

"I mean, where on your body?"

Her face regained that reddish tone. "I'd put his hand on my 
tatty. He liked that."

Who wouldn't?  Even in my sad condition, I'd have loved to wrap 
my fingers around one of Poppy's tits. Except at her cup size, 
they wouldn't reach around.  "Really?"

"You have Lenny's sad look. Would you like to touch me?"

I stifled a smile. Too much enthusiasm and she'd withdraw the 
offer. "I guess."

She plopped down next to me and slid my hand inside her shirt. 
Her skin was warm and smooth. There wasn't much of a bump where 
I expected a nipple. I positioned my hand under her breast, 
cupping from below, almost hefting it.   The angle put stress on 
the knot of her shirttails.  If the shirt popped open, she'd 
need both of my hands to keep those tits from sagging.

"Better?"

Much, but I couldn't tell her that. "A little."

"Maybe if I touch you." Her hand flattened against my stomach. 
Too bad. I was hoping fit something more - oops down at my 
groin, her hand groped around the denim.  Damn, it would be so 
much better if - whoa, she found the zipper and was dragging it 
down.  I stood up so she had better access, reluctantly pulling 
my hand from her shirt. It gapped further open showing a deep 
wide cleavage and untan crescents of breast. More than big 
enough for a tit fuck.

She succeeded in extracting my prick, which was only partially 
hard.  "Looks like you're bigger than Lenny."  My cock reacted 
to her stroke and blossomed.  "Am I raisin' it?  ÔCause youÕre 
gettingÕ a lot bigger."  She couldn't take her eyes off it.  "So 
now what?  Lenny was going to teach me about sex.  But he's dead 
now, and Charlotte says you're the substitute."

I was having second and third thoughts.  I could puke again any 
minute.  Besides, Poppy was a nice girl. She deserved better 
than me.  "I don't know if I can."

"Aren't you interested?"  She licked her lips.

"It's not that.  You're very sexy."  That was no lie.  "It would 
be a privilege-"

"Like I said, you're no Lenny.  He and me, we had something 
special."  She dropped my cock and turned away. Her ass was 
round and almost completely exposed.  "Besides, you don't have 
to. I know all that sex stuff from watching the horses."

She'd certainly have had the opportunity, viewing animal sex 
from her private bleachers.  "Okay."  She was off the hook.

She stood up, hands on her hips.  "That's it?  You ain't gonna 
insist?"

"Nope.  Not if you don't want to, and you understand how sex 
works with people."  My cock hung out in the open.  I guessed it 
wasn't going to get exercised today after all.

"Just the same as horses, right?"  She crossed her arms under 
her breasts, which thrust them out.  The bow holding the shirt 
came loose.  The shirttails were trapped.  If she dropped her 
arms, the curtain would pull back, exposing her big tits.  

"I guess, although I've never tried it that way."

"I'll show you how they do it."  She unfolded her arms.  The 
shirt opened, wide enough to expose the inner curves of two 
voluptuous breasts, swinging from Poppy's chest.  Large areola 
within light flesh triangles played peek-a-boo on her otherwise 
brown mounds.

"Horses don't wear shorts, do they?"

"Guess not."  She popped a snap and dropped her shorts.  No 
panties, just a very dense bush covering her vagina, and a thin 
tan line that spoke to a very skimpy bikini bottom.  She bent 
over, stiffened her legs and arms and put her hands on the 
straw-covered floor.  It was doggie position but not on her 
knees.  More like horsy position.  Her back was an arch, and her 
tits hung down.

"So what happens?  Does the male horse approach from behind?  
With its cock pointing up?"

"Uh huh.  Come closer."

I grabbed her hips.

"Unh un.  Horses don't have hands.  The stallion wraps his front 
legs around the mare."

So I followed her direction, made my arms straight and hung them 
on either side of her body like horse legs.  My cock bounced 
against her hairy twat but that's all.  "It's not going in."

"So, don't just stand there.  Move your hips until we connect."

So Poppy was okay with fucking, so long as we did it like four 
legged animals, and without the use of our hands.  I swiveled my 
hips, contorting to line myself up.  "I can't seem to make this 
work."

She stood up.  The shirt hung off her shoulders, tits in full 
view.  They were fat and dark, which made the light bikini 
patches even more prominent, visually.  Flat nipples.  "Then how 
come it works for them?"

My palms sweated at the thought of touching her breasts.  My 
cock bobbed, looking for action.  "Maybe they're built to have 
sex in that position.  Fortunately, humans have alternatives.  
You know, flexibility."

"Like what?"

"I could have used my hand to aim.  And we can do it in 
different positions.  Like face to face.  Horses can't do that."

"I guess."  She stepped closer.

"We've got hands to touch."  I put my hands along her sides.  
Her breasts bounced against my wrists.

Her fingers got reacquainted my cock.  "Like this?"

"Yep.  They can't do things like this, can they?"   I grasped 
her breasts from the sides and pressed them together. 

"Nope.  And horses can't kiss while doing it."  She raised her 
face to me, face glowing, mouth moist.  

I took the offered opportunity and pressed my mouth to hers.  I 
hoped my vomit breath was gone.

"How did Lenny and Char do it?  I mean, when Lenny was still 
alive?"

"I didn't ask your sister for the details of her sex life."  
Although I'd participated in it last night.

"I'd like you to show me.  How to be flexible, that is."

Okay, she was approving the next step, which didn't have to lead 
to sex.  I slid my hand between her thighs.  I probed for the 
pussy hidden in the bush.  It was closed tight and dry.  "You're 
not very excited, are you?  Maybe we should stop here."

"Lenny would wet his fingers."  She sucked my middle digit.

So Lenny didn't fuck Poppy with his dick, just his hand.  I 
tried again, but Poppy's attempt was insufficient.   "I don't 
think you're ready-"

"I am so too ready."  She practically yanked my cock off.  "I'm 
eighteen, and I want to have sex."

"You want an orgasm, right?"

She nodded vigorously.

"Okay, lay back and spread your legs."  She did as asked, on a 
rough striped blanket.  I stepped out of my pants so I didn't 
trip and fall three stories.  I spread her bush and aimed my 
tongue at her pink slit.  Outer labia were absent.  Her pussy 
looked like a sliced hamburger bun.  I enjoyed licking her and 
probing gently with the tip of my tongue.  She tilted from side 
to side, her breasts careening on her chest.  Poppy bleated like 
a sheep.  I attempted to stimulate her clitoris, but wasn't sure 
I was hitting the right spot until Poppy shrieked.  The horses 
below reacted to Poppy's vocalizations, answering with whinnies.

I sat back on my heels.  Poppy's legs closed as she rolled to 
her side, shaking.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

"Was it supposed to feel that good?  I mean, with your mouth?"

"Uh huh."

Poppy leaned up, supported by her arms behind her.  "Lenny was 
right to be jealous. You're a lot bigger than him. And thicker."

My cock was rigid, pointing at her.  But we were done.  I'd lost 
the urge to throw up, but I felt cold and clammy.  I stood and 
reached down to pull on my jockeys.

"What are you doing?  Aren't we going to have sex?"  She had a 
classic pouty expression, including an index finger dangling 
from her bottom lip.

"You had an orgasm, and a good one, if your shout was any 
indication. Like I said, we don't have to.  And like you said, 
I'm not Lenny."

"No, but you're my one chance, with Lenny gone.  Now, before 
Daddy locks me up like a prize heifer.  He's ultra protective of 
his girls."  She shifted her weight, and her boobs swayed side 
to side.

I'd fucked Charlotte, and Poppy was asking for it. How 
successful was old man Webb being?

She assumed a doggie position on the blanket.  Without another 
word, she spread her legs.  Her hairy cunt was a desirable 
target.  I moved close and put my prick where she wanted it, at 
Poppy's pussy.  Instead of depending on me, she used her fingers 
to get me in position.  I felt the firmness of her cunt on my 
cock.  "Is this right?"

"Oh yes.  Perfect."

"You take it easy now.  That things a whole lot bigger than 
Lenny's finger."

Too much information.  Okay, so Lenny hadn't fucked his sister-
in-law, at least not with his penis.  I dipped a bit.  Poppy was 
tight, both physically and emotionally.  She was a willing 
participant but scared.  Hell, so would I, if I were in her 
position.  I inched forward.  She grunted.

"Relax.  I'll take it easy."

"This isn't what I 'spected."  She rubbed my cock up the length 
of her vaginal opening.  With considerable pressure, she managed 
to get the head of my cock between her cunt lips.  "Does it get 
better?"

"Yes, once you get lubricated and we get to humping."  The clock 
was running.  How long had we been up here, anyway?  Would old 
man Webb climb the ladder and find us like this?  I swung my 
hips forward a bit, in the name of progress.  It was like 
fucking a knothole.  Not that I'd ever put my woody through a 
plank of wood, you understand.

This was not going well for either of us.  Poppy groaned. 
"You're too big."

I felt a sharp sting on my ass.  I lurched forward, impaling 
Poppy on my prick, over halfway.

"Oowwwwww!  You said you'd take it easy."

"Something bit me.  On my ass."

"The hell it did."  She ran her hands over my ass cheeks.  "Hang 
on."  I felt something get pulled from my skin and brought it 
around.  

"What is that?"  It looked big and ferocious.

"Damn!  I never seen one of these before.  Nasty critter."  If 
biting me hadn't killed it, the slap of her hand on the floor 
snuffed it good.   

My sudden forward jerk had planted me deeper.  Still, it was 
difficult to move my cock with the pressure of Poppy's pussy 
muscles. Her thighs were heavy and muscular, and so was her 
twat.  "Can you relax a bit?"

"Not with that sausage up me."

Her ass was too large for me to get closer. I placed my legs 
outside hers and leaned over her back.  That left my hands free 
one to palpate her hanging tits and the other to stroke her 
pussy in the vicinity I expected her clit. I must have been on 
target because she began to buck like a stallion.  Distracted by 
the stimulation, Poppy's cunt had relaxed.  I took that 
opportunity to plunge.  She was looser and wetter now. 

I held in for dear life as she oohed and aaahed with each 
shallow thrust. "It feels better."  Her cunt strangled my 
erection.  The pressure was challenging but exciting.

She inhaled a few sharp breaths and clamped down harder on my 
cock. She'd orgasmed for the second time, and I hadnÕt even 
probed more than a few inches. My job was done even if I hadn't 
filled her pussy with cum. In fact, I felt gratified that she'd 
gotten a good ride without a messy residue to clean up. 

Charlotte shouted from the main floor.  "Harvey we've got to 
go."

"We're done - with the tour.  I'll be right down."  I pulled, 
buttoned and zipped everything into place.  I helped Poppy to 
her feet and kissed her cheek.  "Happy birthday, sweetie.  Wait 
for the right guy to come along, and don't settle."

She hugged me tight.  "Can I have you?"

"Sorry, already taken."  Just not appreciated.

"By Charlotte?  'Cause we could still meet, just like Lenny and 
me-"

"I'm already married."  I pulled her to arms length.  "Besides, 
you shouldn't have to share a man with your sister.  Find your 
own guy, and don't share him with anybody.  You won't have to 
try hard."  Just open your shirt and spread your legs.

I took one long look at Poppy, memorizing her ample charms and 
youthful face, and then climbed down to the main floor.  
Charlotte was waiting a couple of feet away, avoiding the puke 
splatter.

'What happened here?" she asked.

"City stomach meets country style breakfast with seconds topped 
off with birthday cake."  She took my hand in hers as we walked 
out of the barn.  Arnie was waiting at the limo, engine running, 
just outside the barn door.  He opened the rear door for me.  

Charlotte got in on the other side.  "I'm coming along for the 
ride."  

"Okay."  Maybe she thought if she came she could cum.  In my 
assessment, Charlotte had gotten her fair share.  Despite the 
soft leather seat, my ass cheek ached from the bug bite.  I 
squirmed to find a comfortable position.

Charlotte took my hand in hers, as if we were high school 
sweethearts.  "You're married, right."

"Yep."

Charlotte turned my face to hers with her fingertips.  "Leave 
her and move out here, with me.  We're perfect together, and I 
could learn so much from you.  Sex with Lenny felt great because 
I was in charge.  But with you?  God, I didn't know what going 
to happen next.  It was exciting."

"So you want me for the sex?"  I was not going to become a 
gigolo.

"No, that's not it.  There's an empty space in my life.  Lenny 
would approve.  And don't worry about money.  We have plenty."

Great.  A kept man.  Maybe Goat had liked the arrangement, with 
two sisters to play with.  "I'm not ready to retire yet."

"Lenny worked.  We gave him a couple of small accounts to 
manage. Nothing important.  We'd find something for you to do at 
the company.  What do you do in Chicago?"

Besides screw around when a female crosses my path?  "I work 
with computers."

Her lips drooped.  "Our I/T group is in Kearney.  I'd just have 
to convince Daddy to buy a jet helicopter for your commute.  I'd 
want you home - in our bed- every night."

I'd be trading one financially subordinate relationship for 
another.  Back home, Harriett owned the house and both of our 
cars.  Even the checking and saving accounts were in her name.  
I'd leave penniless.  Here, I'd be the boss's son-in-law, under 
his financial rule.  Old man Webb was too stubborn to die any 
time soon, and besides, Charlotte would inherit the business, 
not me.  Besides, although Charlotte and Poppy would provide 
sufficient sexual opportunities for most men, I'd be giving up 
the random accidental sexual encounters that I enjoyed so much.  
And if old man Webb ever found out I was doing anybody but 
Charlotte, or Charlotte found out I was continuing to do Poppy, 
well, I'd be out on my ass in a nanosecond.  Keeping my weight 
off the stung buttock had me leaning towards Charlotte, an 
inappropriate bit of body language.   "I just don't think it 
would work out, in the long term."

We pulled up to the shack and the Groatz jet.  Charlotte got out 
of the car, I thought to make one last impassioned plea, or 
perhaps kiss me goodbye with such passion that I'd change my 
mind.  Instead, she trotted over to Yuli, the flight attendant, 
and gave her a hug.  Is that the way Charlotte greets employees?  
Yuli wore an alternative flight uniform:  beige blouse, beige 
cheerleader skirt and beige boots, all with the Groatz logo.  
God, she had nice legs.  The jumpsuit had hinted but now they 
were fully exposed.  I was close enough to overhear their 
conversation.

"So, how was the funeral, cous?" Yuli asked.  "Sorry I couldn't 
make it."

Cous?  As in, cousin?

"Lenny is at rest.  Now, I have to put my life back together."  
Charlotte stared at me, as if I was her solution.

"You have my sincere condolences.  Please tell Uncle Stan we'll 
be back in time for his trip to London."

Without another word, Charlotte returned to the limo.  Arnie 
handed my bag to Yuli.  I knew the drill and went up the stairs 
into the plane.

"Nice to see you again," said one of the pilots, still in his 
jumpsuit.  Thank God he wasn't wearing a skirt and go-go boots.

I eased myself into one of the passenger captain's chairs.  My 
butt cheek still ached.  I leaned to put pressure on the other 
one.

Yuli came aboard, strutted up the aisle and plopped down into a 
swivel chair next to me with enough momentum to turn the chair 
in my direction.  We were face to face.  "So, how was your 
visit?  Enjoyable?"

"As much as a funeral can be enjoyed."

She leaned forward, hands on her bare knees.  "She couldn't 
convince you to stay."  She leaned back and crossed her legs.  
The pleated cheerleader shirt rose higher on her thighs.  The 
blouse went tight across her tits, nipples visible.  "You're too 
strong."

Maybe, but my digestion had barely returned to normal, and 
getting up for Poppy but not cumming didn't make facing Yuli's 
tempting body easy.  I looked at the embroidered name on her 
right tit.  "As long as we're probing for answers, what kind of 
a name is Yuli?"

"Oh, that's a mistake.  It's supposed to be Juli."

Juli? As In Juliana?  Charlotte and Poppy's cousin?  Damn!  "Are 
you cousin Juliana?"  

"Yes.  Why, did they mention me?"  She leaned forward, within 
inches of my face.  "What did they tell you?"

Only that Lenny had been admonished to stay clear of female 
relatives, especially her.  "Nothing much.  Occasionally they 
mentioned family."

She exhaled a deep sigh that smelled like vanilla.  "Thank God.  
I need to stay on good terms with Uncle Stringer."  She stood 
and walked to the back of the place.  

Juli was keeping secrets.  What would piss off old man Webb?  
For one thing, if Lenny and Juli had shacked up.  I tuned my 
head so I could watch her hips wiggle and the skirt flit back 
and forth.  

My will power was fading.  I squirmed in my seat.  The ache in 
my ass was getting stronger, sharper.  It was difficult to keep 
half my ass of the seat when we took off.  I must have groaned 
or something.

Juli came over.  "What's the matter?"

"I got a bug bite in the barn.  On my ass."

"With your pants on or off?"  She smiled.  Probably thought 
Charlotte and I had rolled in the hay.  The seat belt sign went 
dim.  "Let me take a look."

"At my butt?"

"Who else?  One of the pilots?"  She led me to the row of 
individual flat seats along the rear sides.  This was steerage, 
the place where the unimportant folks sat.  In my situation, it 
was Juli's examination table.  "Come on, drop your pants."

I took off my shoes and jeans and laid down, face down.  She 
took my jockeys down - way down - to my knees.  My cock hung 
down in the gap between two seats.  "What do you see?"

I felt Juli's fingers flit across my buttocks.  "Bug bite.  
Stinger still in there.  Lay still while I get the med kit."  
She went to the back and got a white metal box.  "I'm going to 
pull it out.  This might hurt a bit."
I saw her holding a magnifier and a tweezers.  With one yank, 
she pulled out the bug's remnant.  Cool disinfectant dripped 
across the curve of my ass.  Juli's hand casually drifted from 
my back, in between the seats.  "Oh my, you have another stinger 
that needs attention."  She toyed with my cock, which wasn't 
erect but getting there.  "You interested in using your stinger 
on me?"  

"No, not really."  I could get hard enough, but the Webbs had 
manipulated me enough.  I made an educated guess.  "So, how was 
Lenny?"

She gasped.  "You know? Who told you?"

It was likely, given what Charlotte and Poppy had said.  Women 
flocked to Lenny's sullen disposition.  "Tell me about it."

I remained in position.  Juli sat on the floor next to the 
seats, knees pulled to her chin.  Beige thong, too.
"I'd had flown with Lenny to Chicago for his divorce hearing and 
paper signing. On that flight he looked so sad."

"Like his dog had just died?"

"Exactly. So on the flight back, I couldn't help but console 
him. It started out just a hug, cousinly. But that didn't work 
so I kissed him. Just a peck. But his lips trembled so I kissed 
him again. And then we were holding each other tight. I could 
feel his cock straining against his pants and I knew what I had 
to do to make him feel better. Make him feel like a man again."  
She ran her hand from tip to belly.  "But not as much man as 
you."

Just like so many others classmate coeds, professorsÕ wives had 
done to pull old Goat out of his funk and into their arms. And 
pussies. So that was either his bait or his natural demeanor.  
Maybe he felt like since he was free and clear with his divorce 
and since he wasn't married to Char yet, heÕd sow some wild oats 
with a different member of the Groatz family.

I wondered if old man Webb learned about Goat's extracurricular 
activity with Juli. It had occurred before Goat and Charlotte 
got hitched but Webb might have considered it a violation 
anyway. Certainly Juli had been violated.  "Did you tell 
Charlotte?"

Heavens no. She was engaged to him. I couldn't do that to my 
cousin.

And that's the only time?

I swear.

Juli had no credibility.  If Goat had flown with her again, 
they'd have repeated their sexual performance.

After everything she had done and was doing, her fingers 
manipulating my prick, Juli was a sexual aggressor.  The family 
knew it, and I'd experienced it directly.  "Sit up and tell me 
how your ass feels now."

I swung my legs down and put my full weight on my ass.  Not bad.  
A little ache."

"Not so little."  Juli watched my erect cock sway.

"So was Charlotte pleased?"

"She just lost her husband to an accident.  Not something to be 
happy about."

"I mean, with this?"  She grabbed my cock with both hands, 
repeated downward strokes.  

She didn't deserve the truth.  "She seemed pleased that one of 
Lenny's old friends could be there, for support."

"Good thing Uncle String didn't catch you, or you'd have ended 
up like Lenny."

Huh?  Did Juli suspect foul play?  Charlotte had talked about 
consequences.  Could old man Webb have found out Goat was going 
to fuck Poppy and confronted him in the bathroom, smashing his 
head on the toilet tank?  The accident always seemed a bit 
suspect, given how far from the tank Goats' head would have been 
if he was jacking off and slid off the toilet seat.

"Maybe I should see if this can support me.  If it's enjoyable, 
that is.  She turned her back, unvelcroed her skirt with a swift 
rip and slid the thing to the side.  

I'd been warned about Juli but there was no risk, since I'd made 
no commitment to Charlotte.  Unless Uncle Stringer didn't like 
his flight attendants fucking the passengers, I was at no risk.  
Besides, my balls ached for release from my episode with Poppy.

"Skip the coffee and the tea.  I'll have you."  I pulled her 
down onto my cock in one motion.

"Oooooh, shit!  You are too muuuuch!"

I reached around and ripped her shirt off.  Buttons flew.  Damn, 
no velcro.  I plucked her nipples.  Juli bounced on my cock, 
doing all of the hard work.  She grunted with each landing in my 
lap, and inhaled with very rise.  I pulled her body back against 
mine, so I could look over her shoulder at her tits.  Smaller 
than Poppy's or even Charlotte's, but perky.  She turned her 
face and we struggled to French kiss.  She got off my lap, faced 
me and remounted.  That put her tits within mouth range, and I 
sucked hard, pressing my lips on her nipples.  She yipped with 
each nibble.  

The sign showing our location and altitude illuminated the wall.  
We were at thirty-one thousand feet, much more than needed for 
me to join the Mile High Club.  My ass started to ache, but I 
wasn't going to stop now.  I needed an orgasm as much as Juli, 
maybe more.  I placed Juli's arms around my neck, put my hands 
under her ass and stood up.  Her head brushed the ceiling of the 
plane.  She clung to me as the plane bopped along and I bopped 
her.  I delivered a series of quick dips and then let her sink 
down, putting us pubis to pubis.  Cum pulsed from my prick.  I 
didn't care if Juli had reached an orgasm, but her clamping and 
shaking gave me a reasonable guess of mutual success.  She 
climbed down from me, petted my cock and fetched her clothing.

When we landed, Juli stayed aboard, her blouse hanging open.  
She could have tied the shirttails like Poppy did, but perhaps 
that violated the Groatz dress code.  Instead, one of the pilots 
got me my stowed bag.

When I got home, it was late afternoon.  Harriett was out, as 
usual, and the fridge was empty.  So was my heart.  I ordered a 
sausage and mushroom pizza from the carryout place a few blocks 
away and contemplated Lenny's fate, perhaps at the hands of his 
father-in-law, and the needy women of the Webb clan.  I'd done 
my small part, using my big part, to help straighten them out.  
As I waited for my pie to arrive, I was sure that some stud was 
in store for a set of rewarding but sexually demanding 
relationships.  As long as old man Webb didnÕt find out.

###

An Original H M Tale 

I'm always interested in reader feedback.  Was this story too 
complicated, or did the character and scene development make it 
a better story?  Tell me what you think via email, at 
harveymarcus9@comcast.net.
Copyright (c) 2009, HarveyMarcus.  All Rights Reserved.



