

The following work of fiction contains sexual activities between
consenting adults. If you are too young, too uptight, or your
local government is too oppressive, you should stop reading now.



This story is in the public domain. While you are legally free
to do anything you like with it, out of courtesy to the author,
I humbly request that you leave my name and contact information
with this story.


Liz
By Poison Ivan



By Poison Ivan

_Warning! The following work of fiction contains 
sexual activities between consenting adults. You must be at least 18 
years old to read it._

I rolled her over on her back. I tried to kiss her, but she
turned her head away. "No, no kissing," she said. I shrugged. If
she didn't want to kiss, that was fine with me.

I'd met her at the hotel bar, where she had just started working.
Her name was Liz and she screwed up my order three times. "How
hard is it to remember a double scotch?" I teased. I flirted with
her all night, and when the bar closed for the evening, she
followed me to my room.

At first she sat on the bed and talked about her father while I
poured myself a drink. Given the difference in our ages, it
didn't take a genius to imagine she saw me as some sort of father
figure. But _her_ neuroses were none of _my_ concern. I tried not
to think about it too much.

I got her blouse off. Her bra was white and mostly transparent.
Her nipples were as big around as silver dollars, and they formed
dark circles under the lacy fabric. I tried to reach around her
back and unhook her bra.

But she suddenly twisted away and bounced out of reach. She sat
on the edge of the bed with her back towards me.

"What's wrong?" I said.

She sighed deeply. "I should go."

I ran my finger down the ridge of her backbone. "No, don't go.
Stay here with me tonight." I prodded the clasp of her bra with
my fingertip. It had a double hook - it would be a simple task to
unfasten it.

"I can't." She reached down and picked her blouse up off the
floor.

"Why not?"

"It's my husband. He is supposed to call."

I sat up beside her. She turned her head slightly away and
wouldn't look at me. I bumped my bare shoulder against hers. My
erection tented my slacks.

"Why don't you call him tomorrow?" I took her hand and put it in
my lap. Her fingers tightened around my prick, and she finally
looked at me and smiled slyly.

But her smile quickly faded. "Did I tell you my little brother
died last month?" she said. "He committed suicide. He was only
twenty-three."

She buried her face into my neck, and I knew why she had laughed
so much earlier in the evening. Tears trickled down my chest, and
I stroked her long hair.

             * * *


The next night I went back to the hotel bar, and Liz was there
again. Her smile beamed as soon as I walked in the door.

"Hello!" she said. "I was hoping you'd come back!"

She had the night off, but she had come to the bar anyway hoping
to find me again. We stayed for a couple hours, and I bought her
four drinks. She was happy and smiling and laughed at all my
jokes. As the evening wore on, she kept stroking my forearms as
if she couldn't keep her hands off me.

She was a little tipsy. I decided I'd try again to get her, and
again she agreed to come back to my room. I bought a bottle from
the bartender and we skittered up the elevator like a couple of
guilty school kids.

She still wouldn't kiss me, but this time I got her bra off. Her
breasts were large and soft, and those big nipples squeezed up
tightly when I sucked them.

I tried to pull her panties down, but she grabbed my wrist. "No,"
she said.

"No?" I said, a whine creeping into my voice.

"No. I'm sorry."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

I felt playful and didn't want it to end. "I'll tell you what.
I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

She scrunched up her face. "Ah. So that's how it's supposed to
work?"

But I wouldn't be so easily deterred. I yanked my shorts down and
dropped them over the side of the bed. I took her hands and
wrapped them around my straining cock. "Feel what you do to me?"

"Hmm," she smiled, and her hands moved almost imperceptibly on my
penis. "But I'm still not going to fuck you."

"No?" I was repeating myself, and I was annoyed at myself for not
being able to think of anything new to say.

"No."

I couldn't figure her out. I got up out of bed, my hard-on waving
stiffly. She rolled over on her belly; her tan panties stretched
tight over her ass. She turned her head towards the window. She
had a dreamy, far-away look in her eye.

I found a tumbler and filled it with scotch. I took a deep
swallow and nearly gagged, but I forced it down. And then I took
another swallow. I refilled my glass.

For just an instant, I thought about what my wife might be doing
at home. Probably doing mundane household chores, like ironing
clothes. While watching TV. Not that it made much difference what
my wife was doing.

"Why don't you come over to my place tomorrow?" Liz said in a
barely audible voice. She was still lying on her belly.

"What about your husband?"

She rolled over to face me. Her large breasts formed two
beautifully soft pillows on her chest. "He left a message on the
machine yesterday. They are keeping him until late next week."
She paused and looked at me expectantly. She was a very pretty
girl. "So what do you say?"

I watched with an increasing desire as her hand ran absently down
over her naked breasts and came to rest on her tummy. I could
feel some of the old fire beginning to flare in my veins.

If I were smart, I would forget her and move on. But she had
touched something in me that reminded me of my younger years. It
reminded me of when I was first married.

"Sure," I said, "I'd be glad to."

             * * *


I arrived at Liz's house at five o'clock sharp. She stood on her
porch and waved as I pulled into the driveway.

She gave me a quick tour through the house. It wasn't much of a
house, really. And compared to my wife, Liz wasn't much of a
housekeeper. "This is the kitchen," she said. Loose photographs
littered the counter like unraked leaves. The pictures were all
of various people, friends and family, I presumed. I looked
through a few. Liz herself was only in one, a group shot of four
people standing together in the bright sun. She was on the right,
brightly radiant. The old couple, her mother and father, stood
closely together in the middle. And the teenage boy, who stood
slightly away from the other three, his hands thrust in his
pockets.

"That's Eddie," she pointed, "and those are my mom and dad."

It was hard to relate this family to this woman. I looked at her
mother's eyes, but they were cast in shadows and didn't reveal a
thing. And Eddie's somber face was a complete contrast to Liz's
ebullience. I had to look closely to see any familial resemblance
at all - perhaps a similarity in the slope of the nose, or maybe
the chin.

She showed me a few other nondescript rooms and then led me down
a narrow hallway. "And this," she said as she threw open a door
with a flourish, "is the bedroom."

The bed was unmade and the room smelled faintly of a pine
disinfectant. She sat down on the bed and faced me and threw her
arms apart. "Are you coming?" she said, smiling widely.

We rolled together on the bed. This time she let me kiss her, and
her hands were all over me. Our shoes thumped to the floor, and
we quickly whipped off our shirts. Her breasts felt exhilarating
against my bare chest.

I pulled my underwear down and my erection sprung free. She
stared intently at my penis and licked her lips. And then she
looked me in the eye. "Do you have a condom?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"You need to have a condom," she said.

I was deeply disappointed, but I tried to play the responsible
adult. "That's smart of you," I said. "You can't be too careful
these days."

"Oh, I'm not worried about _that_. It's just I can't get
pregnant."

"You're not on the pill?"

"No."

"I don't know," I smiled, and I twirled my fingers around in her
pubic hair. "That wouldn't be so bad."

"I can't justify bringing a baby into this world," she said, but
her voice was off in a different place. Her eyes had that distant
look again.

"Doesn't your husband have a condom?"

"No. Charlie won't wear them."

I fingered her navel. "So what does he do? Does he put it here?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes. But mostly he doesn't come. He can fuck
for hours without coming. But maybe his sperm count is a little
low." She sighed. "Or maybe it's just me."

"If it's you, then maybe it'll be safe."

"No."

I raked my fingers through her curly hairs. "So I'll pick up
something tomorrow, OK?"

She smiled. "All right."

Her eyes dropped and got a misty look in them. She seemed to be
drifting away again. I tried to reel her back in.

"But in the meantime, what about me?" I said.

She blinked rapidly and looked at me. "You? What about you?"

"About this?" I said, pointing to my erection. "How about you
finish me with your hand?"

"No."

"Or a blowjob."

"No."

"Why not?"

"That would make me too excited. I wouldn't be able to control
myself."

I laughed. I had never run across a woman who resisted like this!
"So then what? Do you just want to get drunk?"

She frowned. "Don't be mean. Who knows? Maybe if you were more
persuasive ..."

"I think I'll just go back to the hotel."

"Charlie can get me to do what he wants. Charlie knows how to
push all my buttons."

"Too bad Charlie is a thousand miles away."

She got very quiet and I immediately felt bad. I sat down beside
her on the bed and caressed the back of her neck. "I'm sorry," I
said. "I'm just a sour old man."

"No you're not. You can be sweet when you want to be."

"I really should get back, though. If I'm going to get drunk, I
should do it where I don't need to drive."

"OK."

She had a disappointed look on her face that gave me one last
pause for optimism. "Unless it's OK for me to stay here tonight,"
I said.

She spoke almost in a whisper. "I don't think that's a good
idea."

I nodded. I expected as much. "But let's do something tomorrow,
OK?"

She smiled. "I'll call you," she said.

I picked up some condoms and a couple bottles of scotch on the
way back to the hotel. In my room, I poured myself a big,
thumping drink, but fatigue overwhelmed me before I got a chance
to finish it. I fell into a deep, child-like sleep.

             * * *


The next day I skipped out on the convention and met her at the
city park. I knew my boss would notice my absence and I would
catch hell, but it had been a long time since I cared what my
boss thought about me. I'd been considering quitting for years,
but I never went through with it because the thought of looking
for a new job made the skin at the back of my neck prickle
uncomfortably.

The day was warm and sunny, and the air smelled of freshly cut
grass. She brought a plastic grocery bag full of food, and we
found a quiet corner to sit and eat.

She was playful and attentive. After we ate, we walked around the
park, hand in hand. I whistled some old romantic tunes, and she
laughed and hugged me. Whenever we walked by a tree, we would
sneak behind to kiss.

She had to leave after two hours. "Charlie said he would call
this afternoon," she said. "But this was fun. Why don't you come
over for dinner tonight? Daniel is going to be there too. He's an
old friend. You can meet him."

I wasn't happy that we'd have company, but I really wanted to see
her again. I told her I'd go back to the hotel and change, and
I'd be at her place at six.

             * * *


When I arrived, Daniel was already there. He was young, like she
was, and had a serious look that made me take an instant dislike
towards him. He had long blond hair, steel-rimmed glasses, and
carried a book bag over his shoulder. He sat on the living room
floor and said things like, "Sartre was a fool."

They had a pizza delivered. I drank scotch and they drank the
cheap beer Daniel brought with him.

He didn't leave until after one o'clock. "Thank God he's gone," I
said when she closed the door behind him. "That was boring."

"Be nice," she said. "Daniel is a good friend. And you know, I
think he likes you."

"Daniel needs to find his own girl." I hugged her and kissed her
and she leaned her head back and gave me a good, long look. She
seemed to be sizing me up, so I gave her as good a smile as I
could muster after all the alcohol I'd consumed. Lucky for me, my
drunk smile can be endearing. "Why don't we just go to bed?" she
said.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

I poured myself a drink while she hurriedly slipped out of her
jeans and T-shirt. I put my drink down, stripped, and followed
her under the covers.

She lay her head on my chest and I picked up my drink again. I
sipped carefully while she played with the hair on my chest. For
the first time I noticed she bit her fingernails. I thought I
should probably get rid of the booze, but I took another sip.

"Does your wife know you cheat on her?" she asked.

"I doubt it," I said.

"You don't think she suspects these little trips of yours?"

I thought about that. My wife doesn't have much of an
imagination, really. "I don't think it would even occur to her."

"Do you think she's cheating, too?"

"No. She seems reasonably happy. Besides, she doesn't have the
time."

"But you find the time."

I drained my drink and set the glass on the floor. The heat of
alcohol rose in my veins.

She rolled off my chest and lay down beside me. She stared
blankly up towards the ceiling. "I found out Charlie is cheating
on me," she said.

"Yeah?"

"With my best friend."

I traced my fingers across her nipples. They puckered slightly,
then relaxed again.

"Charlie doesn't mean to hurt me. In some ways, he's just a
little boy."

I pulled the sheet back. The entirety of her naked body lay
stretched out on the mattress. The baby-soft skin, the womanly
breasts, and the slight pooch of her belly.

"In a way, I'm much older than he is." She sighed. "He's really
just a little boy."

The wild tangle of black hair between her legs begged to be
explored. I crawled downwards and got a good, close look. She
smelled of cunt and sweat and beer.

I pressed my nose up into the crease of her crotch and slid up
and down. Her hips rose up off the bed and I wrapped my hands
around her thighs and pushed my face up harder. Her slickness
built between her fleshy lips, and I rubbed my face around. I
found her clitoris and gave it a tender kiss.

And then I licked her clit, firm tongue lashes, pressing it hard
against her pubic bone and letting it side out from under my
tongue. Her whole body jerked as it popped out of my tongue's
control. Her nipples strained fabulously, and I sucked her
bulging bulb right into my mouth.

She squirmed and arched against my face. "Now," she panted. "Fuck
me now."

I rolled on a condom and kneeled between her legs. Her face was
bright red. Her brown pubic hair was plastered to her crotch with
all the wet. I held my cock and placed the head at her glistening
opening. "Fuck me," she said, and I knew she was finally mine.

I slid into her slick sheath, and she surrounded my cock, she
pulled me into her, and I thrust into her, feeling her hot cunt,
feeling the exquisite sensations along the length of my shaft and
rubbing against the flare of my cockhead, and I pumped and pumped
and the pleasure spiraled inside me, and I fucked her, and I
fucked her, and I fucked her, and the cum gathered and my body
stiffened and I fucked her some more and finally, oh finally, the
pleasure spilled forth, the ecstasy grabbed me, and my semen
spurted out of me.

Happy at last, I lay back and drifted off towards sleep. I was
vaguely aware that she was still awake, and for a moment I
wondered if she had got hers, too. I thought maybe she had, but I
wasn't quite sure. I wasn't quite sure.

             * * *


I woke up, and she lay behind me in bed with her arm draped
around my waist. Her open palm rested on my belly, and her soft
breasts pressed against my back. Her mouth was right behind my
ear. I could feel her moist breath on my neck.

"Let me tell you about my brother Eddie," she whispered.

"No, you don't have to."

Her arm tightened around me. "But I want to tell you. I _need_ to
tell you."

We lay still for a long time, and I thought maybe she had changed
her mind, that she didn't really want to talk. But just as I
began to dip back towards sleep, she started speaking in an easy,
measured voice.

"My brother was always a loaner," she began. "Even as a kid, he
kept to himself.

"Me and my parents were always worried about him. Even as a
little kid, but especially later, when he was in high school.
Eddie never seemed to have friends, and he'd spend hours by
himself in his room. Sometimes he'd just lie there for so long it
scared us. He would skip school all the time. I mean, kids skip
school, that's just something they do. But Eddie wouldn't even
_do_ anything when he skipped. He'd just stay home and do nothing
and get caught. All for no reason.

"I would come back from college and ask him how he was doing. He
always said, `Fine,' and that was it. I used to buy him beer and
he'd say, `Thanks.' It was like talking to a fence post.

"He had a really tough time. He was such a sad boy. But he never
got in a lot of trouble. He finally got through high school. But
I was afraid how he would handle moving away from home and going
to college.

"But he actually did OK. He even graduated, although it took him
five years and his grades were never very good. He still wasn't
too social, and he never brought friends home, but he seemed to
be surviving. I talked to Mom and Dad about it once. We thought
maybe things weren't so bad.

"We were stunned when he got married. No one even knew he was
seeing anybody, and all of a sudden, he came back home with
Arlene, his new wife. My parents and I were so surprised! But we
were also very happy for him. We were sure he was starting an
exciting new part of his life.

"They had the baby right away. Arlene was wonderful. She doted on
that kid, you could tell she adored him. Mom and Dad were
delighted to have a grandson. They teased me that they always
thought _I_ would be the first to give them grandchildren.

"Eddie, though, never seemed to connect with the baby. While
Arlene took care of the baby, he would just stand back in the
corner of the room and watch like he was a stranger in his own
home.

"Eddie always got these spells. As long as I remember, he would
sort of drift off. He would just lie in bed staring at the
ceiling, and he wouldn't say a word to anybody. Sometimes these
spells would last just an hour, but when he got older, sometimes
they lasted for days. Mom would get so scared. Dad thought maybe
he was faking. We didn't know what to do. But he always snapped
out of them eventually.

"I'm not sure if he had the spells after he went to college. But
after the baby came, he started having them again. Arlene called
me one day in a panic, telling me that Eddie hadn't moved a
muscle since Sunday.

"And I didn't do a thing. I just told her Eddie did that
sometimes, that you just have to wait and then he'll snap out of
it. He always did.

"And then I got the phone call at work. Arlene was hysterical,
she said she needed help." Liz breathed a long, slow, ragged
breath. "I called the police, and they got there right away.
_Right away_. But it wasn't fast enough. Eddie had a knife,
and ..." Her voice began to break.

I rolled around to face her. Tears welled in her eyes. "No more,"
I said gently.

"That poor baby. And Arlene." Tears streamed from both eyes. "And
then he used the knife on himself ..."

"You don't have to go on," I said.

"I drove up to Arlene and Eddie's place just as the police broke
down the door. They made me go inside so they could figure out
what happened. There was so much blood! Later, at the funerals,
everyone stared at me like I had some horrible contagious
disease.

"Ever since then, I seem to cry all the time. I can't help it.
The littlest things will set me off. One time a lady yelled at me
in the grocery store parking lot. And I just couldn't control
myself. Charlie had to leave work and come pick me up. When we
got home, he slapped my face. He told me not to be so emotional."

"That's enough," I said.

"And the worst thing was, it was all my fault! I told Arlene to
just wait, that Eddie would snap out of it. If I had just told
her to do something, none of this would've happened. Don't you
see? It was a terrible thing, and it was _all my fault!_"

She sobbed loudly, and I gathered her in my arms. I held her and
stroked her long hair.

             * * *


I woke up at dawn's first light with her mouth around my cock.
Her lips formed a tight seal, and she bobbed her head vigorously
up and down. She stared me right in the eye, looking up at me
through her long lashes.

She pumped her mouth up and down, and I thought about what she
had said about her brother the night before. I cradled her face
with my fingertips and gently lifted her towards me.

We kissed, and she pressed her warm body against me. Her knee
worked between my legs, and her crotch settled down against my
upper thigh. Her hands ran strongly up and down my sides.

I rolled her over on her back. Her nostrils flared as I kneeled
between her legs. I picked a condom up off the nightstand and
tore it open, but before I could get it on, my erection began to
sag. "Damn!" I said. I tried to handle myself hard again. I tried
to think about her cunt, her curly pubic hair, and her soft
folds.

But seeing her lying there, I thought about her brother, and I
could no longer think of her just as someone to fuck. I tried to
imagine what her life must be like. A foolish husband,
ineffectual friends. Why did she reach out to a drunk old fool
like me? What did she think I could give her?

My erection was simply gone. I threw the unused condom on the
nightstand and slumped against the headboard.

"It's OK," she said. "I think maybe I'm just that kind of girl.
It happened with Daniel, too." She covered my shriveled penis
with her hand. "And my husband hasn't made love to me in a
month."

"It doesn't happen to me," I said.

She smiled and gave my thigh a pat. She laid her head down on the
pillow, and her eyes drifted off, and she got that dreamy look
again.

I snatched up the scotch bottle from the nightstand and took a
long, deep pull. The rich alcohol burned all the way down. I
wiped my mouth. I could smell the scotch on the back of my hand.
I took another swallow.

"You know, maybe sometimes you drink too much," she said. "I
think you passed out on me the other night."

I set the bottle down. She really was a nice kid. What had she
done to deserve this kind of life? "Thanks for the advice," I
smiled.

And I felt the sudden need to leave. But leave for where? I
didn't want to go back to my hotel room. And I surely didn't want
to return home. And I couldn't stand the thought of leaving Liz
lying there alone.

And then the idea struck me.

"Liz, why don't you run away with me? We can go somewhere warm,
like San Diego. I've been thinking about leaving for a long time.
I hate my job. My wife wouldn't miss me - we don't have much of a
marriage anyway. We could start our lives over new."

The idea made perfect sense, and I looked at her like a dog
waiting for its dinner.

A smile touched her face. She turned towards me and took my hands
in hers. She looked me straight in the eye, and she talked,
quietly and firmly. And while she never came right out and said
it, I knew she was telling me in no uncertain terms that she
would not go away with me. She had a kindness and caring and
gentleness that far exceeded her years. I felt like a child being
let down easily by a loving parent.

She kissed me gently. I looked into her warm, moist eyes. It was
a silly idea, of course. The last thing she needed in her life
was a man like me.

I couldn't just lie there, though, and I stood up. If I had been
back in my hotel room, I would've packed my bags. As it was, I
could do nothing but pick my clothes up off the floor while I
talked to her.

"So, what are you going to do with yourself, Liz?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said.

I felt a determination rise in me like I had not felt in years.
"I'm still going," I said.

She stood up and hugged me and kissed me. "You do what you need
to do."

I saw in my mind exactly how her life would go. She and her
husband would split up, and she would search about for other men,
men like Daniel, who were just as incapable of dealing with her.
She would bounce around in life, like a ship at sea in search of
a friendly port.

And I realized too that I would never really leave my wife.
Thinking back, the idea of moving to San Diego seemed ridiculous.

But I still felt the determination. I'd do something. That much
was for sure.

             * * *


Liz dropped me off at the airport. She gave me a warm smile and a
kiss on the cheek as I prepared to board the plane. "Take care of
yourself, OK?" I said.

"I will," she said.

"And Liz, if you need anything ..."

"I will be sure to call." We hugged, and she gave my rump a
playful pat. "Bye now," she said. And I walked down the ramp onto
the plane.

I wondered if maybe I should have gone to San Diego after all. I
wondered what my wife would be doing when I walked in the door. I
wondered if I should tell her about Liz, but I couldn't imagine
how to confess my indiscretions without making an even bigger
mess of my marriage.

I stowed my bag and sat down in my seat. I asked the flight
attendant for a scotch, took a deep breath, sat back, and buckled
my seatbelt.




              

Comments? Good or bad, I'd love to hear them. Email me at
poisoniv1@hotmail.com. Or you can find mor estories like this on
my website, http://bounce.to/poisoniv1.

