Darkness Before Light (1 Of 3) free porn video

Originally this was titled, "Buster & Holly."

Darkness Before Light (1 of 3)

Martha had made good on her promise of no unchaperoned dates until I began attending church with her. What had been an occasional holiday became every Sunday and after proposing, Wednesday nights as well. She was blonde, my height, mildly slender and reasonably buxom. She was modest in her dress and strict in her ‘do not touch’ policy. She was a fantastic kisser and could sit in the car making out with me for hours on end. Her parents were even more fanatic about the church thing than she was. It took them a long time to accept me but upon producing an engagement ring while at the same time signing my life away on one of those new cracker box ranch houses that were springing up all over town, they began to leave us alone in the house while they were out shopping or more often than not, over at the church.

So imagine my surprise when Martha, on honeymoon night, let her dress fall on the floor as soon as I closed the front door behind us. My immediate thought was that mild mannered Martha was really a hell cat in disguise. With a coy, mischievous smile, she reached around her back and unhooked her bra.

Almost always having worn tight white pull-overs, I had guessed my bride-to-be to be at least a 34C cup. Having caught glimpses of them while bending over with looser fitting tops excited my imagination. Of course, they had always hidden in rigid, fantasize quenching, Playtex bras, always white with an abundance of stitching and always combined with the strictly enforced ‘do not touch’ rule.

So imagine my surprise when she let that plain white double-cup garment fall to the floor as I stood there just inside the door, mouth agape. Not satisfied with merely revealing her deceit to me, she did so with mocking smile and a devil-may-care laugh. For there my bride stood, flat chested, complete with inverted nipples!

I had been played for a fool when I bought that used motorcycle right out of high school. I had been swindled by so called friends who need a twenty here and there, always with the promise that they’d pay me back as soon as payday rolled around. I had even been swindled by the pastor who during marriage counseling requiring a paycheck stub to guarantee that I was truly tithing my ten percent before agreeing to marry us. But this deceit was the proverbial straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back.

The smile quickly vanished from her face as I rushed at her to throw her down the hall and on to the bed. I had every intension of rap*ing my new wife then and there. However, sprawled across the bed, that menacing smile came crawling back across her face before that snidely snicker again mocked me. Baiting me, she asked why I thought she hadn’t taken off her panties. Standing back and looking down, the large maxi pad was evident to even my naïve eyes.

“Buster, did you really think you were going to get to have me whenever you want just because now I’m your wife? Mother was right. You’re just a simple country boy who has a lot of growing up to do.” The Cheshire cat smile turned into a mocking sneer as I slammed the door behind me rushing out into the night, losing myself on some country road after downing a half a bottle of Jack.
*****************
“Hey, you okay in there?” I heard the deep resonating female voice inquire as she thumped on the window.

Waking with one eye open and the other still closed, I rubbed it and sat up, suddenly to lay back down again across the front seat as the world spun around me.

Mine was an old Ford F-100 pick-up complete with the mandatory gun rack in the back window. The door creaked on rusty hinges as she opened the door and asked if I was alright one more time.

“Hey there feller, looks like you had one too many last night,” the sweet voice sang to me as its owner gently removed the bottle from my hand. “Can’t say I’m surprised though. You didn’t know Martha as well as you thought you did, did you Buster?”
The world stopped spinning long enough for me to turn over on the seat and look up at the upside down girl leaning in the passenger side door. Holly Bloomquist! I thought I had recognized the voice.

Holly was known in high school as the “sure thing.” We had graduated together just a few years prior. I confess I never gave her a second thought after that. Now the question pierced my mind as to whatever had happened to the lass. Back then there were different grade schools even though the school district was small. The town was smaller. However, Holly lived far enough out to be carted off to our neighboring grade school rivals. It wasn’t until sometime late in my high school years that I had had her pointed out to me in reference to her being the “sure thing.” Like the conniving bitch I had wed the day before, Holly too had been born blonde. She too had large bumps on her chest but obviously as I tried to focus, Holly’s were real and hanging freely in a tattered sleeveless shirt.

Continuing to lay there, the world still spinning around me, I remembered high-school-Holly as a gay, mischievous thing who bounced on her toes as she walked, and flirted with any boy who looked her way. The girls had, for the most part, kept her outside of their flock. A different feather I guess. She hadn’t been anything to look at back then, pimple faced, a bit on the plump side and blanched skin as white as one of mother’s bed sheets on laundry day hanging out on the line.

“Come on Buster, get up and slide over. Let me drive you back to the house. Maybe a couple of cups of hard coffee will bring you back into the land of the living.”

Holly drove the truck a hundred yards across country gravel before turning my swirling world up into a steep climbing drive lined with old over-grown lilacs now in full spring time bloom. Their scent, which previous to that moment I had found magically enjoyable, now made me nauseous. If I hadn’t already lost everything inside me the night before, I probably would have then. Holly pulled on around the back of a house that looked as if it had never had a coat of paint on it in its entire existence.

Coming to a stop, parking on a blend of short broadleaf weeds, country grass and assorted pea gravel, my nurse helped me out of the truck before guiding me over to a rusty, equally squeaky screened door which led into an old country kitchen complete with a stainless steel legged, faded yellow linoleum topped table with three matching chairs.

How I made it through bacon and eggs and two slices of Wonder Bread toast, all topped off with a half a pot of coffee without throwing it all back up outside the kitchen door, I will never know. All I remember is waking up on her tossed-blanket couch later that afternoon. Holly was humming as whiff’s of baked apples flowed pass me and on out through the open front door.

Raising myself up from the prone position, I remained sitting on the couch about as erect as a single slice of bread after being soaked in milk and egg. I was feeling better but nowhere close to good. My head felt like someone had been overly enthusiastic in their placing a steel tourniquet across my forehead.

Slowly the room came into view. Except for the couch, there was only an equally squalid, fabric-covered chair sitting in the corner next to the five by four foot front window. I could see the swing just on the other side of it on the front porch. There were no pictures on the walls, no TV with rabbit ears slid off in the corner, no books, no end tables, not even a rug. There was just one other thing in the room, an old brown three foot square gas furnace. The décor was early redneck.

“Hey there, look at who’s up. I was beginning to wonder if I’d have to drive down to Thompson’s farm and call the county ambulance to come all the way out here take you in to doc Wallen for emergency repair.” Apparently the house didn’t have a phone either.

I must have given the woman one of those looks which gave her permission to ramble, for off she went as if she hadn’t seen a friendly face in a coon’s age. Eventually she came back around to talk about Martha, filling me in on all sorts of seeded details about things I hadn’t known or even guessed at. Holly then disappeared to return with refreshed cold facecloth to place on my brow as she told me about Jimmy Dunn. It seemed that somewhere, somehow, Jimmy Dunn and Martha had had a thing going on ever since sophomore high school “daze”, as Holly phrased it.

Of course, I knew Jimmy Dunn. His parents owned one of the biggest acreage farms in the county besides owning the Massey Ferguson tractor & implement dealership out on Route 4. They lived in a large field-stone house with a manicured lawn complete with an in-ground pool in the back. They were snobs —and I didn’t need Holly to inform me of that fact. Jimmy had been sent off to college right out of high school, returning summers to work on daddy’s farm. “And that was when I caught them fooling around parked out back behind that corn crib just behind the barns my dad was renting at the time. Remember it? The fire departments from two counties came and played ‘burning down the barns’ and then conveniently shortly thereafter built that fancy gas station because of that new state clover leaf over on 251.”

My head was clearing.

“You feel like trying to put something else in that stomach?” Waving her off, I tried standing. “I’d better be getting back.”

“Whoa there horse. You’d better sit a while longer. There’s no need to rush, least ways not on my part. And don’t worry, there’s no one out this way to tell that pretty new wife of yours where you spent your morning. The only people who ever drive down this lane is Gus, my mailman and the Thompson’s, though they usually go the other way back to town. No body else out here but me. So no rush!” She smiled. “I just baked an apple cake but it really needs to cool a spell before eating. I could rustle you up a hamburger plus there’s some two day old potato salad in the fridge. But I suppose that doesn’t sound so good to you now.”

Holly tried to be the gracious host, but all I could think of was how I had been played the fool and how the hell I was going to get out of the mistake.

“I need to get back. I need to get back and take her and all her things and dump them back at her folks place.”

“Buster, Jimmy’s married now himself so I don’t think he and Martha are doing anything on the side any more. I mean I don’t know as I’m almost never in town. But still, I hear things every now and then.”

I wasn’t about to confess to Holly what had happened to send me off into the night on my first ever drunken binge. She had guessed enough already. My head was clearing.

“Let me see if that cake has cooled enough to eat and I’ll pour you another cup of coffee. We can go sit out on the front porch and get some fresh air. Maybe that will help clear your head up a bit more.”

We ended up doing just that. Her cake was delicious even to a recovering drunk while her coffee was strong but not bitter. And the sitting out on the front porch swing which remained stationary for my sake, did succeed in helping me feel almost human again.
“I’d divorce the bitch!” Holly suddenly offered without any apology. “Yep, that’s what I’d do. Do it on grounds of incompatibility and before consummation. I KNOW,” she emphasized in a slow slur, “you two didn’t do anything last night. You were way too wasted for that.”

“Holly, please. God love ya for getting me out that ditch and getting a couple of mugs of coffee down me. But please, nothing more about Martha.”

And with that Martha never again came up in conversation. Eventually we had those hamburgers with skillet fried potato pancakes. We had switched from coffee to lemonade before it came time for me to find my way back into town. “Home before dark,” as mother use to say.

Holly saw me to my truck, keys still in it. Why lock anything this far out? Then it happened. Leaning in the open window just before I put the old truck in reverse, heading myself back down her drive, Holly kissed the side of my face assuring me that her door was always open if I should ever need sobering up again.

What followed turned out to be an interesting summer. I had done my best to make a go of the marriage, never bringing up the fact that I knew about of Jimmy Dunn –despite the fact that by the time I had made it back to that cracker box on Elm street after spending the day sobering up at Holly’s, having found that Martha had moved all her things into the master bedroom while moving all mine out, dumping them in one large pile in the room next to hers. “We aint have’n no sex except when I say and when I’m ready to have k**s,” the once shy and innocent girl had informed me. It hadn’t taken long for the anger to build again. I stopped going to church and let her know that she and her church weren’t going to see another cent from my paycheck. It wasn’t a good way to start a marriage but then she had no one to blame but herself for it being that way. And though it is self-serving, I don’t hold any guilt for rap*eing her from time to time. At least at first, it had managed to wipe that shit eat’n grin off her face. But it didn’t take long before she mocked me even for that. Why she had ever bothered to let me marry her, I never did figure out.

It was ungodly hot that summer and unusually dry. Then came August. I had begun to make it a habit of pulling the fuse for the whole house air conditioner in the mornings before leaving for work. Martha had quit her job, preferring to sit at home, drinking coffee all day, talking on the phone and eating whatever her darling mother brought over as they sat together watching soap operas on tv. Driving home after work, I always knew what was waiting for me back home.

My foot hadn’t stepped inside the house before the rant began about how embarrassed she was that mother and June, the church’s organist, had to leave because the house was so hot. “Good,” I told her before asking why she hadn’t left with them.

“Well maybe I should. That would make you happy wouldn’t it. I bet you’d be right over there at Hunt’s office filing divorce proceedings due my deserting you too, wouldn’t you. Buster, don’t ever fool yourself into thinking I don’t know how the game is played.”

I suppose the coup de grace was the slap in the face that came with it. Before she could do it again I had her arm behind her, pushing her back down the hall before shoving her onto her all-frills-and-lace, pink and white, four-poster canopy bed that had been her grandmothers.

“Pack your bags, girl. You’re not staying in my house another night.” I’m sure the neighbors had grown somewhat use to the shouting. Ben, who lived next door, a kindly middle aged man, had once given me a pat on the back to let me know that at least he knew what was going on and if I ever needed some place to sit a spell, well his screened in garage was always open to me.

There were times when Martha knew I was serious as opposed to when I was merely shouting threats to let off a little pent up steam. She knew this time that there wasn’t any doubt that I was serious in my threat.

“You wouldn’t dare! You’re not man enough. You’re a loser and always have been. If my dad hadn’t gotten you that job with the county, you’d still be making minimum wage down working at Dunn’s.”

I had one last raw nerve and with that she had gone and touched it.

“Martha, do you think I’m so stupid as not to know about you and Jimmy? Hu?”

Martha never had much color about her but what she did have she lost immediately when at deaths door I threw Jimmy Dunn in her face. Finally, I had said something to shut her up. Finally, she who always had a comment about everyone and everything was tongue tied, trying give answer but nothing was registering on that pretty little face of hers.

“So pack your bags and get out. I’ll call your dad to come over and get you. I’m serious, you’re not spending another night in the house.”

Only able to amount anything much more than a squeak, I heard her cry, “It’s my house too!” before I turned away, slamming the bedroom door, leaving her to pack as I called her father. Both parents came over almost immediately. Like her daughter, the Mrs. was loaded for bear, walking more like forced military, arms swinging, legs kicking, shouting all those Jesus-loves-you four letter words at me while father tried to reason with me. But it did them no good. It didn’t take all that long before they realized my resolve. It took longer than it should have but eventually they all left together with their whimpering princess of a daughter.

“Don’t worry about coming back either. I’ll drop the rest of the stuff off in the morning,” I angrily shouted as pallid faced father pulled back out of the drive, turning round in the circle to drive his two bitter faced women back home with him. I almost felt sorry for the man.

Perhaps it was the neighbors all standing out side, perhaps it was the empty house awaiting me inside, but for whatever reason, I knew I wouldn’t spend the night in that house either. Other than the stereo and tv, there wasn’t anything in the house that I was worried about her coming back and stealing if I wasn’t there to stand guard over it.
And so I found myself in my truck, out driving the countryside when I realized that it all looked vaguely familiar. Turning up the steep drive with brown, sun-baked shrubs lining it, I pulled around back of the house next to the equally old and rusted Chevy pick-up —complete with gun rack in the back. And there she was standing just outside the back door with both hands tucked down in front of a faded pair of men’s boxer shorts.

“I was wondering if I’d ever see you again,” her crisp, energetic voice sang to me.

“I was in the neighborhood so I thought I might take the chance,” I apologized.

“Kinda late for country sight see’n isn’t it?”

The sun was setting amidst the noise of locus, crickets, chirping swallows flying overhead and a dusty horizon. I only answered with a sheepish grin and a half hearted, “ ‘suppose so.”

I don’t know why I had never really looked at her the last time I had been there. Sure, the alcohol haze played a part in it, but it didn’t account for all of it, or even most of it. With shoulder length sun bleached hair, wearing the same faded thread bare, sleeveless checker-board shirt as last time, Holly remained standing barefoot at the screen door. The left side of her mouth was slightly turned upward. I was suddenly recognizing the little things about her.

Third from the top, Holly’s blouse had only one button fastened. Judging by the swaying movement, she had nothing on underneath it. Her arms were deeply tanned and covered with sun bleached white hair. Her eyebrows were almost non-existent as if lost in a fire. Her cheekbones were pronounced and her jaw line was clean. A slender gleaming gold necklace peeked out just inches above the breasts that danced sirens for me as she turned to invite me in her house.

“So how are you and the misses doing? Did she drive you out here again?”

“I guess you could say that. I threw her out of the house tonight.”

“Really! Good for you. Wanna beer?”

“I thought you knew.”

“Knew what dear?”

“Knew that I didn’t drink.”

“Well, stupid me. I suppose I should have gleaned that after your last visit. You didn’t handle it all that well then, did you? However,” she raised her voice in a bit of delight, “I’ve got fresh squeezed lemonade. Just add sugar to your liking.”

“Hmmm, now that sounds good.”

Once inside, I sat down at her yellow linoleum table and watched as Holly stretched to retrieve an old aluminum glass from the shelf above the stove. I also noted that there wasn’t anything on under her seat-worn shorts either. Still itemizing, I noted that her ass and her calves were as hard and sculptured as any gym jockey.

“How on earth did you end up way out here, Holly?”

“I won it in a poker game!” As if it needing re-enforcement, she turned back to look at me. “I did,” she laughed, “I really did.” This was not the girl I remembered from high school “daze.”

“It’s only five acres but they’re my five acres. Thompson up the road plants crop on four of it so I get a little income off of it each year. Taxes are less than $200 dollars a year!” She then winked at me, “I gave the county assessor a blow job!” Again, her playful voice reassured me it was all true. “I did. I really did! It’s amazing what you guys will do for a little of this,” she said, patting herself on her rump, finally retrieving the ‘50’s lime green cup.

“So all those stories about you were true?”

“What –high school? Hell no! I wouldn’t put out for any of those limp wrists. But they all had to save face and in doing so, I became the ‘sure thing’” she said, placing quotation marks around it with two fingers from each hand. “’Can’t fight city hall and rumors’ as my mom use to say. Besides, it got me movies, popcorn and sometimes malts and shakes at the drive-in every weekend.” Again she smiled at me as if letting me in on some secret I didn’t already know. “Hell, I never fucked any of them turds, least of all Jimmy Dunn. He was the worse. I had to bite his cock when he tried to force me to suck him off. He never did that again. Shit head! I walked home that night.”

I looked at Holly wondering how all such rumors and propaganda get started.

“Dare I ask where on earth you won this little piece of heaven playing cards?”

Wagging a finger at me, “Listen here Buster, don’t you go knocking this place. I know it aint much to look at, but it really is a piece of heaven to me. Okay?”

“No! I wasn’t being facetious. As I was driving out here I was thinking to myself how wonderful it would be to live without neighbors.”

Holly continued to smile as she talked. “Well okay then. Ya, its nice not to have neighbors- sometimes. It wasn’t so nice last winter when we had all that snow and I got stuck down by the bridge on the way to work. I didn’t know what to do and I’m a pretty self sufficient little gal by most accounts.”

“I would imagine when the winter winds begin blowing, its not so easy to stay warm.”

“Hey don’t let that old antique in there fool ya. It can melt the snow off the barn out the back if I turn it up all the way. But mostly during the winter I live in the storm cellar outside the back door. It’s really both a storm cellar and food cellar with even a small cistern in it if you can believe that. Don’t know who dug it all out, but they must have had nothing else to do one summer because its larger than the living room. It stays warm enough down there without needing much beyond my Coleman.”

“Who’d have thunk it? Holly Bloomquist all mother-earth!”

“I’ve had to grow up, Buster. Weren’t no one else who was going to look after me. You all graduated from school and forgot about me, except when you were all pig faced drunk!”

I shot a glance up at her as if to ask if I were included in that crowd.

“Oh gawd no, honey. I didn’t mean you. You were one of the nice ones.”

“You knew me?”

“Buster, the girls would talk about you from time to time. About how cute you were but also how god-awful nerdy you were. I dare say, if you had put your mind to it back then, you could have had just about any girl in the school. Didn’t know that did you?”
My face gave the only answer needed.

“Well what’s past is past. Look at me now! I’m probably going to lose the house to Martha. They always favor the women in court. I’m just glad she never got pregnant.”

“So you took my advice!”

“Hu?”

“You threw the bitch out!”

“Oh. Ya, guess I did. All she had to do was just clean the house once in a while and have something on the table when I got home. I could put up with the incessant whining. I could even put up with her mom being over there all the time. But I couldn’t put up with her mocking and belittling me all the time. Then she quit her job and threatened that from then on that was going to be the way it was and I had better get use to it.”

“Did she ever let you back into the bedroom- or shouldn’t I ask?” Yet again I cast a look her way. “Sorry! But I knew you didn’t get any honeymoon night!”

“Nor any other night. She never once offered herself to me. When I got back to the house after I left here, she had moved me out of my own bedroom and into the guest room. Hell, all the neighbors knew. How couldn’t they know with those paper thin walls and all the shouting that went on every night. So to answer your question, no.”

“So you thought you’d drive all the way out here to see if the ‘sure thing’ would look kindly on you and give you a little putintang?” Holly immediately let me know she was k**ding by laughing out loud before adding, “Who knows k**. Play your cards right and you just might get lucky. After all, it’s not like I get it all the time either!”

Holly’s five acres sat high on the horizon. Even with field corn being Thompson choice of shared crop that year, the evening breeze still gamely swept though the house.

“Sun’s setting faster now,” she acknowledged, looking out the back door.

As I rattled the ice in my empty cup, Holly turned back and retrieved the pitcher out of the old Kelvinator fridge that had one of those circular finned compressors sitting up on top where compressors should have always remained. As she poured me my second cup, she leaned over far enough for me to catch a glimpse of her glorious mountains majesty. I wanted to whistle.

“You like what you see?” she asked without looking at me, turning away to put the half empty pitcher back in the cooler.

“Holly, I don’t know why I drove out here. Obviously the truck didn’t drive itself but I don’t know why….”

“Buster, I’m not Martha. You don’t have to play games around me. I’m glad you found your way back out here. I really am. I really didn’t want to drive all the way over to Fairfield to sit at a bar pushing off maybe-I-can-get-lucky-with-Holly-tonight drunks. Ya, it didn’t end when I left school. But I won’t drink in town. I thought by driving on over to Fairfield my reputation wouldn’t proceed me. It only took one drunk to recognize me one night and all that pretty much flew out the window.”

“So what do you do, Holly?”

“I just push ‘m off me.”

“No silly. What kind of work do you do?”

“Oh, that. I work for a State Farm agent. He got to be number two in sales last year in the entire state. A nice guy. Doubt if you know him. Don Henchcliff?”

I shook my head no.

“Got a beautiful Mexican wife. Gorgeous! Sweet as sweet can be. Has that old school Mexican thing going on where she treats Don like he’s a god or something. They have six k**s. And by gawd, looking at her, you’d never guess it. Genetics I guess. She’s still got her shape. And let me tell you honey, if you think I’ve got knockers, you should see hers! I’ve seen them! –in the changing room at the pool. Believe me, she keeps Don home at nights and happy to be there.”

“I’m glad to hear someone’s happily married.” I couldn’t help sounding sad.

“Buster?”

“Hmmm?”

“Why did you come out here tonight?” Holly asked with emphasis.

“Honestly? Because I didn’t have any other place to go.”

“I’m not sure whether or not I much like that answer. But I do believe you. I’ve heard a thing or two since you were last here. I heard how they suckered you into that family circus they call a church. They all give God a bad name if you ask me. I think they should rename it ‘The Cult of the Closed Door!’”

I laughed at that, though I caught myself in half sentence.

“You’re a live wire, Holly Bloomquist. I like that about you. I wished I had gotten to know you before settling down with Martha.”

I couldn’t imagine she did it often, thick skinned as she had become, but she blushed a little before turning away.

“Oh shucks, mister. Now you’ve gone and done it.”

There was no way possible to push your way off those old chairs without having them hopping across the floor. She knew I was up and moving towards her without ever having turning around.

“Now whatever you’re up to, Buster, I want you to know –I’m not no one night stand. Stop and think about that, okay?”

I had to admit, there was the danger of it all being the result of the day’s events; the results of her being a woman with two wonderful and inviting fun bags and living out here in the middle of nowhere and me not having had a receptive woman all my adult life.

“I’m not at a place in my life where I know anything for sure anymore, Holly. The only time I’ve ever been cared for was when you pulled me out the ditch and nursed me back to health that Sunday in May. I never did thank you for that. And I’m sorry I never made it back out here to tell you that.”

“No one ever does. That’s why I like it out here.”

I reached out and turned Holly by the shoulders to face me. As soon as touched her I realized how hard and firm her arms were. She was no gym queen yet this little mansion of hers kept her busy and in shape.

“I didn’t come out here to use you, Holly. That much I do know. Beyond that, I can’t say for sure –other than I’m sure that I will never spend another night in that house with Martha again.”

Holly raised her hand and placed it on top of my own which still held her by her shoulders.

“We’ve both had a pretty tough go of it over the years. I imagine more than most and each in our own way. I’m not a trophy catch, Buster. I can’t have k**s.”

At that, Holly let go of my hand and stepped back, raising the shirt a bit and the shorts down a bit to show me the scar. “I fell getting out of the combine while harvesting soy beans. I was help’n old man Thompson two years back. I was really enjoying myself doing it too until that happened” Holly shuttered. “Dangerous machines. But I slipped and fell out onto a metal fence post. They sewed me all back up but I can’t have babies no more. I don’t know if you want to call it lucky, but at least old man Thompson had his insurance paid up. That’s how I met Don. He got me a pretty damn good settlement too. Enough that I won’t have to worry about money for a while.”

I finally shut her up by kissing her full on the mouth. Her arms wrapped themselves about my neck as if she had waited for me to kiss her for a long while. Eventually she loosened her grip and leaned back a bit to look at my face while her hand continued rubbing the back of my head.

“I think you should also know, I’m not really all that good in bed either. . . . despite all those rumors to the contrary.” Again she smiled letting me know she wasn’t exactly being truthful with me.

“Hmmm.” I answered as I grabbed her butt with both hands. “I don’t know. These seem pretty well worn to me!”

She drank in another kiss, again wrapping one arm around my neck, standing on her naked toes as the other hand swam laps back and forth across the side of my face.
How could I have known? She had sat in the back of the church on my wedding day, drawing strange faces as everyone walked by. I never saw her and she left even before the newly wedded bride turned and walked back down the aisle as Mrs. Buster Hodges. She had sat on my side of the aisle, greeting no one, arriving late and leaving early. Perhaps like me showing up out here, not actually knowing why, she attended my wedding not quite sure why either. Who could divine such things? Certainly we are never the best judges of our own lives.

I imagine I could have then and there picked her up and carried her up the stairs and into her bedroom and without much of a fuss made mad passionate love to her. But instead, we walked out the back door and back down the lane hand-in-hand, eventually finding our way to the lazy little creek that ran underneath the small, one lane, wall less steel and concrete bridge that had been there since the first great war. We sat at its edge and dangled our feet in the clear cool water as the last rays of ebbing summer sunlight turned the far western horizons purple and red.

Perhaps it was because it had been a drier summer than normal which kept the swarm of insects at bay. The breeze had begun to pick up bringing with it the promise of storms predicted to arrive later that evening. But already the temperature had appreciably dropped, giving relief to two sweating bodies.

Holly had tried first and failed whereas I succeeded in her failure. “Hey!” she screamed like k**s at play, as I pushed her off into the water. Standing in the waist deep runoff, vainly she continued to try by her own strength, which was considerable, to pull me in behind her. Finally I gave in and joined her.

Neither hot nor cold, the water was enough to simply refresh us from the heat of the day without sending either of us into shock. There was no need to strip. Holly’s blouse and shorts went sheer upon contact with the water. Bending at the waist, dipping her hair all the way under, Holly came back up with that last button betraying her. “Oh well,” she laughed, wrapping both her arms around my neck again, kissing me like I had never been kissed before, giddy as c***d.

The shadows hid her nakedness yet I was able to discern their shape before my hand finally reached out to grab hold of some of her delicious woman’s fat. Both breasts were full yet amazingly firm.

She, like me, had just turned thirty that summer. Though we had a lot of life to bury, most of it was yet ahead of us.

Still laughing as she let go of my neck, she tugged on my jeans while begging me, “Come on. Off with them.”

“You do it!” I ordered as the flowing water began to carry away the hurt, the hate and the heat of the day.

“Should I throw them up on the bridge or should I just let them float away?” The woman was serious!

“God no. I haven’t got anything else.”

After succeeding stripping me of my shorts, all clothing was carelessly thrown up on the bridge.

“I hope old man Thompson doesn’t come driving through here!” I worried.

“Boy, wouldn’t that be some juicy town gossip! Positively scandalous! Why we’d be famous till our die’n day Buster Hodges!”

I didn’t know how long it would be new to me, but Holly’s humor was infectious. . . as was her aire of eroticism.

“I love doing it in the water. Come here big boy, show me what ‘ca got.”

With my back to the current, Holly spread her legs and climbed up on me. Completely the nerd I was thought to be, without her help, I never would have found the right hole. Amazingly, her wet warmth encapsulated my manhood in one deft movement.

“Ohhhh! That feels so f’n good, doesn’t it?” I heard her say before locking her lips onto mine as she again wrapped my head deep within her arms.

The water was chilled enough to make Holly’s nipples even more pronounced. She encouraged me to participate in their pleasure as she began rising and falling on the beyond-stiff war baton.

“So this is what it is like,” I said out loud as she leaned back, driving me further into her sop as she concentrated on nothing but having her itch scratched.

Her moans and sigh’s coupled with the fierce, abandoned look of her eyes told me she was nearing climax. Finger nails became a clear and present danger, digging deeper into my shoulders as her excitement grew. Then a shout. “Fuuuuuuck!” Then another, “Fuck me, Buster! Fuck me!” How different her commands were from my abandoned wife’s!

The small rocks at the bottom of the stream were covered with moss interspersed with long blades of waving grass. Keeping my footing had become increasing difficult as I tried to obey her commands and movements.

Gaiety had left her. She was deep in her climax as I watched her eyes roll back up in her head before uncontrollable fits and heaving thrust her onto my chest. I had never experienced sexually aroused convulsions before. I had never experienced a climax which mainlined itself to the where we were both oohing and aahing together. I had never experienced becoming so one with another until all strength was raptured from us.

“Gawd, you have no idea how badly I needed that, Buster.”

“You? You?” I asked again with deep breaths as if there were any need to emphasize the supposed inequality. “I never knew it could be like this,” I sadly confessed.

“Oh I promise you, Buster boy, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Wait till I get you back to the house and in a proper sized bed!” The wildness of her eyes and strength of her legs returned as she reached down, grabbing my manhood with her hand so as to verify her intent.

We walked all the way back up to the house naked as the day we had been born. Her breasts flirting from side to side with each step like jello just out of the mold. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. At last, here was a woman who not only didn’t mind, but enjoyed their being observed. Firm and pointed, I kissed them and sucked on them as often as I could before she pushed me away saying we’d never make it back to the house if I didn’t leave her alone!

And we wouldn’t have. For just as we made it up the drive, the first drops of hard, cold rain drove their fingers into us as we ran for the protection of the front porch. The storm had come from west while the front porch faced east over the dark rolling ocean of field corn.