THE FREAK--Part 5 Of 5 free porn video

THE FREAK--Part 5--The Conclusion

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If there’s one lesson I’ve learned from my dad’s business it’s that there are always delays. I wasn’t surprised that what we hoped would be done in a week actually took almost two to complete. Twice we had to delay furniture deliveries, but, by the second week in July we were actually able to sleep in our newly renovated home. Our driveway was ready to use and we’d added a space for me to park the jeep alongside the garage. The rear yard had been fenced and our furniture was delivered and installed. There were other things we wanted to do, but they could wait. New appliances in the kitchen and new paint on the ceilings, walls, and trim were the biggest items.

We loved the new refinished floors with their almost-white maple finish, but we also wanted area rugs for color and quiet. Finding what we wanted turned out to be a breeze. Installing them was not so easy, but we managed to get it done with the help of a few neighbors.

At first they were hesitant at the idea of having two teenagers living in their midst. However, a major thaw occurred at an afternoon party one neighbor had, supposedly to welcome us, but in reality to check us out. There was a keg and everyone helped themselves to plenty of beer—everyone except Barbara and me. When asked we simply explained that we weren’t drinkers. We were serious students and I was a serious athlete. We weren’t into parties although we might invite a few friends to visit—but only a few.

Of course, we were asked why we were married at such a young age so I asked if they had ever heard about St. Claudia’s School in Yonkers. Apparently, they had because the conversation went from a dull roar to dead quiet in a second. One neighbor commented that he never did believe those allegations and he continued his comments until I excused myself so I could walk home, returning a few minutes later with the photos of Barbara’s back. “Take a good look and tell me how this happened. These marks weren’t self-inflicted. Barbara lived through this hell and I worked with the police to get them to admit their roles in the actual whipping and the cover-up conspiracy. They couldn’t wait to brag about how they had beaten girls just to keep the others under control. And then there was the theft of girls’ jewelry like Barbara’s engagement ring that cost me more than $2500.”

Then one of the women opened the envelope and when she looked at the first photo she fell to her knees, throwing up all of the beer she had consumed. Everyone stood stock still, shocked by what had happened, except me. I took three quick steps to help the woman who I barely knew to her feet, wiping her face with cold water from the ice-filled tub holding the keg. Her husband picked up the photos and returned them to the envelope. “You have to understand; we’re all Catholic. It was hard for us to believe. The priests all said it was a bunch of lies.”

“We do understand. It would have been hard for us to believe, too, except that we lived it. I married Barbara then so she could attend school with me. There was no way in hell that I would allow her to return to school there. Barbara’s an orphan. Her foster parents didn’t believe until they saw the photos either. They would have forced her to go back into that hellhole of a school. Would you want your wife to have to deal with something like that? I don’t think so. You also know why we’re Lutherans now.”

I was ready to leave and I would have had two of the women not asked us to stay. “It’s obvious that we all made a serious error of judgment. We hope you’ll forgive us.” Of course, we did. We stayed at the party and had a good time, but the photo envelope remained closed and the conversation never touched that subject again.

When asked about our new fence I explained that I planned to play both basketball and baseball at Harvard and that meant that I would be away for several nights during the season. I didn’t want Barbara to be here alone. The choices for her protection were either a gun or a dog. The dog won.
That led to a discussion of my athletic abilities. I said nothing about them. I didn’t have to. Barbara was gushing, and the men joined her as soon as she said the words “All-American.”

There are lots of animal shelters in the greater Boston area and we visited several during the following week before finding what we wanted—a female lab mix about a year old. This one had come from a home in which an elderly widow had passed away leaving the dog to be taken into the shelter. Her name was Kelly and she bonded almost immediately with Barbara, licking her hands and wagging her tail wildly. She was already more than forty pounds and she still had a long way to go. We took her to a vet to have her checked out and spayed then she became an integral part of our family.


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We had almost everything other than painting done by the third week in July so I mentioned to Barbara that I needed a workout at the Harvard gym. “I need to shoot once in a while to keep my skills sharp. Want to come and rebound for me?” Barbara bared her teeth and flexed her biceps as she agreed. I grabbed my ball and dressed a practice shirt, shorts and jock with a towel, socks and sneakers and head and wrist bands in my gym bag along with a tee, briefs, and shorts in case I could find a shower. We put Kelly out as we always did whenever we left the house and locked up once she was back in. We took the Jeep and fifteen minutes later we were parked and walking to the admissions office. I would have gone directly to the gym if only I had known where to go. Harvard is a big place and it’s spread out in various areas of Cambridge.

We spoke to Mrs. Atkins who told us to go to the Stadium to see the Athletic Director. She produced another map and circled the location. It wasn’t far so ten minutes later we walked into the office. I saw the secretary so Barbara and I walked up to the desk. “Hi, I’m Jack French.”

“Who?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You know I could have gone to Notre Dame or Stanford and I kind of suspect they’d know who I am, but I guess not at Harvard.”

Just then a silver-haired man who looked fit in spite of his age walked out from the inner office. “You’re Jack French? Great to meet you; ignore Irene, she’s a great secretary, but she doesn’t know much about sports.” That’s how I met the Athletic Director. I introduced him to Barbara then he led us into his office.

I explained why we were here, asking about getting my ankles taped, too. He volunteered to show us where to go, saying that there were trainers working in the stadium now because some of the football players were working out on the field during the summer. He also suggested that I use the Hemenway Gym if I wanted to work out. It was only a few minutes before he had walked us into the trainers’ room adjacent to the men’s locker room. I wasn’t surprised to see two trainers working there—one male and one female. He introduced me and told them to tape me or provide whatever services I needed whenever I asked. After shaking hands he was gone and I climbed onto a padded table. They taped me exactly the way I wanted, and much tighter than I could do on my own. Megan, the female trainer showed us a shorter way to the parking lot and I followed the directions to the gym on what the locals called “Mass Ave.”

There were four guys playing two-on-two at one end of the court so I led Barbara to the opposite end. I did some stretching exercises to loosen up then I started with some layups and short shots, rebounding any misses or just tipping them in. After almost ten minutes I started to shoot from farther out with Barbara catching the balls that went through the net and passing them out to me.

I had really warmed up, hitting twelve in a row when I heard one of the guys say that he had to go to work. I was asked if I’d fill in and agreed, meeting my soon-to-be teammate Ryan and opponents Phil and Mike. We started play and I had a problem almost immediately with Phil. I had taken a jump shot and as I did he jabbed me in the stomach. He didn’t hurt me, but I’ve seen guys lose their balance from such tactics, injuring an ankle or a knee or even their back by falling. I made the shot so I told him, “Don’t do that again.”

“Oh yeah; what are you going to do about it?” I let it slide then, but he did it three more times even though I repeatedly told him not to. In fact, he became more aggressive, bordering on arrogant, almost punching my stomach the last time. I’d had enough.

I set up on the left side low post, signaling my teammate for the ball. Head faking right, I took one dribble followed by a single long stride across the lane, the ball secure in my huge hand. Rather than take the hook shot I moved the ball along in a graceful arc, my right hand moving rapidly across the lane as I pivoted and brought the ball up even with the height of the basket. I’d made this move and taken this shot hundreds of times so I knew there was no way to block it, but that didn’t stop Phil from jabbing me once again. This time I was ready and as I finished the pivot I brought my left elbow forcefully into his solar plexus. He grunted, totally out of breath, as he fell back hard on his ass. I leaned down, whispering as I did, “I guess you now know what I’ll do about it, don’t you?” I thanked the others for the game and walked off the court to Barbara.

“What was that all about, Jack?”

“He was jabbing me in the gut every time I shot the ball and he refused to stop. I’ve seen guys get hurt from that. They lose their balance and fall. It’s a dangerous play…dirty, too. He asked what I’d do about it.”

“I think he knows now, doesn’t he?”

I kissed Barbara as we stepped outside. “Yes,” I said. “I think he does.”

I returned to the training room again two days later and I wasn’t at all surprised when the AD strode in while I was being taped. “One question, Jack; are you a dirty player?”

“If I had to guess I’d say you were speaking with Phil about his badly bruised chest.”

“Indeed I was. He’s a starting forward on our varsity.”

“Then he should know better than to jab an opponent’s abdomen when he takes a shot. Not only is that a foul, but it’s a great way to really hurt someone. I’m not a dirty player, Sir, but I also won’t allow myself to be abused. He jabbed me four times and four times I told him not to do it again. His response was, ‘what are you going to do about it?’ Now he knows, except the next time I won’t allow him to do it four times before I retaliate. By the way, I doubt he would have made my high school varsity—definitely not as a starter. I hope the rest of the team is better.”

“Not surprisingly he left his part out of it. I told him I’d speak with you and I have. I promise you I’ll speak with him, too.” I shrugged my shoulders. I really didn’t care. Barbara and I had the gym to ourselves and I spent a good hour dribbling and shooting with both hands. I finished by doing some line drills. Most players hate line drills, but they’re a great way to get into shape for the season. I also resolved to do some serious running before school started.


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I had never realized how much we would need when we bought the house. Besides furniture we needed sheets, blankets, pillows, towels, dishes, glasses, pots and pans, ice trays—just to name a few. It seemed that we went shopping almost every day that first month. But that stopped the last week in July. I had promised Carole that she could come for a visit and that time was now.

My mother had driven Carole, now all of nine, to the Islip MacArthur Airport for a flight to Boston’s Logan Field. We were waiting at the gate when the plane began to empty. After talking to the gate staff I knew that she would be among the last to leave the plane and that she would be accompanied by one of the stewardesses. Sure enough, Carole walked up the gangway dragging her suitcase in the company of a beautiful woman and I would have been tempted had I not found Barbara. I showed my passport as a formality even as Carole was hugging Barbara and we left, walking slowly as the Big C told us all about her incredible flight.

“What are we going to do first, J.J.?”

“Well…I think we need to get some lunch and then we’ll take you to our home to meet Kelly.”

“Who’s Kelly?”

“She’s the latest member of our family.”

“Barbara had a baby?”

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed my ass off. “No, Big C…that takes a bit more than a month or two. You’ll see. We want it to be a surprise.” We left the airport a few minutes later and drove all the way to Somerville where we stopped at a sub shop where I ordered one large Italian sub, asking for one of the usual three parts to be cut in half. These were big—really big—subs; almost three feet long with Italian cold cuts and provolone cheese, lettuce and tomato and onion, oil and vinegar, oregano and salt and pepper. They actually tasted even better than they looked. We sat at one of the small tables with sodas and our sandwiches. This was one of the first places we’d found after moving in and it was one of the best, too.

We left with half of Carole’s sandwich wrapped in plastic wrap and drove home. “I think you need to stay here on the lawn,” I told Carole, “and let Kelly come to you.” Kelly bolted from the door with her usual greeting until she saw Carole then she ran up to sniff her. Carole was ecstatic. She had wanted a dog, but Mom had always said no. She held her hand out. There were dogs in our neighborhood so she knew what to do. A minute later she was hugging and petting Kelly like they were old friends

We showed Carole to our guest room with Kelly on our heels then we let Carole go out into the back yard to play with Kelly and her ball. I made her stop an hour later so Kelly could rest and have a healthy drink of water. Then we went inside to relax and watch some TV.

We spent the week of Carole’s visit doing just about everything we could in the Boston area. Carole may have been about to enter fourth grade, but she was a very bright girl who loved to learn. She enjoyed walking the Freedom Trail, checking out the tombstones at the Old North Church. I wasn’t at all surprised that she knew just about every one of the patriots buried there. We went to see the USS Constitution—Old Ironsides—but I stayed on deck while Barbara and Carole went below. Those lower decks weren’t built for someone with my height.

We spent a day checking out several museums in the city along with the Mapparium in the Mary Baker Eddy Library. The Mapparium is a large globe of the earth in 1935 made of stained glass. What is truly unique is that you can walk through the interior of the globe and the acoustics are incredible. I whispered at one end of the walkway and everything I said could be clearly heard at the other end. Carole was amazed. So was Barbara, for that matter. The next day we drove to Plymouth to see the Mayflower recreation and Plimouth Plantation, a recreation of the Pilgrims’ original settlement.

Our final day was spent at Fenway, sitting in the right field bleachers and cheering for the Yankees. We weren’t alone. There seemed to be as many New York fans as there were for Boston. That was the year of the M and M boys—Mantle and Maris—and their chase to beat the Babe’s home run record. Personally, I thought the Mick would do it. He was ahead of Maris with 54 homers when he was injured early in September. Too soon it was time for the Big C to fly home, but we did promise to visit in Long Island over the Labor Day weekend. We had some business to attend to.

My friend Wilson had an older sister who had married a highly regarded contractor. I had spoken to him several times on the phone about building a home for us on our lot on the bluff. He promised to have several house plans for us to look at while we were there.

We drove south on the Tuesday before Labor Day, catching the ferry at Mystic, Connecticut to Orient Point at the very end of the North Shore of Long Island. From there the ride was just about an hour long. Traveling with a dog was a bit different—we stopped once on the road south and again once we were in Orient Point.

Kelly was a big hit on the ferry where she was approached by every kid on board. A few were initially afraid, but warmed up to her once I jammed my arm into her mouth to prove she wouldn’t bite. I always held her tightly by the collar even though I knew the kids were perfectly safe. Once I had driven off the ferry, we stopped by the side of the road so I could take Kelly for a brief walk. I carried a small garden trowel and a brown paper lunch bag, just in case she left a mess.

The roads in this part of the Island are narrow two-lane secondary roads with low speed limits and frequent no-passing zones, but the traffic is typically light. I headed west until I ran into Route 25A. It runs along the North Shore all the way from Queens to Riverhead, the Suffolk County seat. From Riverhead the bungalow was only a half-hour away. There was no driveway so I drove onto the lawn, parking next to Mom’s car, just before lunch. Carole and my other sisters ran out to see us and Kelly was excited to see them, as well. All the same, I slipped her leash onto the collar before letting her out. She sniffed Marie and Angela then licked Carole’s face as I handed her the leash’s handle. She ran off, leading our pet into the house. Barbara was laughing. “Quite a welcome, eh?”

“Pretty much what I expected; they’ve wanted a dog for years, but my mom always said no. Maybe she’ll change her mind one of these days.” I leaned across the seat and we kissed. Unfortunately, that was all we’d be able to do over the next week unless we walked down to the beach late at night, maybe for an evening swim. Hmmm, that was a really good idea.

I carried our suitcase and Kelly’s bed into the house while Barbara handled her food and bowls. I dumped the bottle of water that we’d brought for her onto the lawn after closing up the car. We never locked anything here, not even the front door when we left for the beach or shopping. I dropped everything in what used to be my room while Barbara set up Kelly’s bowls in the kitchen.

We changed into our suits and walked down to the beach after lunch. Mom was really old-school, insisting that none of us swim for at least an hour after eating even though I had debunked that as an old wives tale for years. Once again, my experiences at the public library had proven fruitful. My research had turned up more than a dozen articles—some scholarly—on the subject and all were contrary to the idea that digesting food could lead to a fatal “stomach cramp.” Barbara and I joked with my sisters as we strolled down the path.

Our first trip to the beach had been in late March when the weather was cool. Today the temperature was in the mid-to-high eighties with only a light breeze. It was Barbara’s first opportunity to see the beach’s real appeal. Looking to the left and right from the bottom of the steps we couldn’t see another living soul for almost a mile. The water was glass flat and the tide was coming in. I liked low tide for snorkeling and spear-fishing, but there were lots of rocks--some as big as a foot across only eight to ten feet from shore at low tide. There were only tiny pebbles and sand to walk on at high tide. However, I knew from experience that stepping on those tiny objects would hurt like hell once our feet were wet and the skin was soft. That’s why I had told Barbara to wear flip-flops to and from the water.
We had just placed the blanket onto the sand when Barbara smiled at me and said, “I can see why you love it here, Jack. I can’t believe that the water is so clear and clean.”

“It should be exactly like this every day unless the wind shifts and we get a nor’easter. Then the water will be rough and cloudy for a day or two. I’d have to say that high tide will be around four today. That means it will be later at night by the weekend. We can come down after dinner and go for a swim. It’s only safe at high tide because of the rocks. Of course, there are other things we could do here on the beach…alone…together…in the dark.”

“Imagination—that’s only one of the reasons why I love you.” She reached up to kiss me then we walked together into the warm water.

We swam out about fifty feet. It was my first chance to see Barbara swim. She’d never make the Olympics, but I thought she was much better than average. We swam and floated and showed our love for each other, getting out of the water only when we began to get cold. Even then I was recruited by Carole to be her diving platform. I lifted her so she could stand on my shoulders, only letting her dive when I knew she was in deep enough water. I stood there helping her for almost twenty minutes before I picked her up and threw her bodily into the water. “J.J.!” She acted as though she was pissed, but we both knew better. A few seconds later she began to laugh and I joined her as Barbara stood to towel me dry.

I showed Barbara the rock I had told her about—the one we could dive from once the tide was high enough. We walked there around 3:30, climbing up the rear of the rock and diving off the deeper front then swimming back up its smooth sloped surface. We were on the rock when Barbara asked, “Where is our lot, Jack?”

I pointed to a long staircase that ran from almost the top of the bluff to the beach’s surface about two hundred feet away. “That staircase belongs to my friend Mike’s family. You haven’t met him yet, but you will. He’s in the Navy now, but he lives there with his mother and grandmother. Anyway, our lot is just to the right of his…figure about 100 feet from the staircase.” I pointed so Barbara could see more clearly. We left the beach at five so we could walk up, and wash at the shower just outside the kitchen window. Once on the concrete base we could wash and dry ourselves without walking grass or dirt into the house.

After dinner I suggested we get Carvel for dessert. Not surprisingly, everyone enthusiastically agreed. We closed the doors to keep Kelly inside and everyone piled into the Olds for the fifteen minute ride to Rocky Point. Most of us ordered cones, but Mom insisted that Carole get a cup—she was a slow and sloppy eater. We stood outside, leaning against the car as we joked and enjoyed our treats. It was dark and almost time for Carole to go to bed when we returned to the bungalow. That’s when we learned that she would sleep in her sleeping bag in the room with my other sisters. “You deserve to have some privacy, but please remember that my head is only a foot or so from your bed so DO try to keep the noise down.” I laughed, but I could see the twinkle in Barbara’s eyes. We turned in early because we had an early appointment with Mark Hanley, my friend’s brother-in-law.


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We drove into Rocky Point again early the following morning to buy some pastries from the local bakery. Their donuts and Danish were great, but my favorite was the fruit ring—a 12-inch Danish crust filled with cherry, blueberry, and pineapple fillings. Everyone loved it so I bought two. We left to meet Mark at 8:50, walking down the hill to our lot.

We wore jeans because the lot had yet to be cleared and there was almost certainly going to be a lot of poison ivy. Mark was right on time. We shook hands and walked onto the lot which I knew from the survey was two thirds of an acre—150 feet by almost 195 with the land sloping up from the road to the top of the bluff. First, we talked about where to locate the house so we’d have a yard in the front and back then we got into the details of what we wanted—a family room and attached two-car garage, living and dining rooms, kitchen, two full bathrooms, and four bedrooms. We also wanted a screened porch in back where we could sit and enjoy the view. “We don’t know much about floor plans so we’ll leave it to you to come up with some ideas.” He agreed and gave us a few which we incorporated into the drawings he would make for us within the next week.

Both Barbara and I had orientation scheduled for the second full week of September so we planned to stay on Long Island for almost all of the week of Labor Day before driving back to Somerville. We’d have the beach entirely to ourselves. The summer season ends on Labor Day which I had always thought was a shame because the weather in September is ideal for the beach and the water is perfectly warm—for Long Island, anyway.

Mark phoned three days later, telling us that he had a few books of floor plans and had made a few scale drawings using them as a guide. He came the following morning at ten, spreading several large sheets of graph paper on the table for us to look at. He had given us exactly what we wanted and more. The basement held a two-car garage on the right with a large family room and small kitchenette on one side with a laundry room and lavatory behind a wall on the other. Also there was the oil burner and hot water heater and room for a workshop and storage.

Upstairs the house was shaped in a “U” with the dining room, eat-in kitchen, and another lavatory on the left. The center was a large living room with sliding glass doors leading out to the screened porch. The other side held the master suite, three smaller bedrooms, and another full bath. Mark explained that he thought a vaulted ceiling in the living room and master bedroom would be interesting touches if our budget could handle them. He also suggested a tray ceiling in the dining room so we could have a real chandelier.

He also showed us a typical colonial house, but commented that we’d have to remove a lot of soil to accommodate it. I thought that was a bad idea and told him so. He agreed, saying, ”I have to show clients a variety of plans and I always list the pro’s and con’s. You beat me to the punch on that one.” Barbara liked the U-shaped house so we asked him to put together a formal proposal.

I remembered to ask about access to the attic, thinking about storage and Mark agreed to add a regular staircase rather than folding stairs near the kitchen to that area, also suggesting that his men place plywood flooring up there to accommodate us. Barbara asked if we could add doors from our bedroom to the screened porch. Mark agreed that would be a good idea. I knew that there would be dozens of additional decisions as the house progressed, but we weren’t that far away. He returned the Tuesday after Labor Day with an estimate of $93,000. I wrote a check for $20,000 as a down payment when we signed the contract.

Barbara and I took my sisters out for miniature golf and banana splits on Thursday night and on Friday we gave Mom and Dad who had driven out after work the night off by taking them out to the drive-in. It was a family movie—a comedy—that we all enjoyed although Big C fell asleep long before it was over. I carried her into the house around eleven then Barbara, Kelly, and I went for a late night swim.

The walk down the path was aided by a flashlight as Kelly capered back and forth in front of us. I knew that I’d have to check her for ticks tomorrow, but that wouldn’t take more than half an hour—less with Barbara’s help.

Once on the beach Barbara came into my open arms for the most passionate kiss of our trip. We’d had sex our first night—oral, a sixty-nine to keep the noise under control. Tonight we’d make glorious love under the moonlight, maybe in the water. That would be a first for both of us.

I led my fantastic wife down to the water. The tide was ebbing, but was still high enough to enter the water safely. We had worn our suits, but they dropped to the ground in an instant. Holding hands we walked together into the water as Kelly scampered back and forth, barking, but not getting any deeper than her paws.

I began by massaging Barbara’s butt as we came together for a long steamy kiss. Her arms were around my neck and her legs around my waist. I moved my hands to massage what I thought were the perfect breasts, knowing that Barbara loved the sensation of my hands on her nipples and areolas. She got down to business by gripping my hard cock and bringing it to her molten tunnel. I was initially concerned about whether she would be lubricated, but my fears were unfounded. She shimmied down my shaft easily, moaning in ecstasy the entire time.

Barbara laid back, floating while her legs moved up my torso. I must have been hitting that spot I hit when her legs were over my shoulders. I was driving into her at a brisk pace, but she was moving even faster. I thought it funny at the time that we were making one hell of a wave with every thrust. There was white foam all around us and that’s not all. Our every movement resulted in a pale green light coming from the numerous comb jellies in the water.

Unlike jellyfish, comb jellies have no stinging cells and, in fact, have no tentacles. They’re basically filter feeders on plankton as they drift on the tide. There were probably millions or even billions in Long Island Sound, but unless you actually look for them you’d never know.

We went at it furiously for only five minutes until I felt the familiar rumbling and Barbara shook wildly. I knew that she had cum when she screamed at the top of her lungs. The sound bounced off the bluffs probably for miles as I pumped her full of frothy white semen. I lowered her legs and held her tenderly for another ten minutes until she began to laugh. “We are definitely doing this again. I loved it, but I love you even more.” Then she showed it once again by kissing me, her tongue deep into my mouth.


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The rest of the trip passed quickly as we spent our days at the beach and our evenings entertaining my sisters, our late nights back on the beach making the most incredible--the most fantastic--love with my wife. Dad left early Tuesday morning as he did every week in order to get to work in time to eat some breakfast. We packed Mom’s car with the suitcases in the morning and they left just after lunch. Barbara and I were alone except for Kelly as we waved good-bye to my family. We stayed until Thursday morning when I turned the water off, draining it out the hose cock and throwing the circuit breakers to turn off the electricity. Then I double checked the windows and front door before locking up the kitchen door and joining Barbara in the Olds with Kelly in the rear seat.

The drive to Orient Point took just over an hour so we were early for our 11:00 reservation. I put the leash on Kelly and walked her near the beach on the side away from the ferry dock. She did her business and I dutifully cleaned up. We returned to the car just as the ferry was pulling in. Ten minutes later we were onboard and sitting on deck in the warm sun, knowing that we’d be in the shade once the boat turned around. We relaxed for the hour-long trip then drove north on I-95—the New England Thruway—all the way to Boston then west to Somerville.

Kelly was obviously thrilled to be home. I had just parked in the garage when Barbara led her to the gate that enclosed the back yard. She bolted in, running around the perimeter at a wild pace causing us and our neighbor Paul, two yards away, to laugh wildly. “I’ll be over in a few minutes with your mail.” We had just walked into the house when he rang the bell. We thanked him several times, but he just shrugged it off telling us that’s what good neighbors do for each other. All the same we thanked him again, shaking hands before he left.

We had a great weekend, taking Kelly into Boston for a stroll along the Charles River. We were stopped often by young children who asked if they could pet her. We went through the ritual of having her sit while I held her collar, sniffing the kids’ hands, and then the energetic petting. It was great seeing the laughter and joy in the children’s faces. Twice kids were afraid until I showed that Kelly would never bite them by pushing my arm into her mouth.

Barbara and I made love—frantic monkey love—every night and every morning until Sunday when we spent the entire afternoon in bed, showering right after dinner and setting out our clothes tor Monday morning—the first day of orientation.

I personally thought that most of it was a waste of time, but I did find the campus tour helpful as were the placement exams in English, math, and Spanish. I was exempted from Freshman English and from the math requirement. I was placed in Spanish 4 which I thought was appropriate. Barbara told me that she enjoyed her campus tour even though it was quite short. She found the placement exams “challenging.” On the positive side her freshman mixer was on Wednesday night while mine was on Thursday.

I was challenged at the door to the gym where the mixer was held because I obviously had no Lesley Student ID. “This is my wife who is a student here. She wants to attend so she can meet some of the other freshmen. However, she is not going without me, just as I will not attend my mixer tomorrow evening without her. Don’t worry--I’m not going to cause any trouble.” I pushed my way past him as Barbara and I entered the large open expanse. There was a huge canvas tarp over the gym floor, I assumed to protect the finish of the floor and there were several hundred chairs in a long continuous row all around the perimeter of the room. Canteens with soda and snacks had been set up at both ends of the basketball court.

I led Barbara over to the opposite side for no reason other than to keep the entryway clear. We had a seat for a few minutes before getting up to dance. I was reminded of junior high with the boys and girls on opposite sides, neither quite willing to venture into hostile foreign territory so Barbara and I were the only dancers. That was okay with us. I had my hands around her succulent body while she moved into mine as closely as humanly possible.

We had danced five slow and two fast dances when Barbara told me she was thirsty. I left her at the seats and walked over to the nearest canteen where I pulled two cold Coke cans from an ice-filled cooler. I saw that Barbara had acquired an admirer as I returned.

“I’m flattered, but I’m really not interested.”

“You’re saying no, but we both know that you really mean yes.”

“No, I’m definitely saying no to you. I mean it. Leave me alone. I’m a married woman.” Barbara held up her hand to show her rings.

Then I heard her “suitor” respond. “Hey! That’s okay; I love married women. There’s no substitute for experience.”

“That may be, but I think my husband would not approve. Oh, here he is now.”

I handed the Cokes over to her as the jerk turned around. I had a scowl on my face as I reached out, taking his shirt and tie in my left hand. “This is your lucky day, little man.” There was terror etched into his face as I lifted him bodily off the floor and for good reason. I was at least eight inches taller and sixty pounds heavier and I was obviously all muscle while he was not. “I promised at the door that I wouldn’t cause any trouble so I’m not going to take you apart. You were told no, weren’t you? No means she’s not interested so a gentleman would just turn around and try somewhere else. There are probably at least a hundred good looking girls here tonight. So, why don’t you try your luck with those girls over there?” I pointed to a group of about ten standing about thirty feet away. “It goes without saying that you’ll never approach my wife again. I’m right next door at Harvard and I promise I’ll hunt you down like a mad dog if I hear even a single complaint from her lips. Do we understand each other?” He nodded quickly.

I slowly lowered him to the floor, brushing away the wrinkles I had made in his clothes. Reaching into my pocket I found a ten dollar bill and pushed it into the pocket of his suit. “You’ll need to have this suit and shirt cleaned and pressed. Now…get lost!” He did and that was the time I noticed the puddle he’d made. Looking at Barbara I laughed. “I think we need to find some new seats. There’s a bit of a mess here.” She laughed, too then handed one of the cans to me. I opened it and took a long pull before leading Barbara away.

Barbara waved to two girls who seemed to be walking toward us. “I met them at the tour and again during the placement exams. They’re both from Massachusetts.” Barbara introduced me to Darla and Marianne. Even I had to admit that Darla was built like a brick shithouse. I might have been interested if not for Barbara. We chatted for a while until I volunteered to get some more sodas and some chips for all of us.

“How can you handle all that,” Marianne asked. Then, to show her I held up my hands. Each of mine made three of hers. They laughed as I turned and walked toward the canteen, returning a few minutes later with four cans of Coke in one hand and two bowls—one of potato chips and another with pretzels in the other. Barbara took the bowls so I could distribute the Coke cans. As a surprise I then removed four cups—two in each of my suit’s pockets, then pouring ice cubes from one to the other. In a minute we all had Coke on ice. The girls all laughed as Marianne asked, “Is there no limit to what you can do?” I assured them that I had plenty of limitations. They laughed again when Barbara agreed.

They were from a high school on Cape Cod and had been close friends there. Now they were roommates at Lesley. We left around eleven when the music stopped and most of the kids had decided to return to their dorms. We were in the car when Barbara asked what I thought of her friends. “They seem to be nice girls.”

Barbara elbowed me and laughed. “You know very well that’s not what I meant.”

“Okay, Marianne looks like the girl next door. Darla is something else. I’d give her a tumble myself if I wasn’t madly in love with you.”

“What’s the expression guys use?”

“Built like a brick shithouse?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. I wouldn’t mind having her boobs.”

“Umm…I don’t think so. They look great now, but in thirty years….”

“Maybe you’re right.” She had just finished when I pulled into the driveway. I was only a little surprised to see Kelly run up to the gate followed by Ginny, the twelve year-old daughter of one of our neighbors. Knowing that we might be late on occasion I had hired her to put Kelly out when she got home from school and even feed her if we were stuck at school late. She loved Kelly and the feeling appeared to be mutual.

“Hi, Ginny—up late tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yes Jack, but I’m not going in until noon. I have an appointment with my dentist at ten tomorrow morning.” Barbara and I thanked her and she walked out the gate as we walked in. Kelly always had the same reaction when one or both of us came home—a tail wagging, tongue licking welcome.

I was still petting Kelly when Barbara and I walked into the bedroom. I’d been reluctant to go to the mixer, but overall it had been fun and worthwhile. I just hoped I wouldn’t have to repeat my actions with another asshole tomorrow. We hung up our good clothes and threw the rest into the hamper. A minute later we stood together under the hot spray of our shower. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you about Darla. Not surprisingly she had a steady boyfriend in high school—star quarterback, of course.”

“Of course! Why am I not surprised?”

“Well, she thought it was true love right up until he tried to pimp her out to a couple of his buddies.”

“You have got to be kidding. Why would anybody want to do that? I hope she dumped him like last week’s garbage.”

“Oh, yeah—immediately; turns out he was broke and his pals promised him a hundred bucks each if they could fuck her. She’s really scared of getting involved with some stranger here. I hope I can help her. A decent social life is one of the best things about being in college.”

“So says my Catholic school wife.” Barbara looked up at me, the spray bouncing off her nose. Then she laughed and kissed me.

“I have a great social life every single day, don’t I?” I didn’t have to say a word. I pulled her into my arms and our lips met in an expression of our total love for each other. Our tongues dueled as she directed my hands to her inner thighs. Seconds later she was up, back against the wall, my rock hard cock drilling her sopping pussy. Oh yeah, we had a phenomenal social life.


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There was a mob of people at the Harvard mixer the following night, and there were a few who either tried to cut in while we were dancing or who asked Barbara while we were seated. She was polite, but firm when she replied. “Thank you, but as you can see we are married so my answer has to be no.” She stayed with me when I went for sodas and chips and, even though we’d had a good time, we left around 10:30, Kelly greeted us again, but without her buddy, Ginny, this time. We’d left her in the back yard with a bowl of water and the dog house I’d built in case of rain.

Barbara was laughing as we walked Kelly into the kitchen. “What’s so funny, Mrs. French?”

“I was just thinking of all the opportunities I missed by going to a girls’ school, but actually that did turn out pretty well, didn’t it?” I agreed mightily, pulling Barbara into a long lingering kiss. “C’mon, Jack—blowing off all those guys has given me an idea.” I laughed and Barbara soon joined me.

And so we began our college careers. Barbara was majoring in Business Management while I was studying Finance with a minor that turned out to be a second major in Business Administration. We were taking some of the same courses and even using the same text books so it made sense to work together. We spent at least an hour every day, alternating between meeting in the Lesley and Harvard libraries, and it paid tremendous benefits to Barbara. I had a straight-A average when we went home for Thanksgiving while Barbara was running a strong B+ to A-. We had a great three days with my family, but, truthfully, I thought that Carole was more interested in seeing Kelly than she was her brother. We did spend one day driving out to see the progress on our new home.

We returned three weeks later for Christmas, our trunk filled with suitcases, Kelly’s bed, and presents for my family and the Gleason’s. I was looking forward to seeing my best friend, Eli. He came over to the house three days before Christmas. After hugging Big C we walked into our room at the rear of the house. I wanted to know how he’d done at football. “Hard; it was really hard—a lot of work from the minute I showed up and it’s not going to change much through the end of the year. They expect me to work out in the weight room for an hour every day and I have to do fitness and quickness drills, too. How’re things at Harvard?”

“Well…they’re not that intense. I took Barbara with me to the gym about twice a week during the summer. It might have been more if we hadn’t been painting the interior of our house. Once school began I kept pretty busy with my studies, but I still found the time to work out a couple times a week. Barbara and I did a lot of running with our dog, too.

“I’m sure you understand that Harvard doesn’t have midnight practice in front of thousands of rabid fans. Most of our practices there’s nobody in the stands, although we did have a couple of hundred when we scrimmaged the varsity.”

“I think I would have enjoyed that.”

“It was a real rout, Eli,” Barbara added. “Jack was all over the floor—shooting, passing, rebounding, and leading the fast break. You should have seen it.”

Eli laughed and I joined him. I knew exactly what he was going to say. “I think I have, Barbara, for the past five years.”

“Yeah, but I had to have a few harsh words with the coach who wanted me to stay in the low post.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I wish. Can you believe—he knew nothing about my high school career until I told him I was the best shooter, passer, rebounder, and defensive player he had. I told him to check with the AD and apparently he did, because the next day he had me all over the court. We’ve had three games so far and we’ve won them all, but we’ll have our share of problems come January.”

Christmas day was a lot of fun and we did attend Midnight Mass rather than cause a commotion. We even received Communion, but I couldn’t wait to get out of the church hall. We had maintained contact with Lt. Flanagan who had been promoted to captain. Using the list the police had taken statements from hundreds of women who had been abused. In many cases the statute of limitations had passed. However, there were still plenty of allegations against the two nuns and their ignoble leader—Msgr. Moran.

Statements from other nuns as well as the lay teachers meant that prison time was a certainty. Capt. Flanagan told us that a plea bargain was likely as both the District Attorney and the Cardinal—the local leader of the Catholic Church—wanted to limit the negative publicity as much as possible. Both sides just wanted the whole nasty mess to go away. However he also told us that the negotiations were proceeding very slowly.

We also spoke at length with Mr. Silverman. “For some stupid reason they think this is just going to go away, Jack,” he told us. “But they’re whistling in the dark. This has nothing to do with the criminal charges. I’m having at least one press conference every week and I see no reason to stop until we have a settlement or the case goes to court. They’ve thrown a few roadblocks up to keep us out of court, but public opinion is forcing the judge to act even if he is a devout Roman Catholic. Once I start my case he’ll act because he IS a Roman Catholic. I already had more than 100 women deposed and I still have to do Barbara, our star witness.”

I looked to Barbara. We both knew this day was coming and we had discussed it numerous times. I hated that Barbara would have to relive that horrible day, but she had repeatedly told me it was something she absolutely had to do. We set it up for the following afternoon.

Slowly and skillfully, Stan Silverman took Barbara through the day starting when the girls reacted to her ring to her decision to ask for it back. I could hardly breathe as she described how she was beaten and whipped. Finally, after almost two hours she was done. Stan thanked her and asked if we could return tomorrow afternoon to review the sworn statement and sign. Barbara was obviously drained as I led her out to the car. I put her into bed for a nap once we were home with my parents.


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I did very well in all my courses, but especially in Accounting 1. Unlike some of the huge lecture courses the professor asked for and expected her students to participate actively in class. It seemed that I either answered a question or contributed an opinion in every session and I was viewed as a leader by my fellow students. Then, in the first week of October, we had our first hour exam, receiving our corrected test papers in the following class.

I was approached by one of the other students as I left class. He introduced himself as Justin Akers and wanted to know if we could set up a study group. He explained that he’d received a 79 on the test and was sure that I’d done better. I did, scoring a perfect grade of 100. When he asked what dorm I was in I commented that I was a commuter. “You’re can’t be a local. You sound more like a New Yorker.”

“Yeah, I am, but I’m married and I live now in Somerville about ten minutes away.” We spoke for about ten minutes and I learned that he was from Smithtown about fifteen miles from my parents’ bungalow and what would soon be our house. We did set up a study group, but the five of us—three guys and two girls—met in a room in the library Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons instead of a dorm. Our first meeting was interrupted when Barbara walked in. One of the girls started to tell her we were in a private group until I stopped her and introduced Barbara as my wife who was also taking accounting at Lesley. Barbara and I had the group to our house weekends before big tests. These sessions helped Barbara as much as they did the rest of us.

We’d been meeting about two weeks when Barbara asked how I would feel about setting up a blind date between Justin and Darla. “She’s really feeling lonely and so far the only guys she’s attracted have been real jerks. They take one look at her body and try immediately to grab her and worse. One of her dates actually pulled his cock out in the movie theater and wanted her to give him a blow job.”

“Well…every guy wants a blow job, even me.”

Barbara gave me a look that I’d come to dread. “That’s not funny, Jack. So, what do you think?” I told her I’d give it a try and we spent a few minutes deciding on what kind of date we should propose. I saw Justin right after accounting class Monday morning.

“Justin…got a minute?” I continued when he said he did. “What are you doing Saturday night? Are you seeing anyone?”

“No, I’ve had a few dates, but nothing serious, why?”

“Barbara has this friend she’d like you to meet.”

“Let me guess—she has a great personality.”

“Actually, she does, but she’s definitely not a dog. If anything I’d give her a ten, maybe even higher. She’s a really good looking brunette with a killer body. It’s her body that’s the problem. She’s had plenty of dating opportunities, but every guy immediately tries grabbing her tits and ass. I know for a fact that she’s not a virgin….” And then I told him about her ex-boyfriend from high school. “She’s a great person and down the road you’d probably be able to score with her. You’d just have to be patient.” Then I explained what Barbara and I were thinking in terms of the date and he agreed. I told him I’d pick him up at his dorm at 5:30 Saturday afternoon.

Five minutes after getting him I pulled up and parked in front of Darla’s dorm at Lesley. The three of us walked into the lobby and Barbara told the girl at the desk that we were there for Darla D’Angelo. I swear, I thought that Justin’s eyes would jump out of his head when Darla walked down the stairs dressed in a tight off-white top and even tighter navy blue slacks. Barbara made the introduction. Darla greeted Justin then hugged Barbara and me. Two minutes later we were in the Olds on our way down Mass. Ave. into Boston. We were headed for the same seafood restaurant that Barbara and I had gone to back at Easter. Lobster is a sloppy meal, but Barbara and I weren’t out to impress anyone. Justin ordered grilled scallops and Darla asked for deep fried calamari.

We talked about school—three business majors and one studying elementary education. I was surprised when told about everything Darla would have to learn just to teach young children. She told us that she couldn’t wait for her student teaching experience during her senior year. Lesley arranged for teaching assistant opportunities one day a week and Darla told us how much she enjoyed working with her second grade class. I could see her enthusiasm. Justin hung on every word.

We enjoyed our salads and the dinners were excellent. Darla exclaimed her pleasure with the calamari, sharing a piece with Justin who returned the favor with a scallop. Barbara and I made good use of our lobster bibs, laughing at each other with our faces covered with butter sauce. We had a great time, leaving around 7:15 for a movie back in Cambridge.

That was the beginning of Justin’s relationship with Darla and our close friendship with the couple. We had them to dinner several times and we went to several dances and parties with them as well. Both Barbara and Darla were subjects of keen attention from many of the males present. My physical size no doubt deterred at least some of the boys from hitting on my wife, but Justin was only five feet ten and was lucky to tilt the scales at 160 pounds.

Boys may have shown their interest, but Darla was deaf and blind to their charms. Her answer was the same every time—I’m flattered, but I only dance with my boyfriend. Once when a frustrated suitor threatened to beat Justin up she told him that would never work. “Just what I always wanted—a dumb oaf whose hands are bigger than his brain.” Then she took Justin by the hand and led him away, kissing him hotly once they were beyond arm’s length from the idiot.

We had more than two weeks off for the holiday break, but we had a lot to do at home so we planned to combine two important tasks into one long day. Tuesday night I told Mom that we’d be away all day. “Don’t expect us for dinner. I don’t know what will happen with Justin’s family.” The following morning--Wednesday, December 27, 1961—we were up early, around six, for our drive out to the bungalow. We had agreed to check on it while we also checked on our house’s progress.

The bungalow looked exactly as we had left it with the exception of the dead field mouse that I removed and dumped out in the woods. After closing the bungalow we walked across the street and down the gentle hill to look at our new house in progress. We walked through the poured concrete basement and garage and up into the house itself. The house was framed with plywood on the outer walls and roof which looked to be half completed. Mark met us there to explain how the construction was proceeding. He expected the roof to be completed that week and once that was done real progress inside would follow. Barbara and I met with the plumber to select fixtures and faucet sets for the bathrooms and kitchen. Next was tile for both areas and, finally, the electrician for lighting fixtures throughout the house. We had already specified the windows and doors as well as the shingles for the roof.

Leaving at noon gave us time for a quick lunch at a hot dog wagon on our way to Smithtown where we would meet with Justin and his parents. He had explained that he was a late life surprise for his parents. His three sisters were twenty, twenty-two, and twenty-five years older. Some of their children—his nieces and nephews—were actually older than he was. His parents were in their sixties so we were not at all surprised when a silver-haired woman answered the door. “Hello…you must be Jack and Barbara. I’m Gloria, Justin’s mother. Please come in.” She hugged me and then Barbara before leading us to the palatial living room. “I’ll let Martin know that you’re here. Justin is out picking up our dry cleaning. He should be home soon. Here, let me take your coats.” She opened a closet and hung them.

I met Justin’s dad a few minutes later and then, in what I thought was a well planned and executed maneuver, Mrs. Akers took Barbara for a tour of the house while Mr. Akers showed me to his study, closing the door behind us. “I don’t believe in beating around the bush, Jack. Justin’s mother and I are extremely concerned about his relationship with this….”

“You mean, Darla?”

“Yes, he is obviously infatuated with her. She’s all he talks about. It has to end. I can see no good coming fr0m this relationship.”

“Well, if you’re looking to me or Barbara for help you’re barking up the wrong tree. Darla is the best thing to happen to Justin, probably ever. We’re in a study group for accounting. Before meeting her Justin would be best described as an uninspired student. He was earning C’s mostly and occasionally a B-. Since meeting Darla he’s been getting mostly A’s. And, in case you think the feelings are one way, you’re dead wrong. Darla is Barbara’s best friend so we’ve been to parties and dances together. She could have her pick of guys, but she shoots all of them down for Justin. I know for a fact that they’ve seen each other every single day since we set them up on a blind date back in October and Darla sees to it that he studies his ass off.”

“Well…I just don’t want to see him knocking her kind up and having to get married.”

“I think what you’re trying to say is that you don’t want him to get involved with an Italian even though she’s Catholic just like Justin. Physically she has movie star beauty, but she’s even more on the inside. If not for my wife I’d be thrilled to have someone even close to her, but she only has eyes for Justin. I think that I need to tell you a few things about me so you’ll understand better.” I began by moving his paperweight across the room into my hand and then back. I told him about being struck and how my brain was changed and, after about ten minutes, I told him about my flashes.

“Have you had any about Justin?”

“I have and you’re going to be very proud of him. He’s going to be a wizard of Wall Street.”

He was almost sheepish when he asked, “What about…?”

“Oh yeah--she’ll be by his side every step of the way. You know what they say about, ‘behind every successful man….’ Darla’s studying elementary education. There’s a lot more to it than you might think. She’s going to be an incredible wife and an even better mother.”

“Wall Street! I was hoping he’d take over my dealership. I own a very successful Buick-Cadillac dealership here in Smithtown.”

We spoke for another ten minutes before we heard Justin and Barbara greeting each other outside. Mr. Akers thanked me for my insights and we went to join them. We talked about our new house and Mr. Akers asked how we could afford it. Barbara laughed as I tried to explain. That was Mr. Akers’ cue to find Newsday, Long Island’s newspaper. He explained that he liked to bet. “Nothing serious, you understand. I use this bookie I know.”

“What would happen if you had a really good day and by that I do mean really good?”

“Nothing, as long as it was only one.” Barbara and I laughed then I took the paper from his hands and marked my choices in pencil.

“Just don’t get greedy. Bet two bucks at first and not more than ten on the exacta. Then you can take Mrs. Akers on that trip to Hawaii she’s wanted for years. You’ll be able to afford it.” A few minutes later we heard him on the phone making his bets for tomorrow at Hialeah in Florida. Barbara and I stayed for dinner—delicious prime rib roast with potatoes baked in kosher salt—leaving around ten for the hour-long ride home.


>>>>>>

We returned to Somerville two days later even though classes wouldn’t begin for more than a week. I had to attend a few basketball sessions—nothing formal, but still something I had to do to keep myself sharp for the games in January and February. In addition to Ivy League games we also played most of the universities in the Boston Area. That meant Northeastern, Boston U., MIT, Tufts, and Boston College. Of those I felt that we could easily handle all except B.C.

Of course, I had forgotten who I was playing with. Most of our players were decent—better than average--high school varsity types, but not All-County, and definitely not All-State or higher. I played my butt off every game just as I did in high school, but without the same results. For Harvard students their judgment with the ball was sometimes disastrous. Other than committing too many fouls there is nothing that ruins a game faster than turnovers. Some of my teammates acted as though the ball was contagious. They passed recklessly and fumbled too many passes out of bounds. Our records—freshman and varsity suffered greatly as a result. We lost more games during the first week back in class than I had in five years of high school. Unfortunately, my experiences in baseball followed the same pattern. I played well, but we still lost many more games than we won.

My last year of competition came while I was a grad student at Harvard Business School. Barbara and I had taken additional courses every summer, picking up almost an entire semester’s work over the two summer sessions. Thus we were able to graduate in only three years. I had applied to a few outstanding business schools in addition to Harvard where I actually enrolled while I finished the final two courses for my Bachelor’s degree.

Our house on the bluff in Shoreham was finished by June of our freshman year and we spent the first half of the summer furnishing it. We were rarely there with our busy times at school, but we knew it would get plenty of use once we had graduated. I never expressed any interest in playing in the NBA even though I knew that I was good enough. I had something else in mind.

Mr. Akers had phoned me about a year after our initial meeting with a business proposition. His health was failing and he wanted out of the automotive business. Justin had never shown interest in anything other than Wall Street. I agreed to buy the dealership once I had graduated with my MBA but first I had to deal with a little problem Mr. Akers was having—he was sure that someone was stealing from him.

One of the final courses I’d had as an undergrad was Forensic Accounting. I’d thought at the time that it was one of the more interesting and challenging courses I’d taken. Before taking full control of the business I had to do a little research and the only time I could do that was on Sunday when the dealership was closed. Barbara and I drove and ferried to Long Island four Saturdays in a row, staying at our house overnight before driving to Smithtown early Sunday morning. I had the key to the back door and the alarm code as I began my work. I checked through purchase orders for the past three ye