Filling In For Beth Part 9 free porn video

Thank you everyone who has taken the time to write a review. I apologize for the slow pace. When I got on board this ride I was confident it might last four or five chapters at most and half of that was already written. Anyway, that's how it's coming out and it ain't getting any faster but I do have a plan and about half another chapter roughed out. Filling in for Beth - part 9 As a way of saying 'thank you', I treated Taylor to a coffee and pastry on her break at the grocery store. It was a small thing but back then it felt a little weird spending Tom's money on a gift for someone he didn't even know, so it came out of the grocery budget. We'd just settled into plastic chairs outside when a phone chimed. We both rummaged in our purses. Taylor won. "Hi honey," she said in a high, happy voice. "Uh huh. Yes. Well Morgan is here and she already bought me coffee." She paused to listen and I felt guilty. She smiled at me reassuringly. Her tooth was missing. "No. Of course," she said. She clicked the phone shut, stood up and put a hand on my arm. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere," she said. She hurried into the building. Even the loose jeans and long smock couldn't hide her shapely behind. A cool breeze ruffle my hair. There is always a light sweater in my huge, overstuffed purse for that very reason and I pulled it on over my T-shirt. It covered my arms but no matter how it draped in front there was no way to avoid drawing attention there. Taylor returned transformed. The smock was gone, her hair was down, she'd applied a coat of red lipstick and her work shirt was unbuttoned far lower than necessary. Was this a meeting with a secret lover? Should I leave? She settled in her seat and crossed her legs with a happy flush. Her hair practically bounced. "Ummm, should I go?" I asked tentatively. "No. What are you talking about?" she asked like I was crazy. Then I spotted her over-tall husband, rising from between two cars. He fixed his gaze on us and lumbered forward oblivious to all else. We was wearing a neatly pressed white dress shirt, buttoned to the neck, impossibly long slacks and expensive looking lace up leather shoes, brown. Judging from Tom's feet, a size 13, I would guess Taylor's husband wears a size 16 shoe. They were like flippers. As he loomed closer Taylor sprang to her feet. He held out a small brown bag. "I brought your lunch," he rumbled shyly. Taylor took the bag between manicured fingers, lowered her arms and stepped close to the man. He towered over her. Her breasts touched his stomach, she lifted up on her toes and looked up at him, waiting patiently for something. The whole thing looked rehearsed, like they'd done this a million times before. He placed one hand gently behind her head then bent and twisted until their mouths met. Taylor appeared to be falling forward, leaning against his trunk. He broke the kiss and stood up tall again. Taylor subsided and stepped back with a satisfied smile, like she'd stolen something. "Thank you, sweetheart," she said brightly. For a moment she looked 16 years old. "I'll see you tonight." He turned and lumbered away, his hands weaving something in the air. Taylor settled into her chair, crossed her legs and began tying her hair up. I could see creamy white skin inside her shirt. "He doesn't like me working here, so he brings a bag lunch to save money. Isn't that adorable?" "He's very tall," I said stupidly. Their relationship still didn't make sense to me. Taylor fastened two buttons, stood up and pulled the smock over her head. She shivered her shoulders to get it to settle. Thankfully she didn't remove the tooth. "I picked the tallest and smartest one I could find," she said, sitting down and recrossing her legs, "and I'm not letting him go. So don't get any ideas!" It sounded like an old joke so I smiled and nodded. The guy wasn't rich, clearly, and not very friendly either, so I wasn't really seeing the attraction, especially for someone as sexy as Taylor. I had to ask. "Umm, I'm not sure I caught what your husband does?" She studied me for a moment, like I might be joking, then she laughed. "That's OK. I don't suppose he's as famous as your Coach Hannover, not around here anyway. Jim's head of the physics department," she said, as if everyone should know the department heads. "So he's a physicist?" I blurted out. "Jim is more like the coach of all the other physicists. Or would you call him the quarterback? I don't know much about football." Of course I was dying to ask how he ended up married to someone like Taylor but she would probably be offended by the question and I wasn't going to try to defend or explain football, which suddenly sounded more lame than ever, so we sipped coffee silently for a minute. She left bright, fresh red prints on the paper cup, I left faint hints of a more neutral shade. She leaned away and studied me. "So how's your tall, handsome employer?" she asked bluntly, emphasizing the last word. "Did Nadine's magic do its work?" "Well, it's not like that," I explained. "That's all for the girls. You see, I have to learn about all this stuff, and, well ..." Not for the first time I wondered what Taylor guessed about my situation. She had a crooked, friendly, unbelieving smile that I really, really wanted to trust. "He liked it," I grudgingly admitted. "He said I looked 'incredible.'" The word sounded a lot less incredible when I said it out loud like that. It made Tom sound kind of lame actually but I couldn't tell her about his room and what he said there. She needed to be distracted from the subject of Tom anyway. "His buddy, Reggie, came over for dinner and he said I'm beautiful. And Rachael said I'm gorgeous and her opinion is what's important," I told her firmly. "And a lady in the parking lot said she liked my hair, right out of the blue! So I think I'm going to be seeing Nadine on a regular basis." She sipped her coffee with a satisfied smile and listened to me babble about my visits to Nadine's salon for a while. It was glorious to have someone to share the experiences with, someone who thought such experiences were normal or even essential. She didn't explicitly mention Tom again, so why did I feel like I was hiding something? Taylor's break was over too soon. She gathered her things to return to work while I finally got around to actually thanking her for setting up those first appointments with Nadine. She paused and studied me seriously for a moment. "If you want something you have to take it," She said. She stepped close, brushed back my hair and adjusted the drape on my sweater, the same way I fix Rachael's sometimes. "They don't know what they want unless you tell them." She turned and left. Was she talking about young girls or something else? + "Can we sit by ourselves?" Rachael asked loudly. The theater was dark and Tom was in the way so she couldn't see my angry glare even if she wasn't ignoring me. Susan hopped in place and clapped her hands. "Yes. Sit by ourselves," she muttered, words placed there by her older sister, obviously. I was being set up. Rachael scurried down the row and plopped into a seat and Susan followed. Tom blocked the way, there were people watching and I didn't want to yell in the theater. He took my arm and leaned close. "Come on. We can sit a couple of rows back and they'll never know." The screen illuminated their happy, eager faces. The area looked safe. He led me up the steps and down a row until we were directly behind the girls, then he settled into the seat next to me, immediately hogging the armrest. Usually the girls sit between us and I can relax. He loomed sideways until our shoulders touched. "Relax," he said in a coaxing tone. "They're right there." All we could see was the tops of their heads and their feet on the seat backs. I itched to say something about that and leaned forward. Tom's heavy arm plopped across my back and gripped my shoulder, holding me in place exactly like in his room. "Relax," he said again. Unlike in his room, I pushed the hand away. "You're not helping," I hissed, crossing my arms under my boobs and leaning away from him. His stupid face grinned at the screen like he couldn't hear me and the arm only retreated to the back of the seat where it would touch my hair sometimes. The issue of the armrest was resolved at least. We were half way through the movie, at the part where the girl finds out that the boy is alive and he still loves her. The music soared and it was impossible to not shed a tear. Rachael handed Susan a tissue then she honked loudly into one of her own. I bent to fish a fresh pack out of my purse on the floor, just in case. When I sat up it was like he was waiting for me. The arm plopped on my back and his hand slid under my hair and cradled my neck. His face suddenly blotted out the screen. I was still dabbing my nose with a damp tissue! There was only a moment to snatch my hand away and brace myself. He leaned close then stopped and waited. The music soared even higher, his aftershave overwhelmed my perfume and I just did what seemed right, what he was obviously waiting for. I kissed him. His lips were wet and firm, like he was ready. He immediately pressed in, mashing our lips together, then he opened and I followed, as trained in his room. Then, weirdly, just went I expected him to push his way in, he got all gentle. His tongue teased my lips, waiting for me to meet him half way, we danced for a moment like that then he took my lower lip in his teeth, pulled slightly and released. He backed away. His face was very dark and I couldn't make out his expression. Two rows in front of us, Rachael was looking straight at us, fingers curled over the seat back. She was crying! "I need more tissues!" she said in a sniffling stage whisper. I blinked and came awake. My lips were wet. The tissues were in my hand. I pulled one out for myself and leaned forward to hand her the pack. When I sat back, Tom was enjoying the movie as if nothing happened, shoveling a handful of popcorn in the same mouth that just kissed me. To me, that would always be our first real kiss. The music was soaring, we were in a public place, sort of, away from Beth's ghost anyway, and the way he waited for me was sweet. Plus, he tasted like buttered popcorn. + He caught me in the kitchen a couple of nights later, up to my elbows in dirty dishes. He loomed in close, reaching for something on the top shelf allegedly. He settled close enough to touch and appeared to be looking down the V neck of my sweatshirt. Then he just leaned in and kissed me again, just like at the theater. He cradled my neck and we made out like teenagers for a few moments. He was eager but gentle and what could I do? My hands were wet and soapy. He stepped back and studied me. I wanted to dry my hands but he was in the way of the towel and I didn't want slog around him like a damp zombie, so I guess I'm the one who broke the mood. "Could you hand me the towel, please?" I asked, keeping my voice upbeat. He watched me dry my hands with a crocked smile. I really wanted to fix my hair and lips, but there was no chance of that. I pulled off my headband and shook out my hair. Bangs fell in my eyes. He chuckled, because I probably looked stupid, then he suddenly gripped my face in both hands and delivered a quick, resolute kiss. The kind of kiss the girls see at bedtime. I held his upper arms for balance. "Good night," he said cheerily, then he was gone in a few strides. Was he expecting me to follow him to his room, so he could undress me? My hair was a mess and many parts hadn't been shaved in two days. No makeup, or not much anyway and certainly not Nadine quality. My underwear was all wrong too and, I mean, I was wearing sweatpants! What was he even thinking? I finished the dishes and went to bed, disturbed. The next night I was more prepared, shaved and partly made up, wearing pantyhose and a dress. He came home some time after midnight, long after I'd gone to bed. In the morning he kissed the girls on the top of their heads, patted me on the arm and tried to leave with a plate of food in his hands. He patted me on the arm! I chased him into the living room. "Hold on a minute." "I don't want to talk about our relationship right now," he said, turning on me with the exaggerated weariness of a 10 year old girl asked to clean her room. It was kind of adorable. "Well, now I know what's occupying your mind but, that's not what I want to ask." "I'm in a hurry," he said, taking the moment to shovel in a mouthful of eggs. I stepped closer and straightened his tie slowly, being a bit of a jerk myself, like him, and also hoping he would read my mind. My hair was brushed, I was wearing lipstick and a button had somehow come undone on the tight blouse I'd just thrown on this morning. "What do you think about a 'dress-up' day this weekend?" I asked him, casually smoothing the silk tie down his chest. My hand was a foot from his pants and he didn't flinch. I licked my lips and looked up. Could my meaning be any more clear? "Well, I was thinking of having a couple of the guys over on Saturday. Why not do it then?" he asked cheerily. "In fact, that would be perfect. I'll fire up the grill!" He stepped away, aimed a finger like a gun and fired a couple of rounds. What does that mean? Was this some kind of test? "What guys?" I mumbled. "You know, work guys. The girls know them. You've met Reggie. Don't worry about it. Do the dress-up thing and we'll shoot for say 3 o'clock?" He was practically running out the door. He waved over my head. "Bye girls!" They were both in the kitchen doorway watching us. Rachael bounced in place, clapping. Susan jammed her finger in her mouth and turned away. She should wear something other than jeans this time. Then there's Rachael's clothes to pick out and the food to prepare. Cool air touched my chest and I couldn't help picturing Reggie's smiling face. What would he say if I wore a low-cut blouse? Later, I undid another button and stopped in front of the hall mirror. Tom called them 'magnificent.' I pulled the shirt open until my bra was visible and imagined Reggie's face. Rachael's locket looked tiny in the crease of my breasts. My chest was very pale and blotchy and the bra didn't have much lift but yeah, I remembered when they would have been mesmerizing, back when I could only look at such things in quick glances and wonder what lay inside. Tom said 'a couple of friends'. Could I show that much skin with a stranger in the house? I redid the buttons. It's just warmer that way. + Taylor doesn't work at the grocery store on Thursdays. There was a new clerk on register 6 when I came in. The produce section was busy so I loaded the cart with meat and beer first. It took several passes before the produce area was empty. They sell three kinds of cucumbers: the short, perky little things with odd bumps that I could never imagine between Tom's legs, the long hot house beauties, individually wrapped in plastic, and the normal waxy ones, thick and heavy in my hand, like a cold club. I checked the area again, empty, then selected samples of the latter two types that appeared to be, umm, healthy and proportionate. With everything else in the cart, the new clerk didn't bat an eye. Let's just say that eight or nine inches is a lot longer than one thinks. I didn't gag but even the thinner one was a mouthful so that I couldn't help scrapping the tender green flesh with my teeth and I know how unpleasant that feels. While I practiced, I cursed myself for failing to pay attention all these years. It had dangled there in front of me a hundred times and I'd looked away. + "So what's this Reggie look like? Is he as tall as your coach?" Tammy asked, concentrating on my cuticles to avoid Nadine's eye. She doesn't usually approve of such personal questions. Nadine pursed her lips and pulled my hair back past my ears. She'd barely trimmed my over-long bangs before pinning them back with a wide clip. My forehead looked huge and oily. "Her boyfriend is black," Nadine said quietly, explaining or excusing Tammy's question. Her hair was dark today, with a lovely bluish tint to the edges on the sides and back. Her beautiful eyes, shadowed in matching blue, studied my head. The pursed lips were for me and the condition of my hair. Tammy looked up hopefully, expecting an answer. I pictured Tom and Reggie standing side by side. "They're about the some height and they have the same, you know," I lifted my arms under the drape and hunched, "the same big muscles and all." Tammy's grinned broadened and her magenta eyebrows writhed on her pinkish face, such a contrast to Reggie's chocolate brown skin and black brows. She waited eagerly. "He's really nice," I added. Tammy waited for more and I realized Nadine was waiting too, holding my hair back and watching my face expectantly. Without makeup I looked like pale and plain and my upper lip glistened wetly like a ghostly mustache from the salve Tammy applied after she waxed. The most beautiful woman ever stood beside me, waiting for my next words. They had to be truthful. "He's really good looking, especially when he smiles," I finally admitted, smiling myself at the memory of his white teeth. The girls nodded in agreement, satisfied with that answer, and returned to their work. I couldn't help building on my success. "He even winked at me and said I was beautiful. But that was probably your makeup, Nadine." She smiled at that, making my heart leap. She pinned my hair back, exposing my ears and neck. Her cool fingers touched my forehead then my neck, planning how to make me beautiful again. Tammy positioned my hand and shook a bottle of blue/lavender polish. I couldn't have moved, even if I wanted to. "You have pretty ears. So let's show then off. In fact, let's show him your whole face," Nadine said, as if I'd been hiding all this time. My ears burned red for a moment (Who thinks about pretty ears?) but she pretended not to notice as she wiped my face clean. She was wearing big hoops that bumped her neck when she tilted her head to inspect her work. What would that feel like? A 'day time' look is what she called it. The woman in the mirror looked fresh and clean, at least from a few feet away, with hints of blue around the eyes and long, natural eyelashes. But she looked oddly surprised too, at least to me, because of the way my bangs were pinned back. "You'll get used to it," Nadine said, handing me the receipt out in the waiting room. "You have a lovely forehead, you should show it off." Ears and foreheads? Who thinks about those parts of your body? I'd been hiding them for months, more or less, and now they're attributes to show off? The woman in the mirror looked more surprised than ever but her ears were cute enough with the tiny studs I wore, mainly to keep the holes open, and the formerly oily forehead looked smooth and young from hairline to absurdly thin brow. Is that really me? "Thank you," I said, fighting to not blush. For a moment I was in love and wanted to kiss her on the lips but the glass counter was in the way. "What would I do without you?" I asked instead. "That's what we're all here for," she said cheerily. She waved behind me. Tammy's face grinned through the curtain, breaking the spell. + ""We should go to the beach when it gets warm enough. I mean, we're all pale now, right?" Rachael asked from her perch on Tom's bed. She'd smoothed her skirt underneath to prevent wrinkles, my main concern as well as hers. Her back was straight and her legs dangled over the side. Blue sandals with a two inch cork wedge heel almost touched the floor. If she found anything odd about the perfect view her father would enjoyed whenever we were in here together she didn't say anything. We were fully dressed of course, which wouldn't be the case if Tom and I were here alone, but I knew she could see my chest clearly framed in the mirror. All it took was two buttons and my bra was almost visible. Up close my breasts were dry, white dunes, shades lighter than my face, there were random freckles scattered about and even blue lines under the skin that made me appear sickly. "Mom used concealer with sunscreen on her breasts. I saw her," she said. She lifted her head high and simulated her mother smoothing on makeup. Her fingers traveled lightly over her long, pretty neck and stroked her chest, down to the second button, too low for my taste but I held my tongue. It was there on the vanity. The bottle appeared unopened, which explained why I hadn't pitched it yet, and the shade was good, if a little dark. I must have been very dark on Beth. I applied a little down my neck, blending with the area under my chin that Nadine had already covered. The color certainly looked better and it also helped hide the small but noticeable lump in my throat. I took off my locket, got out a fresh makeup sponge and started dabbing. It would have been easy to overdo the color but, with Rachael's help, I think we found the right balance. Both our chests, what was visible anyway, were young and smooth with a just a hint of honey brown, like maybe we'd been out in the sun recently. It took time to cover everything down to my bra line but the random freckles were subdued and the sickly blue lines were gone. I loved the way my breasts looked. What were Tom and Reggie going to think? I took out a stud and pushed the post of Beth's gold hoop earring in and flipped the clasp closed. I wiggled my head and the hoop danced and touched my neck. "That's pretty," Rachael said. "You need a bracelet." I didn't need any more encouragement and attached the other hoop. There were cheap faux-gold hoop bracelets in a side drawer that complimented, six of them so that they jingled sometimes, and a gold hair clip that covered the pins Nadine used to hold my bangs back. I sparkled with gold. Car doors opened and closed down below in the driveway. Perfect timing on my part really but I couldn't help wishing for more time. Or maybe a reprieve. "Go make sure your sister is ready, please. And come down stair immediately, please," I ordered confidently. Rachael I can depend upon. "And fix that button." She rolled her eyes as I left. + Four of them, Tom, Reggie and two other monsters, hopped to their feet the instant I rounded the corner and just stood there with their heads up, like gophers, or maybe a pride of lions with me as the appetizer. The fifth, Jason, the youngest of the pride at 23, leaned so close to the TV that he was oblivious to everything else. Reggie gave him a backhanded slap that caused him to sputter then jump to his feet. It was like a comedy show, except I was the one everyone was watching. "Umm, the girls will be down in a second," I said, delivering my message, ready to retreat to the kitchen. Tom said 'a couple of friends,' not four. "Everyone! This is Morgan. I've told you all about her," He announced loudly, like he was proud. The men all nodded and mumbled greetings. Tom introduced everyone while they watched me try not to fidget with my blouse. There was a lot of beef in my living room. The was no hiding with my hair pinned back and blouse wide open. Was my bra showing? Had I smudged my eyes? Ronnie was the largest, pale skinned with reddish hair everywhere. His eyelashes were nearly invisible. Milton was about Tom's height with even huger biceps and short, black hair that looked freshly styled. His expensive V-neck wool T-shirt strained to contain his muscles. "Geronimo!" Susan shouted, passing me at a run and vaulting over the sofa to take the middle seat, directly in front of the TV. Everyone's eyes shifted from me to her. She wore jeans and the team shirt, autographed, so I'd have to clean the stains by hand. Her hair was bound into twin braids with industrial strength ties. "And here's the girls. You all know Susan and Rachael," Tom shouted happily to the room. Rachael appeared at my side and took my right arm. She gave the room full of men a small wave and everyone waved back and mumbled again. We were wearing the matching, flared cotton skirts with a large heart pattern, the skirts we wore to the mall once, and long sleeved, button up, silk blouses, light blue for me, white for her. Her neckline, high and prim, made mine appear even more loose and open. "I told you they've grown," Reggie shouted, like he was taking responsibility for something. The men all nodded and muttered once more. I clung to Rachael for dear life. The big bowl of chips on the coffee table had already been reduced to a puddle of crumbs, they all needed drinks and there weren't enough burgers and potatoes for this many. We ran for the kitchen. Tom sashayed in soon after. "You said a couple of guys," I said, accusingly, dropping the bag of potatoes loudly in the sink for his edification. "Yeah. Reggie and a couple of the guys," He turned in place and shrugged. Rachael shrugged, like that was normal math. "Well, I didn't plan enough food, so uh, for future reference, 'a couple' means two. OK?" I was chagrined by the number and the size of the men in my house. It was like the worst days of high school, a party with his football buddies. "What are you talking about?" he asked. He and Rachael exchanged shrugs again. Were they mocking me somehow? "'A couple' means two!" I said waving two fingers. Why was I so irritated? Tom stepped close, took me by the upper arms, gave me his most infuriating 'indulgent parent' look and shifted me sideways bodily. His strength always surprises me. "I understand," he said. "A couple is two. Can I get a couple of beers?" He took three bottles from the refrigerator and strolled out the door. Ronnie came in with the chip bowl soon after, nodded a bashful greeting to me then waved a huge hand at Rachael. I busied myself filling the bowl while she threw her arms around his neck and laid her head on his chest like an old friend. "Hi, Ronnie," she said. "I haven't seen you in forever." "You look so grown up," he said. "I can't believe you used to ride around on my shoulders." One massive hand patted her back awkwardly. His smile threatened to split his face and his pale lashes fluttered like he might cry. I thrust out the chip bowl before he tried to pick her up or started blubbering or something. Rachael transferred the bowl to his hands and gently guided the mountainous man out, promising to sit beside him during the game. She'd just resumed her seat of the other side of the island when Milton walked in. It was like they were taking turns. Rachael didn't get up to greet him and he barely acknowledged her, a short nod and an appraising glance. "So you're Morgan huh? The Nanny!" He said, making it sound like some kind of accusation. "Or was it 'old high school friend?' I can't remember." He looked right at my boobs and took another step, blocking the space between stove and island. "Plus I heard somewhere that you were saving yourself for marriage, and you've got a fiance' somewhere. Is that right? I can't believe nobody has, ummm-" His eyes shifted to Rachael then quickly back to my chest. "You know." Unbelievable, right? Why would Tom invite such an asshole here? I looked right at his face and he didn't realize it because he was transfixed by my breasts. I could feel Rachael watching us. "I'm not sure what you mean but you're making me uncomfortable, Milton." Rather than retreat, I stood up straighter and braced myself. He took another step. The neck of his cashmere sweater sunk low, revealing a real tan and smoothly shaved skin. Giant pecs swelled like breasts and tiny nipples poked through the thin wool. For a fleeting moment I wondered what his hard muscles would feel like under the soft fabric, then he took another step closer. His face was confident. He wouldn't hit a girl, right? "I don't mean to make people uncomfortable. I'm just a big guy," he said to both of us, spreading his hands wide in helpless resignation while filling even more space. He cocked his head and looked me in the eye for the first time. "Do you want to call Tom in?" The asshole couldn't hold my eye because he couldn't help stealing another glance down my shirt. His aftershave was musky mixed with the weird team body wash. Every instinct told me to back up but there was no way I was retreating from this jerk in my own kitchen, not with Rachael watching. My hand found the mustard container on the counter. I gripped it and shook slightly, out of habit. Even small motions like that can cause unintended consequences. He leaned closer and smirked. Fine. I took a deep breath, more movement that seemed to please him, calmed my nerves and gave the container another, harder shake, mesmerizing him completely. Mustard sputtering onto the counter made him look away. He stepped back and the smirk turned angry. I positioned the container between us, at my crotch, like a big yellow penis and aimed. "No, I don't think we need Tom. Do we?" I asked. My voice broke a little but I don't think he noticed. All he could see was that mustard container aimed at his expensive slacks and $300 shoes. He retreated out of range. Hey! Don't get crazy!" he said. "Jeez, I can't ask a question? I just came in for a beer." He searched the room, like maybe we'd hidden the fridge, spotted it behind me then threw up his hands in defeat, the picture of innocence. All he wanted was a beer and his way was blocked by a crazy person! I withdrew around the island to join Rachael, still armed, the only sounds the swish of skirts and slow click of heels. We watched the big man enter my space, bend and search the fridge then lumber away. He paused at the door and saluted us with the bottle. It looked small in his hand "Thank you ladies," he said. Like he owned the place "Do you know that guy?" I asked Rachael when he was gone. "He works for Daddy. This season. But I've never been around him before." I quickly fastened a button. She spun in her seat and stared at me wide-eyed. "You were awesome. Let me do it!" She grabbed at the container but I got there first. We struggled. "Stop! That wasn't lady-like of me at all! And you'll get mus...." Mustard erupted in a yellow stream that landed all over the marble and on both our hands. That's when Reggie decided to walk in. They really were taking turns. It's not like I dressed up just for Reggie but it's true I was very curious about his reaction. He said I was beautiful after all, as well as some other nice compliments, and if I was going to wear a low cut blouse then, well, his opinion would be useful, right? "Is this a bad time?" He asked cheerily from the doorway. Rachael shouted, disengaged and made to run to him. "Stop! Look at your hand!" I shouted quickly. She lifted it, saw the mess and laughed. "Oops. Let me wash my hands," she said to Reggie. She skipped around the counter and started the faucet while I reached for the paper towels. I'd imagined my next meeting with Reggie a dozen times. Would he take my hand like before? Could he look at my eyes this time? None of those scenarios involved mustard. I just wanted to clean up and start over from scratch. "You look like twins," Reggie said casually. "Which one is which again?" The same cheesy, prepared lines I'd heard Tom use before. Really, they're stupid. I muttered a weak thank you anyway. And yet, I couldn't look at him for a minute after that, because I was blushing with happiness. Why would he bother to compliment me unless... right? Rachael either didn't hear what he said or she wasn't offend by the comparison. She ran at him and practically jumped into his arms and it was too late to find out more. Except that Rachael and I looked like twins. + "Your friend Milton is kind of a jerk," I said to Tom a couple of hours later. His look told me this wasn't news. "Milton is the best offensive line coach in the state. I didn't say we're friends." He looked over my shoulder at Rachael then back at me. "Why? Did something happen?" He didn't seem very concerned. He opened the refrigerator door, clutched three bottles with one hand and pushed the door closed smoothly with his elbow. The bottles rattled loudly. What should I say? I looked at Rachael for help and she shrugged her shoulders. When I turned back his eyes were locked on my shirt. They shot up quickly, guiltily. "I don't mind you doing that sometimes but Milton doesn't have that privilege. OK? How about that to start?" I took a deep breath and my breasts rose and fell, right there between us. He knitted his brow in mock confusion. I stamped my foot which, you know, only made the issue worse. "You know what I mean!" I said. "He was very rude about it! Even ruder than you." He searched everywhere except my face for the bottle opener, the one right there on the counter top. I grabbed it up and held it behind my back. "And he seems to have heard some very confusing stories about me as well." His shoulders slumped in defeat, raising another loud clatter from the bottles. He looked over his shoulder toward the living room and safety, then at Rachael then at me. "Yes, he's a little rough. He's new. Let's just say I'm 'socializing' him to the group right now, OK? You know what I mean, right Rach?" She nodded like she does when she knows it's pointless to argue. Her head sort of bobs around in a circle and Tom takes that as a yes. Tom shrugged helplessly. "I'm open to suggestions," he said. What did I want? Should he order Milton to avoid looking at my boobs? Yeah, right. Should he be bared from the house or should I keep the girls away from Tom's work? Maybe we shouldn't have people here at all. That certainly wasn't fair. "I don't know Tom. He just gave me the creeps. He needs to understand that I'm, we're, not, like interested. You know?" Rachael's head bob in a circle, agreeing with me. "And how to treat women too," I added. He set the bottles down carefully, one at a time, and jerked his head toward the sounds from the other room. His smile was every bit as white as Reggie's, only infuriating, like he had everything figured out and was indulging a child. "That's rather vague. But maybe I should clear up a few things," he said, sudden;t more serious. His hand was cold and hard around my wrist." He guided me before him into the crowded living room with that cold vice on my wrist. Half way there, something happened on the TV to cause two large men and a small blonde whirlwind to gasp and spring to their feet. A loud, long whistle blew and the room suddenly erupted in cheers. With Rachael crowding into the room behind, I ended up with my back to the TV with Tom's shoulder in my face, shades of high school parties all over again. "OK, everybody," Tom said tepidly. Milton occupied Tom's chair, just to my left, watching my legs rather than the game. I had to turn away and shifted closer to Tom, facing him. His grip on my wrist tightened "Alright. Listen up," he said slightly louder. The noise didn't abate and I was afraid to turn around with Milton there. When I looked up at Tom's face it was aimed at the TV, transfixed, probably watching the replay along with everyone else. We were so close I could make out a small cut on his neck. If I leaned forward an inch my boobs would touch his stomach. All I had to do was lean. He glanced down but didn't retreat so I pushed up onto my toes and leaned harder, keeping my arms down, trusting Tom to hold me. I pushed higher, lifted my face and waited. Taylor makes it look so simple. It took him long enough. He checked my boobs again, gave another desultory "Alright everybody, listen up," over my shoulder, then he studied my face and knitted his brow. My calf muscles were screaming. I closed my eyes and pushed through the pain. Finally, a hand touched my back and slid under my hair to grip my neck. His beery, familiar lips touched and I opened, inviting him to do as he pleased in front of a room full of men. He teased the tip of my tongue once, then broke our kiss. He looked confused. Why did that make me happy? "Get a room!" a deep voice said behind me. The room was suddenly much quieter. "Yeah, get a room!" a high, shrill voice echoed. Susan! Tom burst out laughing. A big, hearty, open mouthed laugh with his head thrown back, like he'd never heard anything funnier. My face burned with happy embarrassment and I hid in his shirt. His laughter boomed even louder inside his chest. In a few moments it was all over. Sounds came from the TV again, whistles and cheers, and the men were all talking. Tom held me out, cocked his head and raised his brows in question. "Are you happy now?" he asked, making it sound like I was the only one involved. Good question, right? I risked a glance over my shoulder. Susan used the sofa as trampoline, one hand on Ronnie's grinning head for support. The jumping had to stop. On the other side of the room, Rachael spun in place, working hard to show off her dress to an oblivious Jason. That needed intervention as well. Even Milton ignored me, sipping beer and watching TV inertly. Tom's strong hand still held me close and my lips were still damp. I touched the cut on his neck and he didn't pull away. "Yes. Yes I am," I said thoughtfully. "For now," I added with a smile. His mouth smiled back, reflecting my happiness, but there was a sadness behind his eyes that I would give anything to fix. + He was there at the door when I came in. He'd lost his pants but not his casual button-up shirt. Blue silk boxes peeked out under the hem of the shirt and hairy white legs led to mismatched white athletic socks. He was already tugging at the clasp of my skirt while I attempted to shut the door quietly. While I turned and attempted to step out of the skirt he worked at the buttons of the blouse with his big fingers, bumping and threatening to pull the tiny things off. In moments I was in bra, shaping panties and stockings. We kissed and I offered no resistance when he pushed his tongue in like he owned the place. I'd made up my mind to touch his dick tonight, so what's a tongue, right? I lifted my arms and placed them around his neck, out of the way, inviting his hands to roam. One moved down my back, past the clasp of my bra than casually slid across my butt and began delicately tracing a garter strap. His cock, hanging half firm down the right leg of his boxers, bumped my waist. What was he waiting for? It was like he was teasing me. Surely he was more than curious, right? I pressed myself against him harder and willed him to take action. His grip relaxed a bit. He was pulling away! I clung to his neck and sucked his tongue to keep him in place but he was too strong. "No Tom. Don't go!" I whispered frantically. He couldn't just run away again, not after I'd spent all day getting ready! Quickly, before I lost the nerve, I reached behind and unhooked my bra, then pressed myself to him again. "I'll do anything you want," I said into his shirt. He stopped pulling away. Fingers lightly stroked the space where the band hand been, causing a wave of goosebumps. I tried to lift myself to his lips again which only pushed my bra down. His stiff shirt scraped my nipples. His face was blank and lost, looking right through me. "Kiss me, Tommy. Please," I begged. I didn't know what else to do. He shook his head, clearing the cobwebs. The hand on my butt left and slid under my hair. I readied myself for a kiss but he only griped a handful of hair, not enough to hurt but enough to hold me in place. "So you think you understand her now?" He asked. The gripe tightened and pulled my head back. I locked my hands behind his neck so he couldn't get away. "Do you think you can let yourself be that free?" he asked. "I want to try. I just want to make you happy!" I answered desperately. His other hand slid between us, pushing us apart a bit, under the bra cup, accepting my earlier invitation. The warm, rough palm of his hand on the the underside of my breast felt good actually. He squeezed a few times and roughly pinched a nipple. I could barely keep still but didn't want to release his neck. Finally he kissed me again, driving his tongue as deeply as possible and I sucked it in eagerly, no longer afraid. A hot lump bumped my stomach, reminding me of my mission. When he pushed a leg between mine slightly, forcing the lump against my flat front, it felt so good I sighed. It would be so easy to just let him do whatever he wanted but he seemed intent on forcing me to make some of the moves. It seemed like the right time so I slid a hand loose, down the arm that was messaging my tit then onto Tom's hip, ready to finally touch it. There was a slight hesitation on my part. When I started again I lost my bearings. It was hanging down and was difficult to grasp. Tom suddenly grabbed my wrist harshly and twisted the arm behind my back, just like he'd done when we were kids. "Easy there, little princess," he said with a mocking tone. "I know you're eager but you forgot to ask." "I, what? I have to ask?" I stammered out stupidly. He pushed my free arm away and yanked the bra strap down then gripped hard, pinching my nipple until I thought my knees might buckle in a weird mix of pain and pleasure. His hot breath was close. "Beth begs for what she wants," he said slowly, rolling the nipple, making me squirm. "That way I know she really wants it. A slut should always beg for it on her knees. Don't you agree?" I was convinced Beth would have done anything for Tom and until recently I'd been firmly on the side of sluts begging for it on their knees. The change in perspective just took a moment to process and the process wasn't aided by the pinching and kneading. His hand never stopped! He released me suddenly and turned toward the bed. I stood there shell shocked and unbalanced; covered in goosebumps with the one nipple angry, red and throbbing, while he sat casually on the bed and reached for the remote like nothing unusual was going on. My only comfort was that one hand furtively shifted the front of his boxers, so I wasn't the only one in distress. He eyed me standing there for a moment, sniffling and tugging at the tangled bra strap. It was twisted and I felt naked and couldn't figure out how to get it back on. I wanted to cry. How did Beth know what to do? "Come here," he said, holding out one hand. His attention was on the TV though, which was good because I couldn't get myself covered. I inched closer, still struggling with the pretty bra dangling from one shoulder. He slowly pulled it down and off my arm. He sniffed a cup quickly and absently tossed it away. He was shorter sitting down like that which meant my boobs were right at eye level. I was ashamed of how much I wanted him to, I don't know, touch them and do something, anything that would tell me what he wanted from me. I tried to stand up straight. He leaned forward and stroked my arm gently for a moment. I couldn't look. "You want me to suck your big fat titties don't you?" He asked bluntly. I winced at the crude words, because I did feel fat, heavy and loose up top and ungainly in the tall shoes. Garter straps rubbed my chubby thighs. It all seemed very unfair somehow. More than anything I wanted to cover myself. My free hand waved and he pushed it away. "Say it," he ordered, gripping my arm hard and pulling. He forced his knee between mine and continued pulling firmly, forcing me to shuffle closer inch by inch. His massive leg moved up, brushing my inner thighs dangerously. It felt amazing but, at the same time, a man's knee was between my legs! Age old alarms went off throughout my brain. Am I supposed to sit on his lap? Why won't he just say what he wants and stop gripping my arm so hard? "Tell me how much you want your boobs sucked," he said, prompting me. So there was my answer. His lips are thick and strong and they were so close but I didn't want to advance any farther up that leg or say those words. I tried to push my breasts closer. "Please Tom, I do, I want you to, umm, suck my, umm, my breasts," It was difficult to get out. "I doesn't sound like it," he said. He pulled harder. I had to put a hand on his chest to halt the advance. The muscles under the shirt were firm and unyielding. His leg bounced, sending a surprisingly pleasant ripple up my core. It felt wrong, but hard as I pushed, I couldn't get away. The struggled caused me to jiggled embarrassingly so I gave up and let him have his way, shuffling me forward until the thigh was huge between my knees, my boobs hung right in his face and I was trapped. He leaned forward and blew on a nipple. His tongue snaked out and touched the dark tip, causing me to flinch. The nipple grew visibly and ached. "Please Tom," I said. It was all too much. "Please what?" he said in that mocking tone he used when we were kids. He licked one long, warm lap that wet the whole areola then he blew again. We were both transfixed by the way it pinched, so cold it hurt. I had to say it. "Yes Tom, please suck them," I said in a soft whine. That seemed like a fair compromise in the wording. I pushed out the breast, ready for anything he dished out. He licked and blew and I squirmed in his iron grip. When he pressed his lips to my cold nipple and inhaled it was so warm I wanted to faint. He sucked hungrily, sending shock waves through my chest then he squeezed gently and sucked ever harder, like he wanted the whole thing in his mouth. It was scary and wonderful at the same time. He released me with a loud smack. "God, I've missed you," he told my wet, chilly breast, like it was a separate living thing, then he sucked me back in. More than anything, it was just wonderful to watch Tom's delight. He rubbed his slightly scratchy face on my chest and made sleepy cooing sounds, then he squeezed and lifted until my nipple was inches from my face, right there between us. He sucked me in again, warm and electric, then he blew, cold and biting. The whole world was concentrated on that one wet, red, excited point, "What do you want?" he asked my breast. He licked lovingly, squeezed then blew. All I had to do was tell him. "Please Tom, suck my big fat titties," I said out loud. It was stupid, juvenile and liberating. Tom smiled and immediately began sucking again, more gently, like he might be at it for a while. Little shocks shot through my chest. While he suckled like a baby, I worried about what to do with my hands. His hair was soft and thick and he didn't seem to mind if I ran my hands through it. What if I pulled his hair and guided him to the other breast? It worked! He unlatched and moved over. It all felt incredible and dangerous. As he sucked he slowly leaned back, pulling me along until my knees touched the bed, then he was pulling me over on top of him, one hand on my boob, the other on my ass. Before I knew it we were laying on the bed with my heels waving in the air and my boobs smashed in his face! I had to support myself on one arm to avoid smothering him. His rough hand pulled my naked thigh hard, forcing me to straddle his side. Something hard touched between my legs that sent a shock through my core. Maybe a hip or a rib, surely not ... not with my tits in his face, right? Did he notice anything? He sucked a nipple happily, my whole breast in one big hand. His other hand pulled my ass and the lump pressed my trapped crotch hard. God that felt good! Was it intentional? Was he going to wake up suddenly and be disgusted to find me rubbing against him like a horny cat? I tried to pull away. He pulled back harder and bit my nipple slightly. Pain and pleasure met somewhere in the middle, I let out a squeak and pulled away from his lips which only pressed my crotch harder against that lump. I was practically riding his chest. My ears roared from the pleasure and something in my core tightened. He studied my boobs up close like he'd never seen anything so wonderful then inhale one hungrily. It was difficult to breath. It happened suddenly. One second a powerful hand was forcing me to hump his side and the next they were both on my tits, almost holding me up. Both nipples screamed in pleasure and pain and his happy face made my heart swell. 'One last time, before he notices' I told myself and settled my hips to press against that bump, long and slow. My stomach muscles convulsed suddenly, an electric shock shot through my whole body and deep inside me something started pumping. I may have fainted for a second. When I came to he was still holding me up by the boobs with a happy grin that said he'd recently won a prize. There was wetness between my legs. "Oh my God. Tommy! You have to let me up!" I rolled to the side and got my knees together. It felt even wetter. He chuckled and released my tit and I scooted to the edge of the bed. It felt like a gallon of goo down there but I couldn't see any spots on his shirt. I got my heels under me and stood, knees clinched tight and both arms over my damp breasts. "I'll be right back," I assured Tom. He didn't look concerned at all, more like happy, no doubt pleased by my discomfort. My whole body roared with strange sensations and my legs were so rubbery it was difficult to walk. I looked back once and caught half a glimpse of his hard cock in the tight boxers, approximately a hot-house beauty in width, long enough for a purple tip to peek out of the band. But the angle was bad and I was tiptoeing as fast as I could go. The amount of wetness was rather disappointing actually. An everyday pantie liner took care of everything. I cleaned up, retucked carefully, smoothed my stockings, wiped my chest and checked my face. Maybe 10 minutes passed. I was afraid to leave the bathroom, especially with nothing to cover me up top. Was he waiting out there? His bathrobe was right there on the door. It's short on him, showing off his manly legs, but it covered my knees. Good. I pulled the neck closed and cinched the belt tight. He knows how to take it off me if he doesn't like it. He was on the bed, shirtless, with the blanket pulled up to just cover his groin. The waist of his extra fuzzy, black and white pajama pants was visible. Somewhere in there was a penis, not currently visible, and, in a way, it was my job to do something about it. But how? He watched me with an amused half-smile as I crossed the room, still in my heels. I took his hand. His palm that felt so rough on my breasts was surprising soft and moist. "Sorry about that," I said. "I got carried away. Can we start over?" He pulled his hand away and reached for the belt of the robe. He slowly untied it and opened the robe until it framed my boobs. Cool air touched my chest and nipples again, creating a wave of nervous goosebumps. It was difficult to stand still but I knew what to do this time. "Please suck my big fat titties," I said. I lifted one to his mouth and he sucked me in. He turned on the bed and brought his other hand into play. I let myself go and just enjoyed the sensations and his pleased face for a few moments. But what do I do with my hands? "Tom, may I touch you please. I just want to make you feel good too," I said softly into his ear, trying to sound sexy. He bit me hard enough that I jumped and tried, unsuccessfully, to push his head away. He bit again then released me, raised his head and shook it sadly. "I know you want to touch my cock. But then you're going to want to get it out, then you're going to want to kiss it and suck on it. That's how it always goes with sluts like you." He stroked my face and gazed into my eyes with such sincere concern and sympathy it was difficult to keep a straight face. I bit my lip and turned away, half expecting, or hoping anyway, that he would be the first to start laughing. He couldn't possibly be serious, right? I tried to picture Beth playing this role and was surprised by a warm tingle in my core. She would have done whatever Tom wanted. I had half a mind to call him an asshole to his face for treating his beautiful wife that way. I turned away and pulled the robe closed, covering me, thinking. Behind me, Tom settled back and grunted, half laugh, half sigh of resignation. "Yep," he said, seriously. "Before you know it, you think you can just drop to your knees anytime and I'll give it to you. Sorry to disappoint honey." He punctuated the point by smacking me on the ass. The robe cushioned the blow so I barely felt it but it pushed me forward, away from him, and I just kept on going, out of his room, in tears. + Was there ever a more frustrating situation? All the adoration he gets at work isn't enough. In his petty little kingdom upstairs, he needs to be begged for sex? In the morning light, the thought of what I'd been prepared to do was sickening. And what must he think of me? I was humping his chest like a, well, I couldn't stand thinking about it anymore. It felt so good. All night I'd tossed and turned, replaying the scene, counting the ways Tom is a dick. And yes, the dick between the dick's legs occupied my mind more than anything else. The mysterious penis that seemed to get farther away the more I grasped (literally!) at it. What I would give for a good look at it. I began to think something might be wrong with it. But then why the need for begging? In the morning, when he shuffled into the kitchen before the girls, I still hadn't made up my mind what to say. "What's for breakfast?" he asked, acting like nothing unusual happened last night. I blocked access to the stove with my body so he took the long way to the fridge, around the island, stealing a slice of toast along the way. None of the retorts that seemed so clever last night, alone in the darkness, seemed to fit the situation but I had to say something. For some reason, my nipples felt achy. "I want to talk about last night," I blurted out. I shielded the eggs and bacon with my body, holding them hostage. "No thank you," he replied in a high, chipper tone. He turned his back on me and poured a full glass of orange juice. He turned back and took a long drink, watching me over the edge of the glass. What should I say? "That's separate. She always kept that separate," he said when the glass was empty. The chipper tone was gone and his eyes were sad. I wanted to punch him in the face and hug him at the same time. "We need to be able to talk about things," I said. "No we don't," he retorted quickly. He shoved in half a slice of toast and grinned like a chipmunk, making adult conversation impossible. "Tom, please. I'm confused," I said, maybe a little whiny. He chewed his cud and watched me with a bovine expression. There was a clatter in the living room, then Rachael's familiar shriek, "Stop touching me!" I had to hurry. "I'm terribly confused about what you want from me, Tom! We have to talk about it," I said urgently. Then it was too late. There was breakfast to serve and lunches to pack. Rachael had to be sent back upstairs for a blouse that wasn't too small, one of Susan's hairbands broke and I spilled orange juice on Beth's blue cotton day dress. By the time I got the van loaded and returned to the kitchen for my purse I'd mostly forgotten about Tom Hannover and especially his stupid dick. He was at the island, nursing a cup of coffee, going in to work late. In the mirror by the back door I checked for runs in my hose, examined my face and hair and confirmed my underwear was covered, because I was going out, then hooked the heavy purse on my arm. He watched silently. "We have to talk about this," I said seriously. He beamed a very distracting smile over the coffee mug and I gave him the same serious glare I use on the girls. He broke into a laugh. He stood up and walked toward me. "You don't look the least bit confused to me," he said, inches away. He bent and kissed me quickly, slightly wet, no tongue. It was brief but reassuring. Then the car horn began honking. We were going to be late for school if I didn't hurry.