FOR C.J. free porn video

FOR C.J.

Early on Tuesday morning, Dillon’s cell phone rang and woke him out of a dead sleep. It was too early to take a call, and way too early for the rude awakening his ringtone was blaring from the nightstand next to his bed: The intro of Won’t Get Fooled Again by The Who. No one in their right mind calls this early. Why didn’t I turn this damn phone off last night?, he wondered. But he was curious and looked at the phone. The call was coming from a number he recognized. It was the landline in the house where he grew up. So he answered.

“Hi, Mom,” he said into the phone. He knew his father would never call him unless he suspected him of stealing his golf clubs.

“Good morning, Honey,” his mother said.

“Kind of early, Mom, isn’t it? What’s up?”

“I know Honey, but I have to leave for work soon. And I thought you’d want to know.”

Dillon sat up in bed. “What? What happened?”

“C.J. died.”

Dillon’s heart sank. He and his mother sat in telephone silence for a long moment. Finally, he asked, “When?”

“Late yesterday. The ambulance came and got him. He died on the way to the hospital.”

Another extended pause.

“Poor Katy,” he said, and exhaled as tears formed in his eyes. “Have you spoken to her?”

“Not yet,” Tanya said. “Millie called and told me.” Millie was the neighborhood busybody and knew everyone’s business.

“Poor Katy,” he repeated.

“Anyway, I’m sorry to deliver the news, but I knew you’d want to know.”

“Yes, Mom, Thank You. And please find out the funeral arrangements and let me know as soon as you can.”

“I will. What are you going to do?”

“I’m coming back for it.”

“Are you sure that’s the right thing to do?”

“It’s the only thing to do. I have to. ”

----

Dillon grew up in a modest, split-level house in a suburban, middle-class neighborhood. Just him, his sister Irene, who was two years younger, and his parents, Tanya and Miles. The textbook nuclear family. His parents still lived there. Dillon now lived in a town three hundred miles from there. He had moved away several years before under somewhat of a cloud. He thought it was the right thing to do at the time, considering the circumstances he faced. He thought if he moved away, someplace where nobody knew him, he could spend his days living his life instead of trying to outlive his past.

When Dillon was a boy, a young couple moved in next door to them. The new neighbors, Katy and Cliff, were young marrieds in their twenties, and despite the fact that they were nine or ten years younger than his parents, they all soon became good neighbors and friends. And Dillon liked his new neighbors almost instantly. Because of Lady.

Lady was a striking, beautiful white German Shepherd. Katy and Cliff had found the dog on the side of a road, injured, bleeding, evidently hit by a car. They rescued her and took her to a vet. They got her patched up, and took her home to heal. They ran ads for weeks, trying to find Lady’s owner. No response. They were okay with that. By then, they loved Lady, and Lady loved them.

Dillon fell in love with Lady. She was the dog he’d always wished he’d had. He walked her, he hugged her, he rubbed her belly, and he played with her. He must have thrown her soggy tennis balls a million times, and she happily ran them down and returned them to him, and softly dropped them at his feet.

Dillon became the next-door-neighbor-all-around helper to Katy and Cliff. He tended to Lady of course, but also took care of many other chores to make a little money. He helped in the yard, weeded their garden, cleaned the deck, shoveled their driveway when it snowed, fed their fish when they were away, among other things. Cliff traveled for his job, so oftentimes Katy was alone during the week and Dillon was a big help.

When Katy became pregnant, Dillon was nine years old and got a crash course on the birds and the bees and soon became her right-hand man. He helped her out as much as he could when Cliff wasn’t around. Whenever he noticed her pulling into her driveway, he’d run over and carry her packages or groceries or whatever else she had, inside for her. She worked as a real estate agent, so she was always lugging a bag full of papers and files.

Over the months, as her belly grew, Dillon had conversations with Katy like he’d never before had with an adult. She didn’t talk down to him, or treat him like a child. She was actually interested in what he had to say.

“Do you want a boy or a girl?” he asked her one time.

“I don’t care,” she’d said. “I’ll love him or her either way. But if it’s a boy, I hope he’s just like you.”

They bonded over those expectant months. When Katy finally gave birth, she had a little boy. He was named after his father. Clifford Junior. Katy called him C.J. from the start. But it did not turn out to be the happy, blessed event everyone was expecting.

Before long it became obvious that something was not right with the little boy, and after umpteen tests and referrals and doctors and prayers and fits of angst and depression and optimism and hopelessness, they learned that their precious little boy had muscular dystrophy. And it wasn’t the run-of-the-mill, everyday muscular dystrophy, which was bad enough, but it was the ugly, ruthless, evil, black sheep cousin of M.D., the one that guaranteed a short life. Duchenne syndrome, they called it. C.J. was a very sick little boy.

----

After the phone call from his mother, Dillon went to work that day and went through the motions for eight hours. He was a salesman for a company that sold lawn, garden and farm equipment, but he didn’t sell anything that day. Not even close. His heart and mind were far away. About the only thing he accomplished was to arrange to take a couple days off so he could go back home, or what was once his home, and attend the funeral.

He got back to his apartment that night, ate a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of soup for dinner, and did a load of laundry. He was happy his roommate wasn’t around because he wasn’t in the mood to chit-chat. He had just started to pack a bag for the trip when his mother called and told him the funeral plans. There would be viewings on each of the next two nights, Wednesday and Thursday, and the funeral would be Friday morning. He decided he would work Wednesday, and drive there on Thursday for the viewing. If all went well he could attend the funeral on Friday, and have the weekend to visit with his folks and maybe a friend or two.

----

The first few years of C.J.’s life were a steady parade of doctor’s offices, tests, grim news and hopes for a miracle. It put a great strain on Katy and Cliff of course, and their marriage began to suffer. Katy was a strong mom, but her sadness was a weight that became harder and harder to disguise. Cliff had a terrible time coping with having a terminally-ill child, as if his sperm were the cause of it and somehow made him less of a man. He appeared embarrassed and ashamed, and never bonded with his son. He traveled more and more, and drank more and more, distancing himself, trying to lessen the pain and desperation. As C.J. was growing up, his dad was not much of a factor. His parents eventually separated, got back together, separated again. Wash, Rinse, Repeat.

Dillon continued doing the chores Katy asked him to do, often with C.J. sitting in his wheelchair on the back deck, watching him. He’d always make a point to sit with C.J. for a while, and they would talk about things. A lot of things. Especially sports.

Dillon was amazed with C.J.’s knowledge of sports, especially baseball and football. Although he’d never play the games, even at the age of six or seven C.J. knew the rules and all the players and their numbers and their stats and where they’d gone to college, and he asked smart questions. He knew the histories of the sports, facts and events from way before his time, stuff of which Dillon had no clue. Mother Nature had given C.J. a badly-damaged body, but she had also given him a brilliant and curious mind.

By the time Dillon was a senior in high school, he was a star on the baseball team. Katy would bring C.J. to all the home games and would park his wheelchair in the special spot the team had reserved for him, where he’d root for his team. The players would come over to him and say hi, and considered him the team mascot and their number one fan.

Over the years Dillon had spent hundreds and hundreds of hours doing chores for Katy, and spending time talking with her and C.J. As a result, he came to realize two very important things.

One, C.J. was not just an unfortunate, disabled kid who happened to live next door. No, he was much more than that. He was smart, he was witty, and despite everything he’d been through, he was a happy child. He was a friend. A close friend. Like the little brother he’d never had.

And two, he no longer just viewed Katy as the amazing mom next door who didn’t talk down to him and paid him to do jobs that needed to be done around the house. He saw her differently now. She was a friend, yes, but she was a woman. A strong, attractive woman. Some innocent flirting happened from time to time. So what if she’s fifteen years older, he thought. No harm done.

He found himself admiring her pretty face, trim body, firm breasts, and tight ass. And he always noticed her fingernails. They were always manicured and neatly polished, and regardless of what color she’d chosen for her other seven fingers and her two thumbs, her right pinky was always the same: Bright, fluorescent purple. It stood out like a beacon, and Dillon didn’t know what it meant, but he liked it.

He didn’t act on his desires, of course. Why would a thirty-something, semi-married woman with a sick child be interested in an eighteen year old boy? He tried to put her out of his mind. He went off to college and studied and got involved in a number of activities. He partied and slept with various girls. But when he came home for holidays or summer vacations, he would always spend time next door with Katy and C.J.

When Dillon came home for the summer after his sophomore year of college, he was twenty years old. He went next door to visit, and learned that the doctor had placed C.J. in a treatment facility for a few days for another battery of tests. That’s when his affair with Katy began.

----

It was a five hour drive. Dillon didn’t remember most of it, which kind of scared him. He had no recollection of miles and miles of highway that had disappeared into his rear view mirror. His mind was focused on what lay ahead. How was Katy holding up? Would Cliff make a scene? How would people react when he showed up? Would he be welcomed, or sneered at? Would his parents be embarrassed, or would they support him?

He’d timed things perfectly. The viewing was scheduled for six- until eight p.m., and he pulled into the funeral home parking lot at 6:30. He drove to the farthest end and parked his car. He sat, rested, waited. He reached to his right and picked up the small bottle of nail polish from the passenger seat. Neon Purple. He shook it, uncapped it, and carefully applied it to the fingernail on his right pinky. He blew on it until it dried. Then he took a deep breath, straightened his tie, opened the door, got out, retrieved his sport coat from the hook above the backseat window, and walked to the building.

----

Dillon got home on a Thursday afternoon in late May after completing his sophomore year of college. In a week or two he’d receive his grades and officially be a junior. He would be home for three months, and would start his summer job in a few days. After dinner with his parents, he noticed that Katy’s car still was not parked in her driveway next door. It hadn’t been there earlier when he’d gotten home, which was not unusual, but Katy always made a point to have C.J.’s dinner ready at the same time every night, and now it was well past that time. He looked out the window periodically, checking for Katy’s car. At a little after nine o’clock he noticed that her car was now in her driveway. It was getting a bit late for a social call, but when he saw the light go on in the den, he figured what the hell, he’d go over and say hi.

When Katy opened the door, he could tell right away that something was wrong. Her blond hair was bunched into a cabbage ball atop her head, her blouse was wrinkled, her lean face looked stressed along with her tired eyes.

“Hi, Dillon,” she said, when she opened the door. Her faced shriveled into a sad prune. “He’s in the hospital.”

She burst into tears. Dillon didn’t know what to say, but instinctively took her into his arms and hugged her. That was a first, but he held her tightly, felt the curves of her body hard against his. She hugged him back, put her head against his shoulder, and cried harder. He let her cry.

When her tears subsided they went into the den. They sat on the couch, side by side. Katy explained that C.J. had had an attack of some sort and couldn’t breathe. She called 911. He was back in the hospital. More tests, more scans, more doctors. She was a nervous wreck and scared shitless. Dillon tried to calm her as best he could, tried to assure her. Cliff was not around, as usual.

He noticed he was holding her hand. He looked at her slender fingers, her polished nails. All of her nails were painted black, except one: Her right pinky was purple. He’d always been curious about this habit of hers, this purple pinky. He’d noticed it many times, and no matter whether the rest of her nails were polished or not, her right pinky always was, and always stood out in bright purple.

“What’s with the purple pinky?” he asked, wrapping his fingers around hers. “I’ve always wondered, but never asked.”

“It’s for C.J.” Katy said. “I think about him all day, everyday.”

He squeezed her hand and pinky. She squeezed back.

“You know his favorite football team?” she said.

“Of course. The Ravens.”

“Right. He loves The Ravens. Purple for The Ravens.”

“That’s nice,” Dillon said softly. “You’re a good Mom, Katy.”

Katy shook her head. “My poor little boy,” she blurted, and burst into another flood of tears.

Dillon put his arm around her and let her cry, her head nestled against his neck. Neither said anything for a while. When her tears abated she wiped her cheeks with her fingertips.

“Thanks for coming over, Dillon. I’m sorry, I guess I needed someone to talk to.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad I’m here.”

“You’re always so easy to talk to.”

“So are you,” Dillon said, knowing it sounded lame. “We always could talk…”

“I know.” She hesitated, played with his fingers. “But I feel so alone. I can’t remember the last time I felt good. About anything.”

They sat quietly for a bit. Words escaped him. He nestled his cheek into her hair. It smelled good, like ripe melons. Then, by instinct, as if it were the most logical thing to do, he kissed the top of her head.

Katy raised up, turned her head toward him, focused her hot blue eyes onto his. Dillon’s eyes felt the burn. Then, because it was the second-most-logical thing to do, he kissed her lips.

Rubbery, was his first thought. Soft. Sensual. Not like most of the hard-lipped, forced college girl kisses he’d had. Really nice, felt natural. His lips lingered on hers for a moment before he backed away. Her eyes were wide, two unblinking round pools, boring into his. Oops, Dillon thought, now I’ve done it. He pulled back.

“Oh Katy, I’m sorry,” he said. “I had no right to do that. Please forgive me.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay,” she replied, and gently pulled his hand toward her. “I like it. It felt good. I want to feel good.” Her fingers laced deeper into his. She took a deep breath and said, “Do it again.”

Dillon tightened his grip on her shoulder, dug in, made sure she felt it. He pulled her to him and their upper bodies touched, then melded. His hand went to her breast and he thumbed her stiff nipple through the flimsy fabrics of her blouse and bra. When he put his face to hers, Katy’s lips parted immediately and her tongue slithered into his mouth. She slued around to face him, pulled him close, front-on-front, their bodies flush now, giving her tongue deeper depth. Dillon sucked her tongue, which was swirling like a lizard in his mouth. He felt her tits firmly against his chest, her arms around him, and her leg looped over his. The kiss went on, a duet of tongues, until saliva oozed between their lips and their groins were on high alert.

When their mouths finally separated, Katy peppered Dillon’s face with kiss pecks, saying, “I need this. I want this.” She pivoted her body, straddled his legs, sat on his lap, facing him. She felt his dick hard against her crotch. She kissed him again with open lips, her tongue on a rampage, two hungry mouths screwing while she ground her mound onto his swollen cock and pressed her stoked bosom against his chest. The kiss went on, their hands roamed on backs and butts, he was hard, she was wet.

“Let’s go to bed,” she rasped with shortened breath.

She unsaddled him, rose up, took his hand and led him to the bedroom. The bedroom where by this time, now being more or less separated from her husband, she slept alone. Standing beside the queen bed, they kissed. She admired his handsome face, broad shoulders and slim, athletic body as she unbuttoned and unzipped him, top to bottom. Dillon returned the favor.

Naked, their bodies plunged onto the bed. Katy’s mouth was ravenous, attacking his, sucking his tongue into her mouth. Her nimble hands and fingers squeezed his ass, surrounded his cock. Dillon followed along, but painting by numbers.

He suddenly realized that he was in way over his head. What to do?, he wondered. This is a mature woman, not some dumb college broad with no more experience than he. He wanted to please her, he had to. He decided to take control, pick up the pace. Pushing, grinding, overdoing.

“Hey,” Katy said warmly, running her fingers through his short, brown hair. “Take it easy. Take your time. We have all night.”

“Sorry,” Dillon said. Then humbly added, “Show me what you like.”

She did. She kissed him, held it for a bit, her supple lips hypnotizing him. With her hands on either side of his head, she guided it downward until her twat was in his face. She fingered her clit in front of his face.

“Here,” she said. “Put your mouth here. Lick it, kiss it, eat it, suck it, but keep your mouth there. You’ll know.”

Dillon dove in. He took her swollen fruit into his mouth, molded his lips around it, tasted it with soft caresses, and she hissed when he slipped his tongue inside her. He planted his hands under the cheeks of her ass and held tight, mashing face to twat. He explored her hungry, squirmy cunt with his tongue, and savored her wet, salty tang. He kept at it, stayed down there, and wouldn’t come up for air until he’d gotten what he was after.

Katy’s body writhed with pleasure as he ate her. Her hands were firmly adhered to his head as she smushed her crotch into his face. She started grinding her pussy into his face, and soon was pumping it, fucking his mouth. Dillon sucked her like a straw.

She shrieked when she came. Her cum streamed out of her. He felt her gush on his face, was surprised by its intensity, like none he’d experienced before. Katy was surprised too; even though it had been a while, her torso shook with the power of it, and she had an orgasm like she’d not had in a long, long time, if ever.

“Oh My God!” she blurted, when her body stopped quivering.

She pulled his head up to hers and kissed him, tasted her cum in his mouth. As they kissed, his body atop hers, she wrapped her hand around his cock and fed it into her drippy snatch. It slid into her with slick ease, balls deep.

“Fuck me,” she whispered into his ear. “Fuck me hard.”

She wrapped her legs around his like tentacles and squeezed, tightening like a boa, as if to get every last drop of juice from a lemon. Dillon took the not-so-subtle hint. He clenched her buttocks in his hands and started drilling her.

He was slinging it pretty good. His crotch was pounding hers and she was rolling with it, in sync, fucking right back at him, every inch of her body into it. Their fucking took on a staccato rhythm, like rim shots on a snare, smack smack smack smack, while the bed springs played hi-hat.

It went on, and on, their genitals colliding on a quest for release, and they kissed as they fucked. Dillon was going to dump a load of his semen into this beautiful, mature woman, he knew that, but he slowed for a time, not wanting to blow his top too soon. Her pleasure would come before his.

Two sweaty bodies throbbing. Two mouths and tongues plastered together. Two hands clenching two butt cheeks, four legs tightly entwined. One thrusting cock-filled cunt.

Katy moaned and she shivered head-to-toe. Dillon knew this was it, so he put a little extra poke in his stroke. She moaned again, louder.

“Ughhh…” she groaned loudly, and let her rip.

She came in another torrent, barely less than her first. She pinched his cock with her out-of-shape cunt muscles and dug her fingertips into his upper back. Dillon banged her harder for four or five thwacks and his pulsating ropes of cum vaulted into her.

Once his tank was emptied, Dillon collapsed onto the bed beside her. They were lying on their sides, looking at each other, and their faces broke into wide smiles.

“That was wonderful,” she said.

“Yes it was,” he replied. “You are amazing.”

“Oh, please…”

“You have no idea how many times I fantasized about this. About being in bed with you.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Big time. I’m not a kid anymore.”

Katy paused, looked deep into his eyes, sighed, kissed his nose and said: “That’s for sure.”

They held each other, closed their eyes, and drifted off, resting in the glow of their lovemaking.

*

“I’m hungry,” Katy said, jolting Dillon from a borderline sleep. “Are you?”

It was only ten minutes later. His arms were still around her, and hers were around him. Their eyes were inches apart.

“I could eat. I can use the fortitude. You done wore me out,” he said.

“I haven’t eaten since early this morning, had a danish and a coffee from the machines at the hospital. Wasn’t hungry all day, but I am now. How ‘bout I fix us some tuna fish sandwiches?”

“Sure. That sounds good,” he said, chuckling.

“What’s funny?” Katy asked.

“Tuna fish.”

“Tuna fish is funny? Why? Don’t you like it?”

“Yes, I like it. I’ve just always thought it was odd that we refer to tuna as tuna fish. It’s not like we could confuse tuna with anything other than a fish. Know what I mean?”

“Um, I guess so.”

“I mean, we say bluefish or rock fish because those words have different meanings. But there’s no other meaning for tuna, so why add the fish to it? We don’t say ‘flounder fish’ or ‘haddock fish’ or ‘trout fish’. We don’t say ‘hamburger cow’, or ‘pork chop pig’. So why do we say tuna fish?”

“I really couldn’t tell you Dillon,” she said. “Maybe it’s the same reason we don’t say ‘fish chops’.”

Dillon broke out laughing, then Katy did too. She reached down between his legs to rub his thigh and damn if his dick wasn’t hard.

“Such a deep thinker you are,” she said, taking his cock in her hand. “A deep thinker with another big erection.”

She went down on him and took his cock into her mouth. She slipped her middle finger into his asshole and reamed him from behind as she sucked him. Within minutes Dillon grunted and bucked and came in spurts into Katy’s mouth and throat. When he was done, she wiped her mouth on the bedspread, got up and put on a robe.

“There. Now you rest a bit, big thinker. Just lie back and ruminate on the great tuna fish conundrum while I make us a couple sandwiches.”

After they ate their sandwiches and chips, they fucked again. Then it was getting late, and Katy suggested that Dillon leave so that no rumors got started, no matter how true they might be. He agreed that it was a good idea.

*

Their affair lasted most of the summer. They had to be discreet, of course, so once or twice a week Dillon would sneak over late at night, long after C.J. was asleep. They would make love as quietly as possible, and after they both came a couple times he would sneak back out.

No one suspected a thing until it all blew up one Saturday night in early August. They were in the middle of a fervid sixty-nine when a drunken Cliff showed up unannounced and caught them in the act. He went ballistic, screaming, throwing things, breaking things, calling them names, threatening them. He chased a half-clothed Dillon out of the house, screaming at him, told him to ‘get the hell out before I kill you’.

Cliff made sure the whole neighborhood and half the town knew all about it. Millie, the neighborhood gossip had a field day. Katy and Dillon were shamed and ridiculed, she was a tramp and he was a horny college prick who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. Dillon’s parents were greatly embarrassed too, which didn’t help him at home, and didn’t help their relationship with their neighbors.

C.J. was greatly upset by this turn of events. The family turmoil was bad enough, but he would also be losing his best friend. Because Dillon soon left and went back to school, five hours away, and stayed away, eventually graduating and taking a job that kept him there.

----

Standing on the covered porch of the funeral home, Dillon took another long, deep breath before he opened the smoked glass door and entered. He walked tentatively through the vestibule and down the hall, passing several people he didn’t recognize, until he found the right room. He signed the guest book outside the door, then entered.

He scanned the crowded room and didn’t see any familiar faces at first, but soon sensed a cool vibe. The feeling of eyes upon him, heads turning quickly away when he glanced at them. He looked around, searching for Katy but not finding her, feeling self-conscious, like he was in a fishbowl. Then a male voice to his left broke his concentration.

“What are you doing here, asshole? I can’t believe you had the balls to show your face around here.”

It was Cliff. He wore an old, wrinkled seersucker suit, and looked bloated, heavier. There was beer on his breath.

“Hi Cliff. I came to pay my respects.”

“Well, make it snappy, Lover Boy. We don’t wanna have a scene. She’s over by the casket. Say hi and bye.”

Cliff wobbled away and Dillon eyed the far end of the room. He spotted Katy off to the side, standing in front of a wall of flowers, talking to an older couple that looked vaguely familiar. He started walking toward her and the crowd of guests parted like the Red Sea before him. He stopped about eight feet away from her.

It had been nearly four years, but suddenly the meaning of the phrase ‘a sight for sore eyes’ hit him like a lightning bolt. She still looked incredible. Tired, but strong and beautiful. She wore a long-sleeved black dress that hugged her slim figure. Her blond hair was whipped back in a french twist, and her earrings matched the color of her sky-blue eyes.

He stood there, taking her in. Once she saw him, their eyes locked. The couple she was talking to noticed it, looked at him, then back at her, and faded away. They held their gaze for a long, frozen moment, oblivious to the spectators in the room. Dillon raised his right hand, with his purple-nailed pinky extended. Katy did the same with her right hand, the bright purple brilliantly contrasting the black polish on the rest of her nails. There was a sad smile on her face. The spectators were amused and confused by the gestures.

He walked toward her, right into her arms. The various guests watched their tightly-wrapped bodies as they hugged. Dillon felt the bullets of her breasts against him, and whiffed the smell of fresh fruit in her hair. Their bodies clenched and their tears flowed. They didn’t want to let go.

“Thank you for coming. I was hoping you would,” she said into his ear.

“Of course. I had to,” he said into hers. “I loved him, Katy.”

“I know. He loved you too.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you for writing him. Your cards and letters meant so much to him.”

“I loved getting his letters, too. I’ve saved them all.”

They finally broke their embrace and Katy took his hand and led him over to the casket. They looked down at C.J., whose face was pale with a slight trace of a smile. Dillon started crying softly when he saw how he was dressed. He was wearing his jersey from Dillon’s high school baseball team.

“It seemed only right that he wear his baseball jersey,” Katy said. “It was his favorite piece of clothing. He treasured it.”

Dillon put his arm around her again, pulled her close as his tears dripped down his cheeks. They stood there together until his tears abated. They stepped away, off into a corner and continued their conversation. Katy handed him a tissue and he dabbed his eyes and face.

“You’re coming to the funeral tomorrow, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said.

“Can I ask a favor?”

“Sure. Anything.”

“It’s a big one.”

“What is it?”

“Would you speak at the service?”

“Really? Me?”

“Yes. You knew him better than anyone, Dillon. He looked up to you, you were his idol and his best friend. I would be honored if you could get up and say a few words.”

“Are you sure? Is your husband going to be okay with that?”

“Ex-husband,” she blurted. “This is my show, don’t worry about him. If he gives us any shit I’ll call the cops.”

“I’ll be happy to,” he said softly. “Anything for you. And for C.J.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.”

“I’ll try not to let you down.”

“I know you won’t.”

“You better get back to your other guests,” he said, and gave her hand a firm squeeze. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He walked across the room and out of the fishbowl with his head held high, and he felt the multitude of eyes in the room covering him like shrink wrap.

----

Dillon stayed at his parents’ house that night, although he didn’t talk to them much, only for a few minutes. He told them he’d been asked to speak at the funeral service and he had to prepare. So he went to the spare bedroom with pen and paper and tried to write something down, something meaningful, but nothing of substance would come. His mind was a jumble, adrift in his memories of C.J. There were too many experiences and conversations to assimilate and organize. He was bone-tired, from the long drive, his lonely grief, and his visit to the fishbowl. He fell off to sleep without accomplishing much.

He slept like petrified wood. He woke up early, refreshed, and jotted down a list of bullet points on three-by-five cards. He didn’t know if he’d speak for two minutes or twenty. He trusted that his muse would show up when the time was right.

Dillon walked into the funeral home twenty minutes early and was surprised at the transformation the place had gone through in sixteen hours. The walls that had separated the viewing rooms had disappeared and it was three or four times the size of the fishbowl he’d visited the night before. It was now one big room, like an auditorium, lined with rows and rows of folding chairs on two sides separated by a center aisle, ready to accommodate a large turnout. The crowd was trickling in. A dead child was quite a draw.

Katy’s older sister, Sonia, was on the lookout for Dillon. She spotted him, grabbed his arm, and escorted him up to the second row, far left. She handed him a memorial leaflet that had been printed up for the service.

“Sit here,” she said, “And thank you for doing this. It means so much to Katy. And to me too, to all of us. The pastor will speak and then he’ll announce when it’s your turn. You’re right after him. Good luck!”

Oh, great, he thought to himself. I follow the preacher. Lucky me.

Once the place was full and SRO, Katy was ushered down the aisle to the front row on the left side, and the show got on the road, right on time. Cliff was seated on the right side, next to a young woman.

Dillon sat through the early part of the service in a hazy daze. There were some remarks, then some music, then the Rev spoke for fifteen minutes or so, reciting ***********ure and all of the appropriate, generic, cliched, God-has-a-plan mumbo jumbo. Then suddenly, he heard his name called.

He could almost feel the inhaled breaths of the hushed attendants on his goose-fleshed arms as he strode to the podium. Once there, he looked out at the packed house, impressed by the size of it. Every seat was taken and others stood around the sides and back of the room. His hands sifted through the pockets of his jacket, shirt and trousers for his cue cards, but they were not to be found. He’d left them in his car, where he’d last rehearsed. He would have to wing it.

He cleared his throat, adjusted the microphone, raised it up. Took a deep breath. Nervous activity. Then he began.

“When I was asked to speak here today, I immediately said yes, but I was also immediately scared. And now that I’m here, before all of you, this amazingly large group, all here to pay your respects, it scares me even more. But here goes. I hope I can do it justice. For Katy. For Cliff. For C.J.

“I loved him. I’ll start with that.

“When I was a boy, Katy and Cliff moved into the house next door to my family. We could tell right away that they were great people and would be great neighbors, and my family quickly accepted them into the neighborhood and into our lives. They both worked full-time and Cliff traveled a lot, so I would do odd jobs for them. I’d wash their cars, cut their grass and weed their garden in the summer, shovel their driveway when it snowed, take care of their dog and feed their fish when they were away, anything to earn a few dollars.

“After C.J. was born, and it became clear that he was not a normal, healthy child, but instead had an ugly, nasty disease, most of their time was devoted to his special needs, his doctor appointments, his medical tests, his treatments, et cetera. Gradually, I was asked to do more and more chores around their house and property because they just didn’t have the time. I mended fences, washed windows, cleaned out rain gutters, raked leaves, stained the deck, you name it.

“As C.J. got older, he would sit outside in his wheelchair, on the front porch or on the deck out in the back yard, and he’d watch me work. And we would talk. We talked a lot. And by the time I was in my teens and C.J. was six years old, I realized that Mother Nature may have given him an unhealthy body, but at the same time she had given him a brilliant young mind.

“We talked about many things, especially sports. Baseball and football were his favorites. The Baltimore Ravens were his favorite team, The Purple Pain. That’s the reason for the purple nail polish.”

He raised his right pinky for all to see.

“Even at that young age, he could read at a pretty high level and he impressed me with his intelligence. His wit, his vocabulary, his knowledge. He knew every player, knew their numbers and their stats and their heights and weights and where they went to college. He would amaze me and surprise me with historical facts about the players and the teams and the sports, stuff I never knew, and I thought I knew a lot.

“And his attitude was always positive. I can’t remember him ever feeling sorry for himself. But I do remember thinking, how can this little guy, whose body was so weak, be so strong? I began to realize that C.J. was not just the kid next door, not just some young friend. He was the little brother I never had.

“I asked him one time, do you ever get mad that you were born with this disease, and you can’t run and jump and play ball with other kids, and have to use a wheelchair? He looked down for a moment, then up at me. And with traces of tears in his eyes, he said, ‘No, I don’t get mad. But I get sad sometimes. Sad because it is so hard on my parents. I hate being such a burden to them’. Even with all the adversity he’d faced in his life, he didn’t think about himself. He thought about others. He was more concerned with how it affected his Mom and Dad.

“I played football and baseball in high school and he followed my teams like he did the pros, and we talked about every game. In the spring of my senior year, as my baseball team was in training for the upcoming season, C.J., who was nine or ten years old by this time, told me he was going to come to all the home games and root for our team. I don’t know if I believed that that would really happen or not, but I went to see my coach a few days before our first game. I asked him if I could buy an extra team hat. He asked me why, had I lost mine? I said no, and told him about C.J., and all the challenges he had faced in his young life, and how much he liked our team, and I’d like to give him a hat. Coach said, Hell, Dillon, you don’t need to pay for it, and he not only gave me a hat, but gave me a whole team uniform, the smallest one he had. When I gave it to C.J., he grinned from ear-to-ear. He put the cap on his head and held that uniform in his hands, and fondled the letters on the breast of the jersey, he treasured it. And that season, Katy made sure he made it to every home game. Coach cleared a special box adjacent to our dugout and the stands, just for him, and to accommodate his wheelchair, and you could see the joy on his face when the players and coaches would come over to shake his hand and say Hi to him. He came to every home game that season, dressed in his uniform and cap, to root us on. He is wearing that very same jersey today.

“There was one game late in the season, a low-scoring pitchers’ duel. I pitched a two-hitter and hit a solo home run to win the game one-to-nothing. After the game and a mild celebration, I went over to his box. Katy and C.J. both had big grins on their faces, happy as I’d ever seen them. And do you know what C.J. told me? He said he was proud of me! Can you believe that? He was proud of me!

“Well, I felt the emotion rise up in me like a flash flood. All I did was win a ballgame. But I thought of all he had been through in his young life, and of all the strength and perseverance he had to have every single day, just to get through it all. I was on the verge of tears. I told him thank you, and that I was proud of him too. But I don’t know if he knew how truly proud of him I was, or how much I respected him, and loved him. I hope he knows that, and knows how much I’ve missed him.

“We all face hills and valleys in our lives. Good times, bad times, glad times, sad times. Ups and downs. And whenever I reach a low point, a time when I feel bad, or overwhelmed, and want to quit or give up or feel sorry for myself, I think of C.J. And it makes me feel better, it makes me feel stronger, and suddenly things don’t seem so bad. I feel like that’s a gift he gave me.

“I should have told him that I loved him. I regret that. I never told him that I loved him. But I did. And I always will. He was my friend, my little brother. This world could use a few more people like C.J.”

You could have heard a pin drop as Dillon left the podium with all eyes upon him. He was choked up, full of emotion, the tears were bubbling in his eyes, but he’d somehow gotten through it. He glanced at Katy as he walked back to his seat. She nodded and gave him a teary, satisfied smile. He looked at Sonia, who was staring at him and lipped, ‘That was beautiful’. He took his seat, relieved and drained.

Dillon sat through the rest of the service, which was a blur of words, music, and a prayer. Afterwards, he stood outside the funeral home, chatting with his parents and his sister Irene. In a matter of minutes, three different people came up to him and congratulated him on his eulogy. One said it was the best he’d ever heard.

Dillon and his family went to Katy’s house afterwards for some food and socialization and condolences, but they didn’t stay too long. But they were there long enough for Cliff to come up to Dillon and actually apologize, and to compliment and thank him for his eulogy. As they were about to leave, Katy pulled him aside and asked him to come back later, after the other guests were gone. He said he would.

Sonia, who planned to stay with Katy for a couple days as moral support, suddenly realized she might not be needed. “You’re going to go to bed with him, aren’t you?” she said.

“Oh, hush girl,” Katy said. “Please. It’s been four years.”

“So what, I can read you like a book. Trust me, you will. It’s all over your face, you love that kid. It’s obvious by the you look at him and the way he looks at you and the way you hugged each other, like you’d never let go. And he loves you too, otherwise he wouldn’t be here. So go for it. He may be young, but he’s a cutie.”

Katy shook her head and smiled. She didn’t argue with her sister.

----

It took a few hours before all of the guests had finally left Katy’s house. Dillon figured Katy could use a little down time, so he waited another hour before he went over. It was early evening when he knocked on her door. ‘C’mon in’, he heard Katy call from inside.

They were in the living room, to the left of the foyer. Sonia was seated in an easy chair facing Katy, who was on the sofa. Mellow jazz was playing softly. Katy patted the sofa cushion to her left, and Dillon took a seat next to her.

“Good timing,” Sonia said. “We just made a pitcher of lemonade. With a lot of vodka.” She poured a glass and handed it to him.

For the next hour they sipped lemonade and talked about the day: The service, the preacher, the guests. Katy was happy with the way everything had gone, especially pleased that Cliff had behaved himself. She then recapped for Dillon the highlights and lowlights of her divorce. She was relieved she would not have to deal with Cliff again.

When the pitcher was empty, Sonia excused herself. “Well, I’m going to turn in,” she said, as she stood up. “It’s been a crazy few days. Goodnight Sis. Goodnight Dillon, and thank you again for your eulogy. Everyone agreed it was wonderful. C.J. would have been so proud.” She kissed Katy, then kissed Dillon, to his surprise.

“That was a beautiful speech, Dillon,” Katy said, after Sonia left. She took his hand in hers, the first time they’d touched since he’d arrived. “It was so real, and so tender. Everyone was in tears.”

“I was so nervous,” he said. “I forgot my notes. I left them in the car.”

“Really?” she said. “You were so smooth, no one could tell.” She rested her head on his shoulder.

Nothing was said for a while. They just sat here, their bodies flush, their hands clasped, listening to soft music, cherishing the simple pleasure of being together after so long. Katy nestled against him, Dillon rested his cheek against her hair and breathed in her delicious, long-lost scent.

“This is nice,” Katy said, after some time. Then she raised her head, turned to look at him, and after a momentary pause, kissed him.

Their lips parted and their hungry mouths went into overdrive, the once-familiar tongues becoming reacquainted. In a heartbeat, their bodies turned and meshed and their arms locked around each other. Dillon felt her tits against his chest and pushed his hardening cock against her, and as if they were in a time machine, they instantly picked up where they’d left off long ago.

“You know,” she said, as Dillon sucked her earlobe, “I know it sounds crazy, and I know it’s been four years, but as soon as I laid eyes on you at the funeral home last night, I wanted you.”

“Me too,” he said in a raspy hiss.

“Stay with me tonight,” she said.

“Are you sure?” He kissed her neck.

“I’m positive.” Her hand found his penis, thick and hard like she remembered.

“What about your sister?” He sucked on her nipple through the cotton fabric of her blouse.

“She’s cool.” She started unbuckling him.

“What if there are rumors?” He unhooked her two top buttons.

“Good.”

Katy put her face right up to his. She said: “Dillon, you and I are the two people on Earth who C.J. loved the most. We belong together tonight.”

“Yes,” he said. “We do.”

They rose and Katy led him by his hand to her bedroom, shutting the door behind them. They tore their clothes off as they french-kissed, each savoring the taste of the other.

“Make love to me,” Katy whispered. “Like you used to.”

It all came back in an instant. He knew exactly what she liked, and all of her sweet spots. She moaned with his touch and her body was soon writhing and wouldn’t stop. He kissed her quivering thighs. He traced his tongue along the inside of her moistened lower lips, before plunging it inside her. Katy squeaked with pleasure, and Dillon drunk in the smell and taste of her, like a sip of cool sweetwater after four years in the desert.

He sucked her clit into his mouth, and just like the old days, Katy fell into the sway and fucked his face with a rhythm matching his. It was as if no time had passed.

Dillon’s hands slithered under her butt, his fingertips dug into her crack, and he squeezed.

“Ugh,” Katy groaned. She had her thumbs in his ears and her fingers webbed around the back of his head as he ate her.

Dillon hummed a slow tune into her pussy, played her clit like a kazoo. Katy groaned loudly and squirmed some more. When she felt his finger enter her asshole her pussy was about to explode.

It didn’t take long for her to come the first time. It had been a long while since she’d had sex and her loins were trigger happy. And Dillon knew how to push all her buttons better than anyone ever had. She’d taught him well and he didn’t miss a beat.

Katy shivered and half-screamed his name when her dike broke. He felt the wet, warm rush of her saved-up cum surround his tongue and rinse his face, and he tasted her juicy funk again, finally. He never thought this would happen again, but here they were. A thought flowed through his mind briefly as he lapped up her juices. He thought how he could never, ever get more intimate with a woman than he was at that moment: Her clit in his mouth, his finger up her ass, her cum on his face. But it was a fleeting thought. His dick was swollen and hard and achy. It was time to fuck.

Katy was reading his mind. When he put his slimy face up to hers, their lips had barely touched when he felt her sturdy grip around his cock. She fed it right into her slippery gash and started humping. No recovery time for this gal. She wanted it again.

No problem. Dillon was ready to bust. But he didn’t want to rush things. He wanted to make it last, make it beautiful. He kissed her, slid his hands back under her ass. He lingered, took his time, kissing her with his dick inside her and his fingers once again feeling their ways around her lovely butt. He wanted to fuck her slowly. They fell into a gentle, loving rhythm.

“You like this?”

“I love this.”

Back and forth, up and down, in and out, taking their time, kissing, smiling, only gradually picking up speed. Dillon knew he would have to come soon, so he picked up his pace and started banging her harder, then harder, and Katy was okay with that. Her legs were wrapped around his, constricting, as she slung her body at him over and over as his cock rammed her ripe twat.

“I miss this,” Katy hissed. “I need this.”

Dillon’s low, long grunt told her that his sperm was on the way. She wanted it.

“Yeah, Baby, give it to me. Give it to me.”

His body shook with each hammered spurt. When his nuts were drained, his body, still wavering, was zapped and telling him to rest, but he did not. He wanted Katy to come again and he knew how to make that happen. So he jammed his finger up her ass and started pumping his drained dong into her as hard as he could without throwing his back out.

She squealed when she felt the bullet up her butt. Then she bellowed, ugh…ugh…ugh… with each of his thrusts.

Her orgasm was another twisty bodyquake, high on the Katy scale. Her cum flowed big, and oozed out of her. Dillon felt it surround his cock and drip down his balls. It puddled on the bed.

When Dillon pulled out he collapsed onto the bed beside her, held her and their sapped bodies slept.

*

Sonia enjoyed the show, although it was strictly auditory through the thin walls. It was like an X-rated radio program. She’d never listened to her little sister fuck before, but it was quite the turn-on. She imagined Katy in the next room, with her young lover on top of her, pounding her, making her scream like that. But she felt a calm come over her. She now knew her sister would be alright, because she was already healing, getting the shit fucked out of her by the man she had not yet admitted that she was in love with. With the titillating sounds and mind-vision of her thirty-nine year old sister in the next room getting laid by her twenty-four year old lover, she masturbated, then quickly fell asleep.

In the middle of the night, Dillon woke up and walked into the bathroom adjacent to the master bedroom. He closed the door and turned on the light. His mouth was dry, and tasted funky. He found some mouthwash under the sink and took a swig, squished it around and spit it into the sink. He turned on the faucet, ran the water onto his hands and scooped a drink from his palms. He splashed his face and dried it. He raised the toilet seat and took a leak, then lowered the seat. He flushed, hoping he wouldn’t wake Katy.

But Katy was awake. She’d stirred when he got out of bed, watched his sexy shape as he walked to the bathroom, watched the door close and the light come on. She heard the water running, then the sound of him pissing. The toilet flushed, the faucet was running again. She reached over and felt around in the drawer of her nightstand and found what she was looking for. She popped the top on the tube and squeezed, rubbed the greasy stuff all over her hands, and fingered herself.

The bathroom light went off, the door opened and Dillon came back to bed and lay beside her in the darkness. She immediately grabbed his limp dick and stroked it with her slick hand. He turned to her in the dark and they kissed. Katy pivoted her body and went down on him, and sucked him for a minute until his cock reached its maximum hardness, length and girth. Then she lay back beside him and pulled him on top of her. She splayed her legs wide and guided his cock to her opening.

“Fuck me,” she whispered.

He pushed his cock into her. It was tight, but he slid in with a sweet friction and knew right away that Katy had fed his cock into her ass. He kissed her again, deeply, tenderly, and she moaned as he pushed himself all the way in.

Katy reached down between her legs and stroked her clit, which was already swollen with expectation. As Dillon began fucking her, she pulled her trigger harder and harder, wanting to match his movements and come big when he did.

Dillon broke a light sweat as he propelled his dick in and out of her. It had been four long years since he’d buttfucked her, but he was now in a state of rapture. As his stiff, slippery cock sledded in and out of her, and he felt the firm, hot pressure of her perfect ass around it, he felt like he was finally home.

He picked up his pace and he grunted when he felt his semen start to rise.

Katy knew her man. Four years? It seemed like it yesterday. She stroked herself harder and faster.

“Give it to me!” she wheezed, short of breath.

Dillon gave it to her. His body shook with each of his spasms as he fired his load deep inside her, but he stayed in place because his dick was like an eight inch rivet up her ass.

When he pulled out of her, Katy was still plucking her clit like it was an electric bass, reaching for her climax. Dillon was about to put his mouth down there and do his thing, when Katy howled like a wounded wolf and her torso shivered and she came in the dark. They quickly fell asleep.

The sun was up when they woke later that morning. They said good morning, kissed and Dillon spooned Katy from behind, holding her tight, not wanting to let her go. But soon he was kissing her neck and licking her ear, and then Katy turned to face him and they were kissing, and both were aroused, and they screwed again. But it was a stark contrast to their raunchy, middle-of-the-night assfuck. They made slow, precious love, taking the time to show their attentions to every nook and cranny and cleavage and orifice of their bodies. Afterward, they held each other in silence. No words were necessary.

But Dillon was thinking. He was thinking about how it was Saturday morning and he would have one more day with Katy before he left to drive back to his apartment and his job. He was thinking that he didn’t go home last night and his family would know why. He was thinking about Millie, and how the gossip mill was probably already turning. Katy was the first one to speak, breaking the silence and interrupting his thoughts, but practically reading his mind.

“Move in with me,” she said.

That got Dillon’s attention. Did he hear her right? “Huh?” he said.

“I said, move in with me.”

“Move in with you? What, here?”

“Of course, here. Where else?”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Why not? It’s cheap rent, the house is paid for. That’s one positive that came out of my divorce. What’s the matter, you don’t want to?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…I live and work three hundred miles from here.”

“So? Quit. You can find a job here, if the company can’t relocate you. Or better yet, get a real estate license, we’ll work together. I do pretty well, I’m sure you would too. We’d make a hell of a team, don’t you think?”

He nodded. “Yes, I believe we would.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“No problem. Just unexpected, I guess. Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, I’m sure, Dillon. It’s not an offer I’d make to just anyone, and not without careful consideration. I’ve thought about it over and over.” She got out of bed, stood up, looked down at him. “I’m sure. And do you know why I’m sure? I’m sure because I’ve spent so much time thinking about you and missing you and I feel like I’ve waited four years for you. You make me feel good, you make me laugh, you make me happy. And I love the way we fuck. And… Well… I love you. There. I said it. Now I’m going to take a shower.”

Dillon watched her shapely, naked ass disappear into the bathroom, leaving the door open. He heard her turn on the shower. He laughed quietly to himself. Something that he’d thought about for years, something that he thought could never happen, was happening. He got off the bed and walked into the bathroom. He slid the shower door aside and stepped in beside her. Katy’s tits were covered with soap.

“Katy, thank you for telling me how you feel. Because I love you too. I’ve loved you for years. But I was afraid to tell you.”

“I was afraid, too,” she said, washing his shoulders.

“You were?”

“Yep. I was afraid you thought I was too old for you.”

“Really? I was afraid you thought I was too young.”

“Nah, you’re just right. You make me happy.”

“You make me happy too. I love you, Katy.”

“I love you, Dillon.”

Dillon moved under the spray and they kissed, a deep, wet wing-dinger, as the water pounded them.

“So, how did you get over the fear?” he asked. “What made you decide to tell me?”

“It was something my sister said. She said that it was so obvious that we were in love. The way we looked at each other, the way we hugged, the way we interacted. I knew she was right and I just hadn’t admitted it yet. I knew I had to do something before you got away again.”

They kissed and ran their wet, soapy fingers over their wet, soapy bodies, and before you could say ‘I’m hard again’, Dillon was hard again. Less than a half hour after they’d made love in bed, they made love again in the shower. With their mouths plastered together, and his hands cupped under her butt, and her legs wrapped around his waist, and his dick deep inside her, and her back against the tile wall, they fucked for the first time as committed lovers, and they came in an echoed unison of orgasms just as the water pouring down upon them ran cold.

----

It was late morning by the time Katy and Dillon made their way to the kitchen in search of food. There was a note from Sonia on the kitchen table. She was gone. The gist of the note was that by the sounds she’d heard coming out of Katy’s bedroom, she knew that Katy would be fine without her hanging around. She wished them the best.

The rest of the weekend was a nonstop love-in. They rarely left the bedroom. They had too much catching up to do. Dillon never even went back over to see his parents, or to say goodbye when he left. He figured he’d wait until he got back to tell them that he was going to be their newest next door neighbor.

He left at four a.m. on Monday so he would get to the office on time. He had a busy day planned. In addition to several appointments, he had to type up his letter of resignation and give his two-week notice. His supervisor was surprised when he told him he was leaving, but couldn’t offer to relocate him. That was fine with Dillon; Katy had said she would find out when and where the real estate courses were being given so he could hit the ground running when he got back.

He called his mother after the first week and told her he would be moving in with Katy. She wasn’t surprised. She said she knew what was going on after he came back from the funeral and went over to her house, and never came back. She also said Millie was on the case.

He had no problem getting out of his apartment. His roommate’s girlfriend had been staying over a lot anyway, and now she could just move in and take his place. It worked out for the best for all of them.

----

Early on Saturday morning, the day after his last day at work, Dillon packed his car with as much of his stuff as he could fit into the car, the trunk, and tied to the roof rails, and hit the road, and made that long, lonely drive for the last time. He spent most of the five hours in deep thought, thinking about Katy, and all the nasty things they were going to do when he got there. It was mid-afternoon by the time he got to Katy’s house, and he didn’t know it, but he was in for a big surprise. He was soon to find out that he and Katy would not be living in the house alone.

Katy was waiting for him. She’d been looking out the window every five minutes for over an hour. When he pulled into the driveway, she emerged onto the front porch. She had a big smile on her face as Dillon walked to the porch. She stepped down to greet him.

“Welcome home,” she said, as she took him into her arms. “Just in case there are any neighbors watching, let’s give them something to talk about.”

She kissed him, jamming her tongue into his mouth. Wrapped in four arms, they shared one of the longest, deepest kisses they’d ever had. When they finally ended the kiss, they were laughing.

“That ought to do it. Let’s wave to Millie.”

They both turned toward Millie’s house, three doors down on the corner, and waved. They knew she was probably peeking through one of her curtains, watching.

Katy took Dillon’s hand and led him into the house.

“Now, Dillon,” Katy said, “I don’t want you to get mad. I know I didn’t discuss this with you, but I invited someone else to share the house with us.”

“You did?” he said, already wondering what kind of shit bucket he’d stepped into.

“Yes. Do you like three-ways?”

“Do I like three-ways? What do you mean?”

“Three-way. Trio. Threesome. Manage a trois. Whatever you want to call it. You know. You and me and another girl. In bed together.”

Dillon felt like he’d just driven five hours into the Twilight Zone.

“You’re into that?”

“Sure, why not. Don’t worry, I think you’ll like her. She’s really cool. I’ve been sleeping with her for a week.”

“You have?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s great in bed. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

In a daze he followed her to the guest bedroom at the far end of the hall. Katy opened the door and went into the room, Dillon was right behind. Then he saw her.

She was lying on the bed, on top of a jumble of blankets. Her eyes were blinking, as if she just woke up. She was gorgeous.

Dillon burst out laughing. So did Katy. They walked over to their new, rudely-awakened housemate: A beautiful, shiny, white German Shepherd puppy!

“You had me going, you stinker,” he said. “I’ll spank your ass when I get you in the sack.”

“Ooh, I hope so.”

“She’s beautiful. What’s her name?” He rubbed her ears and stroked her back.

“I thought I’d leave that up to you,” she said.

“Lady! What else?”

Katy picked up a small gift-wrapped package off of the dresser and handed it to him. He ripped it open. It was a pink and blue collar with an attached heart-shaped tag that had ‘Lady’ etched into it.

“Ah, you knew.”

“I know my man.” She kissed him gently on his lips.

“What a nice surprise,” he said. “Thank you. Lady is beautiful, I love her already. But she just woke up, she probably needs to go out. Why don’t we take her for a walk and share her beauty with the neighborhood? It’ll help get the rumor mill cranked up.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

So they put Lady’s collar around her neck and hooked up her leash, and they took a leisurely stroll around the block. And when they got back to the house, Dillon dragged Katy into the bedroom. They tore each others’ clothes off and they jumped into bed, along with Lady, and they had their very first manage a trois. Or threesome. Or trio. Or three-way, or whatever you want to call it. Katy and Dillon made loud, passionate love, but for the most part, Lady just watched.

*****************************

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