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I had known Kent all my life but at a distance. We were both descendants of the founding fathers of the Great Lakes Bank and Trust. The first time I remembered meeting him, we were both very young. He pulled my hair and I cried. After that, he seemed to stay away from me. He lived in Birmingham. I lived in Grosse Point Shores. For those of you unfamiliar with Southeast Michigan, let me say the difference was Old Money in the Points and new money out there in the west. There WAS a differenceMy high school was Dominican. His was Catholic Central. My college was Siena Heights also Dominican. His college was the University of Michigan-Dearborn. His major was pre-law. Mine was art history. He attended the University of Michigan Law School. I found a position at the Detroit Institute of Arts, The DIA.

My life has always been rather easy. College was no different. I had found early in my life that boys were rude, crude and lewd and every one of them wanted to get me nude. High school and college did notthing to change my opinion. If anything, it solidified it. As a classmate at Siena said, 'Teenage Boys and all Men just want to get into a tight virgin Catholic girl'. They did NOT get into me. They did get into her quite often. She was on the pill but still had two abortions in her four years at Siena.

My position at the DIA was to assist in the receiving of incoming art works, catalogue them and store them until they went on display. When the time came to close the exhibit, they were repacked in their original containers and sent on to their next destination. It was good, clean and fun work. The money be situated that great but I lived at home. My father had given me a new car when I turned sixteen. There was another at my high school graduation and again when I graduated from Siena Heights so I had always had dependable transportation. There was a mechanic who picked up my car and did something to it every three months. I didn't think of the car except as transportation.

I had been employed at the DIA for six months when my life changed. The exhibit was titled Old Flemish Masters. There was a formal party for the Opening Night for those sponsors who had given the correct amount of money to the DIA. I was dressed in a new evening gown and the color matched my green eyes. I was in charge of insuring that all food on nine tables in three different locations was were replaced as needed and of course to chat with the Patrons. Drinks were at a cash bar unless the Patron had given enough money and had the correct pass. Then drinks were free. Some checks were written that night to insure the passes were valid. The Passes were the best way to tell the people with real money.

I soon found that the caterers were true professionals and needed no prodding or oversight. I relaxed and chatted with the Patrons. Fun and easy as fine art is easy to talk about.

A tall man in a tuxedo approached me. He had a very nice smile and he did look familiar.

"Hello, Sandra."

It took me several seconds, "Kent McCleary! It has been years. How are you doing?"

"Well, it has been just over four years, Sandra and I have joined our fathers' bank."

"Yes, I do recall father mentioning that at dinner a while back. I am sure they were lucky to get you."

"I was lucky my dad could get me in," he had a nice laugh. "I actually came here tonight to invite you to the play at the Fisher Theater and of course to see these wonderful old paintings again."

"I had planned on attending. Yes, Kent, it should be fun. I do so love My Fair Lady."

"I have tickets for two very good seats for Wednesday night. Would you prefer dinner before or after?"

"After, please, I will have to go home to change and I will have a small snack to carry me over."

"Then I will pick you up at seven at your house, the curtain rises at eight."

"Excellent."

We spent the remainder of the night just chatting and discussing the Old Flemish Masters. I was pleasantly surprised that he was so well versed in fine art. He was intelligent, witty in a sensible way (nothing crude, no double meanings). He dressed well as the tuxedo had been tailored for him. He was a perfect gentleman. The only time he touched me was when one of the several children at the opening ran into me. He held my arm and stabilized me so I didn't fall.

We began to date. You know, the usual; theaters, movies, trips to a casino, music and dance recitals of the children of friends, dinners with my friends from the DIA, picnics with his friends from the Bank. He seemed to fit in everywhere. I was very impressed with his social skills. I was NOT impressed with some of his friends, Bill Ramsey for one. At an indoor pool party for people Kent knew from the bank, Bill Ramsey actually asked Kent if he was sleeping with me. I Was Standing There! Kent told him very quickly and harshly that one did not speak that way in front of a lady. There did seem to be certain friendliness between the two of them earlier in the day. That was why I rarely drank. I feared I might become a rude, crude person like Ramsey.

Kent had kissed me many times, he was very skilled with his kissing and he was also very skilled in moving his hands as he was kissing me. Often to stop this behavior, I would have to stop the kissing. Once he actually got his hand inside my brassiere. I was shocked but he just laughed at me.

"What will you do after we are married?"

Where had this come from? Married? Me? Marry him? "Are you asking me to marry you?"

"No, but I will as soon as I know your answer will be yes."

"And if the answer is no?"

He did have a very pleasant laugh, "Then I won't ask you. I will warn you that your mother already has the wedding invitation list prepared."

I fought back laughter, "She may be expecting things that may not occur. I am not sure I want to marry."

He just laughed again and slid his hand back into my bra. It was almost exciting. My nipples were firm. It didn't feel bad and I continued to date him. He was working his way up my thighs on our next date. According to him, our families had already made all the decisions and all he had to do was convince me to open my legs, let him have a sample and then, of course, agree to marry him.

Early that spring things changed again. The DIA had The Old Flemish Masters for a year before we sent them on to San Diego. We had a new collection of great paintings delivered from the Louvre in Paris, The Old Dutch Masters. The Director of the DIA asked me to allow the traveling representative of the Louvre to stay at my home. It seemed like a good idea. She would be a young woman in a strange city. It would be easier for her if she had a ready place to live and a friend. I agreed and waited for the paintings and Nicole d' Oryes to arrive.

She arrived a week before the paintings. On the 15th of May, she landed at Detroit Metropolitan Airport. I picked her up in my car, a white Dodge mini-van. I had prepared a sign with Nicole written on it. She was one of the last two people off the plane. She was talking to a rather nondescript older man and seemed to be having a grand time. She saw the sign and after her luggage was loaded by the skycaps, we were headied for my home.

"Was the trip tiring?" A safe start for conversation.

"Not at all."

She was French, the accent was unmistakable, "I met the most darling man. Since I had no idea of the phone number where I would be staying, he gave me his."

"That should work well."

Maybe she was better equipped to handle a strange city than I had been led to believe.

"As soon as he sees his wife and settles down from the trip, he will get a call from me. Is there a quiet out of the way restaurant where we could have dinner?"

Dinner? Out of the way? Quiet? Wife? "But he is married."

"And I am not. I do have a man, Jacques, in Paris who wants to marry me and move me and all my belongings into his estate just outside of the city. At present, he keeps me in a townhouse. I want to wait a while before we marry, as he will want babies and I want to play first."

I was driving and it was difficult to look at her but look I did. I already knew she was taller than me, about five six to my five even. I had a figure. She seemed painfully thin, almost boyish. Her hair was a violent red. She wore too much makeup. The eyes were not green, not brown, hazel? From the looks of the blouse, there was very little underneath it. She would not be considered pretty. Yet, a married man was going to meet her in a quiet out of the way place for dinner. And she had just arrived in the country. Her chatter continued as she told me about her past, her lovers (all married men, it seemed) and her plans for the time she would be in the States. If she was to be believed, she was going to date a lot, have a lot sex and it would all be paid for by married men plus receiving various expensive gifts.

I found this woman fascinating. She was living life as large as she could and enjoying it. Suddenly, I was jealous. I had always been comfortable with my life. Now suddenly I was a mouse when compared to this high-flying brightly colored bird. The suit I had so carefully chosen to meet her was suddenly a rag. I was shocked at the way she talked and the way she lived. I felt like one of the stupid stepsisters at the ball with Cinderella.

She talked constantly while we traveled to my home. On arrival, I had the three gardeners help with the nine bags she had.

Or as she said, "Just barely enough to get by."

I hoped it was enough, eight of her bags were huge.

She request a bath, very reasonable after her long trip. I showed her the bedroom she would be using. The gardeners finally placed all of her bags in the room. She striped in front of me, still talking.

"I will never have sex on an airplane again. I should have learned better by now. It was no more comfortable this time than the other four times. The restrooms are just too small."

Sex? Restroom? Plane? What had the DIA wished upon me? Well, I was committed for the time she would be here. I suddenly had doubts about this, serious doubts. Very serious doubts.

"See anything you like?"

What? I realized I had been and still was staring at her. All bones and angles, the hair on her vagina was trimmed into a strip half an inch wide and maybe one inch long. It was as red as the hair on her head. The lips were completely bare and very red and puffy. She was naked!

I was so embarrassed I could not speak. The next words were even worse.

"Would you like to bathe with me?"

Try stunned. Try shocked. I felt her words were more like a challenge than a simple invitation. The way she said it, it sounded like a dare. She was a loud French Woman and I was a mouse. Well, I can bathe with anyone.

"Why not? I will fill the tub."

I was out of my mind. Grown women do not bathe together. Shower maybe but bathe?

I removed my garments. I was nude, she was naked. I knew the difference. Her looking at me while I undressed made me blush. But I was able to not look at her as I removed my clothes. I wondered what she would think of my pubic hair, it wasn't even combed.

The water was running into a very large tub. It had been in the same location for well over one hundred years. Having been made for a rather large man and his also rather large mistress, it was heavy enough to take a large load. It would hold both of us smaller specimens quite easily. She brought some bottles to the tub.

"Bubble bath," she said as she poured.

"And oil for the body," she poured from another bottle.

"And fragrance for the soul," she poured from a third bottle.

The tub quickly filled with millions of aromatic bubbles. It was a sweet but strong scent. Nicole eased into the steaming bubbles. Her breasts were so tiny, just small bumps with nipples. My B-cups looked huge in comparison.

Filled with not fear, not panic, worry? Yes, worry. What was I doing? I followed her and slipped into the water.

She pushed me so that she was sitting behind me. Her legs were wrapped around my hips She picked up a wash cloth. "Scoot forward, I will start with your back."

The last time anyone had given me a bath was my father when I was six years old after I had been splashed with mud by a car. Mother had ordered him to wash me while she got me some clean clothes. It was a business-like thing. He quickly got me clean and out of the tub. The way Nicole was washing me we would be there forever.

"Lean back," She reached around me and started on my front. I could feel her tiny breasts against my back. Her nipples were so hard it felt like they should be hurting me. Suddenly, I was alert, awake, aroused. My breasts were heavier, tighter; the nipples were protruding, blood red and were as hard as pebbles. They were never like this before. My breathing was faster. She slowly washed my breasts as if she was playing with my nipples.

"Later when the soap is all gone I want to kiss those wonderful nipples."

What was she saying? What was happening? Why was I letting this happen?

I was pushed gently and spun around in the old fashioned and long ago lovers' tub. She was washing my legs.

She worked up slowly to the knees and the thighs. When she reached my crotch she lost the cloth and used her fingers. I had masturbated but when I did I was clumsy. She was an expert. I opened my legs wider, she opened my lips and explored me.

Her face showed shock, "Oh, my god, Sandra, you are a virgin. I can feel the hymen."

I think I moaned. She found the nub and caressed it while bouncing two fingers off my hymen. I pushed my hips toward her.

"Easy, Sandra. A hymen should be broken by a lover's penis."

I did NOT care. All I wanted was more of what she was doing. I grunted, groaned and climaxed. It was not the timid fumblings I had done over the years. It was all I could do to not scream. As I slowly became aware of what had happened, I was scared to death. I was a freak. I was having sex with a woman. I was ... feeling very good, thank you. It was the best I had ever had. It was the only I ever had.

I noticed she washed her vagina very well, using her hands to push water inside herself. I learned later that was so I wouldn't taste my first male semen from her. She wanted me to experience that directly from the male tube. She released the water in the tub. She sprayed us with the shower attachment. She sprayed water directly into her vagina. She dried us off with the four available huge fluffy towels. She half carried me to the bed and she kissed me. Kent was a good at kissing but she was far and away better. Nothing hard like Kent, just sweet gentle kisses all over my face. She bit my ears, easily, gently. For the next two hours I was hers. I had no idea that anything could be this good. She seemed to be taking forever and I wanted more.We exploded in a rolling frenzy of orgasms.

An adventure once started must run its course. We had six months together. For me every day was a learning experience and every night was a loving experience. Even during our monthlies which somehow happened on the same three days. She taught me how to please her. She was a very good teacher. I learned how to make it last and last and last. We would take each other so close and ease off to let it build. When we climaxed it was like the entire world turning inside out. I fell in love with her. I wanted her. She wanted me. I dated Kent. She dated married men.

Nicole explained it to me, "Married men want to have sex. They do not want problems so they are very nice, very gentle and not overly demanding. They feel honored just to have a young woman give them oral sex that their wives will no longer do. They give me gifts, the richer they are, the more expensive the gifts. They are very attentive. They are more caring about no babies so they will use the condom without complaining. They do not want to take anything strange back to their wives. My rule is not to have sex with the same married man more than three times. That way he will not come to believe that he wants to leave his wife and marry me. Or worse ask me to be his mistress. If he is very good lover I will give him the three times. If he is a poor lover he only gets one time. The good lovers are the ones who will do oral without me asking. They ask if they can be oral with me after the first round of sex. Oral with a good man is always a two way street."

In the six months she was my house guest, she dated 50 married men. Yes, I kept a record of them. Many were the wealthier patrons at the DIA. She was always clean when she came to our bed to make love with me. She always tasted like the first time. Warm, wet, pure sweetness.

Most of her gifts were jewelry. She gave some of it to me. Once when I was at work a Patron saw me with a diamond necklace. He blanched but said nothing. He had given the necklace to Nicole just two weeks earlier.

After just a month of Nicole's encouragement I was letting Kent use his fingers gently on me. I insisted that he not break my hymen. While he was good with his hands, Nicole was absolutely wonderful. When he used his mouth he was skilled but had less than half the skills of Nicole. He did give me small climaxes but nothing like The Earth Shattering climaxes with Nicole. She made me scream. He wanted me to please him with my mouth. I talked it over with Nicole. I talked everything over with Nicole.

"Nicole, He wanted me to let him put his thingy in my mouth."

"Men like that as much as we do, Sandra. Maybe even more although I really doubt that."

"Nicole, he is very, very big."

She grinned, "How big?"

I held my hands apart.

She giggled, "If he were that big, he would be a horse."

"Nicole, I swear he is that big."

"Measure him."

"Nicole!"

"Do not worry, dear. To get you to you to do oral sex for him, he will let you paint it blue, hang a flag on it and let you take pictures."

Suddenly she was laughing, "Sandra, dear, you will marry this man?"

"Our families want it and he wants it."

"But do you want it?"

I wanted to tell her I loved her, that I wanted to be with her but she would be going back to Paris, "I will marry him. He is a good man."

"I see. When?"

"Will you come back from Paris for the wedding?"

"Oh, yes, Sandra. I will come back two weeks before the wedding. I will make love with you every night before the wedding. Then I will return to Paris while the honeymoon takes place."

She giggled, it was like music, rising and falling with tones, overtones and undertones. It lifted me and made me feel as if I was in heaven.

"I will marry him in November of next year. That will give our two families the time to make plans."

On our next date, I measured Robert following Nicole's instructions. From the belly straight out, getting to his belly in that tangled mass of hair was a clumsy chore. Nicole and I were shaving all of that hair away. It was so smooth and easy to kiss. Find the biggest part of him and measure around. I used a cloth tape that was 12 inches long.

"Nicole, hard he is over eight and one quarter inches long. He is over seven and one half inches around."

She stared at me. "Oh, my dear little Nicole. Your sweet little virgin vagina is in for a rough ride until you get used to that. This is how you must do it. Do not wait until you are married. He will then have at you every day and night. That will be very difficult for you. Let him have you one time, then a week later you let him do it again. Then six days latter then five then four then three then go away for a weekend. Do not let him run amuck that weekend. You will walk a bit funny for the first two or three times but that will pass. That is the way Jacques did me. Of course, your Kent is a bit bigger but I was only 14 at the time. Make sure that you wait until all the pain is completely gone before you let him inside of you again."

"What if he wants to do it more than once?"

"Use your mouth and hands."

"How? He will choke me."

"No, he will not. You do everything. If he holds your head or tries to push in, stop everything and just look at him. He will go along with you. A man will do anything when his penis is inside a woman's mouth. You will be in total control."

Everything she said was true. Except when I did climax for Kent they were very small orgasms and he seemed to leave so much goo inside me. I would leak for hours unless I showered and washed it out of my body. Kent was so happy that I was having sex with him, he immediately asked me to marry him.The wedding went as planned, Nicole was there as promised and we did make love every day and night for two weeks before the wedding.

Kent did use me more often after the wedding. But by following the directions Nicole had given me, I was ready for him. The man was insatiable. He no more than filled me with his sticky goo than he was ready to start again. He did it to me in chairs, on tables, on couches and in beds. He was always ready to clean me but his tongue could not get deep inside me where most of the goo was. He loved it. I just wanted NOT to have to sleep in all those wet spots.

Three days into the honeymoon, I called Nicole about the constant rutting, she told me to wait and see if it would be different after the honeymoon and we had returned home. I waited. All he wanted to do on our honeymoon was flood me with sticky goo.

In the New Year, I was pregnant. To gain relief from him, I began to have headaches, back aches, cramps, sore muscles and I was tired a lot. I was uncomfortable with the baby. I talked to my doctor and we discovered that I was depressed. I used all of that to keep HIM away from me.

That spring I was in Paris when Nicole married Jacques. We made love for 14 days and nights before that wedding too. After that unfeeling beast back home, it was so good to have Nicole's sweet hands and tongue on my body again. After I explained it all to Nicole, she agreed with me. As soon as I returned home, I told Kent in no uncertain terms that I would never permit that THING to be inside of me again. Kent wanted a boy. He got Victoria. The baby thing was gross. I was as big as a damn barn. Overall, it was quite easy but I had made up my mind that I would never allow Kent's thing inside me again. There would be no more babies. I actually hated the idea of another baby growing inside me.

Victoria and I went to Paris to meet Nicole and her unborn son Henri that Jacques had planted there. She was five months with child when she married. After that Nicole and I met every year for six weeks in the summer and six weeks in the winter. We emailed and called constantly. We alternated years, she visited me on odd numbered years and on even numbered years I was there with her. Until she was 12, Victoria traveled with me. We saw the cities of Europe with Nicole and her son Henri. Then Victoria did not want to go anymore. She had joined some silly adventure club Kent had started. Something to do with being out in the cold, dark, wet woods, I think.

Kent wanted more children. I did not. After dinner one night he asked if we could do an insemination without sex. We could have a doctor add the semen Kent provided put into my womb when I was most fertile. I saw how much he loved Vicky and decided to do it. Small children are fun as long as the nurse or nanny takes care of them. Then I remembered how Victoria had turned away from me for his silly youth gang. She was spending most of her free time with him. I never answered his question.

The year that Victoria turned 15, Nicole was slated to visit me. We had decided to make this trip a longer one of 10 weeks. We planed to travel through the Canadian Province of Quebec and especially the city of Montreal. They do speak French there. Nicole could use her native tongue (what a delightful tongue) and I could use my very expensive and well taught French tongue. She arrived at the airport alone. Henri had chosen to stay with his father in Paris. I drove my lover to my home. It was early, only ten o'clock in the morning. We bathed in that huge tub again. We made love again. God, she was so good. We spent most of the day in bed. The orgasms just went on and on and on, never stopping.

Kent was home for dinner and the cook did a decent job. Nicole is French, but she will eat American food if it is well prepared and if it has been well chosen. Kent had a bottle of very old and very good French wine. Even Nicole was impressed.

It was after that wonderful dinner that Kent invited us two women to his study for an after dinner drink. He rarely did this for anyone but as long as Nicole was with me I would go anywhere and do anything. He left first and we went to the bathroom where Nicole pushed my dress up and kissed my naked lips. After I pushed her dress up and kissed her naked lips, we went to Kent's study.

The first indication that all was not correct was the open bottle of very old cognac sitting on the coffee table. Kent has a drinking problem. The second was Jacques, who was sitting next to Kent on that large overstuffed gross-looking leather divan. Both of them were smiling and sipping the cognac. My very pleasant world was about to come apart.

"Ah, my dear Nicole, what a pleasure to see you again so soon. Kent was kind enough to hold this meeting here in his home. We aren't as silly or stupid as you two appear to think we are."

"In a nutshell," my husband continued, "You two are caught. We have film and more. We would like a no fault divorce. If you fight or even think of fighting the divorce, I will put on the internet a rather large number of films of you two lesbians having wild and crazy sex. All of your friends and family will find a copy on their steps and on their computers."

It was simple after that. The lawyer I found was good. The lawyer Nicole found in France was also good. But given the threat that they would publish the films, Nicole and I were in a losing situation. We walked away with a million dollars a year each. Not the living we were used to but still good. The thing that made me the angriest was his reference to Nicole and my love making as fucking.

We settled in Montreal. There was a small tourist travel shop for sale and we bought it. Nicole and I plan trips in and around Quebec. I handle the American visitors and she does the Europeans. It is a wonderful life. The children visit more now that they are in college. I think they are planning to be married.

Our ex-husbands were like twins. They found trophy wives, young and good breeders. They started new families at forty. Kent has two boys and Jacques has two girls. They are doing quite well in their banking. They do send us business regularly.

It has worked out very well. Nicole still has the same taste as that day so long ago. Sweet, warm and delicious.

My life has always been rather easy.

~oOo~

I am Kent Tovilar McCready IV. I have read Sandra's blurb. She emailed it to me, asking my permission to tell the world about her love affair and our marriage. I found it to be interesting. Nothing there that I did not already know, of course, but it was interesting to read what she had to say. I told Sandra that I would add my own remembrances to what she had written and published them together. I am now of an age where stories of the past can be good for the soul.

I can't remember our first meeting but it was well before the silly hair-pulling incident.

Our great-great-grandfathers started the Great Lakes Savings and Trust Bank. Here after known as the GLS&T Bank. Her ancestor, Rafe Devers, got his money from selling shoddy gunpowder in that Great American Civil War. Rafe sold a lot of shoddy gunpowder to the Federal Government. He also sold a lot of the same shoddy gunpowder to the South early in the war. The Union blockade of the South stopped that.

My ancestor got his money after the war. He was 15 when he enlisted and fought on the eastern front for four years and then stayed down there for ten more years as a carpetbagger.) Tovilar McCready was a scoundrel of the first order. He took over a ocean front county in Virginia and spent 10 years robbing the people blind. Using the freed and voting slaves as a power base and a small platoon of US Troops as the law, he ran the entire county. He came home with a lot of hard money. (Gold and Silver) I never found out why he left Virginia as he seemed to doing very well there.

Rafe (hers) looked down on my ole gramps as a thief. I figured what they had done made them both thieves. The GLS&T Bank was founded in the summer of 1875, after the two fellows found they were both trying to buy the same whorehouse. They decided to form a bank and use the Bank's money to increase their wealth and buy that whorehouse. So they did.

In the fall of 1877, the two thieves married. There are four letters from that time and of course family rumors. It is generally assumed by the present families that the two brides were whores, one French and one Irish. Each marriage yielded two sons. The youngest sons entered the bank and rose quickly to the top of the bank after their fathers died. The older sons died in the Spanish American War from yellow fever not gunshots.