Orchard Flower Version Bravo Chapter 11
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In February, Jill suddenly stopped flitting around like a butterfly and started going out exclusively with a boy named Langston Carter. He was a senior and they went out somewhere about every other week. The rest of the time she'd go to his house, or he'd come to hers. If there was a dance, they went together.
But she never talked about him. I saw him at the house several times, and he seemed like a nice kid. He didn't paw Jill, or act territorial around her. I asked Lynne what he was like and she said it was hard to tell. She described him as polite, but somewhat distant. Jill asked if they could do homework in her room, and then didn't complain at all when Lynne said the door had to stay open.
It looked for all the world like they were just friends.
Of course neither her mother nor I knew what she was actually doing on the other dates she had with Langston. We would find out about that almost a year later, too.
It was Prom that turned everything upside down. Prom was special to Lynne. I would find out more about that while the kids were actually at the dance. But even before then I could tell, because I saw her going all out for Jill, taking her shopping for a new dress and all that kind of thing. On the big day she called me and asked me to come fix supper, because she was doing Jill's hair. It had been a while since I'd smelled that pungent odor that permeates the whole house when a home permanent is used. Jill came to the table looking like some insane artist had used her head to make a sculpture using tin foil and rollers. They ate quickly and went back to it. Lynne said "Don't leave."
Two hours later I looked up from watching TV and my breath caught in my chest.
They had picked a midnight blue dress that was quite simple, really, with spaghetti straps. It fell to just above her knees. Her hair was all up on her head, interwoven with dark blue ribbon going in and out and some kind of silver sparkles in it. She had on eye shadow that was the same shade as the dress, and lipstick that was pink. She looked nervous.
"Wow," I sighed.
"Is that good?" she asked hesitantly.
"Oh yeah," I sighed again. "That's very good."
Her smile made my heart hurt. I looked over to see Lynne leaning against the door frame. She had that look on her face that only a parent can get when she is so proud of her child that she can hardly bear it.
"And look!" said Jill, excitement in her voice.
She twirled quickly and the skirt flowed out and rose. I got just a glimpse of pale blue panties.
"Stop that!" chided her mother.
Jill turned until she was facing me again and stopped. "I got them to go with the dress," she said.
"You're not supposed to show them to anybody," said Lynne.
"Bob can see them," said Jill. "He's special."
The doorbell chimed. Lynne jumped. "He's here!" she said in what was a whispered shout. Jill glanced over at the door, but didn't look excited at all.
Lynne was wearing a sweatshirt with the arms cut off. It was too big and she'd obviously put it on as something that could get wet, or stained or whatever while she worked on Jill. It wasn't something for public consumption. Her jeans were old and I could see skin here and there through holes in the cloth. They still fit her like a glove.
"I'll get it," I said.
Langston was all dolled up too, in a tux. He had a corsage in his hands. He looked just as calm as Jill did.
I don't know why, but I watched his face as I led him in. He looked at Jill and smiled, but his eyes didn't widen, and he didn't react in the way I expected him to. Lynne was darting toward her bedroom, which wasn't surprising, based on how she was dressed.
"You look good," he said.
"Thanks," said Jill, as if what he'd said was expected. "You too."
He handed her the plastic box that held the orchid. She took it out and tried to put it on herself, which is when I stepped in.
"Let me," I said, and took it from her.
There was then a moment where I was transported decades back to a time when I pinned my first corsage on a girl's dress. It was a momentous experience for me, which might seem strange to most people. Part of that was because it was Samantha Cross I was pinning it on, and she was three inches taller than I was. We were both seniors and I'd worked on getting up the courage to ask her to prom for three weeks before I finally did it. Then I was astounded that she didn't already have a date, and almost lost my ability to stand when she accepted. The primary reason that was a turning point in my life, though, was that as she stood there, waiting for me to pin it to the strap of her gown, her parents were standing there beaming ... watching ... completely comfortable with the fact that I was slipping my fingers under that strap, just inches from her breast.
Sam was a 38D. She was completely ready to go out into the world, have triplets and have plenty of warm, yummy milk left over for somebody else's babies.
And I was sliding the back of my fingers across hot, smooth skin that was part of one of those breasts.
And her parents didn't care!
Of course now I understand that I was virtually miles away from the good parts of those impressive mountains Sam carried around everywhere she went. But back then, as she stood patiently, letting me practically feel her up, as I saw it, and her parents not only LET me practically feel her up, they took PICTURES of me practically feeling her up.
I got one of those instant boners that only teenage males are capable of producing, that go from limp to full hard in ten seconds or so.
That's where that memory stopped. If I'd have tried, I'd have easily remembered that that was as close as I got to the nirvana of Sam's breasts that night. Other than pressing my own chest against them, of course. Sam didn't fool around. She was a "good girl." It was fine to slide the backs of my fingers all over her upper breast while I was pinning her corsage on, but I got my hand slapped when I tried to cup the same breast. I was a very confused young man for a while after that.
Anyway, as I pinned the orchid onto Jill's dress, and looked at sweet, dark cleavage, and slid the backs of my fingers along Jill's smooth, warm skin, my prick took notice. She was looking down, at the flower, until I was done, and then she looked up and her smile was so beautific that I almost took her in my arms and kissed her. It was a moment of deja vu, except that it hadn't happened before. I just wished that it had happened before, and that I HAD kissed her.
I also wished I was Langston. I looked over at him, to share one of those man-to-man looks that says "You lucky son of a bitch!" He was looking at his watch.
They'd have left without a picture being taken if Lynne hadn't run back into the room, holding a camera and yelling at them to wait. Apparently a picture of her little girl all dolled up took precedence over being seen dressed way down by that girl's date.
Two years later they hit a financial snag. Lynne mentioned it in the same casual way she might have said that there were two weeks left before apples would blossom. We knew each other pretty well by then. In many ways I knew both Lynne and Jill better, and was closer to them than I had been to Vicky, and it bothered me sometimes. I had loved Vicky, and what I felt for both Lynne and Jill was very different than what I'd felt for Vicky, but the closeness we DID have was something I hadn't...
It didn't take me long to get her to stop crying, mostly because I caved completely and assured her I wasn't going anywhere, and would stay there all night and all the next day if only she'd stop crying. Then, when she was lying in my arms and did subside almost magically quickly, and I realized I'd been played yet AGAIN, my finely tuned analytical adult mind finally began using the few brain cells I had left. "You knew I was going to cum and you LET me cum in you," I accused her. She...
"Oh damn!" I groaned. "Not you too!" "The last time I made love in this pool was almost nineteen years ago, Bob," she huffed in my ear. "Paul got me pregnant with Jill in this pool." Her pussy muscles rippled and she sobbed "Oh yes!" as she began to cum. "It was ... October," she panted. "It was snowing. This ... pool ... is famous ... with the ... locals ... for ... ahhhhhhh ... this is so good, Bob ... people think the pool helps ... uhhhh ... women ... get ... mmmmmmmm ......
Coincidence is an astonishing thing if you take the time to stop and think about it. Most of us don't. Oh, we think about it fleetingly, as it touches our lives now and then, but we don't actually give it the honor it is due. Some people think there isn't any such thing as coincidence, and that everything is preordained. They would call coincidence fate. I'm not one of those people. Coincidence is neither good nor bad, in and of itself. The results can be either, of course, but you...
By the next morning, I was beginning to halfway believe it had all been a dream. Little tomboy Jill, who I'd watched grow up, and whose nubile teenage woman body I had violated, hadn't actually had an orgasm around my tongue, or milked my balls empty. Yet, even after I'd brushed my teeth and used mouthwash, my mouth still seemed to have the lingering taste of young pussy in it. Even the next day my nostrils flared every once in a while, thinking they smelled that lovely fresh...
I got married at thirty-one, relatively late in life, after years of thinking I'd never meet that special woman. When she suddenly popped into my life I was astonished, and then delighted. Losing her was just as sudden, and the emotions involved in it were even stronger. I didn't even have the closure of being able to bury her because ... well ... there wasn't anything to put in the coffin. The counselor the airline supplied suggested I think of her as having been buried at sea. That...
It had been a rough, loud night, with the kind of lightning that comes so often and so bright that it penetrates even closed eyelids and you can't shut it out to go to sleep. Thunder shook the house and rattled the dishes. There were tornado watches going on all over the place. That morning Paul had gotten up early and gone out in it, trying to assess how scattered the herd was. He was the tallest thing on the plains and the lightning killed both him and his horse. When he hadn't come back...
Jill was very unhappy, initially. Her mother clamped down on her, insisting that romance came after college, instead of before it. Lynne knew that wouldn't hold up, and that once Jill got to school, where she could do what she wanted, she would most likely find a boy to be interested in. So she also got her daughter on birth control. She didn't banish me from their house. Nor did she try to impose some irrational rule about Jill not being allowed to come to my house. She just sat us all...
By the next morning, I was beginning to halfway believe it had all been a dream. Little tomboy Jill, who I'd watched grow up, and whose nubile teenage woman body I had violated, hadn't actually had an orgasm around my tongue, or milked my balls empty. Yet, even after I'd brushed my teeth and used mouthwash, my mouth still had the lingering taste of young pussy in it. Standing in the wide doorway of my barn, I noticed a speeding dirt bike racing across the fields. The rider was the tomboy...
Since I didn't have a plan, I didn't talk about the plan as we rode alone. She didn't ask. We had done this before, just riding side by side, looking around, inspecting things, enjoying nature. Finally she spoke. "So what did you and Mom talk about when she went over there last night?" "You," I said, for lack of anything else to say. "Was she mad?" "She wasn't happy." "I didn't mean to tell her," she said. "But you made me so angry!" "I'm sorry about that," I said,...
"Uh oh," said Jill as we rode into their yard. "What?" I asked. She was looking down at her saddle horn. "You leaked out of me," she said. She scooted back, her butt riding up the cantle of the saddle, until I could see the dark wet spot at the crotch of her jeans. "Mom is going to think I peed my pants!" This, again, was the assumption of callow youth. Lynne would have enough experience to know the difference between what Jill was talking about and the draining of two loads of Bob...
If you've ever been in a situation where you were having a whale of a good time, but it also caused some problems, then you know what I was going through. I knew Lynne didn't approve of what was going on. And that made me want to shy away from her. In the good old days, I'd see her every other day for this or that reason, or sometimes for no reason at all. Having that strain between us was one of the unhappy parts of the relationship with Jill that I still couldn't categorize. Nowadays...
That winter Buster died. He was curled up in his dog bed, and looked like he was still sleeping, but he was gone. He was old. They'd gotten him for Jill when she was four so he was old, but everybody kind of expected he had a couple more years left in him. I was the one who noticed, because he always lifted his head and wagged his tail when I walked into the mud room, where his bed was. When he didn't, I investigated. I admit I freaked out a little bit. I'd never had a pet, and I'd never...
The rest of the afternoon was spent much as in any family gathering where a stranger is present. There was a mixture of politely asking the stranger questions about himself, his family and so on, and pretending to accept him into the family while waiting on him at the same time. Nobody else in the family was getting waited on, which is what made it seem a little off kilter somehow. And Zack didn't expect to be waited on, which meant he offered to do things. When it came time to get supper...
I woke with a bladder so full and painful that it demanded instant attention. There was no choice but to extricate myself from her arms and get to the john quickly. She mumbled, but then just rolled onto her face when I left the bed. Her naked backside seemed to rise a bit, as if she was trying to wiggle to her knees for some reason. When I returned, she hadn't moved. I stared at her soft butt and thought about what to do. I was sure, at this point, that if I played with her, she'd be more...
I don't know how often you've had a sexual fantasy about a woman, or a COUPLE of women, masturbated to completion while engaged in those fantasies ... and THEN sat down to eat with them. It had never happened to me, and I almost couldn't figure out how the heck to act. It showed too, because Lynne stared at me, frowning. She couldn't look at my lap, because I was sitting down by then, but I got the distinct impression she would have, if she could have. Jill seemed completely unconcerned...
The brandy was good. It was very sweet, so sweet that a small glass lasted me half an hour. Lynne took bigger sips, and took them more often and by the time I poured my second glass the bottle was a third empty. I think she regressed, at least partly. She was thinking about her own Prom night, and what happened in the back seat of that car, but it was being overlaid with later memories of the same activity. She got horny and the brandy got her loose. "My daughter is probably in the back...
My prick gave another convulsive lurch in Lynne's pussy, as the tableau froze, and then began moving again. "SHIT!" yelled Jill, as she obviously recognized me and lowered the poker. "SHIT!" yelled Lynne in almost exactly the same tone and volume. "AHHHHHH," I groaned as I spurted one last time. "MOM!" yelled Jill, in that tone of voice that makes it perfectly clear that the mother in question has GREATLY disappointed the daughter yelling the word. "JILL!" moaned Lynne, in...
Jill looked so desolate that I finally told her she could come too, but had to follow us at a distance until we had talked things out. That meant she dawdled fifty yards behind us as Lynne and I walked down the driveway to her house and then along the road. I mean a decision had to be made, and Jill would find out about it one way or another, so making her wait back at the house would have just been mean. I was proud of myself for being able to think in a rational manner in this kind of...
I think the turning point was when... No. Wait. This whole story is full of turning points. The coincidences in our three lives had brought us to turning points dozens ... hundreds ... maybe thousands of times. So there was no primary turning point. So what I should have said was that one of the turning points I actually saw and recognized AS a turning point, was when Lynne blinked, and kind of stuttered: "We're all naked!" Now I don't know if I, being a man, just got used to nudity a...
Having talked about doing this was one thing. Making a plan to do this was one thing. Cheating on that plan in secret was one thing. But going into that bathroom, knowing that Lynne was out there, and that she knew what was going to happen ... well it was just about bizarre enough that I almost couldn't perform. Well, maybe saying I "almost couldn't perform" is a bit of an overstatement. I stood there in the bathroom thinking about Lynne and watched Jill get naked. She ignored me and...
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I’m walking down Orchard Road. It’s not the Orchard Road you think it is, Elm Street is not around the corner, I’m in Singapore, in fact, crossing a busy section in the heart of the shopping district, observing the red pedestrian traffic light that keeps everybody on the curb and extends priority to a passing tram car. The tram stop on the other side of the street is busy, rush hour has already started. I’m looking at the waiting crowd, expats, locals, poor tourists, and somebody reacts to my...
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I was in an apartment laundry room when I saw them for the first time. And my cock went as hard as a rock. I've seen a lot of hot girls. I've seen a lot of girls that wore some very sexy things and that showed off a lot of skin. However, the girl that I saw on that Friday evening was one that I would never forget. The girl with the pink flowered panties. I was putting my clothes in a washing machine when the girl walked into the room. I didn't know her name or who she was. All I knew was that...
VoyeurI was in an apartment laundry room when I saw them for the first time. And my cock went as hard as a rock. I've seen a lot of hot girls. I've seen a lot of girls that wore some very sexy things and that showed off a lot of skin. However, the girl that I saw on that Friday evening was one that I would never forget. The girl with the pink flowered panties.I was putting my clothes in a washing machine when the girl walked into the room. I didn't know her name or who she was. All I knew was that...
I was at a restaurant, texting my girlfriend, Jessica, when it happened. I saw something that I could not and would not be able to forget. And I knew, at that precise moment, I needed to see more.I saw a cute girl walking in my direction, holding a bagel in her right hand. The girl looked like she was about nineteen or twenty years old. She had brunette hair and blue eyes, and was wearing a white tank top and a light blue miniskirt. She was already showing off a lot of skin, but I still wanted...
VoyeurShe lay atop the small rise watching him moving through the glen below. Her heart skipping a beat when she saw his head lift up into the morning sun then look upwards along the hill. Their eyes met, even at this distance she could make out that familiar twinkle. She could see the smile on his lips when he raised his hand and waved. She could feel her throat constrict. For she knew as soon as he cleared the ridge at the far end of the glen, he would be gone forever. The images of the past came...
The warm morning sun started to filter through the curtains of the bedroom window, the rays chased up the side of the bed and fell on Jasmine’s exposed silk slip and crept across her back. Jasmine lay there asleep with the sun warming her ever so gently, her dream had her placed in the arms of her naked lover whom held her spooned into a comfort of bliss. She began to nestle her athletic curved cheeks against her man’s slumbering member until she would feel it start to waken as well. With the...
Adrian Westbrooke decided he had to change his way of life because his present path was leading him to disaster. He was sick of the parties that turned rapidly into orgies, the booze and the drugs that were supposed to be part of the artist’s lifestyle, the hangers on, especially the young and not so young women who thought it was sophisticated to mingle with artists, he was sick of the one night stands. Above all he was sick of the mediocrity of his own work. Adrian decided on the change...