Crystal ClearChapter 9: Recovery From An Awkward Moment, Crystal At Play free porn video

I looked at the pretty young woman and pondered how to answer her question, 'Mr. Mellon ... err, this is delicate ... I don't know how to put this ... but, well, ... do you have a child ... by a woman who lives in Greenville, Ohio – a baby about seven or eight months old?'

I practically choked out loud. I did indeed have a child I'd fathered in Greenville, Ohio. Crystal knew too, but other than the baby's parents no one else should have figured out the lineage of that child. Crystal squeezed my hand to show her support, and continued to hold on to me; she instinctively knew that I needed her support on this one. This was a 'dirty question' that we hadn't prepared for because I never thought anyone would discover that secret.

A long silence ensued, broken only by the fusillade of camera shutters that captured the moment and my apparently shocked expression.

I thought of my dear friend George and his beautiful and loving wife Summer in Ohio – the wife he asked me impregnate with my seed because he'd had an injury on a Special Forces mission we were on that ultimately rendered him infertile besides taking part of one leg. He wanted me, his best friend, to do that for him. Summer wanted it too, and she and I fell in love in the time we spent together, joining, and baby making – a really deep love that persists to the day I sat in front of the press corps. I thought how they lived such simple, serene, and quiet lives in that small town, and somehow, depending on what I said in the next minute their entire life could come completely unraveled.

I also thought about what a lousy liar I am. I would never make it as an unfaithful husband, because everything about me is written on my face. Moreover, I can't keep a secret in response to a direct question; I amazed myself that I'd never exposed to the press the network of sexual relationships I shared with Crystal, Ellen, Claire, Nadia, and many more. I expected my answer to this woman's awkward question was already written on my face; did I really need to say anything.

Whether I remained silent or spoke I was cooked either way. I decided to speak.

"Edith, and members of the media, we each have private lives that I hope you might respect. Sometimes, the extent of that part of our lives involves situations and people that are not in the limelight, and that ... that could bring harm to others if they were widely publicized or criticized or analyzed. You see yourselves as trying to bring truth to the public – news, but do you also see that sometimes what you do brings harm where it shouldn't occur. This is one of those situations. A simple answer wouldn't even begin to explain the complexity of the situation that you hint at in your question. I don't want to duck your question ... but I also don't want to answer it, because some people I love that aren't in this room are involved in the answer, and I wouldn't presume to reply to a question like that without them."

The room had hung on every word I said with an eerie silence ... and then, after I made it clear that was all I planned to say, the room erupted into a hundred people shouting follow-up questions and hypotheticals at me from all directions. "What if... ? Did you? Who was... ? Where's Greenville? How long ago? Could you... ? Why... ?"

I turned and nodded to Terry. He understood; the press conference was over. We stood, and as we did the half-dozen security men in black suits surrounded us and led us off to a door on the side of the room – an exit door that would take us away from the riot that resulted from the question and my response. Reporters were falling all over themselves trying to get to me – microphones and pocket recorders in hand – questions shouted over and over. My name shouted out a thousand times to try to get my attention to their specific question. The din was deafening. The reporters all surged towards the door we exited.

Two of the security men, the largest two of the lot – a pair of mean looking men in black suits with black shirts and black ties, black sunglasses, plus large bulges in their pockets where they carried obvious weapons - stayed behind in the room to secure the door and keep anyone from following us. The remaining four security men hustled us down several corridors almost at a run. There was no conversation other than instructions on how to follow them to curb side.

Suddenly, we exited a door into the area where the luggage carousels were. We crossed the nearly empty concourse, exited, and there was the white limousine. No one was right behind us, so I made sure Crystal saw the license plates with her name. She gave me a big grin, and I pointed at Terry. The six of us piled into the car, and were whisked away to the airport exit.

Inside the limo, Crystal burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" I asked glumly.

"The look on your face when that woman asked the question about your baby. It was priceless. You may as well have screamed, 'YES'."

"Gee, thanks. I'm still trying to figure out how she knew enough to ask that question. I'm sure George and Summer wouldn't mention it to anyone, and neither you nor I did." I looked at Ellen and Claire.

Ellen said bluntly, "I never said a word to anyone, I swear. From the look on your face, it was pretty obvious what the answer was though. I just put it out of my mind."

Claire looked at me and said, "I didn't even know. You don't talk in your sleep, and ... actually I think it's sort of special. I'm surprised you didn't tell me your secret, but now I know."

Claire's remark jarred me a little, because I knew she had some kind of secret or mystery about her that we still didn't know. I guessed that we all have our secrets from someone.

I thought a minute and volunteered, "Look, let's talk about it at home. I'm still trying to figure out what to do now."

I brooded about the situation for a few moments, and noticed the limousine had headed downtown to the area near Terry's office and the recording studio.

I asked, "Hey, where are we going?"

Ellen smirked and said, "Well, we took a vote and decided that Crystal and you should be alone tonight to reacquaint yourselves with each other, so Terry, Claire, Nadia, and I are going to a movie downtown tonight and we're sleeping over at my condo. You'll have the house all to yourselves. Have fun!"

Nadia, Claire, and Terry all nodded confirmation to the plan. I just shrugged but with a slight smile of happiness. Together with Crystal, I said, "Thank you."

A few minutes later we stopped in front of Ellen's condominium, and the quartet got out amid well wishes, and taunts to fuck our brains out. The driver retrieved a couple of bags for Ellen and Claire from the trunk, bid them goodbye and then we headed back onto the Interstate and to Crystal's home on the edge between suburbia and rural Tennessee. She snuggled into my arms, but my mind continued to stew about the baby question.

I thought a moment and said, "I'd better call George or Summer."

I messed with my cell phone for a minute and then heard the ringing at George and Summer's home. "Hello, this is Summer."

"Summer, this is Jim."

"Oh, ... Wow. Are you coming to see us ... to see little James Mellon Ellis again? To see me?" I'd seen the baby about two days after it was born, and even let George take a couple of pictures of me with Summer and the baby. I'd had to leave the next day, but I did get to have a good visit with my good friends. I'd gone back at the four month point, but now almost seven more months had passed.

I responded, "Not right away ... at least I don't think so. Look, I just got out of a press conference and something happened that you and George should know about."

I could hear Summer's rapid uptake of breath at the portent of bad news.

I went on, "Some woman named Edith, I'll find out her last name sometime soon, asked me whether I had a child by a woman in Greenville, Ohio."

"Oh, my God. What did you say?"

"I'm a lousy liar. I told them the question was out of line because it would hurt people I loved, but the paparazzi don't care. They're out for blood. Anyway, I might as well have yelled 'Yes' in the room, although I tried to leave my response vague and unspecific."

"Shit," Summer mumbled, and I knew this beautiful woman was much too nice to usually use vocabulary such as that.

"I'm in the car with Crystal who was also at the press conference. Frankly, we don't know where to take this. I certainly want to protect you, James, and George somehow, but I don't know how. Right after that question and answer the room broke into pandemonium. I'm certain it'll be on the front page of every magazine and newspaper in the country."

"Look, let me get to George. This is his poker night. I'll be back in touch."

"OK. You might want to button up the house, even go elsewhere in case the news people figure out where you live." There was an awkward pause, and I added, "Summer, I love you. I'm so sorry for causing you this upset."

"Oh, Jim, I love you – hardly an hour goes by that I don't think of you. Please come and see me – see us. Bring Crystal, but please visit – you're all welcome. We have space, even with the baby taking up a room." After a brief silence she added, "I need you."

We said a few more words to each other, pledged our love, and ended the call.

Crystal turned me to her, "Jim, you can weather through this. I'm here to help anyway I can; maybe because I didn't react it'll help defuse the situation." She kissed the end of my nose in a tender and supportive gesture.

The proverbial shit hit the fan. Crystal's presence at the press conference and her visible and loving grip on my hand during the press conference did not defuse the situation. Instead, I again found my name splashed across the front page of practically all major newspapers including the Wall Street Journal; it was a slow news day. What amused me and took the edge off being discovered was that many of the papers included a photo of a generic baby – and they were all different. That said, the headlines screamed out.

Daddy?

Mellon a Dad

Jim Left Package in Ohio

Wild Oats by Mellon?

Did Star Abandon Baby?

Who's the Kid?

Mellon Spreads Seed

Baby? What baby?

I gave some of the headline writers an A+ for creativity and for capturing the readers attention in only a few words. When I read the articles, I discovered that all of them knew little more than what had happened at the press conference at the airport. A few made some idle speculations, and of those, one or two turned out to be pretty accurate up to a point.

This whole experience made me reminisce about the week I spent with George and Summer.

Greenville, Ohio: Over A Year Earlier. My best friend and later my Army buddy George Ellis brought my mind to a standstill: "Jim, Summer and I would like you to make her pregnant." They'd tried for several years, but George was shooting blanks, probably resulting from shrapnel from a mine he stepped on – the mine also blew away his lower left leg and foot. I also happened to save his life.

After much discussion between all of us, I made love to Summer. There were late-summer thunderstorms those nights, the windows were open, and we'd hear the wind gusts and thunder as we made love. Amid the sweat, the mix of our fluids, and the millions of kisses we shared, something special happened: Summer and I fell in love as we made a baby. She didn't fall out of love with her husband, just in love with me ... and I with her in a most special way that fathers and mothers share.

We spent only a few days together, but Summer was at her fertile peak. George joined us for several of our nighttime sessions to fill his wife with my sperm. Those times were especially erotic, and I carried warm and erotic memories of our threesomes.

Nine months to the day later, Summer gave birth to a healthy baby boy. We had talked almost weekly as I'd continued on my road trip, so I knew the pregnancy had taken and had progressed normally. My fertile swimmers had done their job. George and Summer asked me about giving the baby my name. I felt honored and humbled, and the thought still brought tears to my eyes. I also would be the godfather.

The paparazzi had taken to camping out at the end of our Nashville driveway. For a day, I also heard frequent over flights by helicopters, enough to keep me inside except for my morning runs, and for those I snuck out early and out the back door and through the surrounding forest.

Crystal came and joined me one morning after I'd showered. She snuggled up against me as I read a couple of the morning papers: "Can I see the photo of Summer and the baby again?" She put my iPad into my lap.

I thumbed through the device until I found the last photo George and Summer had sent me. Summer stood in front of their modest house holding the nine month old in her arms. Summer was beautiful: thirty three, ash blond, a trim figure even after her pregnancy, breasts that turned heads, particularly in their fullness as she breast fed our child, and a personality that made everyone want to be her friend. In the photo, she smiled at the camera; I could feel the love in her eyes. She had known the picture was for me.

My offspring also had a giggly smile. He had my brown eyes and my sandy brown hair color. He was cute, and I felt guilty for not having gone to see him more often, but I had been out of the country for a long time. Yes, he was mine, but I didn't want to interfere with George and Summer's life, or their marriage. I worried about how Summer felt about me when I left, and I wasn't convinced she knew how to love two people simultaneously. Now, having gotten to know her after some long telephone calls, I knew she'd always be devoted to George, yet she had a passionate and loving spot in her heart for me.

Crystal studied her photograph. She tapped on the face of the iPad, inadvertently making it do crazy things. "You should go and see her – see them." As an afterthought she said, "And, take me along; I'd love to see Little Jim and meet your friends. You've made them seem so real and approachable as you've talked about them. I feel as though I've known them for years, even back to when you were in high school with George. Besides, I know you love Summer and I want to meet all the other women you're in love with." She smiled warmly at me.

I thought a moment, "We could take the motorcycle up there. If we pushed, it'd take us less than a day – maybe eight to ten hours of travel."

"Let's do it. We have another week after this one before we have any serious commitments, and we could probably push those out another week. Let's go tomorrow. Call them; see whether they're up for two visitors."

Thursday, I drove the motorcycle down to the local Harley dealer. It didn't need servicing, but I knew that if Crystal and I left the house we'd be followed by the paparazzi, and my trip to the dealer was no exception. The pressmen who followed me in a caravan of cars were disappointed when I walked over and briefly told them I was just dropping the bike off for routine maintenance. I refused to respond to any of their questions about the mysterious baby in my life.

Actually, I'd arranged with my friend in the shop to hold the well-maintained bike for me overnight, so Crystal and I could slip away the next morning without a gaggle of reporters chasing us. Crystal picked me up and drove us back home, followed closely by the reporters. She waved tauntingly at the reporters behind the closed driver's side window as I got in the car and locked the doors.

Friday morning, Nadia drove out the gate in the Prius she used for around town errands and to go to school. Crystal hid under a blanket on the back floor, and I'd made myself comfortable in the darkness of the car's luggage area along with our modest luggage for the trip. By arrangement, Nadia went to the local supermarket, a trip the reporters judged unworthy of pursuing.

When the reporters had left after following her, she came back to the car and knocked on the trunk of the car before opening it. She gave us the all clear signal, we got out of the car, kissed her goodbye, and carried our luggage into the woods and cut over to the next street and the Harley dealer. We packed up the 1988 Harley Davidson Heritage Softail behind the motorcycle shop, donned our helmets, and were soon underway. Many checks of the rearview mirror indicated that we had been successful in our escape ruse.

When we stopped for coffee, I found that George had called my cellphone. I returned his call. I got George on the first ring. "Jim, I'm glad you called back. Don't go to Greenville. We're pretty sure a couple of reporters have figured out who had your baby and where we live. Strange people were hanging around outside our house, and they were talking wildly on their cellphones as they kept an eye on us. I think one of them followed me to work."

I muttered several expletives.

He went on, "Summer's parents have a summer home on Center Lake about five miles southeast of Jackson, Michigan. They're on a trip out west, so we decided to go up there with the baby. We've snuck away and are headed there right now. We have a rental car – Summer's car is parked at her library job, and mine is parked where it normally is behind the store. We both got people to cover for us for a few days. I think we got out of town without being followed."

I told him we'd change course, and after checking the GPS, I told him to hold dinner for us and we'd be there around that time of day. The weather would be pleasant the entire journey: warm and sunny.

Crystal and I mounted up, we got back on Interstate 65, and I cranked up our speed to keep up with the fast-moving traffic. We stopped just north of Indianapolis for lunch and another break, and then pushed on through Fort Wayne, across the border into Michigan, up to Interstate 94, and east to Jackson. After that, I followed secondary roads to the vacation home on Center Lake.

Crystal and I were glad to dismount from the bike in the driveway of the modern all-weather ranch-style home. We both stood rubbing our butts; nine hours straight on a motorcycle is not conducive to good circulation in one's ass. My back ached too from holding the constant posture for driving.

The front door of the house burst open, and Summer came out at a run. "Oh, my God. I am so glad you're here." She hurled herself into my arms and proceeded to plaster my face and lips with hard, passionate kisses. Finally, she drove her tongue into my mouth and I sucked on it for a while, and that seemed to make her happy.

She eventually pulled away, her urge to speak greater than her urge to make out; "I have missed you so much. Emails and Skype aren't the same – not even close." She hugged me, and then she spied Crystal who had been walking up and down the driveway trying to restore some circulation to her lower extremeties.

"Crystal!" Summer said with glee. "You are so welcome. I am so glad you came; this is an honor. I ... well, I am such a fan of your music. I love your voice ... and because you love Jim I know I love you." She opened her arms and the two women politely hugged and kissed.

George came out of the house carrying a little bundle of joy. James Mellon Ellis had just turned eleven months. He had all the characteristics of a typical toddler, particularly wanting to get down and move around on his own terms. Summer looked unusually proud, "He's still crawling, but he sitting up and almost stood; if we hold both his hands he'll even take a few steps. We think he's a month early in his development; he's pretty proficient at getting around now, even carrying a toy with him."

James gladly went into his mother's arms, as George and I did a manly hug. I introduced him to Crystal, and they too hugged in greeting.

George said, "Jim, I think you should put your motorcycle in the garage. There are no windows, and with the door shut no one will know you're here. I've become paranoid about the media the past two days since we spotted them outside the house."

I said, "Yeah, I'm really sorry about this. We never figured what we'd do if someone caught on to what we did. With my status as a celebrity, particularly after having just hit the front pages with the rescue of Jill Danes, I didn't expect you'd become collateral damage."

"No, don't worry about it. It's part of the new landscape we created. We should talk about what we plan to do. We can't hide out up here the rest of our lives, plus I know from your website that you've got a string of concerts with Crystal around the States before Christmas and Europe coming up in the New Year."

George opened the garage door, and I rode the bike in and parked next to his rental car. He shut the door, and we all went inside.

Just inside the door, Summer took James, kissed him firmly, and passed him to Crystal. The two played briefly as she held him on one hip. She looked over at me and said, "Oh, Jim, I want one. He's so cute! Were you this cute when you were little?" The baby chortled as Crystal tickled him with one finger to his exposed belly.

Summer said, "He's about to go down for the night. He'll wake up around midnight, take a bottle, and then go right back to sleep after a diaper change."

Quick as a flash Crystal said, "Can I help with him somehow. I haven't been near a baby in a long time, and I just love them to pieces."

Summer said, "Of course. He's been pretty easy to care for, plus George is a hands-on daddy."

Crystal came over to where I stood and presented me with my baby; for a brief second, the baby and I looked eye to eye. He broke into a smile that ate up his whole face. I pulled him into my arms and hugged my son. Tears formed in my eyes at the moment.

The four adults and James went to the back patio of the house, a screened in area that overlooked the lake. I sat with James on the floor as he played with some toys; I felt captivated by everything the mini-me did. I noticed Crystal couldn't take her eyes off the tot either.

We had some wine and hors d'oeuvres. Summer said she'd serve dinner after James went to bed. The wine slid down easily; I'd become dehydrated on the road, so the liquid went right to my head. Crystal too loosened up, and soon the four of us were a happy foursome, joking and talking as though we'd been inseparable all our lives.

Around eight o'clock, Crystal and Summer went and put James to bed. When they came back to the patio, they were holding hands as good friends might do. Summer served dinner, and we lingered around the table for a long time talking mostly about our lives, the rescue of Jill Danes, Crystal's movie with heart throb George Rinard, my movie, and the music we were working on. George knew how much my life had changed since Karen's death; he'd been at my wedding about nine years earlier and knew me long before that.

I thought it interesting in hindsight, that none of us addressed the issue that had brought us together in Michigan: what we'd do about the media's quest for knowledge about me and my baby. We were saving that for the next day.

Around ten o'clock, after the dishes had been cared for, we briefly sat in the living room. Summer studied me closely, and even caught Crystal's eyes several times. I felt there was some unknown female communications going on, and a few minutes later my intuition proved accurate.

Summer and Crystal rose simultaneously and changed places. Summer cuddled in under my arm next to me, bringing as much of her body into contact with mine as she could. Crystal went and did the same with George who looked surprised and exceptionally pleased. Crystal leaned up and kissed George, pulling his face down to hers. Summer watched and smiled in his happiness.

Summer kissed me, again driving our tongues together in erotic French kisses that made me start to feel romantic. She whispered to me, "I want you to be with me tonight ... to make love to me over and over. I remain in love with you, and ... well, I want you ... to hell with sleeping."

I whispered back, "And George?"

Summer gestured across the room. Crystal had taken one of George's hands and placed it under the cotton top she wore. I could see him cupping one of her breasts, and I knew she hadn't worn a bra that day.

Summer whispered, "I think the two of them will be fine ... if that's OK with you. I talked to Crystal while we fixed dinner and cleaned up. She likes him, and I know he's fallen for her."

I nodded.

Summer stood and pulled me to my feet, we kissed again, and then the two of us walked down a short corridor to the master bedroom. I slowly removed Summer's top, revealing her luscious breasts. I leaned forward and for a few minutes played and bit at her nipples and areolas, trying to deliver as much stimulation to her as I could without engaging her supply of baby milk.

Summer said in a hoarse voice, "Every time you lick my tit or put it into your mouth my pussy clenches. I think I want you inside me." She giggled and said, "You can even taste some of my milk if you want. George has tried it and says he likes it."

She pushed my unbuttoned shirt from my shoulders, and then licked and bit at my nipples. I dropped to my knees and undid her belt and pushed her jeans down her legs, leaving the small lacy thong she had in place.

Summer kicked off the jeans, flowed back into my arms, and started to grind her pussy against my leg and groin. This was a woman in heat. Next I knew, she'd removed my jeans and my briefs. I stood before her in my nakedness. Summer leaned forward and surprised me with her new talent in fellatio, a skill I didn't recall she had in her kit when I'd been with her nearly two years earlier. I praised her, "You do that so well. A surpise to me."

She pulled off me, allowing a long strand of her spit and my pre-cum to stretch between her mouth and the tip of my cock. "You inspired me. I knew we'd be together again some day, and I wanted to be perfect for you. I studied. I even went online and watched porn. So far, George has been the big beneficiary, but I wanted to be ready for you especially."

"Summer, you were perfect – are perfect. You don't have to do crazy things like that. Look, I promise I'll be around in your life – in James' life more. You won't have to sublimate your fantasies. I love you."

She stated to go back to suck on me, but I pulled her to the bed with a simple expression: "Sixty-nine."

I lay on my back, and Summer straddled my chest facing away from me. As she started to suck on me again, I could eat her pussy. I heard her moan, "Oh, fuck that feels good. George doesn't like to go down on me."

"You taste like a delectable dessert, sweet with the musky aroma of a fabulous red wine and rose petals. I love it. I love you."

Summer lunged on my cock and deep throated me. I nearly came.

"Summer, turnaround and mount me – or I can come over you. What do you prefer?"

In two seconds, she spun around, and made an erotic show of bringing my erection to the entrance of her love tunnel. She rubbed me back and forth along her slit with a teasing smile on her face as we locked eyes. Soon though, she sank her beautiful body down on me and groaned in the ultimate satisfaction of coupling with a lover.

At full depth, she bent down and we kissed with a white hot heat that would melt steel. I'm sure we both saw stars. With lascivious intent, she dragged the erect nipples of both breasts across and around my chest until I pulled her down to me again for another volcanic kiss.

"Do your Tantric sex with me. I have never felt so close to anyone in my life as I did – as I do – to you during and after we made love. Some nights that's all I can think of. I masturbate thinking of us coupled together, you constantly moving in and out of my ... body ... as we make love ... and connect on so many levels."

"What were you going to say instead of body? Why did you change your mind?"

Summer focused her eyes on me and smiled in lust and love, "I was going to say cunt, but I thought it might shock you."

"It would not. Crystal and I – all my lovers – we talk dirty to each other. We use crude words like cunt and cock and cum and jizz and quim and slut and whore. The words excite and stimulate, they reach part of the cortex of your mind and bring out the lust and arousal in each other."

Summer dragged her breasts across my chest again, "Then talk to your slut. I want to be your cumslut – to be the bucket in which you dump your juice over and over again. I not only want you to make love to me, but also to fuck me – to fuck my brains out ... to keep driving your long hard cock deep into me on every stroke – into my fucking cunt until neither one of us can stand it any longer. I want every drop of your cum inside me – either in my pussy or in my mouth."

"Now that's some of the best dirty talk I've ever heard." I paused and added, "Now, come here, and kiss me – and let's fuck, slut."