Toms Sexual Awakening
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Tom's DiaryChapter 20 free porn video
Wednesday, April 3, 2002
There may be something better than waking up next to the person you love; if there is, it's waking up with two of them next to you.
I spent close to a half hour just looking at Mary and Elizabeth, each separately and both together. Elizabeth's words about our future together echoed again and again in my mind. Sure, I didn't want to commit to the future, but here it was, right in front of me.
Finally, I lay back, unable to come to terms with the conflict between desire and reason. I'd stopped being a virgin less than three weeks ago; I had, since then, had more than my fair share of experience. In my heart, I knew I loved Elizabeth and Mary more than I could ever love anyone else. And yet my brain insistently whispered treason: This is the first month; what do you know of the future?
Uncle Craig wanted me to be a money manager. My parents expected me to go to college; it didn't matter what I studied, I'd been told. The goal is to find something I liked and then finish my degree, Dad had told me more than once. Fine, I could do that. And if I couldn't marry Mary, I could sure get hitched to Elizabeth. Yeah, I might have a few jokes come my way about having a live-in mother-in-law but I could smile to myself and ignore them.
How could I know now, today, what was going to be good for me in a year? Five? When I hit the big three-oh people talked about? Eligible for AARP?
I nearly laughed out loud, glancing at Elizabeth as I did. You say you can see the future; that the future is us, the three of us, plus some unspecified number of babies. Maybe you can see the future, Elizabeth. But the rest of us can't. The answer, when I thought about it, was clear: Most people look at today, and base their plans for the future on that.
I had my answer when I woke up and looked at Mary and Elizabeth. Nothing was better than this. It was up to us to make the future as happy as the present. Time, I thought, to get started on the future.
I leaned close to Mary, using just the tip of my tongue to lightly tease around one of her awesomely large nipples. I'd been at it for just a few minutes when her arm snaked around my head, her fingers running through my hair.
I licked her nipples harder, and Mary leaned close. "I love you, darling."
Elizabeth from the far side of Mary reached over, and ran her hand along my shoulder, then kissed Mary on the neck. "You two, enjoy. I'm going to get a warm shower, then go outside and read."
I smiled at Elizabeth, happy in my heart.
I think I have fought all the devils I need to fight, inside my head. The devil that beset Jenny has been vanquished; the shattering hurt to Mary and her daughters assuaged. There would be time and enough for both of them.
I rolled to meet Mary, my arms going around her. It was like a whole new world opened up for me. Her skin was warm and alive, and I couldn't get enough of stroking and kissing her. I rubbed my hands against her; I rubbed my body against hers. Even my legs rubbed up and down hers; I was besotted with the contact of her warm, living body against mine.
It was like every inch of my body wanted to get involved with making love to Mary. I wanted to touch her, caress her, feel her warmth; I wanted to bask in the warmth that was my love for her and hers for me.
Mary seemed to pick up on it. The two of us became a squirming mass of touches and kisses. She licked me places I'd never been licked, then I sent goose-bumps popping up all over her body when I danced and wiggled my tongue along the length of her spine.
Then with hardly any warning, she moved and I was inside her, once again penetrating her to the depths of her womanhood. I'd been with tall women, I'd been with short women; Mary was perfect, utterly perfect.
I kept pushing deep inside of her, concentrating on making each stroke an artwork, a precise statement of my love for her, to be savored for an instant, and then I would try to improve upon it.
Once, early on, I felt her arms clamp down against my shoulders, and I knew she'd come. I didn't slow or speed up, but kept to a deliberate pace enjoying each delicious second as I roused her. I knew I was arousing Mary, I could feel it in her body; I loved the sensation, knowing it was me, Tom Ferguson, that was making her feel like this.
For the first time, I started to vary my pace, wanting to build her up to just before her climax, then let her pause there while mine built up as well. I'd had tremendous orgasms before; making love to Elizabeth had been like being struck by lightning, going up in a spiral of fire. This was just a steady buildup that stretched my senses, clawed at my self-control. The cave man inside of me wanted to pound into Mary to gain my own release; the man who loved Mary wanted her to fly as high as the moon and stars.
I pushed deep inside her one last time, pressing down on her clit as I did. Pleasure shot through me, and as tremendous as that was, I felt Mary's orgasm as well. The reflection of that added to mine and for a tumultuous second I could barely remain conscious.
Then the two of us lay together, still joined. I smiled slightly to myself. I was breathing hard, but not as hard as other times. But what had just passed between Mary and I was about the best sex could possibly be.
I lightly ran my fingertips languidly over Mary's back, pleased and happy. Hey future, ready or not! Here comes Tom Ferguson, the happiest guy on earth!
Even so, I was unprepared a few minutes later when I felt a series of odd sensations from down below. At first I thought Mary was clenching her vaginal muscles around my erection; I was sure ready to do it again!
Then I realized she was laughing.
"What?" I asked curious, running my hand down and coming to rest on her bottom.
"Oh, thinking about this and that." This time she did squeeze down on my cock. "Don't worry, I'm not laughing at you.
"The other day, when we first came to visit your house, Ellen made me welcome; I felt so horribly guilty for using her teen-age son to build up my self-esteem. We were in the kitchen, getting snacks for everyone, and I apologized to her.
"She looked me up and down, and I swear, she licked her lips. 'My son has exquisite taste, ' she told me. I was a little slow to realize what she was doing, after that. Kisses, small hugs. At first I thought they were meant to be reassuring, that she was trying to tell me she didn't mind what had happened between us.
"It wasn't until she kissed me and started to rub my breasts, that I realized she wanted to make love to me.
"I didn't know what to do," Mary laughed again. "I felt a little hesitant with you, Tom. Not that it mattered. And the first time with Bill, I was more hesitant then, and it didn't matter. I thought with Ellen, I should take my time, be sure what I wanted..." She chuckled again.
"She who hesitates around Ellen is sure to get what she wants, even if that want is buried in a secret part of her heart that she never wanted to admit existed."
"Around my family," I told her, "secret wants tend to have a way of getting realized."
Mary touched my face. "I know I don't have to ask, but this is still so new, and you're so good. It seems terrible to ask something like this from someone who's brought me so much joy and love... who's taken me to places sexually I never imagined existed."
"You want to be with my mom," I told her, nodding.
"Yes."
I hugged her. "Yes," my reply was as simple as hers had been.
"I'm not sure if I want to be with Dave again," she added quietly.
I grinned. "A French girl told me not so long ago, that until you try something, you don't know if you'll like it or not. She didn't say anything beyond that, but it's pretty clear that if you don't like something, you shouldn't."
Mary leaned down and kissed me hard, but curiously un-sexual at the same time.
"Last night," she whispered, "I watched you and Elizabeth. This morning when you were kissing me on the back, I was afraid you wanted to..."
I smiled at her. "Elizabeth says she can see the future. I don't pretend to do that. But there is something inside of me that doesn't let me get started if I'm not wanted. Mary, I swear to you, I never thought of that."
"It seems more than a little..."
"Icckie," I completed the thought. "I understand. Please, when I make love to you, to anyone, I want us to lie together afterwards, big smiles on our faces, as happy as we can be. Going someplace someone doesn't want you to go? Sounds very icckie to me!"
Mary got up and headed for the shower; I did the same, but in my own room. As I was getting undressed, I saw the message light blinking on the room phone; that turned out to be a message from Tony, asking if I wanted to come over to Sue Ellen's around one in the afternoon to swim. Oh yeah, he'd moved in with her.
I'd been thinking quite a bit about Tony and I decided what I'd rather do is look him in they eye, shake his hand and tell him thanks again for saving my life on Sunday. Instead of an immediate shower, I picked up the new cell phone from off the charger stand and called Tony at Sue Ellen's right then.
The phone on the other end was picked up on the first ring and a very chipper Sue Ellen said, "Top of the morning to ya!"
I laughed. "Top of the morning right back, Sue Ellen. Is Tony up?"
Sue Ellen howled with laughter. "We talked about nick-naming you Indie Ferguson, but I'm changing my vote to Aphrodisiac Ferguson. Tony's been up for hours and hours now!"
I was still trying to get my jaw off the floor when Tony came on. "Hey Tom, how are they hanging?"
"Pretty good, I guess. Say, Tony, would you mind if I came by this morning? I don't know what we've got going this afternoon, but I'd like to stop in and say hello."
"Sure, Sue Ellen was about to fix some breakfast. If you drive real fast, you might get some," Tony chuckled at that.
"You know me, Tony. Ol' safe and steady Tom. I'll be over in a few."
I showered, dressed and found that the only people up and about were Jenny and Elizabeth, sitting cross-legged next to the pool. Jenny was reading another of my dad's Economist magazines, Elizabeth a textbook. I told them I expected to be back around ten or eleven, got in my car and drove across town to Sue Ellen's.
I was, it turned out, in time to catch the tail end of breakfast and Sue Ellen was happy to zap a couple of waffles in the microwave and pour me a glass of orange juice.
The three of us talked about school, about Sue Ellen going back to being a cheerleader, which Tony seemed to really like. Finally, I did what I came for, shook Tony's hand.
"I really didn't do anything," he told me.
I smiled at him. "Like it was hard for me to give the police an address for Roger Parker? Or when Elizabeth collapsed, I had to think about what to do? No Tony, you came back for me. You've got big balls, my friend. And coming back, that's really what friends are for."
Sue Ellen hugged both of us, and as I headed outside I was feeling good. Really good. I was getting right with the world. I was coming to terms with everything. I got into the Camry and started back to the hotel.
I wasn't distracted; I swear. It was, literally, an eye blink.
Ahead of me, the traffic light turned green; there was no one between me and the intersection. I'd been slowing for the red; I remember taking my foot off the brake...
I opened my eyes. It felt odd. Everything was odd. There was no sense of movement; there were odd pressures here and there, everywhere. My eyes focused about a foot and half away from me, on black asphalt. I remember noting the light and dark pieces of gravel embedded in the dark matrix; there was a white bit to one side, with a dark mark diagonally across part of it.
That's the street. My mind refused to accept I was looking at the street, just inches from my face. And the white line is some of the striping; the black mark was a skid mark.
My mind leaped from there. I'd crashed! I'd hit someone in the intersection! Dear God! Had I killed someone?
For the first time, I tried to move.
And have never, ever, been so frustrated in my life.
I could twist my upper torso about an inch, my head about six inches. I got a view of more road, a little further from my eyes; nothing else. My arms didn't move, my legs didn't move. I swallowed, felt icy prickles run up and down my spine.
Very deliberately, I concentrated on my right foot. I could feel my toes wiggle; I could move my foot at the ankle. I just couldn't move my leg. I could mildly flex my knee, but just a tiny bit. My left leg, my foot could move, just not as much. There was a little more play for my knee, but not much. My hands were fine; I could flex my fingers, my wrists and elbows just fine. But move them? Nope.
I heard a sound a few inches from my head. I tried to look. For the first time there was a soft giving that let my head turn. I found myself looking at someone outside the car. I frowned. He was upside down!
He saw my eyes on him, I saw him lean closer, to look at me. Muffled through the window, I heard him call loudly, "This one's alive!"
I tried to set my shoulders back. Those words hurt me in a way I'd never been hurt before. 'This one is alive.' That had to mean others weren't. I'd killed someone. Maybe several some ones. Inside, I shriveled and died; I felt tears running in funny directions, over my forehead instead of down my cheeks.
There was a knock on the car window glass, "How badly are you hurt?" A loud voice came from outside.
There was a rustle and another face appeared. The man had to be, I realized, stretched out on the pavement. Jeez, I thought, that must sting! It wasn't a really hot day, but black asphalt in Phoenix is something you avoid even in the winter! Anything to avoid thinking about the winter of despair in my heart!
"Where does it hurt, son?" the voice said.
With a start, I realized I recognized the voice, the cadence of his words. I tried to twist my head around to look at him better, but I still could hardly move. "You're the fireman," I told him, amazed, "The boss fireman from the other day."
"Battalion Chief Denny Wheeler," he confirmed. "Where do you remember me from?"
"The girl with the heart attack."
"Ah!" he looked closer. "And you are Tom... I'm sorry I don't remember your last name."
"Ferguson, sir. Tom Ferguson."
He smiled, although it took an effort to realize that's what he was doing.
"Tom, you've been in an accident. I've got help rolling, and some EMTs will be here in a minute or two. But right now you need to focus and tell me how bad you're hurt."
I tried not to sound as frustrated as I felt. "I can move everything. Everything moves, I just can't move any of it very far. Weird."
"Does anything hurt, Tom?"
I shook my head. "I don't feel real good. I'm upside down, aren't I?"
"Yes. Are you sure you're not hurting? Can you tell if you're bleeding?"
"I got hit once by a hit baseball," I told him. "For a second, I thought I was okay, but then it started to hurt. Really hurt. Nothing hurts now. I don't think I'm bleeding. I don't feel anything like bleeding."
"Tom, I'm going to have to go for a minute. It'll be a minute before someone can get back to you. Tom, listen real close. Stay calm, stay cool. Don't try to move, okay?"
"I can't move," I repeated to him.
"I understand. You have to understand too, Tom. I'll be back in a minute." He paused, I know now he was psyching himself up to give me some really bad news. "Tom, can you smell gas?"
I nodded. Then it hit me. Gas. All those cars in movies and things. Exploding balls of fire. "Yes, I smell it. Go, please go. I'll be okay." If I couldn't run, he could. Should. Ran far, far away; Tom Ferguson's luck has run out.
Funny how things work. 'Go, please go.' Three simple words that have made me a friend for life.
He did leave, I watched him pull back, get up to his knees and move away from the car.
I tried hard then, to pull myself together. Sure, I understand a whole lot more about shock now than I did right then, but I'm not sure that understanding would have made the process quicker.
Once again I took stock of my body. There were a few places where things were poking me that were uncomfortable, but not truly painful. Everything still wiggled and moved fine. Just not in a larger sense. The smell of gasoline kept me from trying too hard to push the envelope.
I didn't have much to look at; I did turn my head around to where it had been at first. That was another really bad moment. For the first time, I realized the hood of the Camry was missing; everything in front of me was missing. How many times had I popped the hood up to check the water and oil? Put fluid in the washer? Dad had shown me all of that when he and Mom had been teaching me to drive. It was a check mark on the 'To Do' list Mom printed up every week. And Mom had said how many times that the reason she liked the Camry was that it had a long hood?
Now, quite simply, the front end of the car was gone. I turned my head back to where I'd seen the fireman, but it was hard to see anything at a distance, because the window glass was cracked and buckled. So too, I noted, was the car door, although I couldn't see much of it.
Again, I was terrified that I'd fallen asleep or just hadn't been paying attention, that I'd hit someone in the intersection. I was sure, positive beyond reasonable doubt, that I'd killed someone. Ripped a living, breathing human being from life, from family and friends. I felt like sobbing, but there was nothing there; the well was dry. I just sat there, alone, grieving. Promising I would do my level best to do what I could for anyone I'd hurt.
There was a sound again, and I turned back. It was the boss fireman again. "How are you doing, Tom?"
"Fine, sir." I decided that it was something I had to know. Had to. "How many people did I kill?"
I saw his eyes on me, saw him shake his head. "Tom, do you remember anything?"
"No." I already knew the futility of trying to move my head. "I was coming up on Indian School, the light turned green. I took my foot off the brake, then I opened my eyes and I was here. Please, I won't go crazy, how many people did I hurt?"
"Tom, two men robbed a bank down at Indian School and Twentieth. They were driving a Ford Explorer. Probably, from what the witnesses said, they were going about a hundred miles an hour when they came through here. They clipped the rear of your car, spun you into the oncoming traffic. They smashed into a small Civic and then turned north. The police are after them now."
I tried to concentrate on what I remembered, but there was nothing. Just the light turning green, my foot coming off the brake. I'd been hit in the rear end? I tried to put it all together; I couldn't.
"Tom, listen to me."
I turned my attention back to him. "We have some other people we have to help first. You don't appear to be seriously injured and they are. You're going to have to wait here for a bit more, okay?"
"Okay. You should go, it's not safe." I didn't feel elated at the news it wasn't my fault; disbelief was the dominant emotion at that moment, terror for those who were hurt. Concern for someone else, close to me, who should be safe.
"I'll try to find someone to come stay with you, Tom. You understand why it's not safe?"
"I understand." For sure, the gas smell was there, pretty heavy too. "You don't have to do anything for me."
There had been sirens earlier, I'd heard them. There were more, plus loud sounds that I thought were fire trucks. Odd, I thought, really odd, how much we depend on our eyes. I had a small circumscribed world, a worldview that was distorted and shattered. I closed my eyes, wanting it all to just go away.
There was a 'chunk' sound a few inches from my head. I opened my eyes and saw a policeman; again it took a second to recognize him. "Officer Moss."
I saw him pull back his nightstick. "Chief Wheeler says you're okay, Tom. You sure?"
I smiled. "I decided to take a nap; not much is going on."
I wiggled everything again. "Nothing hurts. I can wiggle but not move."
"Jeez! We took some pictures of your car. Afterwards, you can look at them."
I contemplated what it meant for a policeman to look at a car and go, 'Jeez!' Maybe there are things we're not meant to know.
"They've put foam down around your car; they're working on getting the scene safe to work on. The Chief says you understand that they have some other people they have to help first."
"I don't know what happened, Officer Moss. I swear, I don't remember."
"Tom, it's Joe. There was nothing you could have done, Tom. They were going too fast."
"I just don't remember." I wasn't crying, not quite anyway.
"Tom, tell me what you would have done coming up on an intersection like that?"
My dad had made sure of any number of things before he thought I was ready to drive solo. Having the right habits was number one on his list. "I don't speed up until I've looked right, then left, then back ahead."
"So, you look right first?"
"Yeah."
"Tom, do you know how far a car travels in a second at 60 miles an hour?"
"No."
"Almost a hundred feet. Tom, they were going at least a hundred, not sixty miles an hour. Tom, if you looked right, they'd have been three to five hundred feet away, when you looked. From that far away, it's really hard to judge speed."
I've always been surprised how my mind works. I spent the next minute doing the math. Thinking about how I turned my head, how long to push down on the gas pedal. Elizabeth, I thought, would have been able to do the math in quick time; so could Jenny.
For the first time, I thought about my family, my friends. I looked at Officer Moss. "What time is it?"
"A little before eleven." It had been half past ten when I'd left Tony's.
"Could you call my dad? Just him. Tell him what's happened? He's at work."
"I can do that." I gave him the number, and for a few minutes, I was alone again.
I wanted to close my eyes and rest some more; the temptation was nearly overwhelming. It was, I thought, like running away. Awake or asleep, here I was. What had I told Fleur? You deal with the things you can deal with and let those things you can't change take care of themselves. I heaved a sigh. Well, Tom, you can talk a good line. This is your chance to do what you've asked others to do. Don't run away.
Officer Moss was back. "He's going to come. I told him that it's going to be the Fire Department's call if he can talk to you or not."
My mind had settled, my ability to connect dots was returning. "I'm going to be here for a while," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Tom, your car is a mangled piece of junk. I saw it and wrote you off. Every fireman and cop here looks at it, and shakes their head. The human body is simply amazing, Tom. Takes a licking and keeps on ticking.
"That bad?"
"Oh yeah! Like I said, later, if you're up to it, I'll show you the pictures."
"So what's going to happen?"
"They are working to get a mother and daughter out of their car; there was a granddaughter, an infant, in there, but she's already out. Shaken, but not injured; car seats are like cocoons. Mom and grandmom, not doing so well, but they'll probably be okay."
"Probably?" I asked.
He sighed loud enough for me to hear. "Like I said, Tom, the human body is an amazing thing. It can take damage that you would think would surely be fatal, and then the person gets up and walks away. Other times just a minor blow and a person drops dead. I've learned not to rush to judgment about how good a shape someone is in, or how bad it is, until we get them to the hospital and the docs have a look at them."
"And me?"
"You? You sit here a while longer. There's enough time, they've rolled Johnnie Dugan on this. He's the best hand in the west when it comes to cutting someone loose from a wreck. He'll be here in another few minutes, then they will, very carefully, cut you out of there."
I contemplated the metal all around me. The sun had been beating down on the car for some time now; it was, for the first time, a little uncomfortable.
"I wouldn't mind a drink," I told Officer Moss. "It's a little warm."
"We have to wait for Johnnie Dugan," he said firmly. "I know it's no fun in there, but he's a genius, Tom. Right now there's a half dozen men and two women standing around your car with foam extinguishers aimed at it. Odds are they can get a fire before it gets out of hand."
"Tell them thanks," I asked him.
He laughed, "Already promised them all a barbeque and beer bust."
"I'll buy," I laughed. "Well, I'll buy what I can buy."
He laughed too. "And we'll get Johnnie Dugan a big ol' case of scotch. Lord, that man can drink!"
"Maybe I'll contribute a case of Grape Nehi, instead."
We traded a few more jokes, and then Officer Moss spoke one last time. "Time for me to get out of the way, Tom. You listen to Johnnie, Tom. He's good, really good. Good luck!"
A minute later, Officer Moss was replaced by a large man with sandy red hair, not at all like Mary or her daughters.
"Johnnie Dugan," he said, his voice like gravel. "You're Tom."
"Yes, sir," I told him.
"I have a request from a cop, another from a Battalion Chief: try to get you out in one piece. Usually don't get the time of day from either. Just a 'Get it going, Dugan.'"
"Sir, if you don't mind, 'Get it going.'" I said with a laugh. "It's getting warm in here."
"Yeah, I imagine so. Let me explain how this works. I've got saws, crunchers, pullers, Jaws of Life, all that. The saws particularly, but all the rest too, give off sparks. Sparks aren't our friends right now. We're going to spend a few more minutes here, making it just a bit safer to work. Safer for me, anyway. You understand, that if it goes, you're in deep shit?"
"Yes, sir."
"First thing, I'm going to ask if you can turn your face away from the window."
"I can, yes."
"You do that, then I'm going to be getting this window out of the way. We'll give you a little drink, then I'll start to work."
I turned my face, heard some faint noises, then crunching sounds. He used, he told me later, suction devices that pulled the glass away from me, then he carefully pulled what remained away by hand.
"Okay, look back at me."
I did, and he held a juice box close to my lips, and I sucked it dry in about a second.
"Can't give you too much, the doc's don't like it," he said, tossing the box away. "I'm going to be explaining what I do as I work. You don't have to listen, but I like to talk. Sometimes I realize I'm doin' it wrong, and I catch a mistake. So that's why I talk. Just relax, Tom." He laughed. "Oh, when I'm done, you'll have completed Johnnie Dugan's short course on car cutting."
I'd realized early on that if I wiggled my toes, my legs felt better, so I laid there, upside down, wiggling my toes and listening to Johnnie Dugan talk. I'd heard the term 'stream of consciousness' before, but I'd not really understood what it meant. After Johnnie Dugan, I knew. It was one, long continuous statement of what he was thinking.
"Lessee, there's that little bugger! Ah! Got ya! Now, we get to look a little, see what's up!"
"Me," I told him, "Although I appear to be upside down!"
He chuckled, "Well, just so you know, don't take a piss!"
"I figured," I told him.
More light appeared, he'd undone the door side panel. He leaned closer, "Hmmmm. I'll be damned!" He pulled back, looked at me. "And it doesn't hurt?"
"Should it hurt?" I asked, concerned.
"Well, let's just say if I were you, I'd not bother with buying even one lottery ticket in your life. You already won the big jackpot, Tom. Be right back."
He moved away, leaving me to watch the sunlight, just inches away. So near, yet so far. Odd, if I was in the direct sun, it would make it even more uncomfortable than it was. And yet, I love to look at it.
Johnnie Dugan was back. "They're gonna take a few pictures here, Tom. Relax for a second. You're goin' in the history books here, guy!"
I heard someone call his name, and he was gone again. A minute later, it was Dad, crawling down next to me.
"Tom..."
"Sorry about the car, Dad."
"Don't even think about it. The police told me," I saw his expression. "Gosh, I was thinking I should call Ellen and Craig about this, now I'm glad I didn't."
"I'm fine," I told him. "I'm really sorry about the car."
"Forget it, Tom. I'm not going to be far, but they need me to move to work. You do what you're told, okay?"
"Not much I can do but sit here and wiggle things," I told him.
"And everything wiggles," I added, as he moved back.
Then Johnnie Dugan was back, with more rambling conversation. Then, "Okay, now we're gonna take a bite out of this. Tom, listen to me."
Anastasia
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