Chapter 1

Hello. My name is Dave. It is Thursday, and I had just turned onto the street leading to the cul-de-sac on which my home is located. There are three "luxury" side-by-sides on the large cul-de-sac. Each has a large lot, with private, shared backyards which include a pool. It cost a pretty penny when we bought it a number of years ago – but then we can afford it, and we expected that it would be good for our kids. Things have been a little different than I expected.

I am now 40, or I will be in four days. My wife, Jen, is 38. We have three kids. We had our oldest, Sara, when Jen was 18, and our twins, Mike and Molly, two years later. Sara is now 20, going to the local university studying pre-law, and is married to Brock who works in his father's real estate development company. More on them later, but suffice to say that Sara and Brock live at our house, and plan to until our neighbor moves out of his side of the house. This weekend is the twins' birthday – the day after tomorrow actually. My birthday is Monday – two days after theirs.

I am a lawyer, work long hours, and I travel fairy often. I have managed to stay in shape though. I am 6' 1", and about 165 lbs, and still fairly firm all over. Jen is Vice-Principal at the local high school – the one that Sara went to, and that the twins go to now. Jen is a beauty, standing 5'3" in her stockings. Mousy blonde hair, hour glass figure with full 36's on the top half. Everything about her is gorgeous. She was the love of my life, and had been since high school – I've been questioning that lately, and you'll understand why soon. Sara looks like her mom, a little taller maybe, and her hair is still very blonde. Mike is about 6', and 185 lbs of rock hard teenage muscle. Molly is the only brunette in the family, and the tallest girl at about 5'8". She is also very athletic.

As I said, I am approaching our home after a hard day at the office and I realize that the car I am following is my wife's. It appears that someone is in the car with her. She pulls into our drive way, and I stop on the street just off of the driveway. As I get out of the car my eyes sweep the veranda of the "other" half of our home. I see that Mister Gabe is just getting up from a chair and walking to the rail, looking at my wife as she gets out of the car.

Mister Gabe. That is what we all call him Gabriel Black – although I refer to him as the black bastard more than anything else. He has been living in the other half of the house for the last two years.

Jen has stepped out of her car, and as she walks towards the front of the car she peers around at the neighbors' houses to see if there is any sign of life at them. Not surprisingly, given the time of day (people are still on their way home from work), there isn't. She is wearing her "business" clothes. A smart, but short skirt, with pleats that is made of a lighter material and I can see that the mild breeze of the day is moving it, and it certainly swishes enticingly as she moves about. On top I can see that she has a short, matching business jacket. Three buttons done up to just between her breasts. That, the single strand of pearls around her neck, the silver wristlet on her arm, and the anklet just above her left foot, and her spiky high heels make up her attire. I know that she is not wearing anything else. She never does, or at least she hasn't for the last two years.

I see that a gangly boy has emerged from the passenger seat of Jen's car, and Jen is waving him over to meet her in front of the car. He appears to be in his late teens and he looks to be nervous. A light bulb goes off in my head and I know what I am watching. Again. So I stay standing at the open door of my car so as to not interfere.

Jen had glanced up at Mister Gabe's veranda as she was gesturing for the boy to join her. When she saw Mister Gabe her face lit up in the most beautiful smile. That was the smile that only I used to get. The black bastard just grinned back at her as he stood at the rail, and waved at her to continue.

Jen returned her attention to the boy. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but I knew the words. "Boy (or whatever his name was), today is your 18th birthday, and I, as your Vice Principle make it a point to give every one of my students a birthday present when he or she turns 18. You just lean here up against the front of my car and relax. You will enjoy it, I promise." My wife was very practiced in the giving of these 'gifts' as she has been doing them for almost two years now. There are two full years' worth of her students that have received her birthday gifts. With that, and a saucy grin for her student, Jen pushes the youth back against the hood of her car and proceeds to undo his belt. She unbuttons the front of his pants and pulls the zipper down.

I am momentarily distracted as anouther car enters the cul-de-sac and pulls in beside mine, behind Jen's car. I see that Sara is home. Jen had glanced up to also note Sara's arrival, and with a little wave of welcome to her, returns her concentration to the boy, grabbing both his pants and his shorts together and pulling them to his ankles, falling to her knees as she does. As I watch this, I hear Sara exit her car, pause for a moment and then walk over to join me leaning against my vehicle. As she approaches I hear her question me quietly, "birthday? I think I know him. A friend of Mike's."

I am distracted as I nod that she is correct, at least about the occasion. I didn't know the boy. Jen had finished pulling the boy's clothes to his ankles and she was now down on her knees in front of him. She smiled up at him as she reached out grasp his quickly hardening cock. Reading her lips, I could tell she said, "happy birthday", and with a couple of quick tugs on his cock, she leaned forward with her mouth open and took him inside.

Sara reached me, and pressed her body up against mine and proceeded to kiss me soundly. No, not your normal, "how are you dad?" kiss between father and daughter. She pushed her tongue between my lips and frenched me soundly. After a moment, she leaned away from me and peering into my eyes, asked, "did that help a bit daddy? I know that these things still bother you." I smiled lovingly at my daughter and glanced downward between us – at her very perky tits, with the nipples obviously also giving me a warm welcome through her very skin-tight lycra top, and lower at my cock, all hard and straining at my business suit. "You know that always helps sweetie."

She had distracted me. But now we both turned our attention back to her mother, my wife, and her student. Sara turned in my arms and ensured that my cock was securely nestled in the crack of her well-formed ass (barely concealed in the mini-shorts that she was wearing). She grasped my hands around her, and I could feel the diamond of her wedding rings on her finger as we watched the scene before us.

The boy was leaning back against the car, staring down at Jennifer as she was now driving her mouth back and forth on his young cock. We saw that Mister Gabe was descending from his veranda and striding over to the action on the driveway. As he got close to the couple, he caught the boy's eye.

Mister Gabe is an imposing figure of a man. Easily 6'6", and 260 lbs of muscle. He is a little older than me, in his mid forties, but he is obviously a much bigger and fitter example of the male beast. Not to say that I'm not in shape – I've been working out on a weekly basis for almost two years, and I was hard all over. It is just that I am physically smaller than the man. Also, he is coal black. Head to toe, and everything in between. Staring at the young man enjoying my wife's attentions, he said, "boy! Two things. One, you don't ever tell anyone about what is happening here. If I ever hear that you have, you will answer to me. And you don't want that. Do you understand?" The boy nodded immediately and I'm sure that I heard him squeak out an affirmative.

"Second, boy. You are not taking full advantage of your birthday present." With that Mister Gabe leaned down over my wife and undid the buttons of her suit jacket and pulled the two sides apart, revealing Jen's beautiful tits to her very appreciative student. I could see the sun flash off of the tiny pendant attached to Jennifer's right nipple. The boy's eyes bugged out even more than they were already.

I could feel Sara reach behind herself to brush the back of her hand up and down my straining cock. At the same time, I turned my hand to gently grasp her breast, and started to softly kneed it. I could feel the stud in her left nipple – the pendant that I had put there - and tugged at it gently. She twisted her head around and gave me anouther peck on the lips, then said, "I'm not wearing it today. I can't with this shirt." She groaned softly as I tugged on the stud, "I love you daddy."

I nodded, knowing that the pendant that would normally be hanging from that stud would stand out too much with this shirt, and murmured back "I love you too sweetie."

She continued, "Mom loves you too daddy."

"Hmmm," was my only response.

"I am sure" she said, "do you still love her?"

"I don't know. It has been a long time, with a lot of bad water under the bridge" I reply, and we turn our attention back to my wife.

Mister Gabe was still instructing the student, "pay attention boy. When you have a slut on her knees in front of you, you must take a hold of her, and let her know that being on her knees is, in fact, her proper place." With that, Mister Gabe reached down to demonstrate. He took one of Jen's tits in each hand and squeezed them. He let his fingers slide out to her nipples, with had hardened out to their fully extended inch long length. He took a firm grasp of each nipple and, getting a grip on the studs in them, pulled at the nipples, twisting at the same time, hard. My wife was literally pulled a few inches off of her knees. All the while she maintained that boys cock in her mouth – her cheeks billowing in and out as she suctioned on him. "Now you do it, boy", said Mister Gabe as he released Jen's tits. Mister Gabe for the first time acknowledged our presence with a nod and then returned his attention to Jen's student, who was paying close attention to his instruction. The boy reached down to grab my wife's tits, and cruelly squeezed them, twisting them as hard as he could as he squeezed. Mister Gabe then fisted my wife's hair and thrust her face onto the boy's cock, "like this boy". The boy intently released one tit, grabbed my wife's hair and pulled her onto his cock. He was obviously a quick study.

It didn't take long. I'm sure he would have cum quickly just from the shock of seeing his Vice-Principle on her knees blowing him, but with her tits bare, and the added instruction from Mister Gabe, and then the practical experience, he just couldn't hold it any longer. Both Sara and I could see him tense up, and with a final pull on Jen's hair pinning her to him, he emptied his balls into her eager mouth. A few seconds more of sucking and he was obviously cleaned out.

Sara groaned in front of me, and I realized that I now had both of her tits in my hands and I was aggressively pulling on her nipples through her shirt, gripping the studs in both nipples. As the scene climaxed in front of us, we abruptly stopped what we were doing and dropped our hands from each other. Sara took a half step away from me.

Jen climbed to her feet and Mister Gabe wrapped her in his arms, giving her a squeeze and then started to walk with her towards us. Mister Gabe pointed at Sara and barked, "you, take the boy home. Now!" Sara jumped at the command and practically ran to Jen's student and dragged him towards her car while he struggled to put his clothing back together.

In a moment, Sara and boy were gone. Mister Gabe was standing before me with an arm draped over Jen's shoulder and one of his huge hands resting idly on her still very exposed melons – one large finger idly flipping the pendant with his name on it. Quietly he said to Jen, "you need to greet this man Jennifer." She looked up at him lovingly, and then tentatively smiled at me. She leaned forward to give me a peck on the lips – the sort of "in public, this is my husband, kind of greeting kiss that I have been receiving from my wife for two years. As Jennifer opened her mouth to say "hello", Mister Gabe softly added, "no Jen, greet him properly. He has been a good man for you for many years."

Jen glanced quickly up at Mister Gabe with a confused look, but then turned to me and opened her arms. She leaned in and gave me the kind of hug that I had been deprived of for so long. She stretched up and planted her lips on mine ... and she kissed me. The kind of kiss that I haven't had for so long. Mister Gabe continued, "Jennifer, I will be giving you back to him on Monday, after we celebrate the twin's birthday. I will have MP's wife make the arrangements for the ceremony." With that he grasped one of my hands, which were hanging limply at my side since Sara departed, and placed it firmly onto my wife's breast. We, Jen and I, both gasped. Other than the cursory public offerings, I haven't been able to touch her in two years. Then he just turned and walked back to his side of the house without anouther word. I was pretty sure that I had dreamt those words.

As Mister Gabe climbed the steps to his porch, and then stepped into his house, my wife and I looked at each other. I couldn't help but wonder at the meaning of his words. Jennifer coming back to me?

She whispered, "what does he mean? Why would he do this!? Did you know about this?"

I slowly shook my head and responded, "no. I don't know and it's the first I've heard of it." I paused, and then suddenly bowing to the urge, I leaned into her and pressed my lips against hers. She tensed, and briefly pushed against my arms – her natural reflex reaction. But only for a moment, and as she relaxed, she returned the kiss. The slightly salty taste of the boy so recently in her mouth remained, but I wasn't passing on this opportunity because of that. I deepened the kiss, pushing my tongue into her mouth. Again, a little hesitation, following by acceptance ... and was there just a hint of eagerness?

We both heard anouther vehicle pull into the cul-de-sac behind us, causing us to break the kiss. Jen quickly moved to re-button her suit top while I peered around and gave a little wave to our neighbor, Simon, as, returning from his work day, he pulled into his driveway.

I still held Jen loosely in my arms as she completed buttoning up. Finished, she looked up at me. I couldn't help but stare at her, stare into her eyes, and as I did, for the first time in a very long time, I felt something stir in me that hadn't been there ... what was it? Hope? Hope that this nightmare was soon to be over, and that perhaps in that brief tightening of her grip on my arms there was still something between us that we both wanted to hold on to. Or ... maybe just anticipation that it was over, and time to finalize that as a fact?

I turned Jen towards our door, and after quickly reaching into the car for my briefcase, I lightly draped my arm over her shoulder and walked with her towards our house.

The house. Not really our "home", or at least for me it had lost the bigger feeling that "home" implies. I could clearly recall the excitement that Jennifer and I had had when we made the decision to move out of the house that I had inherited from my folks. My parent's house had always been tainted for me. Yes, the inheritance of the house gave us a free place to live while we were raising our young family, just as the life insurance had allowed both Jen and I to continue our education at a time when, fresh out of high school, we had a child and each other to support. But, all of that came at the expense of me losing my parents. Neither of us were able to disassociate the tragedy of their loss at the hands of a drunk driver from the house. So, about three years ago – right after I made partner at my old firm, and Jennifer went from school teacher to school administrator – we found ourselves with a good income, and the ability to really get what we want. The equity from selling my folk's place really helped with our decisions, and did preserve some link back to what they did for us.

Jennifer and I spent days with realtors looking at the market. Our dream included a pool, and a yard with some privacy, but given our hectic personal working lives, we really didn't want to be bound to all of the yard work that goes with a house. It seemed that we would have to "give" on something. Either buy a house to get the yard and pool, and suck up the yard maintenance, or go into a condo but lose the private yard. Or so it seemed. Jen had a student whose father was a property developer. At a parent-teacher conference, after they agreed that the student was doing exceptionally well, they spent time talking about our difficulties in finding what we want. He told Jen that we should come by his office because he was in the process of finishing up a unique strata development that we might like. He said that all but two of the units were sold, so come quickly.

We did. It was fantastic. Three side-by-side McMansions on a private cul-de-sac. Each side-by-side had a shared, but otherwise private backyard complete with pool and hot tub area. The beauty was that the entire cul-de-sac was a strata development, meaning that all maintenance, inside and out, including the pools, were managed by the strata association. All the owner had to do was to call the development manager, and the maintenance would happen.

The houses themselves were sizeable, each having a large open foyer at the front door which opened one direction into a large open plan kitchen with breakfast nook looking through large glass doors to the pool area. The other direction from the foyer led either to a large'ish library, and then a great room, or upstairs to the second level. Off of the great room – which faced the street – were double doors opening on to a covered veranda which could also be reached from the foyer. The second story contained five bedrooms and three baths. Three of the bedrooms were standard bedroom size and shared one of the bathrooms, with the fourth designed as a guest suite with a separate sitting room and ensuite bathroom. It also had a small balcony overlooking the pool. The master suite, with its own balcony over the pool, was palatial with room for our dreamed of huge four post bed, a sitting room and a walk-in dressing room complete with room for a couch and a wall of mirrors to dress in front of. The ensuite had a soaker jet tub and a glassed in shower big enough to party in. The dressing room/ensuite shared the wall with the other side of the house to almost eliminate noises from the other house emanating into the bedroom. Literally, it was more than we had ever dreamed of.

All of the buildings were sold except for one. The developer was hoping to retain one half for a while to eventually gift to his son when he completed college and joined his firm, but that was going to be at least four years yet, so he was planning to rent it out if he could find someone appropriate. The side he showed us was the last that he was going to sell. It was complete through lock-up, awaiting only an owner's decisions on interior finish. Jennifer and I jumped all over ourselves in our rush to take ownership of the one half of the remaining building. Two and half years ago, we took ownership. It was everything we had hoped. It was going to be "home".

Jennifer and I separated at the door with me briefly clinging to her hand as she started up the stairs. She looked at me with a tenuous smile, and turned away, climbing the stairs. I dropped my briefcase inside the door and headed into my library/office, slumping down into the couch that I had there. This was the one room that I felt totally comfortable in, as it was the only place in the house (other than the twins' rooms) that I could be absolutely certain was unmarked by Mister Gabe.

Mister Gabe.

I leaned over to the mini-bar in the library and pulled out a bottle of Becks, popped the top, took a healthy swig and flopped back into the couch. I closed my eyes and let the tension of the day start to ease out of me. Watching Jennifer do that boy in the driveway was not something that I would ever get used to.

How had we ever got to this place? How had this nightmare ever seen the light of day?

...

The Past

Jennifer and I met when she was fourteen and I was sixteen. She was a bright student who had trouble in math. I was a whiz at math. My math teacher asked if I would tutor her in the subject. While I agreed, it was with some trepidation. Jen was still taller than I (I was a slow grower), and her face was angelic. Combine that with the fact that her body was already the stuff of a teenager's wet dreams, and sure I was nervous. I mean how was I going to be able to talk with her, let alone teach her math? But I bucked up and gave it a go.

The first time I went over to her place after school was an eye opener. While my family was obviously loving and fun loving, with at times a wicked sense of humour, Jen's seemed to be just about the polar opposite. Her dad was a strict disciplinarian, and her mother seemed to be a mouse in the way she followed his every direction. Don't get me wrong, they were nice people and I certainly got along with them, it was just that it took some getting used to the fact that her dad spoke and everybody jumped. I had trouble believing Jennifer came from that atmosphere given the comfortable, happy face she put on for everyone at school. And I should say that she wasn't "unhappy" at home – it was just that she seemed to freely give over her free will to her father when she walked in that door. Odd, to me, but I was still getting the opportunity to be with her, so, you know, I lived with it. Over time, I more than lived with it, it became natural to turn over control of things to her dad whenever we walked into that house. I don't know why, but it was obviously what Jen wanted. I wanted Jen, so I let it happen to me as well.

Jen was (is) smart. It didn't take her long to pick up what I was trying to teach her. The oddly wonderful thing though was how our tutoring sessions very quickly evolved into real friendship. It got to the point that by the end of that year I was always with her. She always seemed "up" for my suggestions about doing things together. Coincidentally, I grew. In the space of one year I added six inches and my frame started to fill out. It was great. Our first kiss came on her door step as I dropped her off after a movie. The porch light came on and the door opened to her father standing there. Jen stepped back from my embrace and her hand went to cover her mouth – her eyes wide as she stared at her father. He looked from her, to me, and back to her, "kissing is allowed. Nothing more. Not until you are 18 Jennifer." He looked at me again, "understood son?" I nodded. Jen assured her dad that she understood. And that was that.

I was eighteen and preparing to go to college. Jen was in tears and wailing that she would die without me ... who would look after her? While I wasn't bawling at the time, I have to admit that my feelings were exactly the same. Our friendship had become love. This beautiful creature had complete control over my heart and soul. We decided together that I would not go out of city to college, and that she would continue to be my one and only love. I think that was the first time that we actually said the word. But, immature as we were, I am also sure that we both truly meant it.

For the next two years, I went to college working on pre-law, and Jen finished high school. Believe it or not, even though there was a lot of typical teenage heavy petting, I never even got her shirt off. Not once. I tried a few times, in the heat of passionate kissing, but after a few aborted attempts Jennifer sat me up straight and looked me in the eyes to say that her father had told her that she was not going to be a harlot, and not going to bring home a brat while she was still in school, and that I had been there when he had told us that kissing was ok, but nothing else. So she was not to allow things to get out of hand. Jen took pains to let me know that her parents really liked me (as mine did her), but her father had set the rules and she simply couldn't ignore them. Wait until she was eighteen.

She did. We did. Which meant, because I took my word seriously and had no interest in messing around on my Jennifer, that I was a virgin at twenty. It was worth the wait, believe me.

For her eighteenth birthday, I took her out to the fanciest place I could afford. She was beautiful, dressed in a light, flowery summer dress that reached to about mid-thigh and exposed just enough of the upper slopes of her magnificent breasts to tease. Her hair was up, and she had a gold necklace on with a tiny pearl pendant that hung artfully in the valley of her breasts. She self-consciously ordered a glass of merlot and with a little grin said that she was now eighteen and her father said that until I said different, she was now responsible for her own rules, so it was ok to drink some wine. It didn't hit me at the time, but I realized later that she had just offered to hand her father's control over to me.

We ate, and drank some, and we danced. Honestly, other than knowing that we did those things, I really don't remember any of it. I was immersed in Jennifer and everything else simply passed me by. We got into my beat up old Toyota and drove back to my folks' place. They were out for the evening – like they had planned on leaving the house to me that night. Dad was like that. So, he took mom out for the night because he knew that I was going to want some special "alone" time with Jennifer.

We went downstairs into the rec room where I dimmed the lights and put on some music – I was partial to the Eagles. I grabbed anouther bottle of wine from my dad's wine cellar and was in the process of opening it when I felt Jennifer's hand softly grasp mine. She pulled me into her arms, and proceeded to lay the most passionate kiss on me that I had ever experienced. Her tongue was deep in my mouth at the same time that her hands were roaming my arms, my shoulders, my chest, my hair. She broke the kiss and taking my hand, she quietly said that we didn't need any more wine right now and led me up through the house to my bedroom. She left me standing by my bed and reached behind her neck to unhook her dress. The few seconds that it took for that dress to slowly drift down her body and pool at her feet lasted hours. First her bra appeared. It was a lacy, light weight, light blue number that accented rather than really doing anything to hold her breasts. Then, her matching panties were unveiled. Not a thong certainly, but also not the granny panties that I might have expected – having never really seen them before. She looked gorgeous standing there in her lacy lingerie. With my bedside light on behind her, I could see the soft glow of the fine hairs on her arms as she stood there. She reached up and undid her hair, and with a slight shake of her head let it fall around her shoulders. In the space of two or three heartbeats my Jen had transformed from the picture perfect girl next door that I had been dating and loving for four years, into a sultry vixen that I wanted to take, and take now!

I was entranced.

Jennifer reached between her breasts for what was obviously a front-clasped bra, and she paused looking at me. "Would you like to," she purred? Did I? Duh. I'm sure I was staggering like a drunk, but she was giggling, and that helped to calm me. "What would your dad say about the rules now, my sweet?" I playfully asked her as I brushed my fingertips across the exposed slopes of her breasts. Again she giggled and then whispered "you make the rules now my love". I paused briefly looking deeply into her eyes and moved my hands to her face, clasping her, and bringing her lips to mine.

There in my bedroom in my parent's house, on her 18th birthday, Jennifer gave me her virginity and took mine. Our souls entwined, never to part.

Our lives changed that night. I took Jennifer home in the wee hours of the morning. Her dad did not meet us at the door like he had every other time for the last four years. She just kissed me softly on the lips and let herself in.

My parents never did come home. In the morning I was woken by a policeman knocking on the door. He carefully explained that a drunk driver had broadsided my folks' car, and that they had both died in the accident. Just like that. At twenty I was an adult, and inherited everything. The house, the insurance, and everything else. I was set to do anything I wanted with my life, I would just have to do it without my folks. Not a trade that I'd recommend to anyone. If I hadn't had Jennifer, and the support that her family gave me, I'm not sure that I would have made it. But I did, or I should say, we did.

Jennifer always had a mischievous streak to her. She'd get a glint in her eye and I knew that something off the wall was coming my way. After her birthday that glint started to mean new and interesting things. It was only about a month after her birthday, and with my folk's passing we hadn't continued our carnal relationship. My mind just wasn't in that space.