It Started in the Bushes
Chapter 1

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Cheating, Interracial, Black Male, White Female, BBW, Slow,

Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Her husband left her, what else could she do?

Whew, I'd done it again; score one for the "hot" old woman I thought.

OK so I hadn't run a marathon, or a 10K. Alright all I'd really done was to push a double stroller with 2, energetic 2 year olds, who really could have and should have walked the 50 yards from my car to the rubberized playing surface themselves.

That was my workout for this Saturday morning. Besides, I thought as I took the kids out of the stroller and sent them on their way with equal swats on their 2 year old butts; my workout was conducted last night in their father/step-grandfather's bed. My workout plan was perfect for me and it kept me smiling too. I took a seat next to a twenty something blond girl and started watching the antics of my two angels.

"Are those your grand kids?" asked Blondie- blond looking at me.

"One is my grandson," I began, "and the other is my son."

"They look like twins, almost, except, one is a little darker," she said.

"The darker one is my son," I told her. That drew a slightly surprised look.

"They run around without a care in the world, don't they," she said wistfully.

"You seem to be pretty happy yourself though," she said, looking at me.

"I am happy," I said cheerfully, as I looked across the park, for the umpteenth time.

"Well I'm glad someone is," she said. I picked up a hint of sadness in her voice as she said it.

"Aren't you?" I asked, "You're young, you're pretty; you should have the world on a string."

"Don't I wish," she said ruefully, I could tell she was looking over at me out of the corner of her eye.

She was wondering why I was so God damned happy, they all did. I scanned the tree line again and made up my mind; maybe just this once I'd tell someone.

She looked across the park to see what I was looking for. I think she might've seen them before I did, but she didn't know what we were looking for. There was a small group of men running, they would start out at the tree line, and run the 12 mile loop all the way around the lake. The faster ones would finish in a little over an hour; so that was all the time I had to tell her my tale. I didn't think I'd make it because there was so much to tell, but I'd try.

I patted the bench beside me, and she scooted over closer.

"Do you want to know why I'm so happy?" I whispered.

She nodded her head conspiratorially, and inched closer.

"Well, it started a few years ago, right here in this park," I began.

"It started with a blow job in those bushes over there, but I guess I should tell you what led to it," I said.

Her little blue eyes had suddenly ballooned up to the size of saucers, when I mentioned a blow job in the bushes. Boy if she only knew.

"OK, one Saturday, here in the park, I had decided to come out walking with a couple of my friends," I said beginning my narrative.

Actually, they dragged me out of my house, and forced me to come. Let's face it I was depressed.

My marriage was circling the drain, my business was failing, and I was just plain miserable.

I couldn't see why those bitches wanted me to slowly waddle around the park with them, but if it would get them to leave me alone, I'd try it. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't giant sized or anything like that; but I just wasn't taking care of myself so I had put on a few pounds. I also wasn't nearly as tiny as you are, and I probably haven't been since I was fourteen. Nope I've always been a little thick as they say it now. But a lot of men like that, because it brings certain attributes with it.

So there I was, waddling my almost fat ass around the park with the biddies, when we saw them. We all stopped and looked as they ran by, about four or 5 guys in running clothes all sweaty and muscular. The biddies started acting like construction workers, whistling and clapping. A couple of the guys started hamming it up and giving the biddies the thumbs up sign. One of them a short hairy one, actually stopped and mooned us, and then ran and caught up with his group.

You know how dirty women can be when there's no one else around so our conversation as we walked that morning revolved around those runners, and what we'd do with them in different scenarios.

These little dramas ranged from having a singular tryst in a nearby motel, to a full blown gang bang behind the park office. Emily even claimed she'd rather just have an affair with any one of them who was willing, and she was serious. She claimed she'd plan it so her husband never found out, and she'd be able to have her cake and eat it too.

These women had been walking together for a few months before I started with them, and I had to admit their pace was a little bit rough for me. That combined with my depression, and all of the stimulating talk this morning had my mind in the clouds instead of my eyes on the ground.

I rolled my ankle on a loose rock and started to go down hard. Before I made contact with the unyielding concrete surface, I felt 2 hands grabbing my shoulders trying to keep me from falling. My body braced for the impact that was inevitable, but I landed on something relatively softer.

"Good save Darryl!" I heard, and a bunch of whooping and clapping, as the rest of his friends ran by us. They kept going and were soon out of sight.

As I got my wits about me, I noticed that I was lying on one of the runners. It was the quiet one in the front of the pack, who had simply ran faster when the girls started their revelry.

I had no choice but to look at him, as I fumbled around trying to get off of him. He was Black or African-American, whatever they call it these days. He was also substantially more embarrassed than I was.

"Thank you so much," I practically yelled, but then stopped as our eyes met. For what seemed like minutes but was probably only seconds, we stared at each other, and we made a connection of some sort. Or at least I did. I wasn't sure whether he felt it or not.

"Anyone would've done it," he said, after he got his wits back.

"Is he crazy?" asked Emily, "I saw it and still don't believe it."

"You started to fall, and we were right next to you," she continued.

"There wasn't time for any of us to grab you," she said.

"But he flew in and tried to catch you, but let's face it, you're not a waif," she said making a wry grin.

"So he scooted under you, so you didn't hit the ground," she said.

"Any one could've done it," she snorted sarcastically," yeah right."

I started to get to my feet and everything was going great until I put my foot down. It hurt like hell when I tried to walk on it.

Darryl sat me back down, and took my shoe and sock off, then looked at my ankle. He had me move it forwards and back and just a little bit side to side. It actually didn't hurt very much when he gently probed the area with his fingers. OK it actually felt so damned good that I wouldn't have remembered any pain. Imagine how pathetic my life had to be, for some stranger's rubbing my ankle to be the most erotic thing I'd had happen to me in nearly a year.

"Well it's not broken," he started, "But you can't put any weight on it."

"We really need to get some ice on this, and wrap it up, as soon as possible," he said seriously.

"How are we going to do that?" asked Betty.

As I think about it, I remembered that Betty was a nurse. Why hadn't she looked at my ankle?

And why was she pissed?

"Well, we have a little bit less than a mile to the parking lot," said Darryl.

"If you'd like, I could carry you," he said.

Emily's eyes got bigger, Betty's eyes got smaller and Pam brought up the truth.

"How are you going to do that?" she asked, "She's kind of bigger than you are."

"Well you're taller but... ,"

He stood me up, making sure that I only put pressure on the good foot. Then he got in front of me and bent down slightly. I got the idea and climbed onto his back, and he stood up straight. It was like when I was a kid and my Dad gave me piggy back rides. Then he just started walking. All the way there, he apologized for everything.

"I'm sorry, I'm kind of sweaty," he said.

"I'm really sorry, this is probably embarrassing for you," he said.

"I'm sorry this is taking so long," he said.

I'm sorry, my hands are probably making your leg uncomfortable," he said.

I really was uncomfortable, but not the way he thought. Having a muscular man moving between my spread legs was something I hadn't had in a while, and even though we weren't exactly in the correct position, it was affecting me. This alone was strange, because I hadn't been "affected" in over 2 years. My husband was no longer interested in "affecting" me. I was practically humping the poor man's back as he walked.

A lot of what he thought was sweat wasn't, and it was coming from me, not him. I was producing so much juice that I was sure he could probably smell my pussy. At one point I just let my head rest on his shoulder and relaxed and rolled with it.

Almost too soon, we got to my car, Emily opened the door and he put me down on the seat. He had an unused ace bandage and some ice packs in a first aid kit in his car. He ran and came back with them. He put the ice packs around my ankle and then gently wrapped the whole thing up in the ace bandage.

"OK that should hold you until you get to the emergency room," he said then he turned and left.

Betty was fuming, and Emily and Pam were jumping up and down with excitement. Betty roughly grabbed my ankle, and started trying to get the bandage off.

"Ow, what are you doing?" I asked her.

"Trying to get this off of you, before you get cooties, or aids, or something," she said.

"What?" I said looking at her like she was crazy.

"You know N... ," she hesitated "those people carry diseases," she snapped.

"It's a brand new, un opened bandage," said Emily "so even if your retarded 1940's closed minded theory was true, it wouldn't matter."

"Betty, aren't you a nurse?" asked Pam

"Why didn't you wrap her ankle up?" Pam asked.

"Well, because he was all over her," said Betty nervously, "and she obviously liked it."

"Did you see her, laying her head on his shoulder when he was walking?" she said.

"And she never told him no when he offered to carry her either," she said viciously.

"Seems to me, there must've been someone else who could have done it," said Betty.

"Yeah, how about one of the white guys he was running with," said Pam.

"That would've been better wouldn't it Betty?" asked Pam

"Except for the fact that none of them even slowed down, let alone stopped to help," said Emily.

"What about you Betty?" asked Pam "I mean you are a nurse."

"But you just stood there, while he checked her ankle out," added Emily.

"Where you going to carry her for almost a mile on your back?" asked Pam.

"I've got some terrible news for you Betty," said Emily.

"My family, we're Armenians, so maybe you shouldn't have to be around me anymore," Emily said.

"Well, it's worse than that," said Pam pretending not to cry.

"I've been hiding it all these years," she said sniffling.

"Jenkins, is my husband's last name, my maiden name is Rodriguez," Pam continued.

"I guess with my light skin, you never knew I was a "wet back," she said breaking down in mock tears.

"Tell her Alana," said Emily.

"Tell her what, I'm white," I said.

Betty looked at me suspiciously.

"Well OK," I said my voice showing my exasperation "You know me as Alana Sargent, but actually it's Alana Kathryn Morgenstern-Sargent,"

"Morgenstern," said Betty, "you're Jewish?"

"Afraid so," I said, "But don't tell anyone."

Betty looked at all of us and just walked away.

"I can't believe the balls on that bitch," said Emily.

"We'll go to the emergency room with you," said Pam.

"Maybe we'd better take your car though," she said.

"Why?" asked Emily

"Alana, I love you," said Pam," but I don't see me trying to carry your fat ass across the parking lot to my car let alone an entire mile."

All the way to the hospital Pam and Emily talked about Darryl and his friends.

"I want that big blonde one in the head-band," whined Emily

"No stupid, you should take the short dark haired, hairy one with the glasses," snapped Pam.

"Why would I want that dork?" asked Emily," he looks just like my husband."

"Exactly," said Pam, "That way if he gets you pregnant, no one will know the difference."

"Ooh smart," replied Emily, "Alana you have to introduce me to him."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" I asked.

"Easy," said Pam, "When you come back to the park to start walking again, you have to thank Darryl."

"That's our in," she said.

"When you go up to him, we'll all be there and we'll meet them," she continued.

"I'll get a chance to see them up close, while they're not moving," she said.

"That'll give me tons of fantasy material to imagine while my husband is throwing me one of his 5 minute fucks, while he imagines I'm his super-model du jour, and Emily can start being a whore," she said.

"Get it right," said Emily seriously, "Whores have to be paid, I'll be doing it for free, that would make me a slut."

We went to the emergency room, and sure enough, Darryl had been right about my ankle. It wasn't broken and after the x-rays they even re-wrapped it in the same bandage.

"The ice was smart, it kept the swelling down, so you'll be better in no time," said the ER doctor.

Over the next 2 weeks, I thought a lot about that day, mostly at night before I went to bed. During the day I was too busy with other things. I owned a small flower shop, and my business was failing, if things didn't turn around soon, I'd be out of business. My husband had left me 6 months before, just up and ran off with his twenty year old secretary. The note he left said basically that our marriage was slowly killing him. It had sucked the life out of him, and was turning him into someone who wasn't fun, and he didn't want to be that guy. He also told me I could keep everything, which mostly amounted to my shop, which he didn't own any part of, our house, which was mortgaged to the hilt and underwater, my 10 year old Honda, and all of our bills. He said Stephanie was helping him to rediscover himself, after all of the shit I'd put him through over the past 24 years. I was 42 years old, and had married him when I was 18. Stephanie, was 2 years younger than our daughter.

I hadn't told Donna yet that her father had left me, but she'd find out soon enough when she came home. I guess I'd hoped for a while, that he'd come to his senses. But I came to mine first, and filed for divorce, on the grounds of abandonment. For the past 2 years, our life together had been going nowhere any way. It had been nearly that long since we'd had sex, and it wasn't that good then. I couldn't remember when we'd stopped, or why, just that we had. We lived together more like room- mates than lovers, and now my room-mate had moved on.

"So what are you going to say?" asked Emily, "Are you going to stop at just talking?"

"I wouldn't," said Pam, knowing she would.

Of all of us Pam's marriage was the most solid. Sure it had its ups and downs, but it was a good relationship.

"I don't have any idea," I said, "It's really no big deal."

I was lying through my teeth, for the whole time I was away, I had thought of this day a lot. I was actually planning something that was a big step for me. I was going to ask him out for dinner, as my way of thanking him for his help. Not many people would have stopped to try and help, and carrying me for a mile on his back was just ridiculous. As I thought back on it, he could have run back to his car, and came to pick me up but that probably would have taken longer. Taking longer meant me getting ice on my sprain later, and giving it more time to swell. I was sure he had thought about that, and decided on the quickest way to get me to help. So I was very grateful, and although I'd never have admitted it, very horny.

The thing that made it the scariest though, was the fact that even when I was younger and dating, I had never asked a man, or a boy out. They always, had to ask me. I had also never gone out with a person of color, I didn't really care about things like that, but it had just never happened.

The thing that kept going across my mind though, was what if he's married, and his wife wants to kick my ass for asking him out. If I was married to him, and someone had, that is exactly what I'd do.

Then what if he just sad "nah, not gonna do it."

I imagined him turning into the Saturday Night Live- Dana Carvey impression of George Bush, Saying "Not gonna do it."

Why should he accept anyway? He and his friends, even the dorky one, were hot younger guys.

They were in great shape, and very confident. They probably had women lined up just asking them to take them home and fuck their brains out.

So why would he want to have dinner with some 42 year old, soon to be divorced, flower store owner, who wasn't in great shape, had an overly large ass, sagging breasts and also had emotional problems and self esteem issues.

Pam handed me a condom, I looked at it, and then her as if she'd lost her mind.

"Take him behind the office, that's where all the teenagers go," she said.

"And remember, you're doing it for all of us," said Emily.

So, we walked over to where the guys were getting ready to run. It was like being in the stands near the starting gate at a horse race. No scratch that, it was like being in the woods, near a herd of deer. We got closer and closer. Soon we were close enough to hear them talking and laughing. Then as soon as we were almost on them, with no apparent signal or reason they just started running, and then they were gone.

The parking lot, just seconds ago, had been full of testosterone and laughter, now it was empty. It was like an empty beer can, once filled with golden goodness, now it had no purpose. Well, the parking lot did have a purpose actually; it's where we parked our cars.

I thought about that then, our cars, the girls' and mine matched us; they were older, dependable transportation. The guys' cars on the other hand were newer, faster, and impractical as hell. I saw a new Camaro, in candy apple red, a black Dodge Challenger, with ridiculous chrome wheels, and the bright Yellow Mustang GT that I knew belonged to Darryl. "We" were what didn't have a purpose.

We just looked at each other, 3 forty-something housewives, wearing enough makeup for a starring role on Broadway, standing in an empty parking lot. We were so disappointed that we almost forgot that we'd come here to walk. I had on a spandex-like top that was strong enough to hold in my oversized boobs, it was one of those "lift and separate" things. I had matching shorts, that almost showed the circles of my ass cheeks. I was also wearing one of those giant rubber bands around my waist, that are supposed to burn fat around your abs. In my case burn fat around my flab. The whole effect made me look like a cross between an old tired Jane Fonda, and a dominatrix. As we started walking, and sweating, our eye make-up ran and gave us that raccoon look. We looked very sexy indeed, I thought sarcastically.

"Guys sure can fuck up a good thing," said Emily in a dejected voice.

After walking the first mile of the 3 mile loop my ankle started to hurt a little. It started out as just a bit of discomfort, and steadily grew until I was having trouble walking, so I told the girls I'd slow down and meet them back at the parking lot. They replied with sullen nods, and I could tell that we had dropped from the lofty heights of forbidden lust, to the doldrums of shattered dreams. As I sat down to rest for a bit I heard a clip clopping sound and as I looked up my mouth dropped open. It was Darryl running towards me. He saw me sitting there on the curb holding my now throbbing ankle, and slowed down as he approached.

"Hi," I said with a big smile, until I realized that he was staring at my face. He was actively, almost rudely, studying every line of my features, and shyly smiling.

Then I remembered how our eye makeup had run, and also remembered that I probably looked like a fucking Raccoon. My smile faded, when I thought about how I must look.

"Doing too much on your first day back huh?" he asked, in a shy voice.

He sat down and started to touch my ankle, and then he stopped and looked at me.

I tried to look away, because I knew what he was looking at.

"My makeup looks awful doesn't it?" I asked.

"Well, don't blame it, for trying to take the easy way out, it was doomed to fail," he said.

I was shocked; I had obviously misjudged this bastard, because he wasn't nice at all.

"It did have an impossible job to do," he said.

I was really pissed now, just think I'd spent 2 weeks fantasizing about this guy fucking me (I could admit it now because I was angry) and he just sits here and insults me, for no reason.

Sure I knew that I wasn't some 19 year old Brazilian super model, whose ass hadn't fallen, but I wasn't ugly by a long shot. Lots of guys told me that if I was a bit smaller, I'd be perfect. But he just kept going with it.

"I guess makeup's job is to make you look better," he said, it was as if he just couldn't shut up.

"But I don't think anything could do that," he said nervously.

I was just about to call him something that I was sure I'd regret, but I was on the verge of tears and I wasn't going to let him make me cry. But 10 seconds later I realized what he was trying to say, and I was so fucking glad I hadn't said anything.

"Because you're already so pretty," he said, "there's just no way for makeup to help."

"It just gets in the way," he finished, and kept looking down.

"Uhm may I?" he said pointing at my ankle. I think he just needed to do something, to cover up his nervousness.

I was speechless, so I just nodded my head like one of those stupid dashboard dogs that people have in their cars.

He took both of my ankles in his lap; first he lightly ran his fingers over the good ankle. Then he did the same to the sore one.

"All of the swelling seems to be gone," he said.

"The muscles around the sore one, seem to be a lot tighter," he continued.

"You haven't been stretching them out have you?" he asked.

He started massaging my ankle before I could even answer. I don't know what I would have said anyway, my mind was locked on one thing; did he actually say that I was so pretty that makeup couldn't make me look better? He really said that.

He took my shoe off and continued massaging, and actually went down my foot and massaged the soles of my feet and my toes. I was hoping he couldn't see me squirming, and hoping even more, that he couldn't tell what was going through my mind and my body right then. I was sure my nipples had torn through the spandex of my top, and I was probably sitting in a puddle. If I kept dripping like this, my vaginal secretions would likely drown us both.

I looked over and saw soft dark brown eyes, and realized that I was guilty of a great wrong.

Women all over the world lament the fact that men generally paint us as objects, and we, had done the same thing to Darryl and his friends. We saw them as bodies, or as fantasy objects without taking the time to even wonder about their personalities or anything else.

As I watched him, all he seemed intent on right now, was relieving the pain in my ankle. He was probably, I noticed, a little bit older than I'd suspected, and was probably only 5 or 6 years younger than I was, which really wasn't so bad was it?

He also seemed to be a genuinely nice guy. A little too shy perhaps, but that was kind of cute.

He'd also gotten tongue tied and nervous while trying to complement me, which told me that he hadn't had a lot of practice talking to women, which was also a good thing.

His touch was both strong, and incredibly gentle, at the same time, and he had no idea what it was doing to me.

"How's that," he said beginning to stand up.

Something in my mind snapped, and I heard myself ask, "Could you help me up?"

"Of course," he said smiling, "But remember to take it easy for a while."

"At least, until you get the strength in the joint back," he said.

I looked around as he reached out to take my hand, and saw no one in the immediate vicinity. There were walkers and a few joggers out, but no one near enough to us to pose a danger, though to be honest, I don't think I'd have cared anyway. I knew what I had to do.

AS I got to my feet, I held onto his hand, and started walking towards the bushes near the edge of the trees, that surrounded the woods on the interior of the park. They were tall hedges that you couldn't see through. Once out of sight I dropped down to my knees in front of him, and pulled his running shorts down in one quick motion. Believe it or not he tried to back away from me. So I just grabbed him by his legs, and pulled him back. As my hand grabbed his manhood, his body stiffened and it did as well. It wasn't some huge freakish porn star dick, but it was bigger than the only other one I'd ever seen in real life. I wasn't looking at his face, so I don't know what his reaction was, but he was no longer trying to get away. As I began to lower my mouth on the object of my desire, he tried to push my head back.

"I'm sweaty," he said, was he really trying to excuse himself out of a blowjob?

"Shut up," I replied and licked the shaft from his balls to the tip. It was a really strange taste, beneath the obvious taste of salt for his sweat, there were other flavors. Kind of like a cinnamon mixed with musk, but tangy taste. I lightly dragged my teeth across it teasing him. From the groan he tried to stifle, I could tell he like it. Then I started on the head. The hands on my head were no longer pushing me away, now they just rested on the side of my face. I started moving my head up and down on it, in that motion that I'd seen when my husband and I watched porno movies. Every stroke I went further and further, until the tip of his dick started brushing the back of my throat.

I had never done this before, my asshole of a husband had tried in vain for years to get me to do this, but our sex life was pretty much stunted. He refused to lick my vagina, he said it was nasty and a sin, but he wanted me to suck his slimy little dick.

The funny thing was, that I was probably enjoying this as much as Darryl was. As I watched the muscles in his powerful legs straining and flexing, I realized that for all of his strength, he was my toy right now. If I'd thought that doing this was demeaning or nasty, I suddenly realized that it wasn't demeaning because I was in control. It was my choice, I could finish him off, and give him unimaginable pleasure; or I could simply stop, and leave him frustrated and unfulfilled. I was in total control. The 2nd part, was that it really didn't feel nasty. It actually felt great, to do something for a person who without even knowing my name, seemed to always be willing to put what he was doing aside, to help me.

My daughter, rarely if ever came home from college, and usually when she did call, it was only to ask for money. She hadn't even realized yet, that her father had left us, or how devastated I was. Speaking of the husband, he hadn't given me any consideration at all, before leaving with his teenaged booty queen. The only other person in my life was my mother, and she was very old and in failing health.

The simple act of blowing a stranger in the bushes, had allowed me to put my life in perspective, far more easily than anything else I'd done over the past several months.

"Uhm I'm gonna c... ," choked out Darryl tapping my shoulder to warn me.

I just held on tighter, as he tried to push my head away.

Suddenly I felt a small amount of warm salty fluid coating the back of my throat, and Darryl collapsed. It really didn't taste bad at all, in fact, I wanted more. We ended up on the ground with my head still between those powerful legs. As we lay there on the ground, all seemed right with the world to me. All of my problems just went away.

"What was that for?" I heard him ask.

"To pay you back for helping me," I said, and I really meant it.

"Well, you paid me too much," he said, "Here's your change."

He rolled over and pulled down my shorts, as I had done his. About a hundred things went through my mind at the speed of light. Was he going to fuck me? Where was that damned condom? Was I going to let him? Hell yes! I thought, but he had other plans. He lowered his head between my legs, and suddenly I was worried about my leaking.

"Uhm I'm," I began.

"Shut up," he replied.

Then my world changed forever. He started out just blowing softly along my outer labia, and it felt so good my hips were already inching up towards him. I was getting hotter than I'd ever imagined possible. Then he started the same gentle breezes against my swollen puffy inner lips and the heat became an inferno. When the breeze barely grazed the tip of my clit, I had my first small orgasm and he hadn't even physically touched me yet.

I hadn't come down from that one yet when I went into shock. He had used his tongue and swiped my pussy from my asshole to my clit in one strong hard motion. He actually ended the lick with a slurping sound as if he was lapping up my juices. I thought that my head and body had separated, and I couldn't control anything.

"Oh shit!" I heard myself screaming. If anyone had been passing by at that point I don't know what they would have thought was going on, and I just stopped thinking. I wildly clawed my top up, freeing my breasts and started rubbing them, one of his hands replaced mine, and it felt like my nipples were growing longer trying to contact him.

He separated my inner lips with his fingers gently, and started licking and blowing along the inside of my slit, and I just kept coming, over and over, then he very gently licked and kept licking the tip of my clit, and I kept building and building until I just blacked out.

I couldn't believe this was happening, my husband had never done this for me in 24 years of marriage, but a stranger whom I'd only met twice, had just licked my pussy until I lost consciousness.

When I looked up he had pulled my shorts back up, and was rubbing my temples. He was doing it so gently and staring down at me, in a way my husband not only hadn't lately, but never had.

When I looked at him I noticed that the entire bottom of his face was wet, and since he smelled like my pussy, I knew what it was.

"Somebody besides me, really needs a shower," I said.

This was the wildest craziest, most romantic thing I'd ever had happen to me. Then reality reared its ugly head as I heard a group of bikers ride by, less than twenty feet from where we were.

"Oh shit, the girls are waiting for me," I said.

"I've got to go," I told him, as I got up and started to walk the last mile back to the parking lot.

He sat there still in a daze as I left.

Before I'd gotten too far, I saw Emily's car, and waved at it. She pulled over and opened the door.

I climbed in the back seat, behind her and Pam.

"Oh my God!" shrieked Pam, "You really did it."

"Did what?" I asked innocently.

"You fucked him, didn't you?" she asked excitedly, "how was it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said quietly.

Emily stopped the car, and turned around and looked at me.

Then she turned back around, and started driving again.

"You lying bitch," she laughed, "tell us about it."

"Tell you about what?" I asked.

"Tell us about, why we've circled the park twice, looking for you," began Pam.

"And then we find you, in almost the same place that we left you," she continued.

"No one walks that slow, not even you," she laughed.

"Then when we pick you up, you smell like a walking pussy, and you have sperm on your chin," said Pam.

"So tell us about it," said Emily.

I filled them in on everything that happened, and they were both dumbfounded, and full of questions. I really didn't want to talk at that point, because my pussy was still tingling. What I really wanted to do was to go back to the bushes for round 2, but they were my friends, and the voice of reason.

"So, you were going to ask him out to dinner?" asked Emily.

"Did you use the condom?" asked Pam.

"Are you going to do it again?" asked Emily.

I just smiled, as in my mind I went over what had just happened. I knew it was a onetime thing, but it had really been beautiful.

"I can't believe you just pulled some guy into the bushes, and sucked his dick," said Emily

"Or that you liked it," said Pam.

"Oh we have got to tell Betty about this," laughed Emily.

"She'll probably have a heart attack," she said.

I think that up until then, my friends had thought of me, as their chubby, dowdy friend, and thought that like them, I was incapable, of doing anything wild or crazy. I knew they'd never expect me to cheat on my husband, even though he had abandoned me.

And deep down I think I thought the same thing, but for some reason that I couldn't explain then, even to myself, what had happened felt natural, and not out of place in my life. It felt almost like a signal, as much as growing breasts or a girl's first period, or graduating from high-school. They all signal important changes in one's life; my interlude in the bushes marked the start of a new phase in my life.

At this point I stopped talking, and noticed that Blondie-blond was so silent listening to me that she had nearly stopped breathing.

I looked at my watch.

"Ooh, time for me to go," I told her.

"Wait," she asked.

"You were still married when this happened?" she asked.

I nodded my head affirmatively, smiling.

"So technically, you were cheating?" she asked again.

"What did that have to do with you being so happy," she continued.

"What happened next?" she asked.

As if on cue 4 or 5 guys ran by us, a few of them yelled "Hi Alana," and the one in front a slightly older, very attractive black guy, stopped and kissed me, before running to catch up with the pack.

"Was that... ?" She began.

"But you didn't... ," she said.

"Are you coming back here?" she asked

"I really need to know what happened," she said.

"Ryan, Bryan," I screamed.

As the two boys toddled their way towards the stroller, I turned to her.

"Same time tomorrow," I said.

"Hell yes!" she told me.

For the rest of this story, you need to Log In or Register