Chapter 3

The next day was a Sunday. I woke up around 9am, late for me. Beverly was never able to sleep in that late, she usually woke up at 6am no matter how late she stayed up. Our room was clean, showing no traces of the night before, but my nakedness (I usually slept in boxers) and the tenderness of my overworked prick proved that the memories were real, and not a dream.

I showered and spent a long time afterward staring at my naked body in the mirror. I was still in good shape for an "old guy" as my kids called me. A little belly, but not more than a few extra pounds. I still had a nice butt, for a man, dimpled and still muscular.

As I stared at my dick in the mirror, and thought about what had happened last night, but mostly about what Beverly had told me, I got as hard as a teenager again. I was still a little sore, but so excited about the things I had seen and heard I couldn't resist slowly stroking my shaft.

I wondered if I could have done what my wife had made those other boys do so many years ago. I wondered if I could have taken a friend's cock in my mouth. It was hard to imagine being so worried about my reputation that I would submit to that form of blackmail. But then, I never had a reputation to defend.

On the other hand, the chance to please Beverly, the chance to see her supple, young, cheerleader body naked, and to inspire her to orgasm even if I wasn't allowed to touch her. I would have eaten crushed glass for that chance. Sucking cock would have been an easy price for that privilege.

I had to stop stroking myself because I almost came, imagining myself naked on my knees in the treehouse, Allen's stiff dick spurting down my throat as Beverly shook and moaned, fingering her juicy pussy to a climax on the hammock chair while she watched me perform. I wanted to save my orgasm for my wife, if she wanted it.

I got dressed and emerged into a household already in progress. Bev was in the back with one of the kids, gardening. They were always busy. I spent some time with the other two, catching up on their middle school problems. Everything seems so serious at that age.

This is the way things usually went for us, and why I had been so desperate for a spark in our sex life. Back before the kids, a night like last night would have been followed by a long, languorous morning of sex and breakfast and unashamed nudity and more sex. These days we hardly had a moment for a secret glance, much less a carnal act.

Watching my wife out the back window, I managed to catch her eye. I winked and smiled, remembering the things she had told me, imagining the fun we were still going to have.

She returned the smile, but it was a sad, distant smile. She looked down and wiped the corner of her eye with her sleeve, then went back to repotting the tomato seedlings with our daughter.

I didn't know what to feel. Here I was on top of the world and she looked like she was about to burst into tears.

Throughout the morning I kept trying to catch her eye, give her reassuring touches and gentle kisses, but there was never an opportunity for the two of us to share a private moment together. It seemed that Beverly might be avoiding the possibility of an intimate discussion.

I spent some time in our bedroom alone, hoping she would join me and let me know what was going on. When that didn't work I decided to tinker with some things in my workshop in the back of the garage. It wasn't the most private place in the house, but I thought she might notice, and join me so we could at least start the conversation.

A few minutes of tinkering turned into an hour of trying to unsuccessfully fix a broken lamp. When I finally emerged from the garage I wandered the house looking for Bev. The kids were all deep inside their computers or books, and they thought she may have gone to take a shower, like she sometimes done in the middle of the day.

The water didn't sound like it was running, and when I stood at our closed bedroom door I thought I heard my wife in the bedroom, so I opened the door as gently as I could and slipped inside.

She was laying on our bed, face down in her fluffy pillow, wrapped in nothing but a bath towel draped loosely over her smooth, naked skin. She was stunningly beautiful in the gentle daylight that filtered through the sheer drapes.

At first I thought she might be sleeping, but as I got closer I heard faint sobs. Her high school yearbook was open on the bed beside her. I sat on the edge of the bed and caressed her soft shoulder.

"Bev, what's wrong? You know that there is nothing you said, nothing you did, that would make me stop loving you. Not even if you tried."

She rolled toward me, exposing her lovely breasts. I had to control my intense desire to touch her in a sexual way. Her eyes were bleary with tears. "Oh sweetheart, you are so sweet."

Her expression grew serious and dark. "You don't think I'm a monster? I feel like I raped those boys. At least that I made them rape each other for my amusement."

I stroked her cheek, "You were all young, and all you were doing was making them pay for what they had done. If anyone got raped it was Allen, and you put an end to that, and gave the others a taste of their own medicine." She had closed her eyes, squeezing out tears as I spoke. I daubed them off with the corner of the pillowcase.

"And I saw them all last night, Bev, they are all still assholes, especially Tom, just like they were in high school, so no long term damage at all." She smiled. "You have to know that it's different for us guys, this kind of stuff."

"You think so?" she sniffed.

"I know so, Bev. I've been a guy all my life." She snorted a laugh at that. "Once the little head takes over, the big head shuts down, insulating men from all rational thought and emotional effect. Trust me on this one."

She giggled and stretched, exposing her long legs and beautiful pussy. I had to mentally bite my lip to keep from leaping on her and devouring her at that moment. Do women understand how completely potent they are when they are at their most vulnerable?

"Is that what's been bothering you all day? You were wondering what I would think?"

She looked down. "Only partly. I've been feeling guilty and ashamed." Her voice started to break again.

"But I think it's more about how much I loved it..." She paused, holding back tears. "And how it's never going to be the same again." The tears started to flow. She brought her hands up to cover her eyes.

I glanced at the open yearbook and noticed it was open to Allen's senior page.

I climbed in the bed next to her and covered her with my body, more like a blanket than like a lover. I embraced her out of love, not sexual desire. I hoped my persistent erection didn't give the wrong signal, but not all parts of my body were cooperating toward the same goals. My lips touched the backs of her hands where they covered her cheeks, kissing away the salty droplets that had leaked through.

"Do you miss him? Do you miss Allen?" She shook her head slightly in the negative.

"What is it then, Beverly? Help me understand. Help me help you."

She uncovered her eyes and looked at me in a serious way. "Don't lie to me, okay? Don't lie to me just to make me feel better, because it will only make me feel worse."

"I promise."

"I miss it, babe. I miss the control I had. I miss my beautiful teenage body. I miss the command it gave me over those boys. When I was telling you about it last night it all came rushing back, the old feelings. And with it came a need, an undeniable need that I've been trying to deny for so long. I have to feel that way again. I have to. I can't imagine going the rest of my life without it." She stared at the ceiling for a moment, then looked back at her body, sinuously stretched across the bed.

"And now I look at myself, a whole lot closer to fifty than fifteen. And I know it's never coming back, that feeling. It's something I never should have done, and something I wish I had never stopped."

She rolled away from me and closed the yearbook, pushing it away to the edge of the bed. "I understand if you hate me. After all, you wife longs for the old days when she was an awful monster ... so pitiful, so despicably pitiful." She started to sob quietly again.

I lay next to her silently for a while. She had made me promise not to lie, and I knew the first thing I wanted to say, the first thing that came screaming out of my mind in response, would sound like I was just trying to please her, comfort her with lies. Most men are bad at talking about feelings, and I was usually a whole lot worse than most men. I wanted to make sure I didn't cause more problems than I solved.

So I went slowly, and then I worried that staying silent too long would send the wrong signal as well. I put my hand on her bare side, just below her ribs where her body curved so beautifully down and then up again to her hips.

"There's nothing wrong with you that isn't wrong with every one of us, sweetheart. We all want to feel that way again, the way we did when we were young. The difference..." I rolled her onto her back toward me and pressed against her, bringing my hand slowly up her belly towards her plush, soft breasts, " ... the difference is that you are more powerful now than you were then."

She smiled that 'you're a sweet liar' smile at me.

"It's true." I interrupted before her objection left her lips. "I promised not to lie and I am telling you the absolute truth."

My hand cupped her breast the way she liked so much and she sighed and let me continue.

"You are more beautiful now than you were when I first met you. You are a woman and then you were a girl. You are more passionate and more loving and more tender and more sexy and more experienced and more gorgeous and more sexy and more sensual and more spectacular and more wonderful and more sexy and did I mention you are so much sexier than you have ever been in your life?"

She rolled against me, face-to-face and her eyes reached into mine and she believed me, because it was true. "But you are right. You can't recreate the things you did in high school." She started to get misty again.

"But you are wrong because you can get those feelings back again. Because you have something you didn't have back then ... you have a man who loves you more than he loves life, and who would do anything to make you happy."

She was crying again, but this time she was smiling. "Anything." I kissed away a tear. "Anything." She choked back a happy sob as I kissed away another tear. "Anything it takes, anything you need, anything you want, anytime you want it," I whispered.

I kissed my way down her lovely body and let my warm breath caress her wet feminine flower, my hands under her breasts and my fingers teasing her erect nipples.

"Mom?" came my daughter's voice through the door and we both jumped as though we had been caught. I brought my finger to Beverly's mouth and yelled back toward the door. I was afraid I hadn't locked it behind me, and if Bev said anything at all the door would suddenly open and there was no time to conceal or explain our current position to a 12 year old.

"Your mom was taking a nap. She'll be out in a minute, honey."

"Okay, dad ... didn't know you were in there too."

We usually had no more than a minute before the second round of parental echo-location started. She pulled me up face-to-face and giggled as she felt my erection press into her thigh. "I'm going to hold you to that promise, mister!" she whispered emphatically.

"Let's go for a drive tonight. We can have time to talk, maybe come up with some ideas to get those old feelings back, only this time, stronger than ever?" I ventured.

Another thing we had done back in the day that we didn't do anymore: long, aimless, therapeutic drives. The kids were all now old enough so that they could be left to themselves for the night without a babysitter. "Anyway, I have a story I'm dying to share from last night's party!"