Chapter 2

The first week living in the tiny house in Beverly’s backyard went by quickly. I was busy turning it from house to home as I also prepared for my first college teaching position. I arranged the area in the bedroom to accommodate my computer and the several books I would use frequently. I stocked the kitchen pantry, bought a few extra dishes and a new coffee maker. I saw Beverly daily but mostly in passing. She seemed to be busy too, but I did wonder if she was keeping a little distance in light of the rather intimate session we had. Afterall, we had only known each other for two days when we ended up in mutual masturbation, looking at some pornographic magazines I found in her garage while installing the door opener.

That totally sensual event occupied my thoughts almost constantly and I wondered if I had somehow taken advantage. Beverly had lost her husband Dan just a year before and she might have been overly vulnerable. She admitted to having had an extremely adventurous sex life that came to a full stop at his death. She certainly wasn’t hesitant to share some details, but there were several questions in my mind that I was dying to know. I suspected that Bev and Dan were intimate with other couples and possibly threesomes or more. She hinted at the possibility, especially in talking to me about the porn theater that re-opened as a private club.

Beverly did, however, express some concern after our shared masturbation that she hoped we didn’t move so fast that it would damage what she hoped would become a strong friendship, with or without the sensuality. Although, almost in the same breath, and with accompanying tears, she admitted how happy she was that our togetherness recaptured a bit of the wonderful sex life she enjoyed so much. In truth we only looked at some very graphic pictures, talked about what excited us while she intently watched me stroking my cock while I totally focused on her finger fucking herself and vigorously strumming her clit. At her suggestion I shot a huge load on her tits as she came. Other than that, there was no actual contact. Now I wonder if in the past two weeks she had brought herself to orgasms thinking about all of that. I certainly did, almost nightly.

Later this afternoon I’ll wander over to the main house with a bottle of Chardonay and suggest a happy hour, apologizing for being so preoccupied.

Beverly opened the door before I could knock. She was barefoot and dressed very casually in a white T-shirt and what looked to be a pair of men’s boxer shorts.

“Hi, I was watching you come across the yard with that bottle of wine and hoped you were coming to say hello.”

“Of course,” I replied. “We haven’t had much of a chance to visit and I apologize for that. I got carried away in my own little world, preparing the house and getting things organized for when my job starts.”

“I figured as much and wanted to leave you to get settled without being the bothersome landlady.”

“You would never be a bother and I would welcome your company anytime. In fact, I was worried that maybe you felt we moved to fast when we first met and that maybe you were purposefully creating some distance.”

Beverly smiled and gave a small laugh and motioned me to the kitchen table while she fetched a bottle opener and two wine glasses. I took the time to admire her great legs and cute tiny feet. Again, Bev, was braless and her nipples were clearly on high beam. As she returned to the table, she caught me staring.

“I see you enjoy it when I don’t confine myself,” she said with a big smile.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m flattered that I could attract your attention. Have you been thinking at all about our little sensual interlude? That’s not how I usually respond when meeting someone for the first time, but I am very glad it took the course it did.”

“I thought of little else for the past week,” I said, as I removed the cork and poured us some wine. “Cheers,” and we touched glasses, making lingering eye contact during the first sip.

“Did your thoughts lead to any masturbatory moments,” she asked?

“Wow, this English teacher will remember that word. Can’t say I have ever heard it used before. But to answer your question, my thoughts led to more than masturbatory moments. They led to epic Jack-Off sessions where I would bring myself to the very edge of coming and then ease off and let the pre-cum ooze out and then restart stroking.”

“Rob, easy boy, I’m seeing a rise in your shorts and your description is causing me more than bit of leakage.”

“Leakage? Where might that be occurring,” I asked while laughing?

“I know what you are doing, young man. You just want to hear me say that my cunt’s wet.”

“Yes, I love to hear a woman talk dirty. The mind’s imagination is the strongest erogenous zone for most of us.”

“Well, I have nothing pressing. So, we can slow down, relax and have a good evening. I have lasagna in the oven, some fine Italian bread and you’ve brought the wine. Unless you have other plans, we’re set.

With that, however, Beverly grabbed the leg of her roomy boxers and pulled them aside to give me a perfect view of a beautiful, glistening cunt. My cock immediately reacted.

“I admit to thinking a lot about our first meeting and of course, pleasuring myself frequently. I also made a call to the former movie place I told you about and yes, they are still going strong, members only. Membership is twenty dollars per couple each time you go and five dollars for single women. Saturday is couples and single women only, and Sunday is for gay men.

“Now, I have to ask, are you still interested in going, said Beverly. And, if so, we need to discuss some things as I have some concerns.”

“Yes, I am still interested, but I am more interested in your concerns.”

“Thank you. That was a very tactful and empathetic reply. My main concern is how being there might affect your future relationships. Let me get back to that in a moment. First let’s discuss you and I going as a couple. We are friends, intimate and sensual, but not truly a couple. Also, the power dynamic is interesting. You are renting your home from me and do additional chores for me. At present this is a win-win situation that I hope to see continue.

“But the real concerns are sexual. We have had one very enjoyable time, but it was not full-on intercourse, or as you would like me to say, ‘we haven’t fucked.’ And once we do, if we do, does that change things? I am an older woman. No, not an old lady, but you know what I’m saying. Eventually, probably sooner than you think, you will meet a woman your age. Where will that leave me? I know that may sound selfish, but that’s not my intent. We will have created this very sexual and adventurous relationship. The young woman you meet may not be at all interested in a non-monogamous relationship. Or, having been to the member’s-only theater with me, and possibly a few even more sexually exciting places, you may not ever want to settle for a monogamous relationship.”

“Bev, Beverly, excuse the interruption, but the ‘what ifs’ you are pondering are just that, what if’s ... It is obvious to me that you are a very sexual person who has been involved in an extremely sexual life. A life I would like to learn more about. I too, feel, without yet your experience, that I am also a very sexual person. More than just curious about what I think has been your and Dan’s lifestyle. Were you swingers.” I asked?

“Good god Rob, I abhor that term. It sounds like we were part of the Vegas Rat Pack. I like to refer to it as a sensually sharing life, or simply that we were non-monogamous. That’s not to say that there weren’t heavy emotional attachments. Those emotions are what I was trying, ineptly I guess, to convey. Maybe the best way for me to make myself understood is to get down and dirty.”

“Do what you feel is right, Bev. But sometimes just getting directly to the point can carry the conversation better than any analogy.”

“During mutual masturbation we laid our emotions on the line. I told you how much I missed my sexual self this past year. I said things about your leaking cock and my dripping cunt. I asked you to jack off on my tits because I wanted to see the cum fly from that little piss hole in your gorgeous cock. Now I ask, if we go to the theater next Saturday, how will you feel if I let some guy bend me over the seatback and fuck the hell out of me? How will you react if I lick and suck another guy’s cock, or lick a woman’s cunt? Can you handle that?

“Bev, just you talking about it is getting me hard. I’m not saying I won’t envy those guys. Afterall, we have not done those things you so lustfully describe. So, yes, I would be envious. But more importantly I would bow to your independence and pleasure, although making sure you were safe and ok with everything. What about you? How would you feel if some woman, maybe a young woman, comes on to me and wants to suck me off and have me cum on her tits? What if I end up fucking some other woman. Will you be alright? Will it change our relationship? Do we even have a relationship at this point, or are we just honoring one another’s desire and indulging in our own pleasure?”

“We have certainly gotten right to the heart of the issues, or put another way, we have gotten to the issues of the heart. Let’s think about this during dinner and then take it up again over a wee bit of single malt.”

Dinner was wonderful and relaxing, although there were periods of silence where more than likely we both were thinking where the after-dinner talk might take us, solidly together, or awkwardly apart.

It seemed to me that we were quickly approaching the crossroads of love or lust. Possibly, but is it always one or the other. I doubted that. I had enough sexual and emotional experience to know that even couples deeply in love would at times throw over the slow, gentle art of lovemaking and instead attack one another in animalistic pleasure. Beverly had led me to learn that she was capable of great periods of lust. Did she fear that I would not be able to handle seeing her treated like a slut, even though that might be exactly what she wanted at that time. Was she then worried that I would step in as protector, when in truth she wanted to be ravaged.

Just thinking about how upscale and classy Beverly is to the outside world, and yet there is a side to her that wants to be taken, bent over the back of a theater seat and fucked hard while she sucks another cock. All in front of mostly total strangers. Do we all have that, other side? Do we suppress that lustful slutty side when we are with our life’s partner, spouse? Should we, or is this the candid, soul exposing honesty that is really meant when we tell couples that they have to communicate. Would relationships be destroyed with honesty this bold, or thrive.

I washed, and Beverly dried and put the dishes away. After all, like many things, Beverly knew their rightful place and I was to watch and learn. One lesson came directly from the domestic chores we were presently doing. I found I enjoyed just being around her. Watching her glide around the kitchen barefoot, humming to herself, while stretching to put a bowl or plate on a top shelf. I realized in just this short time how much I cared for this woman, not seriously romantically caring, but something undefinable, but undeniable. I wanted to reach out, not to kiss her exactly, but to hold her close for a wordless moment or two. Was she happy where she was in this moment in time. It seemed, after a year by herself, she was awakening. Was I a small part of that. I realized that I hoped so. During this very conscious minute I wasn’t falling in lust, but was I falling in love? Confusion reigned. Meanwhile, still humming, Beverly opened a bottle of Pinot and stood looking at me strangely, while holding two glasses.