Chapter 1

We’d been going together just long enough that I had a premonition about what arriving home from work on a Friday evening might entail. Thus, when I came in the front door after parking in the driveway, I made sure that no neighbors had a line of sight in the door to my house.

KC was perched on the small credenza just inside the front door. She was nude except for two diamond earrings and a strand of pearls she wore around her neck; they draped down across her chest, wrapping around one of her full breasts – breasts with the nipples standing at full attention waiting for me to fondle and suck on them. She had her blonde hair over one shoulder, with the ends draped around her breast and the nipple poking through the tresses.

She’d pulled her legs up, spread them, and hooked her heels over the edge of the small cabinet’s top. KC’s breasts were perched between her arms, which amplified their size the way she was posed. KC’s gorgeous wet pussy was on full display; the slightly swollen and pink lips of her inner labia calling attention to a small dark moist hole that started her vagina. The result to anyone walking in the front door was a gorgeous, horny, desirable, and available woman that wanted immediate fulfillment.

KC said in a little girl whiney tone, “I’ve been lonely all day, mister. I need some of what you’ve got before dinnertime. I wondered if you’d like to ... well, you know, help out a needy girl?”

I stuttered still a bit in shock at her blatant display, “Yes, oh, most definitely yes,” as I dropped my briefcase and jacket on the floor. “I love to help out needy waifs.”

KC held her arms out to me, and I went to her and we kissed in a way that raised the temperature of the sun. We were both hot and horny. This was much better than I’d anticipated. I’d missed her all day, too, especially after she’d launched me into my morning with a blowjob at the front door just before I left.

KC put her legs down temporarily, and started to strip my clothes away. I scrambled to keep up with her, kicking off my loafers. She helped me shed my shirt and then helped push down my pants and underwear at the same time. I kicked them aside. She grabbed hold of my penis, a shaft that had already lengthened and hardened by the picture she provided. After only a few strokes with her hands, she sat on the credenza again, and pulled her legs back up so her heels again hooked on the to edge, and thrust her pelvis forward. I sank my stiff cock into KC’s body, and we began a rather energetic fuck that resulted in the credenza loudly pounding against the wall and probably alerting our next-door neighbor what was happening. I didn’t care.

We made fabulous noises that I wished I’d recorded so we could have enjoyed the soundtrack later. Between our kisses and pledges of love and sex forever, KC was moaning and voicing her pleasure, even calling out ‘harder and faster’ instructions when she wasn’t using ‘dirty talk’ to further excite me. I was telling her what she felt like, and replying with my own brand of dirty talk as we fucked. We were two feral animals ravishing one another in raw passion.

I didn’t think to time us; however, ten minutes would have been a long time. I was weak to her demands for an orgasm. I exploded into KC’s pussy, and she climaxed simultaneously, her shrieks of pleasure ending the pounding the credenza made against the wall. She clung to me and kept saying, “I love you; I love you.” Still connected to each other, I picked up KC and walked over to the sofa. We sank to the sofa and necked for a while, as my swollen cock remained embedded deep inside her velvet, wet, and warm nest.

“God, I love you,” KC panted to me as she launched into another round of passionate kisses, some with her tongue deep inside my mouth dueling with my own.

“And, I love you. You are without doubt the sexiest, hottest, most beautiful, and smartest woman in the world. You are vivacious and well loved by everyone but I hope that you know that I top the list in feelings for you.” I wasn’t just blowing smoke at her. I truly believed every one of the statements and adjectives I’d used applied to her.

KC was my obsession. She was beautiful. God had graced her with perfect proportions of every curve, every line, every swell, every crevice, and every brain cell, as far as I was concerned. A model with her looks and smarts would never want for anything further. Women paid fortunes to plastic surgeons to try to approach what KC had as a natural gift. When we walked into any restaurant, bar, lounge, or shop all heads would turn to look at KC and the din in the place would just about cease. She was immune to it all, but it happened. KC didn’t have an ego trip about such behavior.

The term ‘sexy’ took her beauty in a wonderful direction. She was twenty-nine, and knew how to dress, apply a few brush strokes of makeup, and use her body to maximum advantage, but she did it thoughtlessly; she didn’t plan sexy, hot, or vivacious, they just happened. The term ‘hot’ applied because her beauty and sexuality left no doubt about her underlying lusty and erotic nature. She oozed out ‘I’m horny’ pheromones in all directions. KC did think about sex a lot; more than any person I knew, and she had successfully raised my own libido to undreamed of heights, even more than when I’d been a horny teenager who masturbated six times a day. Her desire showed somehow, yet I was the beneficiary.

KC was smart too – brilliant even. She remembered everything she’d ever read, even the page number for some fact. The fancy name was an ‘eidetic memory’, and hers seemed faultless. Further, she integrated what she read into the vast body of knowledge in her head and could rapidly synthesize solutions to complex problems with what she’d learned. I guessed that her IQ was north of one-sixty, but we never talked about it because of her modesty about it. She’d even belonged to Mensa for a while when in college, but dropped out because she found their gatherings boring.

Lastly, in my short list of adjectives for KC, she was vivacious. She had a bounce to her that would make Tigger in Winnie the Pooh envy her. She was animated, vocal, and loved life. She was an ‘up’ person, and everyone she came in contact with got pulled into her happy maelstrom. She had an infectious laugh that pulled other people into her happy mood. People wanted to be with her.

KC had been my fiancée for nine months. We’d met and dated and then gotten increasingly serious during three months before that, and then I gave her a serious diamond ring with a high sparkle factor and invited her to move in with me. Back then, she was spending most of her free time at the house anyway. I wanted everyone in the world to know that she was taken. KC wore the ring proudly, and always would display it to people she was just meeting so they’d know that Matt Saunders was going to be her husband. She was as proud of me as I was of her. We weren’t in a rush to wed; KC’s mother insisted on handling those details, so we relinquished the calendar to her with a few reservations here and there. Although months had passed, her mother appeared to still be in the flapping around stage; we were in no rush because as far as we were concerned, we were already hitched. We’d made the life-long commitment to each other and that was that.

KC and I were complements to each other in many ways. I was a computer systems engineer, working for a firm specializing in computer security, anti-hacking, and fraud prevention. I’d graduated from college at twenty, had my master’s at twenty-one, and my doctorate at twenty-two, and then went to work for Blackwell Systems. They paid well, got some of their money from ‘dark’ sources within the government, and had done nothing but grow since I’d joined. Analytical and left-brain would accurately describe my orientation. I was a slight introvert. I loved details and process, but didn’t rush to use them to make decisions. Our friend and neighbor Don often referred to me as an anal-retentive personality, which he explained meant I could be an asshole at times. Don was my best friend.

KC was an artist, model, and ran a gallery. Her paintings were good ones, and often using mixed media. She’d recently sold one large piece of art a few months earlier for ten thousand dollars, and now had a wait-list for more. Her whole personality was creative. She loved to think up ‘ideas’ and mentally play with them, turning many into pieces of art. She was fluent in Spanish, and passable in French and Italian. She loved people as the consummate extrovert. She loved to dance. She admitted to a wild time growing up and before we met, and she’d been smart enough that she could blow off most of middle and high school, and a good part of college. In her spare time, she had partied and partied hard.

I met KC at a party full of mid-to-late twenties men and women. I had the audacity to ask what ‘KC’ stood for. She explained her name was Julie Ann Wentworth, but she liked the way ‘KC’ rolled off the tongue when she was entering the first grade, so got everyone to call her that, and the name stuck. Her parents humored her and that became her permanent, and later her legal name – just two letters of the alphabet – no space, no periods. She rarely even used Wentworth.

We hit it off right away, although for a while I thought I was playing way out of my league. KC decided almost instantly that she liked me – a lot, and then over the first few weeks we dated that she decided that she loved me for the long haul. I loved her instantly; she was the kind of person that engendered immediate devotion and long-term commitment.

She was so stunning and sexy that I was amazed when she informed me that she wanted to go home with me on our second date. Going home was a euphemism for fucking my brains out until neither of us could move we were so tired and sore. As it turned out, according to KC and her vast experience that she did little to hide, I was in the top tier of lovers she’d ever had, if not the overall best on any count she could think of. Not only was I well-endowed, I knew my way around a woman’s body with hands, fingers, mouth, lips, and tongue, and could make her body sing in any ‘musical’ key I wanted – and she liked that. I had always been an in-control kind of guy.

I wasn’t virginal, but compared to KC, I lacked experience. A female friend I had in college sat me down one day and gave me a thorough indoctrination to the female body – erogenous zone by erogenous zone, from the top of her head to the toes that she liked to have sucked. I retained most of what I learned, and then did a lot of reading and further research, even reading articles in medical journals about sexual peaks and orgasms, and how they were best induced, intensified, and sustained. I got really good at making love. It sure beat learning about computer operating systems at the time.

After our first night together, KC and I were practically inseparable, and that meant we were often connected with my cock in her vagina, our preferred mode of togetherness. We did do a lot of other activities, made friends around my neighborhood, and we talked and talked and talked.

We talked and talked. KC wanted to know about every corner of my head, and wanted me to know about her in lurid detail. We shared our views on every controversial topic she could think of – and that was a lot. She wanted to talk about our future a lot, too, and that led to our engagement when we realized that we wanted to be there for each other until the sun turned into a dying ember. I was so happy; I thought I’d burst. I had a perpetual smile on my face. I had felt I was on a speeding roller coaster, but still felt a mountain of exhilaration and joy.

I felt awed when KC told me that she loved me and wanted to be my ‘forever girlfriend.’ We committed to each other pretty early in our relationship, and although we never talked about it, in my opinion there was a tacit agreement that we were exclusive. Heck, we were engaged. We started to talk about growing old together, having a family, and the kinds of kids, houses, friends, and pets we wanted. Little passed by us that didn’t have long-term relationship stamped all over it.

As an only child, I had inherited a house from my grandmother when she died. It was large, four-bedroom ranch, with a two-car garage on an acre-and-a-half near the end of a cul-de-sac. I’d immediately added an outside pool and Jacuzzi, and jazzed up the patio. The house needed serious renovation and upgrading from years of neglect, too, and I’d started a long project to do much of that work myself before I met KC. Being an engineer, I was pretty handy with tools, and believed electrical and plumbing work to be no mystery.

My proposal of marriage had been partly inspired by my friends Don and Edie, who lived on the cul-de-sac our homes were on. Don was a day trader of things he found online; he bought stuff at a low price, and sold it at a high price. He’d started in college and was a millionaire by graduation. Later, he discovered foreign commodity markets – a totally ignored sector of the world economy in the U.S. at the time; he described making money in those markets like shooting fish in a barrel. Don had money to burn, but still lived in the first house he and his college sweetheart had bought right after graduation for cash.

When I moved into my grandparent’s old home, Don’s wife Edie brought over a plate of cookies and a bottle of wine. She and I sat on my front steps and drank the bottle, and by the last drop we were great friends. I could talk to Edie – and soon thereafter Don – about anything. They became my closest friends and confidants.

KC became a favorite topic for a while as our relationship blossomed. They met her, and bonded instantly. Shortly thereafter, they got on my case about not letting her ‘get away.’ Their persistence and goading resulted in my buying a substantial diamond ring, and popping the question.

My sex life with KC surprised me, and I know that Don and Edie got a charge from talking about it with us. I was no virgin, and I’d even had some serious girlfriends along the path, just no one even close to KC. The word ‘insatiable’ was invented for KC and I’m sure her picture is next to the word in the dictionary.

At the sexual peak of my relationship with an old girlfriend, we’d have sex and go to sleep for the night. Not with KC. We had sex when we got home from work, had dinner, and then would have long marathon sex sessions the rest of the night. Often, one of us would rouse the other around three or four a.m., and we’d have sex again. First thing in the morning, I might bring her off or get a blowjob, or we’d make love again. I never complained about the quantity or quality of our sex life. I also didn’t brag about it, although when I heard other guys talk about their endeavors, they paled in comparison to mine. Heck, most were talking about the lack of physicality in their relationships.

As a counterpoint to that, every time we got together with Don and Edie, Edie would try to get me in the sack for sex. The better we got to know them, the more I’d get a series of increasingly passionate kisses from Edie that would melt my sneakers. Edie would grind her pelvis into my crotch, and talk dirty to me to try to get me to bed her. “Don doesn’t cut it for me the way I know you would,” Edie would tell me in a lecherous tone right in front of her husband or KC. “You are far better endowed. I’ve felt you swelling when we rubbed together. Oh, Babe, I really need you. I just know we’d make great music together.”

I’d be embarrassed, and KC and Don would laugh and egg Edie on, even trying to make wagers with her about the odds of getting me into their bedroom that day. I should point out that Edie was no slouch when it came to looks or personality. I rated KC as a ten, and Edie would be a nine-point-five. She was a pretty little brunette with slightly augmented boobs, and also a bubbly personality. Edie also loved sex – she told me so, and I knew from our open discussions that she and KC compared notes and recipes on the subject. When they did so near me, I’d just blush.

For all the flirting with me that Edie did, I remained immune to her charms. When KC was not around, Edie did have a knack of getting to me. Like KC, she could sexually excite me, but with KC I followed through. I told Don I had no intention of misbehaving with his wife. To my surprise, he told me it wouldn’t bother him if I did, and might even calm her down when I was around if I were to satisfy her sexual curiosity. What puzzled me was that he was both serious and amused by the whole situation.

Don and Edie loved to do frequent Sunday afternoon cookouts. Other neighbors filled in on other Sundays, too. They’d invite the neighborhood and anybody that anybody else wanted to bring along. KC and I were usually there along with at least two-dozen other neighbors. There were a few kids and teens, but for the most part the population at the cookouts was adults and neighbors.

Don would cook, have a circle of males around him, and we’d all be drinking and BSing each other. If there were a critical sports game on TV, Don would have a TV set up on the patio within view of the grill. The women would worry the rest of the food besides the meat, chicken, ribs, or whatever, and then they’d sit around talking, mostly about the men, their kids, or their misspent lives.

Normally, the cookouts ended about eight or nine o’clock at night. People had to work the next day, and there were often kids to put to bed or last-minute things to attend to before a new week started. KC and I were the regulars that hung around to help put away food, handle the trash, and other post-cookout cleanup duties. We’d finish in record time and then sit and talk.

One late summer evening, we finally sat down just as dusk swept over the town. Edie sat next to me and asked me bluntly, “OK, Lover, how’d you learn how to please a woman so well? KC tells me you are spectacular in bed, and she got me to believe that she’s an expert on the subject.”

I was speechless on several counts. I took her statements in reverse order. “I can’t attest to the ability of the witness to compare me to other members of the species. Maybe she can regale me later with more of her qualifications on a more specific basis than she already has. As far as my own proficiency regarding sex, I can only say that I am a superb student. Give me a demonstration, a book, the right film or two, the Internet, and some motivation, and I can master the subject material. In this case, I had a good teacher, devoured several books, studied the Internet and watched a lot of porn – and yes, I still do from time to time, and I have the motivation to make KC the happiest and most sexually content person on this planet.”