Chapter 8

Breakfast was as normal as breakfast can be. At least for the kids. Valerie and I kept exchanging looks. I don't know what she was thinking about, but my attention was split between looking at the cleavage my robe displayed, and thinking about being a "boyfriend" or ... something more.

I'd never planned on getting married. It just wasn't something I thought I needed in my life. I knew why other men got married, at least on a cerebral level, but I'd never met a woman I just couldn't live without. As I glanced at Valerie, I wondered if I could live without her. That I wanted her in my life was crystal clear. It was the level of constancy that was all muddy.

When we were finished eating, the twins went off to do whatever they were going to do. Valerie got up and started collecting the dishes, like she always did. I knew what would come next. She'd run hot water into the right side of the sink and, as she washed each item by hand, she'd put it in the left sink. Every so often she'd run hot water and rinse what was clean, and put it on a towel spread out on the counter. I didn't own a dish drainer or anything like that. I'd always used the dishwasher.

I sat and just watched, as she went about tasks that were purely domestic, things she did habitually. I felt a sudden intense urge to take her back to bed. I wanted that to become something she did habitually too.

I stood and went up behind her. I wanted to reach around and cup her breasts, but all I did was put my hands on her abdomen in a gentle hug.

"What are we going to do?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said.

Glassware clinked as her hands moved it around.

"You want to be my girlfriend?" I felt like I was in junior high school again.

"Yes," she said, with very little hesitation.

"Really?" I felt a surge of excitement zip through me. I was definitely reliving my teen years.

"I'm sure," she said. "But do you want to be my boyfriend?"

"Are you crazy?" I asked, squeezing her.

"I thought you were too old for that," she said. I couldn't tell if she was teasing me or not.

"I feel a lot younger, suddenly," I said.

"Is that so." Her voice was wry.

"Besides, that's my only option right now," I said.

"No other girls beating down your door?" Now she looked over her shoulder at me.

"That's not what I meant," I said. "You already said you wouldn't marry me."

"Oh," she said. "You remember that."

"How can a man forget when the most beautiful woman he's ever met spurns him?" I joked.

She turned suddenly in my arms. Her hands were wet and I felt the moisture penetrate the cloth of my robe where her hands settled on my hips.

"As I recall, you said we weren't ready to have that conversation." She sounded dead serious.

"As I recall," I said, "we were joking around."

"Last night was no joke," she said, still serious.

"I know that," I said, feeling the tension in her body. "Are we having our first fight?"

She closed her eyes. I let the silence stretch out. Everything felt very fragile, suddenly. Finally she opened her eyes again.

"I don't know what to do," she sighed. "This is all very complicated."

"It's only as complicated as we make it," I said. "I like you. You like me. Your children don't seem to mind that. What's complicated about it?"

"Is it real?" she asked, frowning. "We've known each other for what ... a little more than a month? We come from completely different worlds. You're rich. We're homeless and practically destitute. It's like the story of the good Samaritan. My world has been turned completely upside down. How can any of this be real?"

She pulled away from me, but I didn't let her go.

"Cinderella is just a story," I said, "but that doesn't mean it can't become real in a person's life. I'm not claiming to be a prince, and you're certainly no kitchen drudge, but the way we came together was merely coincidence, just like in the story. What followed, though, is as real as life can ever be. If it isn't real, I sure want it to be."

The resistance in her body vanished as she relaxed, and came against me.

"Me too," she said, pushing her face into my chest. "But that doesn't mean I'm not scared."

"Of course you are," I said. "I am too."

"What are you afraid of?" she said, looking up.

"That you'll leave," I said.

"And go where?" she said, almost scoffing.

"That when you have the chance to leave, you will," I amended.

"Hasn't that been the plan all along?"

"Yes, and I used to think that was a great plan. But now I'm thinking about things differently."

"Maybe you're just horny," she said. I think it was an attempt to lighten the serious tone of the conversation.

"Maybe I just found my princess, and don't want her to run off at midnight, whether she loses a shoe or not," I said.

She leaned against me, and her hands moved to my back. It felt really good.

"First you have a thing for my ass, and now you have a foot fetish," she said, her voice muffled in my chest.

I moved my hands to her butt, and squeezed.

"Your ass will have to do for now," I said. "I can't reach your feet."

She stepped on top of my feet. The soles of her bare feet felt cold on the instep of mine, but she didn't feel heavy.

"You want to go back to bed?" I asked.

"I need a shower," she said, moving her hands to push at my waist.

"You want to take a shower together?" I asked, hopefully, not letting her go.

"It really is true. Men only think about one thing," she said, looking up at me.

"Look at you," I said. "Can you blame us?"

"For such a gruff old bear, you sure have a silver tongue," she said.

"I'm good with that tongue in other ways, too," I said, automatically thinking about the fact that there were lots of things we hadn't done yet. I was eager to explore and expand our horizons.

"We'll talk about that later," she said, as her face bloomed pink. "Right now, I think we need to concentrate on presenting a more acceptable image to the children."

"They seem to be coping pretty well," I said.

"That doesn't mean they need a graduate course in love making," she said, pushing harder. I finally let her go.

"Okay," I said, trying to sound defeated. "You go take a shower and I'll take care of things."

"Thank you," she said.

"I'm just sad that you're not interested," I said, trying to sound tragic.

"I am interested, you idiot," she said. "I just don't want to give into that urge every time I get it. If I do that I'll never get out of bed!"

"Now you're talking," I said, beaming at her.

I admit, I did it intentionally. I believe the legal term is "with malice aforethought".

I went to check on the twins, and found them mindlessly engaged with what passes these days for Saturday morning cartoons. They aren't really cartoons in my opinion. Sure, they're animated sequences, but their only intent seems to be to impress the moral values of the writers onto the children of the world. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that the Saturday morning shows are produced, or at least paid for by special interest groups who try to brainwash young minds to further their agenda.

Never mind all that. They were occupied and when I asked them if they needed anything, they ignored me completely.

"Your mom's taking a shower and I'm going to go get dressed," I said.

Sam lifted a hand and half waved it in my direction.

So, with malice aforethought, I went to the bedroom, took my robe off, and lay on top of the bed naked. I could hear the shower in the bathroom. Valerie was humming. I thought about her in there, naked, the spray from the shower head touching her everywhere, just like I wanted to, and developed a very nice boner.

I was stroking it slowly when she came out, bent forward with her hair hanging straight down over one shoulder as she used a towel to pat it dry. She glanced up and saw me. She froze.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"I said I'd take care of things while you took your shower," I said, plaintively. "I just didn't get finished before you did."

"You're supposed to be watching the children!" she scolded.

"The children are fine. They're getting their weekly indoctrination of how to act."

"What?" She stood up and damp hair covered her right breast.

"Saturday morning kids shows," I said. "Propaganda for children."

"Oh. But why are you doing that?" She didn't sound quite as scandalized as she had before.

"If I can't talk you into going back to bed, I have to do something or I'll get blue balls. You inflame me. What else can I do?"

"You can act your age," she said. I noticed her eyes were on my hand, which was still slowly sliding up and down, pulling the foreskin off my knob, and then pushing it back up to cover things.

"This activity has nothing to do with age," I said. "How do you think I dealt with things before you came along? You don't see any blow up dolls around, do you?"

"I'm surprised I haven't seen something like that!" she laughed. "You're incorrigible."

"You're irresistible," I said, putting the blame right back on her. "This is all your fault. I only had to do this once a week before you showed up. But since then it's a daily requirement."

"Daily ... ever since I showed up." She said it with skepticism in her voice. "You've been masturbating ever since I got here?"

"Pretty much every day," I said, not stopping.

"In secret," she accused.

"I didn't think you'd appreciate knowing that I was fantasizing about you," I said.

"Since that first night?"

"Guilty as charged," I admitted.

"That's creepy, Bob," she complained.

"Said the woman standing in my bedroom naked, watching me jerk off," I said, grinning.

"You're like this dog I had when I was growing up," she said. "He was always horny. He humped anything available."

"I'm not interested in humping anything but you," I said.

"Oh, good grief," she sighed.

She came over to the bed and picked up the robe I'd been wearing. She'd apparently left the other one in the bathroom. I don't think she expected me to be there when she came out to get dressed. She put on my robe and went to the door. As she left, she said, "Don't let me disturb you. I'll get dressed later."

I was hard as a rock. The whole time we'd been talking, she'd been standing there naked. My eyes had taken in every detail I could see. I'd seen her breasts, though not nearly as much or as long as I would have liked. This was the first time I could take in her thighs, and her pubic mound. I couldn't decide if she trimmed her bush or not. It wasn't wild and wooly. The hair she had there was very much like the hair on her head. It was black as coal, but straight-ish, rather curly. Her labia protruded enough to be visible below that hair, though they weren't anything near clearly visible.

It was more tantalizing than satisfying. She was in remarkably good shape, considering she'd had twins. Her hips had either been wide to begin with, or had stayed that way after she delivered, but she'd kept her waist under control. Her abdomen had that gentle swell that, at least in my mind, suggests fertility. You see models with abdomens that are practically concave, and that's interesting, but a little roundness there speaks to something in a man. Maybe it makes him hope his seed has taken root in her or something. I'd never seen a pregnant woman naked, but that pooch suggested there might be new life developing in her womb that was only a month old. Did a month old fetus even show? I didn't know. But my mind shot off in all sorts of directions as I drank in her beauty.

I'd been trying to tease her into something, but she hadn't taken the bait. Seeing as how I really was well and truly horny, I decided I might as well finish what I'd started.

I was well along to making things happen when the bedroom door opened and Valerie walked back in. The towel she'd been drying her hair with was missing, apparently left somewhere else. I blinked at her, panting a bit.

"Not finished yet?" she asked, casually.

"No," I said.

"Good." She pulled the robe apart and let it fall in a puddle on the floor.

There, in front of me again, was my fantasy.

Without a word, she came to the bed, climbed up on it, straddled me and reached to bat my hand away from my erection. When I let go, she grasped it gently and brought it to the mouth of her sex. I watched, a little dazed, as the head of my cock split the lips I could suddenly see much better.

She teased those puffy lips, rubbing the tip of my cock around, going up and down between them and stopping every once in a while to circle her clit. Ever so slowly, she let the head press inwards. She only let herself down an inch or two and stopped. She was slick, but not wet. I wondered why she was doing this, what had changed her mind. What I mean is that I'd never been with a woman who acted like she was acting, who did the things she was doing. It was something new and I didn't know quite how to act myself. So I just laid there and watched as she used my cock like a living dildo.

"What about the kids?" I asked.

"I told them you and I were going to have a serious discussion and that they were not to disturb us."

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Bewitched

Lubrican

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