Chapter 8

Cal had Maureen’s right hand in his left. He led her back to the bedroom. He wasn’t wearing anything. She was wearing the same cute little nightie she’d worn earlier. It just covered the very tops of her thighs, then it plunged low in the front giving him a scenic view of her large breasts. He wanted to make love some more; but he wanted to do other things too, he wanted to keep talking, he wanted to cuddle, he wanted to fondle those deliciously soft but firm orbs, he wanted to feel himself inside her, mostly, though, he just wanted to hold her as close as he could, squeeze her tightly, and wrap his arms around her.

There was something else going on he didn’t understand, and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to. Her remarks about her legs, how young she was when it happened, her long period of convalescence, and the house; then there was the nurse, what was it about the nurse that bothered him so much?

He’d always had a protective, a proprietary, streak. When he was young he wanted to help other people, take care of sick animals, look out for the littler kids at school. He was no hero, but he resented bullies. There had been a younger kid, a boy in a lower grade who’d run afoul of an elementary school gang; one of the many little gangs who always managed to find one kid they could torment. He’d stood up for the kid and ended up getting his own ass kicked. He never talked about much of anything with his grandfather, but Jared had told him after he’d gotten whipped it was probably for nothing. His grandfather had been right; the little kid he’d tried to protect ended up being a part of the same gang. The little kid ended up being one of the tormentors.

It didn’t make much difference, he still kept sticking his neck out for weaker kids, and he still kept paying for it. He remembered how it finally ended; it ended when his best friend Warren had more or less adopted him. Warren was tough. He liked to fight. He liked to rough house, but he wasn’t what you’d call a bully.

Cal pulled the covers down on the bed. The white satin sheets hadn’t been changed. He didn’t think they would have. He saw the stains from the other night. There was no blood or anything like that, but the stains did look a little discolored.

He sat down and pulled her on his lap, “Did I hurt you the other night?”

“Well yeah, but only a little and then only at first,” was Maureen’s response.

He pulled her close and nuzzled her neck, “I never want to hurt you.”

“It wasn’t that bad, only a little at the very beginning.” She fluffed his hair, “I liked the rest.”

He kissed her. For a moment he remembered another girl. It had been in middle school, the eighth grade; no big deal actually, but he had gotten suspended for it. That girl’s name had been Susan, Susan something, maybe Shettle.

Their geography teacher was mad about something; something in the classroom, mad at some of the students. He’d started saying mean things to this girl; talking in ways that weren’t illegal, but inappropriate all the same. He kept saying things to this girl about her demeanor and her attitude. He, Cal, remembered the girl’s eyes filled with water. She was going to cry. He stood up and said something he shouldn’t have to the teacher, something about yelling at him not her, that he could handle it, that she was just a little girl. The teacher sent him to the office where the vice principal suspended him for insubordination. He remembered not even knowing what insubordination meant.

His grandfather had to go to school to get him reinstated. Cal recalled how he was sure his grandfather was going to beat him. In hindsight that shouldn’t have made any sense; his grandfather only went after him once, and that had been later about motorcycles. Still, he was convinced his ass was grass. He should have known better; he should have had more faith, his grandfather stood up for him, defended him, he even dared the vice-principal to do anything more about it. His grandfather had told the vice-principal Cal had only done what he’d been taught; that men took up for women, that the strong defended the weak. He didn’t remember what the vice-principal said after that; he was too busy admiring his grandfather. That was when he realized how much he loved the old man.

He remembered there had been another girl too; a girl he’d seen once or twice in high school. The high school he attended had been a big one; it had more than two thousand kids from all over the county. Maureen might have gone there had she been well.

The other girl had been a diminutive little thing, flat chested, good student, assigned to all the accelerated classes, certainly bound for a prestige university. Her name had been Laurie, Laurie Polhaus. Laurie had no idea who Cal was, but Cal knew. She was his half-sister, the legitimate child of his biological father.

Somewhere his real father had grown some balls.

He must have gotten a second girl pregnant but had married the second one. Laurie was in the ninth grade when he was a senior so he guessed it made sense. His real father had certainly gone to college; old enough to take on the responsibility.

Cal had made a point of crossing paths with her a couple times. He didn’t want to face her down, tell her who he was; he only wanted to get a good look. He remembered looking into her face had been like staring into a mirror. He thought she saw it too. He knew as soon as he was close enough he couldn’t say anything. She was so completely innocent; any confrontation would have been senseless cruelty. Still he thought about her from time to time.

Maybe someday they’d meet. He’d never tell her, but he thought it might have been nice to be her friend. It was a silly notion; a child’s fantasy.

Cal shook himself back to the present. He squeezed Maureen in close, resting her head on his shoulder. He whispered in her ear, “I want you to feel safe. I’ll never let anyone hurt you. No one will ever harm you.”

Maureen had been watching Cal; she knew he’d been off someplace. He had a rich fantasy life; maybe he was remembering?

She kissed his ear, “I do feel safe with you.” She felt his body react to that comment, not sexually but in a manly masculine way; his biceps felt like they got larger, his chest expanded, and yes, as far as the sex went, his penis did feel harder.

“Cal you know I love you, but I admire you too.”

He twisted his head slightly to catch a glimpse of her face.

She turned slightly toward him, she saw his confused look. She put her right hand on his left cheek and looked down at his throat, “I liked the way you took on those bikers at the tavern, then again later when they caught you on the parking lot how you didn’t turn and run, and I’ll never forget the guy’s bloody nose after he called me gimp.”

She took the hand she’d been using to stroke his cheek and held his head in place while she turned hers sideways and kissed him, “You’re real special to me.”

Cal slipped back on the bed; pulling her along with him. He rolled her over so she was beside him with her back against his chest. He nestled his head in her neck again, “Let’s just cuddle awhile.”

She pressed back against him. She thought he must be the cuddliest guy on the planet. She liked it.

Cal pressed against her. The covers were in a heap at the bottom of the bed, but it was warm; they weren’t needed. He took his left hand and found her right breast; reaching over the right one he found the left and started to gently squeeze her nipple in the palm of his hand. This way he had her left breast crooked in his elbow, while he had her right breast undergoing equally close scrutiny. He was able to press in against her neck and kiss that soft area just behind and below her ear. She smelled so good; she felt so soft.

Maureen pushed back against him. His penis was big and hard; it was squeezing up inside and between her ass cheeks. She liked the way it felt; like he was inside her, but not inside her. His body was a hot furnace; he was so hot and dry, he was like her personal electric blanket. She could lie this way all night.

Cal was beginning to overheat. He needed some relief; using his hips he started wriggling his way down along the crevice between her rear cheeks till he got near the bottom. He slowly explored that hidden area between her vagina and rectum till he reached the bottom edge of her woman’s cavern. He slowly, carefully, gently pushed upward and inward. He could feel she was hot and wet. He kept pushing.

Maureen immediately noticed Cal’s attempts to shift his body. She knew what he wanted. She wanted it too. Using her hips she moved slightly; encouraging him without usurping his initiative. She felt him reach her cavern’s entrance and pushed down slightly.

Together they pushed upward and downward till he’d reached nearly full penetration. He enjoyed her warmth and her all-encompassing pressure around and against his penis. She delighted in his deep penetration, the fullness she felt when he was inside her.

For Maureen it wasn’t enough. She pulled forward, he slipped out, she spun around so they were facing each other, in an instant she reached down, found his manhood and guided it back inside. She felt him go nearly all the way in.

They were lying sideways; he couldn’t quite get all the way in, but it still felt wonderful. He didn’t try to undulate or move around. He enjoyed the feeling of being in her, while also being able to hold her closely with both arms.

She pulled him as close as she was physically able. She didn’t want any movement, only this continued nearness and the feeling his being so far inside. She squeezed against him as hard as she could. He was so hot, so dry, and he felt so strong.

Cal held her tightly. His hot dry body, her soft breasts pressing against his chest, her muscular legs, she wrapped them around his torso and made him feel completely alive, like a man. He knew he was deep inside, and he loved the sensations; sensations of heat, full scale pressure, and total connectedness.

They lay together, face to face, no words were spoken, only hugging, squeezing, nibbling on ears, kissing necks, fondling and ruffing hair. For several minutes their dance of life continued; this was what it meant to be alive, to be in love.

Cal held on for quite a while, but his need and her passion found the limits of his endurance. He ejaculated!

She felt his semen pour up inside. It welled up deeply in her womb. She gave no thought of her body’s sexually ripe condition; making babies, giving birth with Cal had become an important dream of hers. If this was the time, if this were the event that triggered a life inside her; then what better time could there be? She sighed.

He heard her breathy sigh. He instinctively knew her thoughts; their love, their bodies were destined to create a new life, maybe this was the moment.

As Cal’s manhood slowly drained away they continued to hold each other tightly. He kept cuddling and fondling her. He loved her so much. Slowly, side by side, deeply in love, holding one another in tight embrace they fell asleep.

If the moment had passed for Cal, it hadn’t for Maureen. She’d felt his hot wet manhood pour into her, but beyond the love and joy of the immediacy of that shared moment Maureen realized nothing.

Yet even after his moment of triumph, her loving companion continued to hold her in his strong arms. He persisted in caressing, and washing her with his hot breath, plying her with soft whispered endearments, pressing his powerful grip on the back of her tender neck, using his fingers to continue to play with her hair. He used the warmth of his hot body to press against her receptive flesh; unconsciously impelling her to an increasing sense of womanly urgency.

What followed was no sudden outflow of energy, no fierce tsunami of sexual excitement, but more significantly, Maureen experienced a warmer, more affectionate infusion, the fulsomeness of a purer love. There in bed amid the dying embers of his retreating manliness Maureen realized a deeper, more unfathomable, more profound sense of completion. Her tired body was deluged with the soft rippling rivulets of complete unalterable undiluted cascading waves of absolute sexual and emotional happiness.

Was what Maureen had been an orgasm? Maybe; but the barren, organic, mundane character of that word would have been a tawdry degradation of the beauty of Maureen’s singularly special experience.

Only a few hours before Cal and Maureen’s great moment of shared love, Maureen’s dad, Travis, a man whose life and destiny had as to be yet be revealed, had received some disquieting news.

Feeling tired and old Travis had sneaked back to town to visit the family doctor. His doctor looked him over and reiterated earlier warnings. Years of constant toil had taken an awful toll.

The results were irrefutable; a once powerfully robust man had been so thoroughly degraded that unless he made some immediate and meaningful life style changes his worn and weary heart would no longer sustain him. He’d reached the limit of his anatomical reserves.

Travis, like Andrea, had worked ceaselessly to provide for their daughter’s needs. At first that meant covering huge medical bills, plus begging and borrowing to keep her in a stable home, and later, even as the medical bills continued to pile up, finding the money to send her to the best schools. Maureen’s father was dying from exhaustion.

Several doctors had concurred. It was a treatable malady, but the treatments would be long term, they would require lengthy periods of inactivity, and they would mean a costly reallocation of limited financial resources. Travis and Andrea had invested heavily in quality medical coverage for their daughter, but there had been opportunity costs. They had skimped on their own medical protections.

For Travis the choices were sober and stark. Could he, should he shift scarce resources away from the still heavy burden of long years of treatments for his innocent and deserving daughter, or should he conceal his difficulties, and defer his own day of reckoning perhaps long enough to satisfy the near completion of years of medical payments. Would there be time to satisfy old debts, and leave enough time for him to beat back this new debilitating threat?

He wanted to live. He wanted to live to see grandchildren, but he had his daughter and his wife to think of first. He decided to postpone facing his personal Armageddon.

Cal awakened first the next morning. Sometime during the night he’d rolled over on his back. Maureen must have followed him. She was still asleep but her head was on his chest, her right hand resting between his legs, not touching his penis, but lying near it.

He had to go to the bathroom. He tried as best he could to move from under her and slide off the bed, but he still awakened her.

Maureen looked up, half asleep, she yawned a comment, “I’m thirsty.” As an after thought she added, “And I have to pee.”

Cal jumped out of bed and ran for the bathroom. He had to drain his dragon! As he ran to the bathroom he caught himself up; dragon, then prince? What had he been dreaming?

Maureen caught up with him just as he was about to begin. She grabbed his shoulders, “Can I hold it?”

Cal glanced around incredulously, “What?”

“Can I hold your thing while you pee?’

He was doing all he could to keep from flooding out but conceded to her rather unusual request, “Sure.”

Maureen got a hold of his penis and held it while his urine streamed out. She wasn’t sure if she could tell if anything was happening. She certainly saw it coming out, but the idea of feeling some kind of surge or vibrating flow never materialized. She commented a little disappointed, “I didn’t feel anything.”

Cal’s response was predictably different, “Well I sure did.”

She asked, “What did you feel?”

He smiled broadly, “I felt your hot hand holding my wangster.”

She let the thing go; she started pushing him aside, but he wouldn’t move, “Come on Cal, it’s my turn.”

He wouldn’t move, “You’re not done.”

She was desperate; she had nothing to say. She looked at him like he was crazy.

“You forgot the shake.”

She asked, “The what?”

“You always give it a shake to make sure everything’s out.”

Maureen reached for it again and shook it. Sure enough a few more drops of yellow fluid dribbled out.

Cal sighed, “There that’s better.”

Maureen pushed him away from the toilet, but didn’t let him leave the bathroom. As she sat down on the throne and started to pee herself, she held him by his now limp penis. She reached around, grabbed a washcloth, wet it in the sink, soaped it, and gave his thing a quick scrub.

Cal didn’t move. The soapy wipe was a little rough, but generally still felt good.

Maureen flipped the cloth over to the sink, and taking one hand held his penis while she put it in her mouth. With her mouth covering the head she started licking around it with her tongue.

She started sucking on it; moving her mouth back and forth. It was flaccid, but she felt it started to get bigger there in her mouth.

Cal stood motionless. This was great; much more than he hoped.

She stopped, pushed him away, and spat, “Yuk, pee!” She pushed him farther away.

This all being sort of new, Cal was quick to apologize, “I’m sorry honey. Sometimes there’s more; that’s when I get an embarrassing spot on my pants. A lot of guys don’t like to wear light colored khakis because of that. You may have noticed I hardly ever wear them.”

Maureen decided to change the subject, “Let’s take a shower together.”

He was glad to shift gears too, but had a problem, “What do I wear afterward?”

She blew it off, “Oh don’t worry. You can wear a towel a while. I’ll get your stuff from the trash and wash them up.”

She ignored any other objections he might have had. She got up and turned on the water for the shower. In a few second she had it running full steam. She climbed in first. He followed.

In the shower together she washed his back, his chest, and between his legs. She took an extra-long time washing his penis, scrotum, and his ass. This was all new to her. It was a way to study and discover without being overt.

He washed her next. He gave her back a quickie, but took an extra-long time washing her breasts, her pussy, and her rear end. As he finished with her backside she started to get out.

He stopped, “Oh no you don’t”

She turned around.

He said, “Let me wash your hair.”

Maureen thought it was a good idea. She handed him the shampoo bottle, “OK.”

He gave her hair a double washing. He loved her hair. He flooded it with shampoo, took the shower nozzle off and used it to rinse every strand thoroughly. He thanked somebody’s initiative for installing one of those moveable long necked shower heads that came equipped with a length of metal hose. He was able to get his hands on every luscious curl.

Finally they got out. She slipped on her robe and a pair of flip flops. Handing him a towel she said, “You wait in the kitchen while I get your clothes.

She started for the kitchen, stopped, and turned around, “You won’t lock me out?”

He laughed, “No I won’t lock you out.”

She scurried through the kitchen and on out the door.

Ignoring her instructions to go to the kitchen Cal went for the living room. Wrapped only in a towel he sat on the sofa, grabbed the remote, turned on the television, and found the hairbrush he’d used the night before to spank her. He’d noticed her rear end was still red from her paddling.

Maureen got back in. Loaded his clothes in the washer, put on a pot of coffee, and started for the bedroom again.

Cal admonished, “Bring in some coffee, and come here and sit down.”

She saw the brush, “You said...”

He stopped her, “No, never again. I want to brush your hair.”

She smiled brilliantly, “OK, then I have a comb and another brush for that.” She ran to the bedroom.

Cal got up and went to the kitchen to fix the coffees.

Back in the living room Cal sat on the sofa, Maureen got on her butt between his legs facing the television; she plopped unceremoniously on the rug. He’d poured them each a coffee. It tasted good, invigorating.

She loved it when somebody did her hair. Girlfriends at college used to like to comb out her hair, and she couldn’t remember her mother not making over it. Maureen knew she had good hair; thick, black, shiny, and wavy. People liked fiddling with it, and she exulted in having someone making over her anytime anyway.

He had a towel he used to gently pat her back and shoulders, “Now tell me if I hurt you.”

“OK,” she said.

He carefully slid the brush through her glistening thick rich raven tresses. Stopping for a second he held some in his hand and sniffed it.

He loved her wonderful aroma. He took a big clump and brushed it against his face.

She used the remote and pretended not to be too engrossed in what he was doing. She found a morning talk show, “You want to watch this?”

He wasn’t paying attention to the television, “Anything you want.”

She sat perfectly still and let him comb out her locks. While he combed, he used his hands to rub her shoulders. His hands and fingers felt strong but not rough. His body smelled like a girl’s thanks to the shampoos they’d used, but she didn’t care. She liked the idea he wasn’t embarrassed by little things like that. His breath smelled of coffee. She liked that too.

Cal slowly worked the brush downward. He was trying to form a part down the middle of her scalp. He had this fantasy he could work her hair into two braids like she’d had the other evening; make two braids and then tie them off together with a black ribbon in the back. When she’d done it had looked really sexy. He started thinking; thinking about other things.