Chapter 12: Curiosity Kills the Cat

The new year brought many good things, events and occasions with Tracy that Mel could look back on with a smile and no small amount of sexual delight. And then there was the ugly, his need to know leading him to a revelation that made him wish to emulate Oedipus and stab out his eyes. But that would have done nothing for Tracy and it was for her that he finally acted.

Many good things as the first couple of months went by, if you ignore the lonely nights and count only the times Mel and Tracy sat side by side and talked or wrestled and unleashed the elements underneath the covers. For that Mel could smile and be happy. Of course there were some major frustrations, but those usually came at the hands of Nick or Tina. Like when Mel was planning on taking Tracy out to dinner and a play, but before he could ask her about it she came flying into the house screaming about Tina having tickets for them to see Beyonce. Seriously, who or what in the universe could compete against that? All Mel could do is show surprise and happiness for Tracy, but he felt a little steamed about Tina pulling out an ace to his three of spades. Still, good things happened, and not just the small moments of wonder with Tracy but other larger events that really stood out in his mind.

His work actually provided them with something to share and eventually did have an impact on Tracy’s life. At the time it was a small thing, Mel working at home on his computer, his desk piled with paper, his screen with overlapping pages, all of which he was completely involved with, totally within his element. One of many tools he used was Excel, and he was good at it. It was a joke around the office that he was the only one not required to go to daily meetings because he was the only one who knew what the fuck was going on and had real work to do.

Mel was busy inputting data, compiling and organizing as he saw fit, arranging reality as he imagined it in digital form, the only truth he saw worth paying attention to beyond beer, his Chevy, and Tracy. Tracy walked in and stood behind him, peering over his shoulder, then mentioning that she did some Excel in a business course at high school. Mel started showing her some of what he did and she easily picked up on it, had a mental image of what more could be done. If anything Tracy seemed to have an even greater grasp of what Excel could do, bringing up certain statistical functions from the back of her mind. Mel had to admit that he knew the functions but was limited in their use by his own lack of expertise in statistical analysis. He could get the numbers, the totals, the answers, but not really explain to his supervisors what to do with them, how to apply them in future action. That’s what the bosses were for.

That’s when Tracy looked at him sideways and said, “So why not take a class, learn more, become a boss?” To which Mel said, “So why don’t you take a class, maybe get an A.A. and get out of that minimum wage junk job you’re stuck in?” They stared at each other for a moment before Tracy stuck out her hand and said “deal.” Mel shook, not quite understanding what he had agreed to until Tracy turned and started walking away. Mel couldn’t let it go at that and yelled out to her retreating form, “The (local) college probably has night classes in this stuff,” to which she replied “Yeah? I’ll forward the application to you.” No doubt, he was doubly in love with this woman.

Then a few outings, escaping their daily lives, like the drive up to the snow. Mel was no athlete, never attempting to ski down a mountainside though Tracy had attempted to learn how to snowboard during high school. Mel’s truck wasn’t a 4x4, just a plain old truck, but he knew how to use chains and easily made it up to a snow park where all they did is sled and tube away the cold but clear day. Apart from the joy of the cold snow with Tracy at his side, Mel remembers arriving home late in the afternoon, his crock pot full of slow cooked stew, and a hot shower shared with a woman at his side. Before dinner they took a little time to relax in bed, meaning they relaxed by releasing a little sexual tension. Tracy had brought Mel’s balls to the boiling point, but then pulled off him and reversed positions, sucking up his excited cock into her mouth. Her very talented tongue quickly made him explode, Mel moaning out his pleasure and pain, holding Tracy’s head down as her mouth filled to overflowing with his jism.

Some spilled out, a cough from Tracy losing a little more of Mel’s manly essence, his stomach covered with as much of his ejaculate as what Tracy had been able to hold and swallow. Tracy spread the excess across his stomach, most puddling around his belly button, and Mel again asked a stupid question. “You seem to enjoy swallowing cum down. You’re unlike any other girl I’ve ever known. I love it, love you loving to drink me down, but why?” Tracy shrugged, pulled herself up even with Mel, gave a sperm-filled lick to his cheek and said, “Maybe because it’s so dirty. It really is disgusting stuff you know. Thick and smelly and dirty, and most girls just focus on that. For me, it’s sex, like liquid sex, dirty sex, unspeakable sex. It’s easier to say you fucked someone than to admit that you gave a guy a blowjob. I also like your taste, knowing I’m swallowing down part of you, tasting a really personal part of you. It’s really dirty, and really intimate.”

Tracy would have probably left it at that, but Mel pushed on. “OK, so why didn’t you lick up what spilled on my stomach?” Tracy snorted and said, “You like it so much, you lick it up.” Mel apologized, but Tracy then replied, “It’s one thing to swallow the cum in the middle of an ejaculation, but it’s totally different when it’s just lying there, like after the act. Tina gets into it, like it’s her own special sauce. Weird that she won’t do blowjobs but loves to lap up any guy’s cum flowing out of me. But that’s her own personal thing.”

Mel figured he’d pushed a little too far and held back any further questions, but after a moment, Tracy continued. “I’m amazed you even bring it up. Guys always want girls to swallow it, like it’s sugar water, right? But they know how disgusting it is, how smelly and sticky, and the guys just like the idea of getting a girl to swallow his cum. You know Nick, how violent he gets when he wants some, like getting his cock sucked. It’s a guy thing, almost as bad as raping a woman. Guys just don’t get it and most girls just learn to put up with it, if only because it’s good birth control. Shit, every time a girl has her first menstrual period she should be given a lesson in how to suck a guy off. Sure save a lot of teenage pregnancies. Like it or not, that’s what girls have to do.”

This is where Tracy pulled Mel in tight and eased his conscience by saying, “Don’t worry Mel, you’re not like that, but maybe that’s because you know how much I enjoy your taste.” Mel wasn’t so sure, remembering times in the past that he had held Tracy’s head with both hands pulling on her hair, her head trapped within his thighs as Mel was overcome with the joy of emptying himself into her, giving her no choice but to swallow. He felt a little guilty, a little shamed, but their talk about the unspeakable filled his mind with visions that re-energized his cock all through the night.

Maybe the most wonderful event for Mel came about in late February, cold and wet, but all the more reason to stay inside and enjoy a fire and simmering stew. This time Tracy wanted to take Mel out, her mother having extra tickets for a crab feed she went to every year. Mel didn’t care much for cold crab or the other poor quality food and mediocre raffle gifts you could find at these kinds of events, but it was for a charitable cause, and it included music and dancing afterwards. When he heard this a lightbulb went on: Mel had a plan.

The last Saturday of the month and Mel found himself driving Tracy, her mother, and an unknown neighbor from down the street to the feed. The school gymnasium was overflowing with people, table place settings including everything from bottles of wine to candle-lit butter warmers. Mel wasn’t much of a crowd guy, hating having to attempt polite conversation over the cacophony of voices, a thousand people all speaking at once, but of course Tracy was just the opposite. They quickly got to know the others sitting at their table, and as people walked by conversations started up on the fly. Tracy was of course a people magnet and she was dressed as though on show. Mel had to admit that the stylish pantsuit Tina had bought for Tracy fit her well. Very feminine and stylish, though the accompanying shorter hair (now only down to the middle of Tracy’s back) made him wonder about how much control Tina had over Tracy’s new look.

Men at the feast were those most likely to accost Tracy, having something to say about her earrings (yes, those earrings) or maybe the jar of garlic her mother had brought, anything just to have her look up and say hello. Mel found it amusing to turn and put a hand on Tracy’s shoulder, to smile and address the newcomer in his most friendly manner, then watch the person take a step back and quickly retreat.

Crab was crab, the raffle as predictable as ever, but then the DJ began the music. Mel had passed the man a twenty, bartered for a few specific dance tunes, and was ready with Tracy’s hand in his as his new best friend started up the Bruno Mars tune Just The Way You Are. Tracy was hesitant, unsure of what Mel was up to, or perhaps unwilling to embarrass herself by dancing while Mel lumbered about the floor, but this was his surprise: Mel had been taking dance lessons since early January. Community colleges offered a lot more than classes in English and Excel, and Mel had found an on-going no-credit class that allowed students to drop in as they could, left feet welcome, the teacher a young man who loved the challenge of teaching a gangly Mel how to swing.

So as he pulled Tracy onto a still empty dance floor, Bruno crooning out to the love of his life, Mel began traveling with the beat. First pulling Tracy into a spin, then pushing her out and in again to be embraced by his arms, then out and in for a combined spin, all choreographed by his teacher, all in perfect time with the music. Mel had chosen the first song well, sung by an artist Tracy had a bit of a crush on, and her smile beamed all the way to the end. Two seconds later the next song hit, some guy named Lou Bega singing Mambo. This was a favorite of his dancing instructor and Mel hoped Tracy would also like the choice. She loved it, her hips doing a lot more work than necessary as Mel stuck to the standard swing moves he had practiced over and over again. Other tunes followed, some not quite as appropriate for Mel’s limited dancing capabilities, but he had shown his cred to all and Tracy hugged him close as they took a break and returned to their table.

To the shock of her mother Tracy rounded on Mel as they sat down, saying “You fuck! When did you learn how to dance?” Mel took a sip of warm wine and shrugged, and simply replied “For you, anything.” That’s when Tracy’s eyes teared up, leaning her head into Mel’s shoulder, her mother yet again confused and wondering what was wrong. They made it up to the crowded dance floor for another set of songs, Mel showing little in the way of real imagination as he moved his feet, but Tracy smiled all the way through. Most important to Mel, the moment he most returns to in the dark night, is when a handsome young man approached and asked Tracy to dance, only to be turned away as she hugged Mel. He was the king of the world.

One other moment that stands out, perhaps too vividly, came when Tracy was able to stay the night and wake up within Mel’s arms on Valentine’s day. He didn’t get to keep her for the day, other people and dates taking her away to places she didn’t feel the need to explain. Mel of course gave her the breakfast in bed, the candy and flowers, the card and gift, a bracelet that matched the necklace and earrings he had given her for Christmas. It was a pleasant morning spent in bed, and Tracy thought she was being kind when she unthinkingly threw out the thought that older guys were a lot more considerate about these kinds of romantic things. Mel of course followed that up with a question that really should have been filtered out, asking “So, older guys, like me you mean. Have you really been around that many older men or am I the only example you have to go by?”

Tracy smiled at Mel and leaned over to give him a kiss before saying, “You’re the best of the best. Maybe I’m too young to know, but comparing the young boyfriends and the older men in my life so far, the older guys are way more preferable.”

Mel nodded but also prodded, asking for more detail. “OK, older guys are better, but why? More money? More patience? Able to keep it up longer?”

“Jeez Mel,” replied Tracy, “don’t take it too personal, OK? Sure money helps, a nicer car, some emotional maturity, all that’s good. But then again, until you entered my life, all of those men have also had wives and kids and I’ve been the girl on the side. It’s good to have you all to myself.”

“What even made you aware of older men?” queried Mel, unwisely unwilling to let well enough alone. “Didn’t you have boyfriends in high school, like guys you went to school with?”

“Yeah,” said Tracy, scooting down into the bedcovers and putting her head on Mel’s bare chest. “But that was the problem. After I came back from up north, with that adoptive family I told you about, I really didn’t want to date at all, but later on I think I had a boyfriend all through my junior and senior years. I remember all of the guys, and its not like any of them were mean or anything, but nothing really clicked either.”

Tracy lay quiet, Mel listening to her breathing, realizing he should shut up and leave well enough alone, but Tracy continued on her own. “A bunch of shit I don’t want to bring up, but maybe the real reason I like older men is because of my last real boyfriend in high school. Kind of a jock, but fun and with a car, and somehow my best friend happened to be his best friend’s girl. So like every day after school we’d wind up at his place, maybe all day on the weekend at somebody else’s house, just hanging out and playing video games, doing sex, smoking shit, stuff like that. Everybody did it, but we kind of shared, you know? I mean, the guys shared their girls and my girlfriend and I were OK with it. Well, I didn’t mind so much as my friend. She finally got pissed when she found out the guys had taken me over to another friend’s place without telling her. After she left, her guy kept coming over, my boyfriend and him passing me back and forth until it was time for his mom to come home. That’s when the dad started up. He had always been around, knowing I was in the back room with his kid, maybe proud that his son was getting some, you know?”

“One day after the guys had left to go somewhere and I held back to finish off a joint, in walks the dad. No questions asked, no introduction, just turning me over and fucking me silly. A little rough, ripping apart my panties like he was Nick on meth. I mostly remember it because after he unloaded inside me he hung back, talked a little, then did it to me again and saw to it that I had an orgasm of my own. It wasn’t my first, but usually I had an orgasm only by accident, by luck, or with just me by myself. Here was a guy who did his best to make sure I had one, and he was in the middle of working on number two when his wife came home. I had to sneak out the back way and walk three blocks back to home with the guy’s cum streaming down my leg. Yeah, I remember that.”