Chapter 1

“Well, this sucks, doesn’t it?” I thought aloud as I realized yet again that this year, Oktoberfest would be toast ... along with my birthday.

Drinking fine German beer in a stein with some soft pretzels in the privacy of your own home just didn’t equal the joy and pleasure of going to an actual fall festival that often coincided with your birthday. In this case, my forty-fourth birthday would fall exactly on Oktoberfest itself. My hope had been to spend it in Munich, Germany, itself, at the actual Oktoberfest celebration. As I had no wife and kids, this was the sort of treat I gave myself now and then to celebrate my own life.

It had been an interesting life in its own way. It was worth celebrating, at least to me. If it wasn’t to someone else’s standards, so be it. I wasn’t worried about them. In order for one to care about such views, one had to respect the viewer, didn’t he? The people with the strongest notions about my life were fellow screenwriters, and I didn’t give a fuck about what most of them thought. Unless one of them pulled a George R. R. Martin and left screenwriting for awesome works of fantasy or sci-fi literature, why should I give a damn? Carrie Fisher they weren ‘t, just sayin’.

So, there I was in my old family home, far away from LA and its insanity. I enjoyed the fact that at least I could work from clear across the country in the backwoods of Appalachia and save money on those outrageous houses or apartments that cost many of my colleagues an arm and a leg. I never sold this place, just rented it out for whatever suited me and the tenants now and then as an extra source of income. I could feel the envy from those morons in southern Cali even now, as I poured myself another stein full of imported German beer and took another bite of my pretzel, dipped as always in hot mustard.

Oh, well, at least this stupid pandemic gave me an excuse to stay put, right here in the fucking boondocks, far away from those assholes. I could send my scripts as easily to my bosses in their studios from a small county seat in West Virginia as I could from Beverly fucking Hills. I rented this place out less and less of late, wanting to kick back and enjoy a slower pace when not in the middle of a job. Living here was a lot cheaper, after all. Aunt Erica had done me right by leaving this place to me, of all of her nephews and nieces.

Looking out the window at the old swimming pool still owned by the McDougals, I smiled as I thought of the first beer ever served to me on Oktoberfest near said pool, months after I grew close to that family. It was Aunt Erica who told my sister Megan and me about Oktoberfest, but she also got the McDougals some beer and taught them our old Bavarian customs related to the great Munich beer festival. Yes, yes, we were all such good friends back then, so damn friendly, we Geists and those McDougals, who certainly shared their Irish traditions with us.

A sharp knock at the door jarred me from my thoughts. I rushed to cover my mouth with one of those accursed masks, not wishing to catch anything on my birthday in the midst of my rather pathetic excuse for an Oktoberfest meal. It was Bella McDougal, shivering in her bikini, wet as a drowned rat, clearly wanting to change out of said attire.

“You know, most people don’t try to swim in October ‘round these parts, ma’am,” I winked at Bella as I pulled her inside, “people catch colds and worse, what with all this coronavirus stuff in particular.”

“Oh, well, you know me. Sometimes, I just want to swim and to hell with it all,” Bella laughed at herself, “Happy Birthday, sugar.”

Then she slid off her bottoms first and removed my mask, covering my mouth with the former instead of the latter. I chuckled as she winked at me and backed up so that I could untie her top. I succeeded and freed her breasts, at which point she yanked the bikini bottoms from my mouth and kissed me hard on the lips ... with tongue. It was the first time in years for such contact, but both of us were in a sentimental mood right then.

“Damn, after all these years?” I expressed surprise.

“Hell, yeah, honey! I’ve missed you! Ain’t seen you since your aunt’s funeral, so many years ago! That was one helluva woman, your Aunt Erica, wasn’t she? I adored her,” Bella’s blush merged with her freckles on her otherwise pale face.

“That she was, babe. That she was. I couldn’t stick around for a while, you know. Too much pain. I figured that it was best to leave, so I did. How are you things for you guys? Facebook has only given me a little peek now and then, whenever I cared to stalk your pages,” I now confessed to looking them up on occasion.

“Oh, well, about as well as they can be for a forty-eight year old single mother in the fucking middle of nowhere. I see that neither of us ever ... got hitched, did we? It’s not too late, of course, though I’m not as young and pretty as Sally or Kelly, even now. Still, not that many gray hairs amidst the red, are there?” Bella fished for compliments now.

“Nope ... and I can see even fewer where my new face mask used to be,” I teased as I put the bikini bottoms back over my mouth and inhaled her scent.

“Just for that, you can keep ‘em ... use them for a mask or whatever. Keep my top, too. I kinda like being naked in your house again. Remember the first time that I stripped for you and the serious boner you got back then? You worried that I’d get mad, but I pulled you closer and kissed you just like this,” Bella recalled as she gave me another steamy French kiss.

“Ms. McDougal, are you trying to seduce me?” I grinned as she suddenly knelt to free my stiff cock from my pants.

“Fuckin’ A! I missed sucking this monster!” Bella shouted before gagging on my thick dick.

Several minutes into this action, I found myself in the shower with Bella, the hot water jets warming her up now. We washed each other, sure, but we also groped each other silly. It was clear what we both wanted ... each other. We soon dried off and Bella bent over at the vanity to offer me easy access to her twat.

I now knelt behind her and spread her cheeks as I licked my way from her tailbone to her mons Veneris, covering pussy and ass alike. Bella moaned very loudly as I devoured her with my mouth, my hunger and thirst for her growing by the second. I didn’t care right then that my beer was busy going flat and my pretzel cold. I craved her flesh and I meant to enjoy it.

I kept running my tongue back and forth across Bella’s taint, even as she lost all self-control and howled like a she-wolf or something. I held onto her buttocks for control as I rimmed and licked my way to her first orgasm of the day. She was every bit as delicious as I remembered, of course, even though she was fast approaching fifty. There were good reasons that we were lovers in the past and why we seemed to be lovers again.

“Oh, I’ve so fucking missed your eager licking!” Bella screamed as she squirted on my face and I slid into her dripping wet snatch, “and that ... especially that ... that big, thick ... rod.”

“That means this ain’t a fluke? Not a one-off for auld lang syne?” I chuckled as I pounded her in earnest within seconds.

“Oh, GOD ... no ... I’ve ... missed you ... we all have!” Bella shouted as she bucked her hips and met me harder on each stroke.

I tried not to stare at her butt too much, as such views tended to weaken my self-control in the act. I slapped it a couple of times and she yelped before pressing her tush into my hands to egg me on for more swats. The freckles on her tush would soon be joined by welts at this rate, but this playful spanking wouldn’t do any real harm at all.

“Fuck, yes ... give me another baby ... another!” Bella begged me as we humped some more.

“Another baby?” I reacted with shock, even as she tightened her juicy wet gash around my cock to trap it there.

“Oh, yes, my twins are ... kinda ... yours, too,” Bella stunned me with that piece of good news.

“The last time I fucked you was just before the funeral, which would make any kids of ours ... what, fourteen?” I did the math in my head even as I kept screwing her hard and fast.

“Yep, they turned that two weeks ago. Born Charlotte Miranda and Carrie Samantha McDougal. Sorry, I was heavily into Sex and the City at the time. Poor girls paid the price for that fandom, as you can see. Never had the chance to tell you ... not with you skipping town and ghosting us all for years. Thankfully, I still had a lot of help raising them, what with my family and all. Thanks for not doubting me, though,” Bella declared as she tightened up and squeezed my cum out of my balls through my prick.

“I don’t have any reason to doubt you, babe. You tended to stick to certain guys, and I had a lot of ... opportunities to fuck you, which I gladly took and often,” I admitted that I was one of Bella’s most active partners, “you had a few boyfriends, but none of them lasted for long, and they seemed to ... be fewer still after a while.”

“Yes, well, I had a grand total of six boyfriends, if you count them as I do. Six boyfriends in forty-eight years of life. Abe was the first, took my virginity, also happened to be Mormon, so his parents put a quick end to that. I was fourteen back then. He was fifteen. I was on the Pill, too. I was the ex-girlfriend that you definitely never mention to your proper LDS bride before your Temple wedding. Ironically, the whole ‘no jacking off’ thing made him easy prey for me,” Bella laughed as we unwound and I poured her some beer.

“Pretzels, hon?” I offered the ginger neighbor who had just seduced me all over again.

“Don’t mind if I do. Can I trouble you for a light?” Bella rolled out a joint as always.

“There you go ... a lot healthier habit than tobacco. Is that why you switched?” I humored her and lit my own.

“Well, seeing how awful it was for your aunt ... dying of lung cancer ... yeah, that had a real effect on me. She was so thin by the end ... so frail, so weak, and in such obvious pain. Did she really turn down chemo?” Bella shook her head.

“Yeah ... because she decided that it was too far along and chemo would cause her to lose the house for only another six months of misery and agony. It was stage IV. They caught it far too late to save her, just to buy her time. So she died after two months instead of six ... and kept the house. And left it to me,” I grimaced at the awful memory of my aunt ... who was also my lover, dying that way.

“And you ... and Megan separated after that. She took up with Jim, my fourth boyfriend, who was already jealous over my distinct lack of fidelity. They hit it off and left ... just like that. I don’t blame him too much. The boyfriends tended to tire of the scene, the lifestyle, etc. after a while. Swinging. Swapping. Sharing. Incest. Gang-bangs. Lots of booze, pot, and tobacco.

“They just weren’t cut out for it in the long run. I heard they got married, Megan and Jim, that is. She must have gotten tired of sharing you, just as Jim did with me. I, for my part, never tired of sharing you, not at all. But that was the biggest issue by far,” Bella said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“What was?” I probed a bit as she flirted with me.

“You ... especially for Jim ... and number three, good ol’ Bubba. He was mostly easygoing, but when he got some shine in him, he turned nasty, especially about you. Your presence in my life drove him nuts. He knew that you were pounding his girlfriend regularly and it really ate at him, never mind that he got plenty of action on the side, too. The second boyfriend ... he fucked up by ... you know,” Bella recalled wistfully.

“By proposing marriage to Mary ... yeah, I remember. He was stone-cold sober when he did that, but Mary wasn’t having it. She was Lyle’s girlfriend, period. Tim could fuck her, sure, but not ask for her hand in marriage. That was Lyle’s job. If he had been content to hump her, that’s one thing, but he went too far by half in popping the question to her instead of you,” I remembered with considerable disgust as I enjoyed my beer and pretzels.

“And then there were the last two beaus. One of them was actually named Beau. Ol’ Beau P. Devereaux. Can you be any more Cajun? Of course, he wanted me to move to the bayou with him and I put my foot down. Leave my family, my lifestyle, my state ... my community? Nope. Not gonna happen! Especially not soon after Katrina. That was 2007, just eighteen months after the hurricane. He ended up joining the National Guard and helping with the cleanup, which was still not done yet. That was number five,” Bella reminisced about a boyfriend that I didn’t remember, of course, as he was after my departure.

“And number six?” I asked her now.

“Oh, yes. Amos. I jokingly called him Amos Moses sometimes. His issue was simple: the girls. He just never could handle being ‘Mom’s boyfriend,’ you know. Not as many thirty somethings had six year old twin daughters. At that age, your kids tend to be a little older and more mature. They kept wanting to call him ‘Daddy’ and things like that.

“And he freaked out about the weed, of course. Plus, he wanted to go into politics ... yeah, so not gonna happen with a pot-smoking, single mother girlfriend who likes to fuck her own kith and kin. I wasn’t about to change so he could join the cesspool in DC,” Bella laughed as she now devoured her pretzel and downed another beer.

“But mostly the girls?” I clarified.

“Yep, I think so. On one level, ideal for politics. On another ... not so much. Especially since those two never learned how to shut up. They’d have mentioned the pot just a couple of times and his career would be toast. I just wasn’t senator’s wife material, plain and simple. Imagine me at one of those Beltway parties, among a bunch of snobs with no real concept of how to kick back and get down.

“I’d be pulling trains in a week or two at the most out of sheer fucking boredom. Taking moonshine to galas in a little flask. Lighting up doobies at the worst possible moments. Kissing interns of both sexes. Eating some secretary’s pussy. Or some Congresswoman’s ass. That kind of thing. Kicking some old fart in the balls for sniffing my hair without permission,” Bella roared with laughter at that last image.

“Or punching a game-show host for grabbing your pussy if you didn’t want it grabbed,” I observed now.

“That, too, yes!” Bella giggled now, “I’m a slut, yes, but I’m not a ‘help yourself party tray.’ I slut for whomever I wish. No one else. The list of men who can have their way with me on demand has shrunk, not grown. The same with the ladies. Though I freely admit that if your sister walked in here right now, I’d pull her in for a French kiss and make out with her in full view of Jim, if that was possible. She always had such a wonderful, kissable mouth, you know.”