Chapter 2

There was one time in particular that bears relating. The show was "Camelot." There being only one big woman's role, the other girls ended up in the chorus, which was fine, it meant Rhonda didn't have to learn a bunch of lines, she just had to learn the music and a few simple dance steps and she was ready to go.

Of course, during the second night of the show, we both got in big trouble for coming up missing during the song, "The Lusty Month of May." How we missed it was simple: we were up in the catwalks above the stage in a quickie 69. So, Rhonda missed the big chorus number, and I wasn't there to help set the stage for the next scene. Fortunately, that song's pretty rambunctious. Even so, we tried to stay as quiet as possible.

Oh, that implies a first time, doesn't it? Yes, we had a first time, but it was as unfulfilling as the majority of those youthful losses of virginity. The nerves are strung so tight that nothing works properly, and as is pretty standard, I hadn't even managed to get inside her before I was cumming all over her pussy. I liked the look of her cunt with my jizz on it, but it wasn't too fulfilling for Rhonda, and I was too embarrassed to have gotten much real pleasure out of it, either. Feeling guilty, I did give Rhonda an orgasm, fumbling a little while she directed, using my semen as lubricant, rubbing her clit with my fingers. Needless to say, we tried again, making that summer before college pretty memorable for the two of us.

Anyhow, about twenty-four years later, here we were, standing naked in each other's arms, a home together and a daughter we were both extremely proud of, and lives that, for the most part, were very happy.

I could feel the tension in Rhonda's body, telling me she was still wound up from our little shower escapade. Reaching down between us, I slipped a hand into her crotch and twitched a finger across her clit, causing a moan and a shiver.

Suddenly, Rhonda pulled away from me and grabbed my cock, then started out of the bathroom. I didn't follow right away, even though I knew what she wanted, and fortunately she didn't have a tight grip, because she just went without looking to see if I was coming along.

I did come after her, knowing she wanted what I wanted, but instead of turning right, to the bedroom, she went left, toward the living room. The last time we'd had sex somewhere in the house other than the bedroom was a few years earlier, when Donna had been staying with her grandmother for a week. Rhonda and I made love in practically every room in the house, excepting the attic, and including the garage.

When I reached the living room, I found Rhonda stretched out on the sofa, her legs spread wantonly, showing me how wet her pussy was. She was obviously very excited, but instead of wanting me inside her right away, she sat up and patted the seat next to her.

"Sit down, Baby. I want to do something for you."

Well, I had an idea what she had in mind, so I sat in the spot indicated without any argument. Plopping myself down on the couch, Rhonda hopped up, then sat on the floor in front of me and pushed my legs apart. Now I really knew what she had planned. My hard on pulsed in anticipation.

There was no preliminary, no teasing up my thigh or light fingernails down my belly, no fondling or kissing, just one quick gulp and I was in her mouth.

I damn near hit the ceiling. Rhonda's mouth on my cock hadn't felt so good in ages. She went at her task like she was starving, and I was the lucky recipient of her hunger. She alternated between taking me deep in her mouth and down her throat (is that really possible?) and just taking the tip between her lips and teasing with her tongue.

Rhonda regularly downplays her oral abilities, but I have to continuously tell her, when she's in one of those moods, that what she does to me is beyond words. I again wish there was some way for us to trade places so she could find out just how good it actually feels.

For almost ten minutes, I'll bet, she held the head, or just the tip of my cock in her mouth while her tongue flickered over it. That maddening sensation was intensified when she slipped the tip of her tongue into the slit at the end. All I could do is moan. God, I loved this woman and the things she could do to me. She didn't work her hand up and down the shaft, essentially giving me a handjob while sucking me, she just wrapped her fingers around it, enhancing the sensation of being enveloped.

So there I sat, being deliciously tormented by my wife, forcing myself to keep my hips still and let her do whatever she wanted to.

Another of the benefits of familiarity: What I knew of her, she knew of me.

Rhonda knew that even as intense as it got with her working me the way she was, without that hand stroking along with her sucking, teasing mouth, it was unlikely I was going to cum. Therefore, she knew she was whipping me into as great a frenzy as I'd done for her in the shower.

Suddenly, there was the added sensation of her fingers caressing my balls. Now, I love having my balls played with. They're really sensitive, probably a lot like my wife's nipples, and feeling Rhonda's fingers and lips on them always puts me in a horny state of mind.

With Rhonda's hand holding firmly around my cock, her lips teasing the head and tip and her other hand gently stroking and fondling my balls, it felt like I might be able to cum after all. The sensation started in my lower thighs and belly, and the orgasmic thrill started to course through me. Just as I was reaching the point of no return, Rhonda sat back with a shit-eating grin of triumph.

A wail of protest was ripped from my throat. I was nearly out of breath, my body vibrated, I was starting to sweat. What was she doing? Her little smirk of satisfaction told me, "If it's good for the goose..." She was getting me back for in the shower, getting her that close and then backing off... Twice!

My body was screaming. Here I was, horny as I think I'd ever been, and the beautiful, sexy woman that was my wife was sitting there before me, naked and satisfied that two could play the teasing game.

Well, I certainly wasn't going to stand for her smugness. I stood up from where I sat and picked her up off the floor, something I'd never done before, and tossed her on the sofa, and in a single plunge, was in her sopping pussy to the hilt.

I was a wild man. The only thing I could think of was getting off. And Rhonda had already started. As soon as my cock stretched her excited pussy, she began cumming. I wasn't too far behind. I thrust into her a good half dozen times or so before I was yelling my head off, too. It's a good thing the air was on and the windows closed, or the whole neighborhood would have known what we were up to. At that point, I wouldn't have much cared. I was too fucking horny to give a shit what anybody else thought.

Our orgasms seemed to last a good long time. I know mine did, and Rhonda's capable of cumming for what seems ages, so she probably orgasmed for maybe two minutes straight. Eventually, though, the frenzy dissipated, and I collapsed, exhausted, on top of my wife.

I don't know how long we lay there panting, but slowly I realized that if I was breathing this hard, Rhonda must merely be trying, with me laying on her like this, so I rolled off her (which took me to the floor) allowing her the opportunity to breathe.

Sitting on the floor, I snuggled up as well as I could, but it really sucked trying to get comfortable, and I couldn't hold onto her properly, so I suggested we retire to the bedroom.

Rhonda wheezed, "Why do you think we haven't done this out here lately?" I had my theories, but I actually wasn't going to voice them at that juncture.

I stood on rubber legs and held my hands out. Rhonda took them and I pulled her up from the couch. She laughed, "I don't know if I can do this. I don't have any bones left." This was a common statement after she'd had a huge orgasm. I considered it a great compliment.

I half carried my wife to the bedroom. I wrapped one arm around her waist, grabbed her hip and held her up that way, since due to a height difference, trying to support her the traditional way would have killed my knees. If I could have, I'd have carried her, but my earlier adrenaline-testosterone rush aside, that wasn't in the cards.

In the bedroom, we both flopped down on the bed. As I felt myself drifting off, a thought came to me.

When I got up, Rhonda's head popped up. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'll be right back." A few seconds later, I returned.

Climbing on the bed, I started to spread Rhonda's legs. Weakly, though not truly in protest, she cried, "Again?"

I laughed quietly, "Not right now. Just spread."

Rhonda's legs slowly parted and once again I was treated to the sight of her gorgeous pussy, now soaked with both our juices. There was a small puddle beneath her on the bed, and unlike earlier, I had cum a lot this time, the evidence was oozing from her loosened slit.

Now, I've read stories of creampies before, and before I knew what it was, I tried it once. In the right frame of mind, it's not terrible, but it definitely isn't a flavor I'd want on a regular basis. No, I wasn't about to do that now. While I really liked seeing my cum seep out of my wife's hot cunt, I'd gone out and gotten in this position for a completely different reason.

I grabbed the towel I'd brought from the bathroom and mopped up the cum that Rhonda's pussy kept releasing. I didn't want to be blamed for making her sleep in the "wet spot" if I could help it.

When I finished cleaning her up, I told Rhonda to lift up her butt, then slipped another towel under her in case I'd missed anything. Not exactly the most romantic thing to do, but she didn't seem to mind.

That taken care of, I resumed my place beside her and we curled up to wind down together.

The more relaxed I got, the more earlier events of the day encroached on my thoughts. After a while, I was tense again, but not for the reason I'd been a few minutes earlier. Rhonda sensed the change and asked, "Is something wrong?"

Now my mind was all a-boil once more. The guilt from that morning came flooding in, and I knew I wouldn't be able to rest till I'd gotten it off my chest. The problem was, I was terrified for how Rhonda would take it. For a while, I couldn't bring myself to say anything.

Finally, I worked up the courage to begin.

"Rhonda?"

"Yes, Matt?"

"I have a confession to make."

She hesitated, obviously wondering what I could have done that was so horrible. "Okay."

For a moment, I wondered how to put it, then just said, "You know our daughter, Donna?"

Rhonda laughed a little. "Of course."

"This morning after you left, I was heading for the bedroom. I bumped into Donna coming out after her shower..."

"So?"

A beat. "I reacted."

Rhonda laughed a little louder. "Well, of course you did. I wouldn't expect you to just go on like nothing happened."

I stopped her. "No, you don't understand. I reacted... physically."

There was a little confusion in Rhonda's voice when she spoke. Apparently I wasn't making much sense. "You hit her?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I... got hard."

The light started to come on. "You mean you..."

Before she could complete that thought, I confirmed, "Yes, I did."

Now Rhonda got quiet. I braced myself for an explosion from jumping to a wrong conclusion. Fortunately, though, that explosion never happened. There was a terrified hush in her voice when she asked, "You didn't..."

Once again, I interrupted before she could complete her thought, "Of course not. I could never do that."

I was grateful for our years together that she believed me. That trust was a valuable asset to our being able to get by all these years. There was still a huge part of me that was afraid - even though there had been trust all this time - that the possibility I might be lying would rear its ugly head, especially concerning a subject like this.

The longer Rhonda was silent, the worse my anxiety became. Was she going to believe me, that I wasn't capable of doing the horrible thing that my words implied, or would she opt for the worst scenario? I couldn't tell by her expression what she was thinking, so there was no way to decipher what might be running through her mind. I'd never lied before about big stuff, feeling that the more important an event or decision might be, the more important it was to be up-front about it. For the most part, I considered myself a pretty honest guy. I hoped my wife still thought so.

After what seemed far too long a silence, Rhonda responded, "Thank god for that." My relief was unbounded. I felt yet another flush of love for this woman, that she truly did trust me enough to take my word about something like this.

I leaned in to kiss her for her trust in me, but she stopped me saying, "So what did you do?"

For a few minutes, I related to her some of the thoughts that kept going through my head that morning, and of my fateful trip to the mall.

"I still feel like I betrayed you somehow, letting all those young women drive me to having to find relief like that. I still feel like, in some way, I was still masturbating to the thought of our daughter."

Rhonda silenced me. "So you jerked off." I was surprised to hear her talk that way, but it was a pretty accurate description of what I'd done in that mall restroom stall. "You do it all the time while you sit at the computer looking at your sex sites. Don't look so offended, I know you do. In fact, I've done it myself once or twice.

"The important thing is that you didn't act on that initial reaction to Donna. Incest is an ugly thing, no matter what anybody says. I'm glad you were able to control yourself."

This time, I did lean in and kiss her. "Baby, you don't know how happy that makes me. I was so afraid you'd think I was some demented pervert and that I'd done the unthinkable. Aside form my hard-on, not once did I consider acting on it in Donna's name. Honest. And the fact that you trust me means the world to me."

Suddenly, I remembered my discovery and was eager to pass on my theory.

"I do think there was a reason why I reacted like I did this morning. It's maybe kind of far-fetched, but it does make some sense, at least to me.

"You remember that variety show our senior year, when you and the girls did 'Splish Splash?'"

Rhonda thought for a second, "Oh, yeah. What about it?"

I plowed on, my enthusiasm growing. "Remember what your costumes were?"

"Yeah, towels and fluffy slippers. But we had leotards on under the towels. None of us would have gone out there practically naked."

I brushed off the leotard statement. It was beyond the point right now. I told her, "Wait right here," then ran to get the photos.

When I got back, I started showing everything to her.

"Look, here's your senior picture." I handed her the yearbook. "And here's Donna's." Rhonda looked at the pictures and amazement filled her face.

"I never realized we look so much alike. I guess I haven't really looked at any old photos for quite a while. I'm surprised Mom hasn't mentioned anything. She's usually pretty sharp about that kind of stuff. We certainly don't look much alike now."

Ignoring the brief self-deprecation, I then took the yearbook and flipped it to the variety show picture. "See what I mean? Here's you dressed almost exactly like Donna was this morning. You got me hard as hell that night, thinking about what you may or may not have had on under that towel."

Rhonda interrupted, "But you knew I had a leotard on under it."

"You forget, my dear, that at that time, I was a teenage kid with roaring hormones and nowhere to take them. I could get myself hard just thinking about what went on in the girls' locker room. And, of course, I wanted to think of you girls with the least possible on under those towels."

"Okay, but how does all this go with what you told me about Donna?"

Maybe I was a little too excited when I told her, "I think the reason I reacted to her like I did, seeing Donna coming out of the shower, was because maybe my brain was remembering that night at the variety show, and with the two of you looking so much alike at that age, that I was reacting to the sight of the younger you."

Rhonda thought about that for a minute. When she started to laugh, my bubble burst. "That has got to be one of the screwiest things I've ever heard. I'm satisfied that you were able to behave yourself, regardless of what the cause was." Fortunately, her tone of voice didn't change when she went on, "So, does this mean you're bored with me? Is this some kind of mid-life crisis thing? Have I gotten too old for you, that you're looking for a newer model?"

I thought she was joking with me. She certainly didn't sound like she was having a self-esteem problem. Nevertheless, I found myself justifying, "Not at all. The whole time, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I felt terrible about the whole thing. I wanted nothing more than for my damn hard-on to go away, but everything I saw and thought of just made it worse. When I had to masturbate there at the mall, I felt like shit.

"So, no, I have no intention of replacing you. I don't want the younger you anymore. Why do you think I've been here growing older beside you? I want no other woman but you. Sure, I fantasize occasionally, but so do you. It's what makes us human. The important part is, at the end of the day, it's your face I see, and it's what keeps me going.

"I love you, Rhonda. I want to get old and decrepit with you, and you'll still be the most beautiful woman I've ever known. You're what enabled us to have such a beautiful daughter, and if she didn't look so much like you, she wouldn't be nearly as pretty as she is."

Rhonda laughed, "God, shut up. You're starting to sound like a bad romance novel. I love you, too, and if I didn't, I'm not sure I'd be so convinced that you didn't do something with Donna. But suffice it to say that I do believe you, and stop beating yourself up about it. The fact that you're still trying to justify yourself tells me that you didn't do anything wrong."

I gathered up all the photos and put them aside, then cuddled up close to my wife. It always felt strange to be the one needing comforting. I was a lot more used to being the strong one, with his woman tucked under his arm, giving her reassurance. Once in a while, I was the one needing emotional support. Rhonda had forgiven me, but I still wasn't fully convinced I'd truly earned it. Call me a pussy or whatever you want, it was going to take a while to come to grips with what had happened. Probably not a long while, but I certainly hoped it wouldn't affect the way I acted toward my daughter.

While I lay there, my wife playing with my hair, like I often did with her, I asked, "How come you were so excited when you got home? I'd have expected you to be all uncomfortable and grouchy. I certainly didn't expect the welcome I got. I'm not complaining, mind you, just a little curious."

At that, Rhonda got a little quiet, obviously thinking about something. After a minute or so, she asked, "You remember Jeff, Lisa's son?"

"Yeah, what about him?"

"Well, he's back home from college for the summer. He was working out in the yard when I got there this morning to work on the quilt. Two years of college have done okay by him. He's really filled out from the skinny kid he used to be."

I wondered where this was going. Was it some sort of strange parallel to my experience? Rhonda went on.

"While we were sitting in the kitchen sewing, Jeff came in to grab a drink. He didn't have a shirt on. All he was wearing was a pair of tight workout shorts with his university's logo on them. He's been working out, Matt, there's no two ways about it. Every eye in the room was on him. Of course, when he left to continue working, all the old hen talk started. I think we were all a little embarrassed. We'd all changed that boy's diapers at one time or another, for crying out loud!"

"So, what went on after that?"

"Nothing much beyond sewing and the usual chit chat. Gina had to leave the room after Jeff came in the second time to get another drink. I think we all had a good idea what she was going to do.

"Yes, I admired Jeff's body. He's grown up to be quite a handsome young man. I know you'd know I was lying if I denied I was watching. I remembered the summer just after we were married when you were out of work, and had to take the temp job with your dad on the construction crew. You got pretty chiseled from that. Manual labor suits you, even though I know you're more comfortable with your desk job. Anyway, even though I was looking at Jeff, and admiring his body, my mind was mostly on you.