Chapter 1

Cathy and I were part of an ever changing group of attractive young people who spent a lot of time together. We were young and enjoyed spending our evenings at some of the local clubs, dancing, drinking, and having fun. Some weekends guys attended ballgames while the gals went shopping then the group reformed for an evening at someone's house or apartment. At one time or another, a guy and a gal paired off, and then separated and rejoined the group. Several of the females were pretty wild. They probably had sex with every one of the men. They switched partners pretty regularly.

Cathy had dated two or three of the guys in the group but never seriously. Her sister Sherry was part of the group, too. However, Sherry was one of the wildest. They often arrived together, but Cathy went home alone. She seemed insecure when her sister wasn't around. After the first few dates Cathy and I had, we sort of drifted away from the group and eventually married. We didn't start a family right away. Cathy was just barely twenty-one and I was only five years older. She had a rather mediocre job. She declined my suggestion she go to college, thinking if she dedicated more time to her job, she might end up with a promotion. After three years, there was no promotion in sight so Cathy agreed it was time to start our family. She quit work near the time our first child was due and stayed at home until we had three children and they were all old enough for school. She missed being with adults and the excitement of doing something besides taking care of a home and our children. After a couple of part time positions, she got a pretty good job with one of the large companies in town. Her income wasn't great, but it helped out when we bought our first home.

Although I couldn't use my cell phone while I was at work, Cathy usually called me during my lunch hour, or I called her because she frequently left a message on my voice mail. She liked to ask if I needed her to do anything at home, talk about what she would do later that day, or the activities the children might spend their afternoon doing. She also liked to ask me if I had any suggestions for our dinner that night.

After several years of feeling like the walls of our tiny house were going to burst, Cathy and I were finally able to afford a larger home. Our oldest child had just turned thirteen, and with the prospect of having three teenagers, we wanted as large a house as we could afford. The house we found was huge, upstairs there was a master bedroom across the back of the house, and four smaller bedrooms down that same hall. It was a real bargain, partly because it had been vacant for a couple of years, tied up in a nasty divorce proceeding. The bank had finally foreclosed on the loan and auctioned the house to the highest bidder, a real estate investor. That investor just wanted to turn the property quickly, so he added a few thousand dollars on top of what he paid for it, which meant The Preston family could afford to live in a much better neighborhood than we expected. We were particularly attracted by the exceptionally large rear yard, which would allow our children to stay home rather than roam the neighborhood after school. It was something we were becoming more concerned about with so many homes lacking a stay-at-home parent to supervise their children's activities.

However, because the house had been vacant for a while it had been neglected, both inside and out. I'm fairly handy as a weekend carpenter so we were able to do most of the interior repairs ourselves, particularly the cosmetic damage done by the former owners. Most of the money we made from selling our smaller home, which wasn't as much as we thought it would be, went to repairs for the new house. According to the real estate investor, the husband had accused the wife of cheating and the wife made similar accusations against her husband. At separate times, the two had gone through the house doing some damage in an effort to get back at each other. The damage was pretty easy for me to repair, but it also gave Cathy and me a few opportunities to renew our promises that we wouldn't do that to each other, the same promises we had made during our wedding ceremony. We had a solid marriage and loved each other.

Our three children learned to handle paint rollers and brushes with some skill, probably because we allowed them to select the colors for their own bedrooms, so long as it wasn't something wild. We also discovered we had to leave bedroom doors open during the day so the house would stay cool. When the weather got a little cooler, I planned to do something about the air conditioning ducts in the attic.

It seemed like the yard was the most neglected part of the property, including a wide, irregular shaped sloping back yard full of trees. No one had ever done much work back there. I had cut down some of the smaller trees and was slowly digging up the stumps. There were also a few larger trees, but they needed some extensive pruning to make a nice rear yard where we could spend some time outdoors. As summer approached, we were still outside every few days, working in the back yard and trying to keep the grass in front of the house growing. We pulled weeds from between the grass plugs, and shaped the few small plants we'd added to hedges on either side of the front entry.

Part of my enjoyment of working outside was having the love of my life doing her own thing outdoors, not far from me. My wife, Cathy, has a really hot body. At least I think so. Her breasts aren't really large but she often wore a brief halter top without a bra, trying to get a little bit of a tan on the exposed skin. She usually wore very short shorts when we worked in the back yard, which I loved, especially when she would squat down and I could see inside the crotch of her shorts. She seldom wore panties, which made my view even better, especially when she was bending over with her cute butt sticking up. Cathy said when she got hot and sweaty, every thing she was wearing stuck to her wet skin. She had also encouraged me to work without a shirt too, and occasionally I'd pull my shirt off and leave it by the door. Like her, I rarely wore underwear under my cutoff jeans, for the same reasons she used.

We occasionally indulged in touching and stroking, but were careful. We were aware one of the children might walk into the back yard, so our playing was pretty tame. However, it led to some intense late night lovemaking after the children had taken their baths and went to their beds.

We were very lucky with neighbors. A couple across the street and two doors down had a thirteen year old boy, Kenneth, the same age as our son, Benny. Missy, their daughter was nine, while our daughters, Becky and Tina, were eleven and eight. Most of the other families had much younger children. Although she was only eleven, our middle daughter was looking forward to earning some baby sitting money.

One evening, just before dark I was carefully trimming the new hedges. I happened to glance up at Cathy and saw her looking down the street. She blushed, shuddered, and her nipples got hard. Then she looked down, as if she was hiding her face. I didn't understand. I knew I hadn't said anything to make her blush, although I was good at that, commenting on how sexy she looked when perspiration made her skin shine or reminding her I was interested in some more intimate action as soon as we could close our bedroom door. I also recognized the shudder as her reaction to something that caused a tingle of sexual arousal. I turned to see all three of our children walking down the street. They were coming toward our home because their playmates, the two Hanson children, were walking up the sidewalk toward their front door, but I didn't see anyone else on the street, or in their front yard.

"It's Thursday, Jerry. The kids are coming, I guess I'll go finish supper," Cathy announced as she stood and dusted off her knees.

It took a couple of hours to finish supper, clean up the kitchen, and oversee the children as they took their baths then hugs and kisses for each of them when they were finally in their beds. I hadn't been sitting in my easy chair long enough to reach for the television remote when Cathy grabbed my hand and pulled me up the stairs to our bedroom.

During the seventeen years of our marriage, sex had always been important to both of us. I'm sure as time went on our sex life wasn't as robust as when we were younger. Yet, we still had sex at least one night during the week and then again sometime over the weekend, often early Sunday morning, particularly if the kids stayed up late Saturday night and slept late the next morning.

That night, after supper, we took a shower together, playing in the warm water as we washed each other, and then had the wildest, most intense sex we'd had in several years. I must have licked her through five or more orgasms and she wanted me to give her a rough fuck. She kept telling me, "Harder, harder, faster, faster, Jerry. Fuck me."

When she wasn't satisfied with how hard I was pounding into her, she got on her knees and had me behind her so she could slam her hips back at me every time I thrust forward. Cathy also woke me up before daylight the next morning and gave me a blow job that curled my toes.

As I was driving to work that Friday, I realized that for a few weeks we had gotten into the habit of having sex every Thursday night. When I got home that night, after we got the kids to bed, I asked Cathy what was going on.

She blushed as she tried to explain. A few days after we moved in, Sue Hanson had come over to visit. She and Cathy became pretty good friends. They found things to do Saturday or Sunday, taking all five children with them, with Sue driving their huge old Suburban. It gave Barry and me a whole day to watch a ballgame, play a round of golf, or just have a day without the family around.

A few weeks later, Sue Hanson had walked across the street with half a chocolate cake she'd baked. Cathy tried to get her to come inside for a few minutes, but Sue said she didn't have time. It was Thursday and she needed to get back to her house to finish supper. Cathy asked her why she was in a rush, so Sue explained that she and Barry always had sex on Thursday nights. They would get the kids inside, feed them supper, and put them to bed an hour early, because they were allowed to stay up an extra hour the previous night.

It seems that Barry had complained about not getting as much sex as he wanted so Sue told him to pick a night, any night of the week. Then he had to agree to help her with supper and putting the kids to bed early. After that, she would devote the remainder of the night to him, beginning with a blow job then any position he wanted as long as he let her sleep four hours.

While we were working in the front yard, Cathy saw the Hanson children going inside for their early supper and early bedtime, which meant Barry and Sue were going to have sex later. It turned her on and made her horny. She took me to bed where we enjoyed the best sex we'd had in a long time.

After her explanation, I started laughing and teasing Cathy telling her I was surprised when I realized our mid-week lovemaking had become a Thursday night routine. I told her she had beaten me to the punch because about the time we moved into the house I'd thought about getting a porn video for her to watch the next time I wanted sex. I told her I'd figured I only needed to play the first minute of the video to get her in the mood but now all it took was knowing the neighborhood children were going to bed early.

Cathy blushed and said, "All you really need to do is help get our kids to bed a little early that night."

"I'm already doing that," I said and watched her nod.

"Yeah," she agreed, "That's part of our good cop — bad cop roles." Somehow, over the years, we had gotten into the habit of Cathy asking me if I agreed or wanted things done differently, and then she issued instructions while I made sure she was obeyed. She did the same for me, but not as often as I had to do it for her. Our eleven-year-old middle child, Becky, was the ring leader. If she was told it was time for her bath, the other two just followed because they knew they were next. I often remarked that she could already think like an adult and I was looking forward to the day she really was an adult. I could sit back and never need to make another decision.

A few weeks after Cathy revealed the reason we had developed a habit of Thursday night sex, I was in the back yard trimming the larger limbs I'd cut off the big trees. I planned to cut the wood into smaller sections and eventually have some firewood for the fireplace. My son came outside and waited until I could hear him. When I turned off the chain saw, Benny told me supper was ready.

I put my tools away and went inside to wash up for supper. I asked Cathy, but she said I didn't have time for a shower. By the time all three kids had taken their baths, and were in bed with their lights off, I was finally going to take my shower. Cathy was already in bed with her back to the middle of the bed. Her nightstand light was turned off.

After my shower, I went to bed, just lying on top of the covers for a short while to cool off and get really dry before I rolled over to go to sleep. I thought Cathy was already asleep. She was breathing deeply and hadn't moved since I walked into the bathroom. Just as I pulled the sheet up to my chest, I realized it was Thursday night. The simple thought of what day of the week it was started an erection I wanted to use.

"Cathy?" I said her name quietly. I didn't want to wake her up if she was already asleep. She didn't respond and the next thing I knew it was morning.

"Morning, Sweetie," Cathy greeted me when she came down for breakfast and walked over to me for a kiss. She walked behind each of the children as they were eating breakfast. It had become a routine time when we all talked about our plans for the day or events that were coming up which needed a parent's attendance.

Those early morning conversations were also when we made decisions that were important to our family. Cathy didn't want to manage the family budget, she preferred we discuss how much money she would spend or ask me to transfer money to her account if she didn't have enough for an unusual expenditure.

Most mornings I helped the children with their breakfasts while I packed my lunchbox, and Cathy cleaned up the kitchen after I left. There was at least half an hour after I left before she needed to leave for work. Her days were a lot shorter than mine were. Including travel time, I was gone about ten hours a day and she worked about five hours a day. Most days she had a very short commute, easily getting home before the children. I worked at a fixed site and Cathy's hours and location changed, depending on where she was supposed to be on any particular day during the week. The company she worked for had more than twenty stores in the city. Cathy visited each store for a few hours each week, allowing her to end her work day by two in the afternoon. She drove her personal vehicle and was paid a generous reimbursement of her automobile expense. Many days she drove over one hundred miles throughout the day.

I could help with morning things for the children, but Cathy usually handled anything during the day and in the afternoons, which was one of the reasons for our noon telephone calls. I couldn't leave the plant during my shift, but Cathy could get off just about any hours she wanted, as long as she got her work done. She was the one who attended school functions and extra curricular activities. She took them to doctor's appointments and went shopping for their clothes. I always tried to help Cathy as much as I could. However, I also worked twice as many hours as she did and made more than three times what she did. With my employee benefits, it was about four times her salary since she had very few benefits.

I picked up my lunchbox and stopped for a minute to hug my wife, "I missed our Thursday night," I whispered in her ear.

Some of the color drained from her face as she turned to pick up her coffee cup, almost spilling it as her hand shook. "Yeah," she said. Cathy took a deep breath and added, "I think I must have been really tired last night. I don't remember when you came to bed." She followed me out into the garage closing the kitchen door behind her. As soon as she was sure the children wouldn't hear her, Cathy said, "I'm sorry, Jerry. I'll make it up to you."

I stood beside my pickup, looking over the top of the hood at her, "It's okay, Doll. I love you. See ya this evening."

"Yeah, me too. Bye," Cathy said and turned around. She had walked back inside the house before the garage door was fully opened.

It wasn't the goodbye I usually got, but I didn't think very much about it at the time. She usually said, "I love you too, too much."

When we first married, I worked a late shift. Cathy had a little blackboard hanging beside the refrigerator for her grocery list. It's where we would leave notes or write various reminders of upcoming events. She would often leave me a note about something because she was at work when I got up in the afternoon. She would write "Luv U 2, 2 much." I usually left her some kind of sweet note, but her note was always the same. Any time I told her I loved her, she started saying what she used to write, "I love you too, too much."