Chapter 21: Another wedding, Marcie, the wall, and Karen

"How do you want me?" Karen asked. We were both naked, and the summer breeze was caressing my balls.

We first tried placing her left foot on one of the benches, and I scrunched down to line us up. I had one hand on her back and the other one on her ass, as I eased in.

"What's wrong?" she asked, when I stopped.

"It's not working," I said, pulling out. My need was great, but paled compared to the possibility of hurting her.

Karen demonstrated that her need was just as great as mine. She turned, bent over, placed her hands on the bench, and wiggled her ass, beckoning me to enter her.

I moved behind her, and felt the silken lining as my cock slipped in without a hitch. It had been seven days since we'd left the motel at the tennis tournament, and I wondered how long I would be able to last. She'd left her son sleeping in his room, admitted that I brought out the slut in her, and her willingness to offer her body in a somewhat demeaning manner gave me concern. She deserved the best treatment that I was capable of giving her.

This moment, the act of joining us together for the first time in seven days, had occupied my mind since I'd hung up the phone, driven to the alley, hopped the wall, and found her waiting for me. Still, I hesitated.

Karen shivered, prompting me to place my hands on her back and feel the effects of the night air. Even the stone around the fishpond felt cold against my feet. I rubbed her back, tummy, and moved my hands to her breasts, all in an effort to stall as long as possible.

"Is this better?" she asked, and I heard urgency in her voice.

"It's perfect, but are you going to be okay?"

"Fuck me, I'll tell you if it gets too much for me to ... just fuck me, Sammy."

Karen's athletic body, enthusiasm, and stamina canceled my concerns that I would not be able to satisfy her. I pulled out and pushed back in, and felt her move with me. I put everything else out of my mind, and just concentrated on our joint effort.

"I know what you're doing," she said, when she felt my finger dip into her pussy to pick up lubricant.

"I think you like it."

Her answer was to push back as I moved my finger to its target. She actually picked up speed when I drilled the tip of my finger into her ass. Her words came in short spurts.

"You ... make me ... feel like ... such a ... slut."

I knew I couldn't hold out much longer, and was looking for a chance to take a break.

"Aggggh," she complained, when I pulled my finger out of her ass.

I stopped thrusting. "Do you want me to put it back?"

"Hmmm."

"You'll have to tell me if you want me to put it back."

"YES, damn it! Put it back in, PLEASE!"

The tip of my finger was no sooner back in her when she took over, carelessly ramming her ass back at me with abandon. All I had to do was to hold on until I could tell that she was tiring. I pulled my finger out of her ass, held her in place with both hands, and fucked her until she announced that she was coming. I pushed in and released a load that had taken seven days to manufacture. We remained attached until we regained our breath.

"Thank you," I said, and took her into my arms, rubbing her back, down to her ass, and back up to her shoulders.

"For giving you a warm, wet, wrap for your cock?" she asked, giggling softly. I felt her breasts against my chest, and her cheek touch mine.

"For not telling me how high the wall is and that there are spikes on top."

She spread her robe on the bench. "I'm leaking, what can I use to catch the drip?"

I gave her my shorts, which she placed on the robe to protect it. We took seats, straddling the bench and facing each other.

"I was so happy that you called. I could hear that you didn't score at the wedding in your voice."

"Passed, I passed, twice," I corrected her, moving forward. She placed her legs on top of mine, and I moved closer.

"I knew what you wanted."

"What I needed," I corrected her again, and moved until I could rub her back and nibble her bottom lip.

"I needed it, too," she admitted.

"Seven days is too long to go without."

She let me pull her bottom lip out and release it. "I know, but what can we do?"

"Can't you make time for us now that the school year is over?"

"I'm working mornings, then there's my son to consider, and my in-laws are such prudes."

Her nipples were poking my chest, and my cock was coming back to life. She kissed me, and closed the distance between our genitals.

"Why do you stay here?"

"Sammy, let's not discuss that right now. Tell me, were you thinking of me when you took a pass at the wedding?"

"Yes," I said, not sure if I was being truthful. I remember thinking of what she'd said about not caring what I did when we were apart, but that had nothing to do with me taking a pass. I may have seen that Nora and Freda were looking for a way of getting back at Darien.

Karen took my cock in her hand, and guided it up and down her slit, once, twice, before pushing forward to take it inside her sleeve. "Thank you for thinking of me," she said.

I felt my cum still inside her, as she began rocking, She was well lubricated, and the fit was not as tight as before. Karen compensated for this by contracting and releasing her internal muscles, massaging my cock quite effectively.

"I'm glad you took a pass," she said.

That was the end of our talking. We moved together, slowly, enjoying the warmth between us, as we created enough friction to make a tight, although somewhat sloppy, fit. I cupped the cheeks of her ass in my hands, and helped her, but it was Karen that did most of the work. Not that we were in a hurry to finish, but it would have taken forever if I hadn't found her little sphincter, and slipped the tip of my forefinger inside.

It was like changing a blender speed from stir to blend. I felt her hips take off like a jackhammer. I had a hard time keeping my finger inserted, and my lips safe from her sharp teeth.

"I'm coming," she warned me.

"Me, too," I said, removing my finger, and holding her until we wound down.

"I'm such a slut," she said, getting up and putting the robe around her shoulders.

"No, you're not," I said, taking her into my arms.

"It's your fault. It's never happened before. I get this way when I think of you putting your finger in my ass."

"Would you prefer if I didn't do it?"

She didn't answer my question. "Go before we start again. I have to get up early, and you do, too."

I found my clothes, except for my shorts, kissed her goodbye, and headed for the wall and the alley where my car was parked.

On Monday, shipments began to arrive from Josh and Eddie. I told Karen about the battery charger when she called that night, but she didn't act as if she'd heard me.

"I want you to do it," she said.

"Okay," I said, knowing that she was referring to my sticking the tip of my finger in her ass. "I'm going to be traveling tomorrow, but I'll be back by Wednesday night."

"Are you going to sleep with Marcie?" she asked, neglecting to show interest in where I was headed the next morning.

"We'll share the same room, and the same bed, but that's as far as it goes with Marcie and me."

That seemed to satisfy her. I went to Denver the next morning to meet two prospective tenants and to check on the construction. Neill was in the process of moving his family to Denver, and had left Victor in charge of the building. He and Zelda had taken up residence in the vacant office space. They invited me to dinner and to catch up. Their furnishings were sparse, but I'd never seen them happier. I told them about Skip's and Laura's wedding, seeing Kent and Amy, Chase and Megan, and Charlie and Debra, but I didn't mention Darien or his girlfriends. They'd never met Darien, and it would have created too many questions if I'd told them that Megan had called me a caveman.

Upon my return home, I found that several more packages had arrived, including the battery and two boxes of parts for the rover. Ned said he had put everything in the garage.

Karen called. We joked about the height of the wall at the rear of the Parker property, and how hard the marble bench had been. She didn't ask about my trip or the upcoming wedding I was going to attend.

When I got home on Thursday, Jeannie was there, wanting to help build the rover. We opened the boxes and she showed me how the parts were to go together. This was a later revision than I'd seen in their living room. The plastic parts needed to be put together with a two part adhesive, which smelled rancid. It was a good thing Jeannie was there, because the instructions were vague. I called upon Ned to make sure we had the drive mechanism installed correctly.

It was midnight when we finished. We put the battery on charge, and I took Jeannie inside for a snack before I drove her home.

"What time do you get home tomorrow? I want to show you how the battery goes in, and check the gear ratio."

"Gear ratio? I love it when you talk dirty. Where did you learn about gear ratio?"

"When you live with two budding engineers, their vocabulary rubs off on you. What time will you be home?"

"I'm not coming home. I'm going to Russell Bertram's wedding."

"Shit! When will you be home?"

"Sunday afternoon, but Ned will open the garage for you. He'll be more help than me, anyway."

"Who's Russell marrying?"

"The invitation says it's someone by the name of Abigail Lucinda Kershaw. I've never met her."

"Say hello to everyone. When can we expect to hear how your nephew does with the rover?"

How had I let it go this far without making it clear that K.O. lived over five hundred miles away? He may as well have been on the moon.

"I'll have to let you know." In the back of my mind, I was thinking of letting Samantha try the rover. She was lighter than K.O., and definitely more advanced.

Jeannie leaned in for a hug, and we ended in a kiss. "Thank you, Sammy. I love you."

"I love you, too," I answered, and watched her run up the steps of the Baldwin house before driving home.

Shit! I'd missed Karen's call, and for what? Except for being lighter, the revised lunar rover was just as primitive as the one I'd seen in their cluttered living room a few weeks ago.

I listened to Karen's message, but didn't dare wake her.

Friday was our last day to prepare for the upcoming investors' meeting, and it caused me to get a late start on my drive to Russell's home town. There was a message from Marcie on my cell, saying that she had already arrived, and had booked her own hotel room.

"You are coming, aren't you?" she asked. I called her back and told her I was on my way. I then dialed Karen's number, and had to leave a lengthy message explaining why I hadn't been able to take her call the night before.

Since I was not in the wedding party, I didn't need to wear a tux or go to the practice. I called Marcie as soon as I got to my room, and she was knocking on my door five minutes later. She leapt into my arms and we hugged for another five minutes.

"Why did you get your own room? I thought you were going to stay with me."

"What was I going to do, wait around in the lobby while you drove all that way?"

"You could have come up to the room and waited for me."

"Right, and how was I supposed to get the key?"

"You could have told the desk clerk that you're my wife ... or something."

"Is that what you're going to wear to dinner?" she asked, disregarding my suggestion that she could have posed as my wife.

"Now you're even sounding like a wife."

"Honey, if we were married I would make you wear firemen's gloves."

She didn't elaborate, and I didn't learn the meaning of that statement until much later. We drove to the restaurant where the wedding party was to have dinner, and discovered that we were the only high school friends of Russell there. Charlie and Debra were not coming until the next day, and with one exception, the wedding party was made up of hometown and college friends of the bride and groom. The exception was the bride's sister. No other family members were present.

Russell introduced us to his fiancée. Abigail Lucinda Kershaw couldn't have been more different than him, nor did she resemble any of the girls he'd dated. She was small and refined, petite really. He also introduced us to her sister, and the other members of the wedding party, but Christine Kershaw was the only name I remembered. Christine, or Chris, as she wanted to be called, was the exact opposite of her sister. While Abigail was small and reserved, Chris was taller, and very outgoing.

"Put your tongue back in your mouth, Sammy," Marcie whispered.

"Russell picked the wrong sister. Chris would be a better choice for him," I whispered in return.

This meal was nothing like the one I'd enjoyed the previous week. For one thing, the group was divided into his friends and her friends, whereas Skip and Laura knew many of the same people. Also, it seemed strange to me that the wedding ceremony was being held in Russell's home town. Was his family footing the bill?

The burning question, 'how had they met, and how long had they known each other?' was answered by Chris.

"Our father is a minerals broker in South America. He sent us to the states after our mother died, and we've only been back once to attend his marriage to a Brazilian woman. We remained after college to market his products. Abby is Ms. Outside, and I'm Ms. Inside. She called on Bertram Metals, and met Russell."

"When did they meet?" I asked, knowing it had to be since last summer when Russell attended my party with another girl on his arm.

"September, I believe. It was love at first sight. It was a whirlwind romance, both logging a lot of air miles. He proposed last Christmas. I'll be losing a roommate, but gaining a brother."

"Is your father coming to the wedding?"

Chris pondered my question, probably deciding how to word her answer. "He's not only married to a Brazilian, he's married to the country. Russell and Abby are going to visit him and his wife while they're on their honeymoon."

I didn't find out if their father was in Brazil or some other country. One of Russell's hometown buddies asked her to dance, and that was the end of our conversation.

There were some stories about Russell's college life, but it was hushed after the mention of Rose Anne, the girl he'd brought to my party last summer. Abigail's friends tried to match Russell's friends, but again, the brief mention of 'Wayne' was squelched before the storyteller elaborated about 'Wayne.'

Marcie and I said goodnight and drove the short distance to the hotel.

"Was that strange, or what?" I asked. "I wonder how well they know each other."

"How long do you give it?" Marcie asked.

"I hesitate to guess."

"You were quite taken by Ms. Inside."

"That's another thing that doesn't ring true. Their roles are reversed. I wonder if Abigail will continue to travel after they're married."

We stopped by Marcie's room to pick up her bag, and I carried it to my room.

"Are you tired?" I asked.

"You promised to tell me about the other wedding."

I began with the surprise I felt when I saw Chase and Megan together, and went on to tell her how I got stuck escorting one of the bridesmaids.