Chapter 1

I had watched them move in, from the window of my kitchen one Saturday afternoon, a mother and her two young children. No father figure present, although there were several men helping her with her furniture, all of them accounted for by accompanying women. It required most of the afternoon and several trips with their rented van truck. I actually thought about walking over to offer my assistance as well, but opted to remain in my home once I counted the number of helpers already involved. They did not need another body to have to work around. The men were doing the lifting and carrying, the women directing traffic and organizing the unpacking as it developed. By dinner time, the helpers had piled back into their cars, one of them being so kind as to drive the rental truck back to its source leaving mom and the kids to fend for themselves with the remains of unpacking and the mess of the day. Thirty minutes later it was obvious that mom had called a break as the pizza delivery guy arrived. Sitting at a kitchen style table still waiting to make its entrance into the house, I could see that whoever had ordered the pizza had forgotten about ordering the soda too. I quickly grabbed a small cooler that I take with me when I go to play golf, loaded several cans of soda and half dozen beers into it and walked across the street to introduce myself.

"Hi. I'm Mark. I live in that brown house across the street. Looks like you could use something to wash that pizza down." I placed the cooler on the table in front of them. "Don't be shy, have a can of soda or a beer. I brought them for you."

The boy quickly shot his hand out for the cooler and saw his mother glare at him. Just as quickly, he gently pushed it back to the middle, then offered it first to his sister, then his mother, and finally to me. When we had each taken a can, he pulled it back and paused, considering if he should even think about taking a beer or should he play it safe and just take the soda. Opting for the soda, he saw that his mother smiled and he knew that he had made the correct selection.

"Hi. Thank you for bringing the drinks. I forgot all about ordering anything to drink when I called the pizza place, and it is so terribly hot and dusty today, with everything we've been doing. Oh, and I am rambling. I'm sorry. I'm Ruth Larson and these are my children, Joan and John."

"I think you deserve a break. You have all been working non-stop since the first truck arrived. It's not going to rain tonight. Whatever remains out here can be moved inside in the morning."

"Yes, we are all very tired. I never realized how much work is involved in moving residences."

I sat with them for some time, answering their questions about the area and about the schools as best I could, considering I had not had any children in the schools. John is fifteen; his sister born just ten months later, just turned fourteen last week. They are both very excited about entering high school in the fall. They were very nearly equally excited about their mother's new job with one of the newest employers in town. "New house, new job, new town--finally it's starting to come together," John said, almost reluctantly but obviously quite thankfully. I didn't pry.

Ruth's new job, it turns out, can best be described as a solver of problems being encountered by customers using the equipment that her employer produced. She tried to explain what the things do, but it was terribly complex, I didn't understand it, and I really didn't care. What I learned was that she made short, unexpected and unplanned trips to a customer's facility when they couldn't resolve whatever problem they were having via the internet or telephone. These were usually one day trips, and in theory, on occasion, overnight, but until now, none had required her continued presence beyond the single day.

I should have suspected something was up one evening several weeks later when Joan sauntered across the street toward me as I was retrieving my mail from the box at the curb.

"Mom wants to know if you'd like to join us for dinner tonight."

I had not begun my dinner preparation as yet, and quickly replied affirmatively.

"Well, great. She said that if you said yes, I was supposed to ask you to bring a bottle of red wine."

I went back to my house, and for whatever reason, grabbed two bottles instead of one, which was a good thing because we finished the first one before we were through with dinner. I was pleasantly surprised at the elaborate dinner, but upon reflection, decided that it is what I should have expected from Ruth -- a phenomenal five course dinner, including a standing rib roast that had to be fifteen pounds at least, and including a desert that was called Bavarian something, a dessert that I could easily enjoy every day for the rest of my life. The Ruth twist? A phenomenal dinner with a last minute invitation. (I doubt if it even occurred to her that I may not be available for dinner this night.)

Later, after the dishes were washed and the kids had retired to their rooms for the night, Ruth and I sat on her porch enjoying the evening and the second bottle of wine. Eventually our conversation turned to the story of her life and what brought her to live across the street from me. It was the same story that had been playing out across the country for years--two young people, madly in love until she becomes pregnant and he departs for less complicated pastures. She had graduated from high school a year early, and had been in her second year of engineering school when she met him. They fell in love and by the end of the year she was carrying his child. He stayed around during her pregnancy, although he hesitated whenever she mentioned the "M" word. When the baby was born, he reacted to the obvious likeness of their appearances and she saw that as a positive sign of a more permanent relationship, but he said goodbye to her when he dropped her off at her apartment, shortly after she told him she was pregnant again. She had not seen nor heard from him again. As expected, she was forced to drop out of school, return to living with her parents and to work menial clerical jobs for years. In what she claimed was a rare moment of good fortune, she learned of a scholarship program which seemed to have been created especially for her.

In her words, "At the ripe old age of thirty two" she returned to college, two children in tow, lived in family housing and finished her degree. Two years later she was officially an engineer, and for the first time in her life, employed at a position that would make good use of her knowledge and education. Pouring herself a full glass of wine, which she immediately consumed, she added, "And it has been an equally long time since I have even sat this close to a man much less..."

I didn't need a written invitation. I moved her around on the sofa, wrapping her in my arms and pulled her up so that I could kiss her. Her lips were soft, moist and opened to me. With my one free hand, I moved it quickly to her chest, lightly dancing my fingers over her blouse. I had barely touched her breast but could feel her nipples hardened beneath the thin cloth. She wore no bra underneath. None was apparently necessary for her breasts were firm. She moaned aloud as I allowed my hand to drift across them and then sat up quickly, breaking my contact with her.

"Not here," she said as she took my hand and headed towards her bedroom. I closed the door behind us and could not help but admire how her breasts pointed upwards like those of a perky teen. There was no sag, no settling into a grapefruit like globe of flesh on her chest. Her breasts were smaller in diameter, certainly not much larger than half of an orange but still probably a generous "B" cup for her frame size. I moved lower on the bed to kiss and suck her nipples, and as my breath blew across her nipples, I saw her body shudder. She helped me remove her shorts and panties and opened her raised legs to my hand. Any further foreplay on my part would have been cruel to her. I could feel the warmth of her crotch before my hand even reached her waist. When I did finally stroke her thigh, she was wet at least three inches from her body.

I was naked within seconds and moved between her legs. As wet as she was and with as much personal lubrication as she was producing, I really thought I would slide right in, but that was not the case. I was forced to take my cock in my hand and hold it in place while I pushed as hard as I could without being reckless. She was wet, oh God yes she was wet, but she was equally tight and equally nervous. Even when I was in school, I could not recall ever having sex with a girl as tight as was this mother of two. I don't know what she was saying to me, it was a blend of moaning, groaning and pleading for me to be careful. Eventually I managed to get my cock fully lodged in her, only to begin to pull it back out. As I began to push in again, she had another orgasm, this time screaming out in pleasure and wrapping her legs tightly around my waist, preventing me from pulling out again. She held me in that position until her motions subsided, but as soon as I began to withdraw again, another wave of erotic bliss washed over her and she clamped down on me again. This time, her vaginal muscles began to contract and expand, milking my cock until I managed to oblige her with my own orgasm.

Chapter 2 »