Chapter 11

We both signed settlement agreements, and the celebration included homemade chocolate cake.

Brian and I praised Millie's recipe to the rafters. We laughed as Colleen and Rebecca got into a storytelling contest, each trying to tell the 'worst' story on the other one. Colleen almost won when she told a story about Rebecca falling in 'love' with a professor in pre-med, who ended up being gay.

Brian was outside on the porch, playing video games on his games boy. Since he couldn't hear the adult conversation, Beth Ann enjoyed listening to Colleen and Rebecca getting a little raw.

Rebecca gave Colleen 'the look, ' and surrendered, "You win!" she shouted.

"Rebecca, was he cute?" Beth Ann asked.

"Oh my goodness, he was a dream," Rebecca got a far-away look in her eyes, and said, "His name was Randolf, and he wore old world style clothes, made for him in Germany. His parents sent him to America to teach, because he got a little too attached to his lab partner in college, and she wasn't of the right class for them.

"Randolf used to invite me to meet him at this wonderful old pub near the college where he would drink warm beer, and talk for hours about his home and the lovely Marian he left behind. The bad thing was discovering that Marian was actually Mark, and he loved to spank Randolf on camera and send the photos to other homosexuals who traded their favorite pictures and dreamed of other men's boys.

"I was crushed when he told me that my flat butt reminded him of Mark, which was why he liked to spend time with me." Rebecca still had her far-away look when Millie trumped that story with one about Colleen.

"When Colleen was in eleventh grade, she used to correspond with a pen pal in England. He was French, but living in London with his family. Jacques used to write passionate love letters to Colleen, and she would carry them around in her purse for months, endlessly memorizing his every word. THEN Jacques sent her photos. He turned out to be forty years old and fifty pounds overweight.

"It was not a pleasant night in our home that day that letter came..." she said.

Colleen turned every shade of red and gamely tried to defend old Jacques. "He was sweet," she insisted. "It was just that he was old, fat, weird, and had misspelled tattoos. Other than that, and his quadruple chin, he was nice ... As long as you overlooked his pierced nipple and perpetually limp lower lip, that is.

"You know ... Stuff like that." Her crooked smile and faint blush were precious. Between her and Rebecca, I knew most of their off color stories, but hadn't heard about Jacques. It was an illuminating conversation.

Brian wandered in, looking tired, and I suggested we get the workingman home in time for good night's sleep. Beth Ann smiled beautifully when I referred to Brian as a workingman. I was pretty certain I was getting lucky if, when I took him home, I asked Beth Ann to come to the roof of boat for a nightcap and to watch the moonlight off the water.

If it got Beth Ann out of her panties, it was worth climbing those stairs on crutches.

And that's almost exactly how it happened. Brian was only too happy to bid his mother good night, lock the house, and go to bed. Beth Ann was thrilled to be invited to my houseboat. In this life she'd never seen the moonlight playing off Table Rock Lake, and the romantic allure of the water won out.

We grabbed a couple bottles of water and some snacks and shared a lounge out on the rooftop.

We enjoyed the gentle rocking motion until we stirred it up with some rocking of our own. Beth Ann took the lead, kissing me, while trying to shove her tongue all the way down my throat.

Beth Ann looked at me, in the bright moonlight, and said, "I don't have any idea what it is with you, Mister, but I feel so attracted to you. When Colleen bragged to Rebecca and her mother about being with you, all I could think about was us kissing the other day.

"Carl, I'm not very experienced, but for the first time in my life, I am willing – even anxious – to be with a man and do ... things ... together. You know ... things." Her smile was nervous, and I knew her courage was about to fail, so I kissed her with all my heart and drew her in close.

When she felt my arousal, Beth Ann paused in mid-kiss and smiled. Her smile was equal parts sneaky and sexy. I suddenly couldn't wait to get her clothes off and make the world go away.

We graduated to heavy petting, as I deliberately denuded her.

Beth Ann groaned when I sucked her left nipple fully into my mouth and came when she felt my palm rub her entire pubic mound, from clitoris to rectum. She climaxed so quickly, it came as quite a surprise, and she stopped and stared into my eyes. I think she was wondering where that sensation came from, and if there was any more left.

It took me less than five minutes to answer the second question, and Beth Ann's groans filled the night as her juices filled my hand.

Like teenagers, we made love outside, on the roof of the boat, on top of a rubber mattress that was squishy and very comfortable. Beth Ann took the lead, pushing me down and mounting me cowgirl style, saying, "I have always wondered if this would feel good. I saw it in a movie one night, and now I know it does."

She was insatiable. For two hours we discovered each other, mapping our erogenous zones, and letting Beth Ann experience the thing her body was made for. Being inside Beth Ann and hearing her cries of pleasure, was like coming home ... and I did three times.

The last one was penultimate for Beth Ann. Her climax was far more powerful than any she had experienced in my last life with her. She rocked herself the way I taught her, so that Mr. Johnson hit her "G" spot on each down stroke. That accompanied by my fingers playing across her clit and my teeth on her nipple, were more than Beth Ann could stand. She came until she collapsed from exhaustion, and we slept intertwined for over an hour, with our juices leaking between us.