Sorrel's Long Journey to Love

Early the next morning Sorrel awakened before Fletcher; a first she thought. She quietly lifted the covers and peered down at his man thing. Penises were strange things she thought; sort of fascinating, but really ugly to look at. His looked a little tumescent; not what she would call hard. It was semi-erect. She half giggled to herself; he had a semi.

She took her fingers and softly stroked up and down the length of his shaft. She touched the tip; the head, as men liked to call it. She was surprised at how fast it started to get big. She stifled another giggle. This was something she'd never ever dreamed of doing with any other man. Somehow it seemed OK with him. She kept touching and gently smoothing it with the tips of her fingers. He'd been circumcised, and she was glad of it. She couldn't imagine living with a filthy Philistine.

Sorrel noticed the rhythm of his breathing had changed. She glanced over, and saw him looking at her.

He asked, "What are you doing?"

"I'm touching your thingy."

Puzzled, Fletcher commented, "My thingy?"

She asked, "All right what do you call it?"

He grinned, and answered in a low gruff tone, "I call him Mr. Tibbs!"

"Oh shit," she responded, "Is that the best you can do?"

"OK," he countered, "What do you think I, or I mean we, should call it?"

"Oh, I don't know. Let's call it your Thingy."

"My Thingy," he retorted, "Is that the best you can do?"

"Hold on," she said, as she pulled the covers down and crawled down so that her face was beside it.

Fletcher warned, "You better watch out. My Thingy has to pee."

Sorrel took her tongue and licked around the head of his penis. It got even bigger.

He rolled over, "I've got to go to the bathroom."

"Me too," she said as she rolled off the other side.

Together they held hands and strolled to the small bathroom off from his bedroom. Once inside he took his penis in his hand and started to go, but she slapped his hand away and took it in hers, "Let me."

Fletcher stood still with his hands behind his back while Sorrel held his penis and directed the flow of urine into the toilet bowl. Since it was hard she had to push down to get it aimed at the water. She pointed it first this way, then that way. It was kind of fun. When he was finished she shook it, took a piece of toilet paper and wiped the end off.

"There," she said, "Now it's my turn." She pushed him away and sat down on the toilet seat, her face eye level with his penis, his Thingy. While she peed she took her left hand and held his penis. She put the head of his penis up close to her mouth and licked it with her tongue. Then she put it in her mouth and started to suck.

"Oh!" she said with disgust as she turned and spit, "You weren't done peeing."

He grinned again, "Sometimes it does that."

She recovered and took him back in her mouth. She continued sucking on his penis, slowly swallowing more and more into her mouth. She took her two hands and held him by the hips; every second or so she let it slip out of her mouth only to take it back in again.

While she sucked him off, he took his two hands and gently massaged her breasts, making sure to use his palms to lightly rub over her nipples. He liked doing that because it made them stick out more.

While he rubbed and she sucked, he asked, "Taste good?"

She looked up, his penis still in her mouth, and nodded.

He took her by the shoulders and lifted her up so she had to stop what she was doing. He stood her up and kissed her. He picked her up like a baby and carried her back to bed, laid her down, and climbed in beside her.

"One good turn deserves another," He crawled down and started licking her pussy. At first he only licked her labial lips. Up and down in slow rhythmic strokes went his tongue, but soon he found his way inside her vagina. He licked, kissed, and nibbled on the edges of her vaginal opening. He liked it. She had a smallish, clean, pink little pussy. It was a mild surprise how even after two kids she still had such a small sweet little snatch. No, he thought, snatch was the wrong word, too bold and vulgar. She had a girlish little puss; a cute little pussy.

He crawled back up and turned his attentions to her mouth. He kissed her softly at first, but gradually increased the depth and intensity of his mouth on hers. While he kissed her he took two fingers, his index finger and tall man, and started massaging inside her vagina. While he rubbed inside; up and down, then, fingers slightly hooked, he massaged forward and back. He used his thumb to press downward on the top of her pubic bone.

Sorrel had been touched down there by other men, two other men, but never quite like what he was doing. It was as though he knew exactly what, where, and how to touch. She felt herself getting warmer and wetter.

He kept kissing her, but he kept his fingers pulsing up and down inside her puss. He used them to press against the softer top of her vaginal walls, and then down against the bottom. He made her feel warmer and wetter. In fact she was getting down right excited.

As the sensation of his fingers inside her pussy became more urgent she tried to push his hand away, but he wouldn't let go. He was seriously titillating her, he knew it, and he was enjoying every minute of it. He started kissing the tips of her nipples; that only made her more nervous.

She tried to squirm away, out of reach, but he wouldn't let go. He kept up the pressure inside with his fingers, even while he kept kissing and nibbling on her nipples. He leaned down again and bit the tip of her vagina. It produced an electrifying response. She kept squirming, her pelvis involuntarily jumping up and down on the bed. She tried to push him away again. She felt like she had to pee.

"Oh stop," she said, "I'm going to pee on you."

He refused to stop. He kept pinching her vagina with his teeth and lips. He crawled back up and reengaged in another wanton invasion of her mouth with his lips and tongue, while his fingers continued to plunge up and down, in and out inside her crevice. He used his thumb to press down on her pubis, and to occasionally flit back and forth across her clitoris.

She was so sensitive; every time his fingers flipped over her clitoris she quivered. She gave up trying to hold him off. He was driving her silly! She couldn't control her body. She was shaking, quaking, squirming, and undulating like a wanton. She felt helpless, like a little girl.

She had to pee. She gave up and let it go.

It wasn't pee that escaped her. She released a flood of vaginal juices, a flood like she'd never, ever, given up before, not ever.

As her juices released, he climbed back on top, and slid his penis inside. He penetrated deep, way deep inside. He was so big, so hot, and so hard. This was the most exhilarating sexual experience of her life! She kept quivering, shaking, and bouncing up and down on the bed. She wanted to let out a scream, but knowing the kids were nearby she held it in.

He ejaculated! She felt his semen explode inside her. She'd had this sensation before, but never with this much physiological impact. It was a stirring, mind blowing experience. She felt him slow, and then relax; his manhood began to drift away. She'd climaxed too, and it felt nice.

Fletcher climbed off, but he didn't stop touching her. He took his hands and kept rubbing up and down her torso. He rubbed against her breasts and her sides. He used his fingers to tickle her. He kept kissing her lips, neck, and the side of her face. Then to her surprise his fingers were back inside her.

She wanted him stop, she tried to push him away, and she almost said something, but he was determined to keep massaging the insides of her pussy. It didn't hurt. It felt incredibly good. She wasn't able to stop him, and she wasn't able to stop her own reactions. She kept bucking and bouncing on the bed; squirming, writhing, giggling, and bouncing about uncontrollably. She kept repeatedly having the same sensation, over and over; they were repeated orgasms. This was unbelievable she was having multiple orgasms!

Finally he pulled his fingers from her pussy. He lifted them to her lips, and slipped them in her mouth. She tasted the warm salty flavor of her own vaginal juices. They sort of tasted good, but not good. The taste made her have another orgasm, a tiny one, but a real orgasm non-the-less.

She grabbed his head and pulled him to her chest. "I love you," she said.

He took his hands and smoothed away her loose hair. He ran his fingers over her lips, sticking an index finger in her mouth. She bit it.

"I love you too," he replied. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her tightly.

Outside they heard the muffled voices of children. Everyone else was getting up. Fletcher got off the bed, and reached for her bathrobe. Pulling her out of bed he helped her slip it in on. He held the collar of the robe and kissed her on her lips again.

"God you're beautiful. I love you so much."

She blushed.

Sorrel and Fletcher pulled themselves together and went into the kitchen. Everyone was sitting there; all three boys, both girls, Mary, and even Byron. No one said anything. They just watched the two adults as they quietly slipped into the kitchen.

Peter looked around, "I smell fish. Does anybody else smell fish?"

Mary got up to pour a coffee.

Byron got up and left for the garage.

All the kids just sat there and stared at their parents. Marion sort of knew, but the others didn't have a clue.

Mary placed a coffee in front of Sorrel and another in front of Fletcher, "The girls are with me today. Byron's got the boys. Fletcher, your brother called. He wants to see you. Sorrel I made up a list for you. We need food. We're nearly out of everything."

Both Fetcher and Sorrel were relieved they had Mary. Everybody's day had been pretty much planned.

Fletcher looked at Sorrel and winked, "After I see my brother I'll meet you back home."

Sorrel, looking away, down at the floor, feeling a little sheepish, answered, "OK."

Fletcher and Warren:

After breakfast, the dishes were stacked in the sink, and everyone made arrangements to get their respective chores completed. The assumption was everyone would be back later that afternoon and they'd trade stories and plan for dinner.

Fletcher led the caravan down the driveway in Sorrel's smaller car, thereby providing her the convenience of the larger SUV. Mary pulled away second, Byron with the boys was third, and Sorrel brought up the rear. It gave Fletcher a warm feeling being able to look in his rearview mirror and see his little tribe. Yes he thought, 'life was good.'

He got to his brothers a little after 11:00, and found him waiting there. Warren explained that Florence had come over the night before, distraught, and wanting to confess. She confessed that she had taken huge sums of money from the company and invested it in what turned out to be a fraudulent scheme. When the recent banking bubble burst all the money, like someone's lap when they stood up, simply disappeared.

He continued; explaining how she had happened on the idea of stealing even more money from the new investments, investments that wouldn't be audited for months. She hoped to be able to use the second pile of pilfered capital to recover the first. It had backfired, and she knew she would get caught if she didn't come with something fast. That's when she looked into the investments Steve, Pearce, and Sorrel had been developing. Figuring Sorrel was the most vulnerable she laid all the blame on her.

Florence had detailed to Warren how everything would have worked too, except Sorrel had passed the polygraphs.

Fletcher listened to his brother, but only half believed what he heard. He believed the scheme, and how it had exploded, but he didn't believe it had been Florence that had concocted it. When he asked his brother where Florence was, he knew his brother was lying.

Warren said he'd felt sorry for Florence. She'd been a good employee for years, and he couldn't bring himself to simply turn her in without a chance. He decided to wait one day before going to the SEC. Now he explained Florence had gotten her day; it was time to lower the boom.

He wanted to convene a meeting of all the other key investment parties so everyone would know and understand how they'd mistakenly blamed Sorrel when it had been Florence all along. Warren wanted his brother to set the meeting, hopefully for the next day.

Fletcher agreed. He said he'd call everyone immediately, and they could meet that very night.

Warren demurred on that quick of a turn around. He insisted his brother make the calls from his house, and set the meeting for his house, that was Fletcher's, for the next day. Fletcher agreed and left.

Warren's Dilemma:

As Fletcher, the always easily mislead younger brother left, Warren considered the next thing he needed to do. He concluded the best way to solve the problem was to permanently remove Florence. The best way to accomplish that was to use the abduction plan, originally set up for Sorrel, on Florence. He and Mildred could cart Florence to some rendezvous point, and let the secret agency they'd contacted remove the unwanted person. Instead of Sorrel, Florence would disappear. It was already set up. It was a done deal, easily accomplished.

Warren laughed to himself. Florence was sedated and sleeping in a back bedroom. Once Mildred arrived they'd carry out the plan. It would all be over; except for the bogus meeting Fletcher was to set up, by late that very afternoon.

Even as he sat there congratulating himself he saw his wife's private car pull in the driveway. The deal was already done!

Sorrel Goes Shopping:

Sorrel's vehicle, actually Fletcher's SUV, was the last in the caravan that pulled away from the house. Her job was to get to the Super-Wal-Mart and buy the place out. Mary had made a list. Fletcher had a list, the kids had things they wanted, and she had a bunch of things she wanted to get too. She figured she'd be lucky if there was enough room in the SUV to get it all in.

She reached the store, parked the car, walked in, and grabbed a cart. She bet she'd need two before it was over. Sorrel started down the first aisle.

She thought, 'here she was, out buying groceries for a big family, her family.' She'd never particularly liked food shopping till now, until just this day, today. Always over the last several years she'd only been buying for one.

She remembered in the past going up and down the aisles, looking at the foods, the foods she bet kids liked, and wistfully wishing she was buying for her little girl and little boy. Well here she was this morning, and she was doing exactly that, buying stuff for her kids, her happy kids. It gave her a warm feeling inside. It was more satisfying than the sex she'd had with Fletcher earlier.

It was remarkable. She hadn't felt this happy in her whole life. She had her kids, plus three more. She had Mary; her first best friend, a real best woman friend, someone she could talk to, confide in, and to share her dreams with. Then there was Fletcher; her man, her soon to be husband, the man she was ready and willing to share all the rest of her life with. It was all a dream come true.

Fletcher had become so special to her. Just a few days earlier she'd been terrified of him. He'd peed on her, threatened her with bodily harm, and he had told her how much he hated her. That all seemed like a million years ago. Now he was everything, her hero, her help mate, her soul mate, her protector, and her lover.

It was funny how things had turned out. Once not long ago she was alone; alone in the most meaningful, most lonely, most desolate sense. She remembered how she'd go to work; perhaps leave a coffee cup on the counter. When she got home it was still exactly where she'd left it. No one, not anyone, had been there; no one to put it away, cleaned it, or even lost it while she was gone.

She understood people who had never lived alone could never appreciate the forlorn, lost, and lonely sight of an unmoved cup, a freshly made bed that no one ever crumpled, a tidy room, forever neat, always untouched, never used, never shared.

Sorrel felt good, wonderful. She felt good about the missing sheets, the uncapped toothpaste tube, the rumpled sweater someone else had worn, the broken pencil point someone else had used. It was a great, no terrific, sensation to be able to yell at someone about moving something, breaking something, or using something they weren't supposed to touch. She knew it probably would sound stupid to most people, but it made her feel more alive. It made her happy; the happiest she'd ever been in her whole life. She had a home, a family, a life, a future.

It did take two carts to get all the things she needed, and it took what seemed like an hour to get through the check out line. She enjoyed every long boring moment. She pushed one cart and pulled the other out to the SUV. Foolishly she'd parked it well off to the right and way too far away from the front of the store. It was a long arduous trip getting everything to the car.

She unpacked everything, and repacked it all in the vehicle. She was careful to keep the eggs on top, the ice cream and milk containers stowed safely, the meats all together, and she was careful to keep the hot fried chicken she'd bought well away from the cooler things. She'd get home, unload, and have the chicken out on the kitchen table when everybody else got home.

The chicken was her treat; her first big selfless purchase. She kept imagining who would want what pieces. She imagined Fletcher was a wing man, and Mary probably a thigh girl. She wondered what her two kids, and Fletcher's three, now her three also, would prefer. She thought, if they didn't have enough of one or another type of piece, she'd run back out and get more. 'Jeepers', she thought, 'when did waiting on other people start to become so much fun.' She started humming a little tune.

From out of nowhere it seemed a large black minivan had pulled into the spot beside Sorrel's SUV. She paid it no mind. Then, out of thin air, some man grabbed her by the waist. He clapped something over her mouth. She tried to yell out, but his large hand over her mouth held her so tightly.

Then she smelled the awful chemical odor of chloroform. 'Oh no, she wanted to yell, someone was trying to kidnap her!'

Seconds later the minivan, operated by Mildred's hired henchmen, was trundling down the local bypass toward the Interstate. They'd covered the woman with just enough chemical to quiet her for only a few moments. Soon, even as the van traveled, just a few miles from her home, she'd awaken; awaken to the knowledge that her life had taken a terrible new turn.

Back on the parking lot, the big Super-Wal-Mart lot, an SUV sat forlornly, alone, one door slightly ajar. Inside the ice cream for the kids started to melt. The big containers of coffee, the trash bags, and the rolls of paper towels, all sat idly in their plastic bags, and the fried chicken, the special treat Sorrel had gotten for everyone slowly cooled.

Something is Amiss:

By 3:00 Mary and the girls had gotten back. Byron and boys were back shortly thereafter. Fletcher had gotten home first, and typical of most men, he'd slumped down on the living room sofa for a nap.

Mary went in the living room, tapping Fletcher on the head, she asked, "Hasn't Sorrel gotten home yet?"

Once stirred, he sat up and stretched, "I haven't seen her. What time is it?"

Mary said, "It's after 3:00."

Fletcher glanced at his wristwatch, "She should have been home by now. Call her on her cell phone."

Mary took the house phone by the sofa and punched in Sorrel's phone number. It rang the customary four times, "There's no answer."