Glory Days

Introduction: This story is based on Bruce Springsteen's classic song "Glory Days," which has to do with memories, immaturity and aging. In the song, the narrator talks about, "boring stories of glory days," in a hardscrabble Rust Belt town.

As I've listened to the song over the years, I've started seeing interesting possibilities for a very nice erotic story with an important message. The plot loosely follows the song through the first two stanzas, the first two chapters, then makes its own way to the conclusion.

In order to understand the second and third chapters, you should first read the opening chapter, as the story picks up immediately without much of a recap.

Chapter 2

A few days after the encounter with Lola, Braxton went to see a doctor -- for a routine check-up, he said -- then spent an anxious few weeks, waiting for the blood test results to come back, and for the little bit of weed he'd smoked to work its way out of his system before he might be called upon to take a drug screen.

Fortunately, the blood test came up negative and he was never required to pee in the cup for his employers. Chris called Braxton a few times inviting him to go out, but Braxton politely declined, and apparently Chris got the message, because he quit calling.

As summer drifted into autumn, Braxton did start to run across some people from school, and he started to make some new friends. He even went out on some casual dates with a couple of women from the office; nothing serious, just getting out in a social setting.

He was starting to become more comfortable with his decision -- his family's decision, really -- to have him move back to Palestine and stay with his father.

Braxton enjoyed being with his dad and doing things for him, even though there were times when the old man got a little cantankerous and occasionally a little forgetful. But he was gratified to see his father brighten up with him there.

Things took an interesting turn one Saturday in late September when Braxton was at the grocery store. He was in the produce section when he heard his name being called in a questioning way. He turned and saw a vision from the past, with three small children hanging around her.

It was Debbie Stewart, nee' Koslowski, an old classmate from St. James Prep. Debbie had been the girl every guy in school wanted to date, but she'd only had eyes for Bobby Stewart. She had sandy blonde hair, blue eyes and a perky little nose, and she had a solid, woman's body, even in high school, with a healthy set of tits and an ass that wouldn't stop.

She was the head cheerleader and the homecoming queen their senior year, and the most popular girl in school, even with the other girls. Oh, they could be envious of her good looks and killer body, but they couldn't dislike her because she was a genuinely nice person with a sunny personality.

As they chatted in the store, Braxton noticed a few things about Debbie.

One, the few extra pounds she'd put on over the years had done nothing to hurt her figure. They added some heft to her already ample breasts and put some delicious curves on her hips and thighs.

Second, she didn't look quite as radiant as she had in high school. She looked tired, almost sad. Of course, having three kids under the age of 9 might have contributed to some of that, but there was more to it.

And he realized why, because as they spoke, he noticed her left hand was bare, with no ring. He had to ask.

"So, how's Bobby doing?" Braxton said.

"Haven't laid eyes on him in two years, not since our divorce was final," Debbie said.

"What happened?" Braxton said gently. He could sense that the subject was painful.

"Um, ah, we just drifted apart," she said. "I don't have time or the energy to say any more right now. Come by the house some time and we'll talk."

Turned out, Debbie lived around the corner and three blocks up the street from Braxton, and he got the go-ahead to stop by some night and they'd relive the old times.

A couple of weeks later, he called to see if the offer was still good, and when she said yes, Braxton said he'd stop by around 9 o'clock with a six pack.

Debbie had put her three kids to bed by the time Braxton arrived. He took out a couple of beers and stuck the rest in the refrigerator.

Braxton sat on the chair against the wall while Debbie sat on the sofa. At first, it was just pleasantries, talking about their jobs and their families.

Debbie worked for a local furniture store as the secretary/receptionist/accountant. It paid OK, the company that owned the store had a good medical insurance package, plus the hours were such that she could work 9 to 5 Monday through Friday and be home at night for her kids.

That segued into the breakup of her marriage. Bobby Stewart had an ability to make money that was the envy of everyone who knew him. He traveled a lot, but it had been worth it because his job enabled her to not work and still live in a nice house in the northeast part of town, where the money was.

Debbie had thought she had the perfect romance -- high school sweetheart, well-to-do husband, stay-at-home mom -- until one day about two and a half years earlier.

Bobby had gone on another of his business trips and Debbie was unpacking his suitcase after his return, when she came across a pair of panties that weren't hers. The discovery had crystallized a lot of vague suspicions she'd had about her husband, and what he did when he was out of town.

She'd confronted him and he confessed to his affairs. Actually, she said, confessed wasn't quite the right word.

"He basically threw them in my face," Debbie told Braxton, and she couldn't help a tear from rolling down her cheek. "He laughed and told me I was fat and that these other women were better fucks. I was so humiliated, I couldn't see straight."

The divorce had been bitter. Bobby hired a clever lawyer who somehow managed to conceal a lot of Bobby's assets. Debbie had gotten child support and some alimony, but not what she really deserved, and collecting from her ex-husband was a monthly hassle.

She couldn't afford the big house, so she'd rented this smaller one in a working-class neighborhood. It had been quite a come-down for a girl who'd grown up in a fairly affluent home and had had nothing but success her whole life.

Her folks helped out with babysitting her three kids and with some money, but she was a proud woman who had begun to rebuild her life without a lot of help.

Bobby, meanwhile, had gotten a transfer to Boston and was out of her life -- except for the struggles with his support checks.

Somehow, Braxton wasn't surprised. He and Bobby had played football together, and Braxton had never really liked him. It hadn't been an active dislike, just a sense of mistrust.

Of course, part of it was that he'd had the hots for Debbie, and he suspected that perhaps the feeling was mutual, to some degree. But they'd steered clear of each other in a romantic way during their high school days, because she really did love Bobby, and he was somewhat possessive of her in those days.

Braxton gently steered the conversation to an inquiry about her current love life, and was greeted by a snort of derisive laughter.

"Love life?" Debbie said, chuckling. "What man in his right mind is going to want a used up 35-year-old with three kids under the age of 9?"

"I can think of one right off the top of my head," Braxton said.

Debbie looked at him for a long pregnant moment, then she smiled shyly.

"I always did like you, Braxton," she said softly. "You were always so sweet-natured, so pleasant to talk to. I'm flattered, I really am. But right now ... Let's just say, I still have some issues. Bobby hurt me pretty badly, and I just don't need to jump into anything right now."

"When you're ready, let me know," Braxton said, getting up to grab another couple of beers. "Two years is a long time to go without having someone, even if it's just to come over once in a while and shoot the shit."

They spent another hour or so talking about their high school days, some of the exploits and events that had occurred.

After he left, Braxton drove the few blocks to his house thinking about things -- the past, the present, the future -- and about Debbie Stewart, and whether he wanted to pursue a relationship with her.

She did have a point; any man who went with her also went with her three very active kids, a daughter and two rambunctious sons, not to mention a hostile ex-husband.

Still, she seemed awfully lonely, awfully in need of a good shoulder to cry on, and, yes, a good man to just ball her brains out. Then, maybe she'd forget about Bobby Stewart and get on with her life.

On Monday, Braxton had called Debbie and invited her to go with him the following Friday night to the homecoming game for St. James Prep. He'd resisted the urge to go see his old team play, but he figured homecoming would be a good time to go.

For Braxton, coming through the entry into the old concrete stadium brought back a flood of memories, bad and good. The Jimmies had won some big games during those years, but they'd also lost some, as well, a few heartbreakers and a few blowouts.

He hadn't set foot in the place since he'd walked off the field the hero after the big upset over Palestine High, so in a lot of ways it was good to be back. He saw a lot of old friends and teammates, and even had his name mentioned over the PA as being in attendance.

For Debbie, the reminders were a little more personal, a little more painful and a lot more recent. While she'd been married to Bobby, they had never missed a home game.

Being part of the school's alumni association and booster club had been a business proposition for him, and he'd made Debbie go with him, then he'd go off and schmooze with his friends and clients. She'd sit -- or stand, if events warranted -- and watch the game alone.

Since her divorce, she hadn't been back to a game. But she had a good time with Braxton, and they met some old classmates afterward for a couple of drinks and a late meal. They laughed at old stories and bragged about what they did back in the day.

It was the best time Braxton had had since his return to Palestine, and his reward was a nice kiss at Debbie's door when he delivered her to her house.

As fall descended on the area, and the weather got colder, there was a lot going on in Braxton's life. He was working some long hours, and when he wasn't working, he was doing a lot around the house, getting it winterized and generally sprucing it up. Plus, he also had his father's medical care to deal with, with lots of doctor's visits and pharmacy visits.

So he didn't have much time for a social life, but he seemed to find himself hanging out with Debbie on a lot of Friday nights. He'd finish his work week, when he wasn't working Saturdays, spend some time with his dad, then wander over to Debbie's later in the evening, after she'd put the kids to bed.

They'd sit around, have a few beers and talk about the old days. Sometimes, she'd pull out the old yearbooks and they'd ride down memory lane. They laughed at how they looked back then, and Debbie occasionally shed a tear or two when they ran across a picture of a friend from school who had passed on much too early.

It was a nice, casual relationship between two old friends who were looking for something they couldn't quite put their finger on.

It was on a cold night in early December when they found it.

They were sitting under a blanket together, real close, watching a basketball game on TV. Up to that point, there really hadn't been anything blatantly sexual between them, a little bit of making out on a couple of occasions when they'd had a couple of beers.

But this time, when Braxton leaned over and kissed Debbie, there was a hunger in her response. Her hands roamed all over his body, and his were all over hers. As they broke apart, they stared into each other's eyes, communicating wordlessly.

Then their mouths found each other again and they really got into it now, kissing hard, thrusting their tongues together and their hands had settled on the places they wanted to be -- his on her breasts and hers on his cock.

This time, they were panting when they broke the clinch.

"Braxton, I want you," Debbie said. "Please, take me to bed. I need you."

"Are you sure?" Braxton said. "I don't want you to feel like you have to do this to keep me as your friend."

"Braxton, honey, it's been over two years since I've had a man, and my body aches for it," Debbie said. "You don't know how many times I've cried myself to sleep from frustration because I crave the intimate touch of a man, a good man, and yet I'm so afraid to trust one enough to let him get to me. Until you came back, that is. I don't know if our relationship has any legs, but right now, you're what I need. And I want you badly."

Nothing more needed to be said. They let the blanket fall to the floor and walked arm-in-arm back to her bedroom. Braxton just stared as Debbie pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it aside. He was riveted to the sight of Debbie's plump tits, secure in a fairly thin bra.

Braxton quickly shed his flannel shirt and the T-shirt he wore under it, while Debbie reached back, unhooked her bra and tossed it on top of her sweater. She held her breasts out with each hand as they came together again.

This time, their kiss was slow and smoldering. There was no rush now; they had all the time they needed. As they kissed deeply, they each felt the crackle of sensation as their naked skin connected.

Braxton's hands naturally gravitated to Debbie's tits, with the stiff pink nipples jutting out proudly. His cock was hard, painfully hard in his snug jeans, and he gave a soft sigh as Debbie unbuttoned and unzipped him.

Debbie could feel the squishy wetness as her pussy was flooded with her arousal. She cooed as Braxton reciprocated, unfastening and lowering her own pair of jeans, and she hissed as his fingers found her sex.

Almost without realizing it, they found themselves on Debbie's bed, feeling the sizzle of lust as their bodies slid together. Braxton laid Debbie back and moved down her body slightly, so he could taste her tits. He sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, while his hand fondled its mate.

Debbie ran her hands through Braxton's hair as she held him to her breast. She was sitting on a powder keg of passion that was ready to explode, and Braxton could sense it. He didn't linger on the one breast, but pulled his mouth away and worked on the other for awhile then slid down Debbie's body until he was lying between her legs.

Braxton gently opened Debbie's legs and gazed as the glistening gash that sat between them, framed by a nice carpet of fur that was a little darker than the blonde locks on her head. He smiled as he heard Debbie moan and arch her back when he pushed two fingers into her slit.

He leisurely worked his fingers back and forth in her hot box, while his thumb slowly circled her clit.

Suddenly, he bent his head down and slashed his tongue up her furrow, then followed quickly with his lips. He worked his mouth all over the dripping pussy, and Debbie could feel it in the pit of her stomach as an orgasm of landslide proportions picked up steam. She was moaning, panting and writhing on the bed as she savored the work that Braxton was doing on her overheated cunt.

Just about the time she didn't think she could take the climb, she felt something break, like a dam collapsing under the weight of the water.

"Gwaaaaad!" Debbie cried out as her body shuddered from head to toe with her climax. Without realizing it, she had her hands back in Braxton's hair, holding him firmly in place between her legs.

"Je-e-e-e-zus," she wailed. "Ohhhhh! Braxton Rogers, I want you now. Come up here and fuck me, fuck me like you always wanted to. Please, baby, I need it!"

Braxton was ready. His cock had been doing the bump and grind with Debbie's bed while he licked and sucked her pussy, threatening to bore a hole in her mattress.

He got up on his knees between Debbie's legs, then gazed up at the face in front of him. He felt a thrill run up and down his spine at the expectant look on Debbie's face, the way her soft blonde hair fanned out over the pillow.

As if they were on a cosmic wavelength, Debbie reached down with one hand and opened herself up, a tacit offering for Braxton to fuck her and fuck her good.

Braxton didn't need the invitation. He lined up the head of his cock to her pink opening and slid into her hot depths like a knife through warm butter.

Debbie's eyes were closed in reverie as she felt a man enter her body for the first time in a long, long time. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, giving herself to her old friend.

He was good, very good, taking it slow and easy as he let her get into a comfortable rhythm, let her become adjusted to his cock.

Braxton felt a swelling of emotions as he churned his cock back and forth in Debbie's creamy cunt. She had a hot, wet pussy and an active body, and he felt a charge as he heard the coos and sighs that flowed from Debbie's mouth.

He filled his hands with Debbie's breasts, which shook like little bowls of Jell-O. He worked her stiff pink nipples between his fingers and felt a sizzle go through his body at Debbie's gasp of lustful surprise.

They stared at each other, seeing the want and the need in each other's eyes and the smile of satisfaction they both wore. With a sexy chuckle, Braxton bent down and gathered Debbie in his arms and they kissed deeply, letting all of the pent-up passion burst forth between them.

Braxton felt like he was back in high school, like he was 18 again, only with a 35-year-old's experience and knowledge.

He could feel Debbie's body working under him, her voice becoming strained as she approached another climax. Her pussy was trembling, spasming with the onset of a powerful explosion that consumed all of her concentration, all of her will.

"Give me that cock, baby, fuck me good," Debbie panted. "Make me come. Come on, baby, come with me, do it, Braxton, doooooo iiiiiiiiit!"

At that, Debbie's body stiffened for just a second as she teetered on the edge, then with a loud, thudding groan she cut loose with a powerful climax. She cried out her passion as her body shook and shimmied under Braxton's hard thrusts.

Braxton held back as long as he could, but when Debbie lost control under him, he felt the white heat of orgasm explode through his cock, and with a gasp, he came hard, powerfully. His molten-hot cum spewed out the end of his cock, filling Debbie's womb deeply.

Together, they writhed on the bed as the waves of lust carried them along. Debbie clutched Braxton tightly, as if she wasn't going to ever let him go, her pussy milking Braxton's cock of every last bit of semen he had to offer. And Braxton kept thrusting his cock deep into Debbie's flooded hole, squeezing out little bursts of cum, even as his cock was starting to wilt.

Finally, Braxton collapsed onto Debbie's sweaty body, and his sated cock slid out of her well-satisfied pussy. They laughed softly as they enjoyed the glow that comes from good lovemaking. Debbie curled up in the crook of Braxton's arm, snuggling in and enjoying the feel of a man after so long alone.

After resting for awhile, they did it again, this time with Debbie on top, and Braxton got an extra charge out of the way her tits bounced in time to her up-and-down motion.

When they were finished, they showered together, then Braxton dressed and left Debbie's house quietly. They had decided that it wouldn't do for him to spend the night, at least not while her kids were in the house.

Debbie was trying to teach her children the value of morals, and she -- and Braxton -- didn't think it would look good for them to see her spending the night with a man she wasn't married to, even if the man was "Uncle" Braxton, whom they had gotten to know over the previous weeks.