My Loving Family

Synopsis: We now meet Pete Crockett, whose story this is. Pete is a prospector from the Northwest Territory who meets Sarah in Mr. Bose's office. After his first date with her, he discovers unusual feelings.

Part III My Story

Chapter Eight

You see, I was once married to a girl I thought I loved very much, and perhaps I did because when she left with a long distance truck driver, I was left with a broken heart. I mean literally.

I suppose I should have realized something was going on because of unexplained absences, and occasional overnight trips out of town to visit "relatives," or the one time I had come home early and found her wearing lingerie I didn't recognize only partly covered as she struggled to straighten her clothes, but I ignored it as well as her mussed hair and smeared lipstick, partly out of youthful arrogance, but truth be told, mostly out of fear of losing her. I dove straight into a bottle, and for six months managed to stay drunk most of the time. I sobered up only after the constable carried me off to the lock-up where I spent a miserable two weeks in the company of some Indians in the same condition, and the town bum.

The second time I was locked up, it was the result of a fight I had gotten into with some Mexican field hands. I was with a different set of Indians but the town bum was just finishing his sentence and was due to be released in two days. I'll never forget him.

"Listen, kid," he had said, his dark eyes looking straight into my soul while I contemplated his wasted features, "I seen you in here before. No woman is worth killing yourself over. And the next time you get into a scrap with them Dagos, one of 'em will put a knife in your ribs! I know what I'm talking about!" He pulled the tail of his shirt out of his pants and raised it, revealing a jagged, sunken scar about four inches long running diagonally along the bottom of his rib cage. "Lucky for me, all he had was a razor. If he'd had a real knife, he's have sliced my liver in half!"

I dreamed about that scar off and on for weeks afterward. But it was the man himself who turned my head around. Feeling his eyes penetrate me was like peering into the deepest pits of Hell. The second time I was released, I found a job as a helper in a carpenter shop. Business was good, and eventually the boss hired another young fellow. That's how I met my partner, Jack Whittier.

Since we were both bachelors, we began spending some of our free time together, hiking and exploring the nearby hills. Jack's great uncle was one of the few lucky prospectors who had found "color" in what was to become the Yellowknife District which, after the Klondike, became one of the major gold producing areas in Canadian history.

Jack was enrolled in a general course on mining geology with special emphasis on precious metals. It was sponsored by the Yellowknife Chamber of Commerce as a way of attracting (luring might be a better word) young men into a prospector's life. They saw it as simply good business to recruit young men to search further and further afield for gold, in what was generally recognized as one of the most mineralized areas of the country, at no cost to the company.

Jack had the fever which proved contagious because I also began carrying a rock hammer whenever we went for a tramp in the woods. We knew, of course, that the ground for miles around the first strike had been thoroughly examined by scores of young men as well as seasoned prospectors.

Then, ten years ago, we decided to get serious. Although we both were earning journeyman carpenter wages, we quit and decided to prospect in a different, but geologically related corner of the Great Slave Lake. We were looking for gold, so we tended to stick to stream beds. However, we'd occasionally find an interesting outcropping or other indication of a mineral formation. When we did, Jack always noted it in his field diary.

That was how we discovered the molybdenite prospect. We had passed it over two years earlier, but having found no "color," we decided to retrace our steps. Now it looked like we really had something.

I don't know what time Jack came in because I was sound asleep. I knew things had gone well with them, however, because when I had come to our room the previous night, the bed Jack slept in was badly rumpled. The next morning, he was all smiles and all during breakfast all he could talk about was Willa. Although he never said anything directly about it, it wasn't at all necessary.

However, when we returned to Mr. Bose's office, a message was waiting for us. It seems one of his mining school classmates had seen or heard something that led him to think somebody was planning to jump our claim. We hadn't proved up on it yet, and had even talked about him staying behind to guard it while I took care of our business with Bose, Rothchild and Gibbons.

After a quick telephone call, he left immediately for the train station, not even taking time to stop at the hotel to pack or check out. As it was, he barely caught the train.

And I was in love again. In love with a woman I had seen only twice, and one unfortunately who seemed to share Amy's trait; an abiding interest in other men, if her performance with the big stranger the previous night was any indicator. For a time, I almost decided to cancel my dinner invitation. I couldn't bear the thought of repeating the hell I had gone through with Amy. But neither could I force myself to cancel the dinner.

Promptly at 7:45 the following evening, I tucked the bottle of wine under my arm to free a hand so I could press the doorbell button. Almost immediately, the door opened. Sarah was wearing a long translucent gown in a pale green shade that highlighted her beautiful brown eyes and elaborately arranged auburn hair. She wore matching undergarments that seemed designed to attract attention rather than conceal her most intimate parts.

Like a fool, I held out a bouquet of roses in one hand, and a bottle of merlot in the other. Possibly mistaking my intent, she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her body against mine while her open, working lips seemed to suck my lips into her hot, moist mouth.

Naturally, my unruly cock responded almost immediately to her erotic welcome. She felt it stir, and responded by deliberately bumping it with her pelvis.

Then she released me and accepted the flowers and wine with a gracious smile. "Let's get out of the hallway." I followed her into her apartment and was almost immediately surprised by how large it was. She must have sensed what was passing through my mind because she explained, "I share this apartment with Willa, so we needed three bedrooms."

Three bedrooms?

Seeing the question on my face, she quickly added, "The third bedroom is for our two daughters -- my Nonnie and her Ruth. Nonnie is 15 going on 25, while Ruthie is 13. Believe me, they're a handful!"

This woman was full of surprises. Had anyone asked me, the way she was dressed, I would have sworn Sarah was no older than about 25. However, it seemed unlikely that she would have had her daughter when she was 10 years old.

Correctly reading the expression on my face, she smiled and with characteristic directness, said, "That's the nicest compliment I've received all day! I'm an old hag of 35."

I couldn't believe it. She was only two years younger than me, but if one could overlook the sweet curve of her bosom and the womanly flare of her hips, she could easily have passed for my daughter. Her face and hands were as smooth as a child's.

She invited me into their living room and left me while she went into the kitchen, presumably to attend to our dinner. The quiet tones of a familiar classic provided soothing background music. She quickly returned with a wine glass in one hand and a highball in the other. "I hope I chose the right one," she said, handing me the highball.

The glass contained a double shot of the smoothest single malt Scotch whisky I had ever tasted. "Nectar," I said. "This is best single malt I've ever tasted!"

"I'm glad," she said, folding a leg under her as she sat on the couch, facing me. "Dinner will be ready in five minutes. Meanwhile, Tell me all about Pete Crockett."

I quickly summarized my background and career as a prospector. Then she said, "I'll bet it's ready. Come into the kitchen with me so you can open the wine."

I dutifully followed her into the kitchen and was immediately struck by the delicious spicy smell of homemade spaghetti sauce. "The bottle opener is in that drawer," she said, pointing to a drawer behind me. "Let's have that merlot you brought with dinner."

She was busy tossing a salad while she spoke. I was enchanted as I watched her moving from task to task around the kitchen, smoothly and efficiently bringing things together. "I hope you won't mind, Pete, if I just dish up our food here at the stove? Serving dishes are such an unnecessary bother."

Then, after we were seated at the table, she said, "Well, now that you seem about to come into money, what do you propose to do? What would you like to do?"

"I suppose get married and settle down -- but there's one thing I'd really like to do, although I know it sounds silly, coming from an old roughneck like me."

She waited expectantly, while I tried to think of a rational way of explaining. "I like to draw," I blurted. "I've been doing it all my life -- but recently, I've begun to wonder what working with color would be like."

"Are you any good at it?"

"People seem to think so," I said modestly. Actually, I knew I was damned good. "Here. Let me show you. Do you have a sheet of paper handy?"

"Let's wait until supper's over," she said, smiling at my boyish impetuosity.

Changing the subject, I congratulated her on her cooking. "A home cooked meal is a real treat for me," I said, adding, "especially one as delicious as this cooked by such a beautiful woman."

"Why, thank you kind sir," Sarah responded. Despite her flippant tone, I thought I had seen new color in her cheeks when I had complimented her. I was sure of it when she added, in a quieter, almost somber way, "I meant this to be special, Pete."

We finished our meal in silence, each of us busy with our private thoughts. After supper, still pensive, we jointly cleaned up the kitchen and returned to the living room.

She changed to another musical selection, and returned to the couch where I was sitting, this time with a sheet of typewriter paper in her hand. "Is this OK?"

I picked up a magazine that was lying on the coffee table to use as a drawing surface. "What are you going to draw?"

"You," I said. "Please sit down like you were before." I took my old fashioned fountain pen and quickly began to sketch Sarah. In less than five minutes, I was satisfied and silently handed the sketch to her.

"My God!" she exclaimed while she stood. "This really is me! How did you do that so fast?" Not giving me a chance to respond, she leaned over and gave me another warm kiss.

"Now it's your turn," I said. My voice had deepened. Having had a chance to demonstrate my ability as an artist, I felt on more solid ground. "Tell me about you."

She matter-of-factly told me the circumstances of Nonnie's birth and of the cruel way her lover had abandoned her. Then she briefly gave me, as I later discovered, a highly edited version of her career with Bose, Rothchild, and Gibbons. "And here we are," she concluded.

Since she had been so open about the circumstances surrounding Nonnie's entry into this world, I felt compelled to share some of the pain and -- it hurt to admit it, but it was true -- shame I felt about the way Amy had run away. She listened intently, interrupting only to ask occasional questions.

I was so absorbed in reliving the most painful chapter of my life that I failed at first to realize she had reached out and was covering my hand with one of hers.

"It still troubles you, doesn't it?"

I nodded.

"And you blame yourself, don't you?"

I nodded again. "If I had been more attentive, if . . ."

Sarah frowned. "Don't play the 'if' game because it's a game you can't win. I know that from personal experience. You can't change the past, so there's no point in even thinking about it, except to remember some of the lessons those experiences may have taught you."

Her hand felt so warm, so friendly, that I took it in mine. As I did so, she impulsively leaned forward and gave me another soft kiss. "I think Amy was a damned fool," she said quietly. "You're one of a kind, and don't you forget it! Now, I'd like a hug."

As she spoke, she had moved closer to me, so it was easy to extend my arms. She slid even closer, and rested her head against my chest while my arms automatically drew her even closer. Impulsively, I leaned forward and kissed her beautiful auburn hair. As I did so, I automatically marvelled at the rich tones and wondered if I could ever find an artificial match on a painter's palette. At the same time, my nostrils were filled with the same delightfully sweet and pungent scent I had noticed on the dance floor the previous night.

Unbidden, I felt my cock twitch at the memory of my earlier arousal. She burrowed deeper against my chest and murmured, "Can't you hold me a little closer?" Her arm lay innocently across my lap.

The picture of her short skirt and the bare skin above her stocking that had been briefly exposed as she danced with that stranger flashed across my mind, and I felt a familiar tumescence in the front of my pants. In an effort to conceal it, I attempted to turn away from her arm, but I was unsuccessful. More than that, a tiny spark of electricity in my scrotum made me realize she was gently, almost surreptitiously, massaging that growing lump with her forearm!

In desperation, I said the only thing that came to mind. "Is this a bad time to ask for another drink?"

"Yes, it is," she replied as she raised her head and looking me in the eye, touched my face with her other hand while raising her parted lips to mine. Her forearm rested firmly, and somewhat uncomfortably on my erecting cock, but that didn't stop me. I leaned forward, and for the first time, tasted her sweet lips, while our tongues met and caressed.

I felt the tip of her tongue explore my mouth, especially the corners of my lips. My cock was becoming uncomfortably cramped in my pants, so I shifted my position, hoping to relieve some of the pressure.

As I did so, she also moved, sitting more upright. I leaned over and kissed the side of her neck, while almost automatically cupping her warm covered breast in my hand. All pretense was gone. She shifted again, thrusting her chest against my hand while her hand closed over the lump in my pants.

Her swollen nipple felt like a small stone in her bra as I tested the resiliency of her breast. "Wait a minute," she said. She stood and released a hidden clasp in her gown behind her shoulder. The folds of the green material parted, shimmering into a puddle around her ankles, leaving her standing in front of me wearing only a mesh bra and high cut lace panties. Then she kneeled on the couch by my side and began untying my tie.

"I can take care of that," I said. I quickly removed my tie and began unbuttoning my shirt while she opened my belt, my waistband button, and gently began lowering my zipper. Then she seized my hardened cock through my tented shorts.

She leaned over me, whispering, "The clasp is in the back," then fastened her mouth over mine, her hair forming a screen around our passionate kiss. I reached behind her and released her bra strap.

She shrugged her shoulders, causing her bra to fall away, and for the first time, I felt her hot, soft breasts, each with a stone in its center, burning holes in my chest. I closed my eyes, trying to memorize the delicious feelings I was experiencing, both on and inside my body.

Her hand impatiently reached through the fly in my boxers, and closed on my bare cock which she pulled through the opening. "So this is the log that was poking against me last night," she said, glancing down at my swollen member. "I thought perhaps you had a flashlight in your pocket."

I smiled at her tired old joke, and attempted to respond, saying in an equally jocular tone, "I'll bet you say that to all the fellas."

She stopped and looked seriously into my face. "What do you mean by that?" she demanded sharply.

"Nothing," I said quickly, "I was just responding to your joke about flashlights; that's all."

Her expression immediately softened. "Give me another kiss," she said, as she resumed stroking my manhood, sliding my stretched foreskin back and forth over my usually pink, now purple and engorged glans. "You men have such interesting equipment," she said into my mouth as our working lips sucked and caressed each other.

"Feel how wet I'm getting," Sarah said, directing my hand into her lace covered delta. I slid a finger under her panties, and touched her vulva. I was surprised by her sudden reaction. She gripped me tightly, and I felt her body tremble and shudder. I held her until her tremors stopped.

"Whew! That surprised me!" she said. Standing, she extended her hand. "Come on, lover, let's get more comfortable." Sarah's slightly pendulous breasts swayed enticingly as we crossed the room. She led me into her bedroom and closed the door.

"Now we can have some real privacy." We sat on the edge of her bed. For a moment, she was serious. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea," she said. "It's just that I find you so very attractive that I've let myself go this evening."

Already in a near dream-like state from the wholly unexpected turn this evening had taken, I was momentarily jolted by the impact of her words. Without thinking, I replied, "I feel the same way. I don't know when I've felt as close to anyone as I do you right now."

Gently, tenderly, I leaned over and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me down on the bed. Then she raised herself on one elbow and peered earnestly into my face. "I meant what I said."

"So did I," I replied. She collapsed into my waiting arms, and after a full minute of reveling in the rich feeling of her warm, silky skin pressed tightly against mine from head to toe, we began to caress and explore each other's bodies.

I started with her ears and that special place on the side of her neck, kissing and licking. Then she began playing with my tiny nipples, licking, sucking and biting. That was a first time for me, and I was surprised by the resulting series of tiny jolts I felt in my scrotum and groin, which seemed to further stiffen my cock.

Sarah then surprised me by raising herself above me, throwing her left leg over my legs, and, after leaning down to kiss me again, seizing my cock and holding it in place while she slowly began to settle herself on it.

I felt a distinct plop as the head of my cock penetrated her inner labia lips. Then she began a slow ritualized dance as she gently settled herself on my member.

When I felt her buttocks settle on my thighs, she paused, giving herself time to adjust to me. Then she leaned forward, dangling her breasts tantalizingly above my face, and began rocking herself back and forth, carefully keeping my member deeply buried inside her.

I found myself trying to thrust myself even deeper into her by rapidly raising and lowering my hips. She evidently decided to make it easier for me, or maybe she wanted more stimulation, but soon we developed a rhythm so while I was thrusting upward, she was lowering herself on me.

Our combined efforts soon had us both breathless, but the exquisite sensations radiating from my cock throughout my body seemed to take charge, and I soon -- much too soon -- felt my scrotum tighten, the familiar padded tongs grip me across the small of my back, and the essence of my life begin to flow.