My Loving Family

Synopsis: Peter has moved into Sarah's apartment and has asked her to marry him. She's afraid of his reaction when he learns the nature of her "extra" duties, but has confessed a strong and abiding interest in sexual variety and tells him she could never be faithful. Then Pete watches her dress for an evening "assignment." He tells her it looks like she's preparing for a date, and she tells him she won't answer any more questions.

Part III -- Our Story

Chapter Twelve

Despite Willa's best efforts -- and a half bottle of that wonderful single malt whisky Sarah evidently kept for special occasions -- I was disconsolate. I could not rid myself of haunting memories of the agonies I had suffered when I first began to realize that Amy was cheating on me with a steady stream of truck drivers at the truck stop where she worked as a waitress.

Eventually, I fell asleep on the sofa in the living room. The next thing I knew, I smelled fresh coffee. Sarah was gently rocking my shoulder. "Jim," she said softly, "why did you sleep out here?"

Instead of answering her, I attempted to sit up, and was rewarded with a blinding headache which made it difficult to open my eyes. My mouth was dry and my lips parched. I pried one eye open. Sarah was standing in front of me, wearing her dressing gown.

"Jim, we really should talk about this. . ."

I shook my head. "Not now," I croaked.

"Here. Take a sip of this; it'll make you feel better," she said, wrapping my hands around a hot cup of coffee.

I took a tentative sip. Ahhh, she had spiked it with a shot of whisky. I rolled the liquid around in my mouth, and swallowed it. Almost immediately, I felt warmth spreading throughout my body, and soon took another sip, and another.

I was beginning to look forward to life again when the last of the coffee royal she had prepared disappeared. Sarah took the empty cup into the kitchen and returned almost immediately with a refilled cup. This time there was no whisky in it.

"Would you like some breakfast?"

I felt my stomach lurch at the mention of food, and shook my head.

"Well, I'm not going to the office until noon," Sarah said, sitting in the chair facing the sofa. "Let's just make this a slow, lazy morning. We're alone. The girls have gone to school and Willa's gone for a job interview. When you feel up to it, I think we should talk about last night. Our conversation just before I left has been on my mind, and I'm worried that you might think I'm fooling around on you."

I glumly nodded. "That's exactly what I think," I muttered.

"Well, I'm not," Sarah said firmly. "I know how it must look to you -- how it might look to anyone -- but last night was strictly business."

She correctly read the skepticism on my face. "No, really. I mean it," she said. "I guess you're just going to have to take my word for it for now," she added. "As I told you last night, my contract is very explicit. I can't discuss it. Besides, last night might not happen again for weeks. I never know.

"I told you," she went on, "right from the very beginning, that my sexual needs were unusual. I won't deny that I had sex last night, but it was with a man I scarcely knew and who I'll never see again. In fact, I'm not even sure I can remember his name!"

As she uttered those words, I felt my stomach turn over. For a moment, I thought I might vomit, but I managed to swallow the bile that was surging into my throat. At the same time, as that urge receded, I was surprised to feel a tiny glow of pride as I reflected that the woman who had chosen me was so desirable to other men. At the same time, I was strangely aroused, and even felt my cock twitch as I imagined her naked body writhing under a faceless stranger.

I suppose my face must have reflected that series of conflicting emotions, because she suddenly grinned and flipping her dressing gown open, spread her legs, showing me her pussy. "See? I haven't suffered any irreparable harm. It's just the same as it was this time yesterday. She looked meaningfully at my crotch where my cock was beginning to swell. "But the idea seems to have a different effect on you. Do you think we ought to go into the bedroom and talk this over?"

Without waiting for an answer, she stood, took my hand, and led me into our bedroom. She slipped out of her robe, and stretched out on the bed. "Come here, you big lummox, and make love to me!"

Something in her manner warned me that this was no time for jokes about headaches -- even though my headache was no joke! I quickly stripped and dropped beside her on the bed. She rolled on her side facing me.

She reached for my hardening cock with one hand while pulling my body tight against hers. She fastened her wet, open mouth on mine, and I felt the tip of her tongue touch the corners of my mouth. "You may be upset," she whispered, "but my friend down here isn't!" She squeezed my cock for emphasis.

I was fully erect -- my cock was so swollen that my foreskin was beginning to retract and I was beginning to feel an urgent need to sink that distended member into the soft, wet solace that rested between her thighs.

"If this is what happens when you think I've been with another man, what would happen if I gave you some of the details?"

My cock answered for itself, and I knew I must be dripping precum on her hand. She pulled away, slightly, and slowly licked my precum off her hand. "How much detail would you like? Would you like me to tell you what his erection felt like when we were dancing?"

Instantly, I pictured her unknown lover dirty dancing with her, his cock rubbing her belly, his hands cupping her ass, pulling her tight against him.

"Or how he tasted after he opened my bra and began to play with my tits?"

How he tasted?? Strange, intense feelings rippled through me as I pictured her taking his member in her mouth. On the one hand, a dart of painful jealousy caused my stomach to churn -- she had never offered to take me in her mouth -- but at the same time, I was incredibly turned on by the vision she had given me; so aroused in fact, that I knew I had to find solace for my painfully throbbing erection.

Impatiently, I tried to roll her on her back, but she resisted. "I want to get this all out into the open," she said firmly. "Right now, before you begin to get all righteous on me!" "Would you like to see me with another man?"

Even though her question at any other time would have seriously jolted me, because I would have said anything at that moment to gain access to her sweet pussy, I muttered "Yes." But at the same time, strangely, I found the idea of watching another man make love to her -- of her legs resting on his shoulders while his glistening cock slid in and out of her grasping tunnel, probing her depths -- so titillating that I nearly ejaculated!

My response was hardly necessary. My extended cock told her what she needed to know. She rolled on her back, lifting her spread legs high in the air. "Here it is, dear. All yours for the taking!"

I gratefully sank my tortured cock as deeply into her body as the law of physics allowed, and rested there, feeling her cunt muscles rippling against me. I suppose we remained locked in that position for a good minute or more, but then she began to move under me.

"God, Jim, you have no idea how hot it makes me, knowing that you understand and accept my strange needs. I love you to pieces, darling, for that and for this," here she gave me a bump with her pelvis, "and just for being you!"

She threw both arms around my neck and pulled my head down so she could give me another of her open mouthed kisses that never failed -- even now -- to ignite a spark in my scrotum.

Later, as we rested in each other's arms trying to gain control over our breathing, I rolled us, still coupled, to the side. Sarah pulled her head back, her face suddenly still and solemn. "You do still love me, don't you, Jim?"

As an answer, I pulled her slender body tightly against mine and held her as closely as I could. Then tenderly, lovingly, I kissed her eyelids and the tip of her nose. "Now, more than ever, darling," I said. I meant it, too. "Let's get married."

For a moment, I wasn't sure she had heard me because she gave no indication she had. Then she sat up, and leaned over me, a hand resting against the bed on either side of my head, while she peered down into my face.

"Are you serious, Jim?"

"I was never more serious in my life!"

"Even knowing what you know about my 'needs'?"

"Yes"

"I can't give you an answer now, Jim. Let's wait six months; then if you still feel the same way, ask me again." She hadn't said yes, but neither had she said no.

Then, briskly, as if she were putting the idea on a shelf in the back of a closet, she said, "Do me a favor. I'll feel a lot better when I'm out with someone knowing that you're being looked after, too. When I'm gone, I want you to sleep with Willa!"

That startled me and I began to remonstrate with her, but she put her finger over my lips. "I'm not finished," she said. "We've talked about it and Willa is more than willing to be my substitute -- she's looking forward to it -- unless we happen to be double dating. But that's only happened twice before -- and the second time was with you and Ian."

That ended our pillow talk. Then, as couples do from time to time, we began to discuss our finances. We both recognized that the advance against royalties I had received from the mine would not last indefinitely, and that it would be a year or more before the mine would be opened. I had to find a job, so the next morning, after Sarah left for work and the girls for school, Willa and I went our separate ways seeking jobs. You may recall that Jack and I had met while we were working as carpenter apprentices. Jack had dropped out early because of his fascination with prospecting for precious metals. I, on the other hand, had stayed the course, and was a qualified journeyman carpenter. Consequently, I began making the rounds of construction sites and carpenter shops.

My timing was bad. Virtually all outdoor construction in Manitoba ends with the beginning of winter, and no jobs in my trade were available. So I began to branch out, hoping to find something in a local door factory or one of the small cabinet shops in and around Winnipeg.

I drew a blank at the door factory, but I had better luck when I applied at Winston's Cabinets. My training as a rough carpenter hardly qualified me as a cabinet maker, but it did open the door to a position as helper -- a position scorned by local framing carpenters.

The pay wasn't great, but it was adequate. It enabled me to pay a portion of the rent and to buy the necessary groceries. Most importantly, it enabled me to regain some self respect. At least I was no longer a "kept" man.

There was another bonus, as well. My boss was a redheaded Irishman named Rick O'Conner. He was a very skillful cabinet maker, and, as it turned out, one hell of a nice guy. We hit it off right from the beginning. I hadn't been working at Winston's more than a couple of weeks before he invited Sarah and me to join him and his wife on a drive up to Lake Winnipeg. It seems he had a boat up there that needed to be hauled out for the winter.

Sarah jumped at the opportunity for an outing, especially since, despite the years she had lived in Winnipeg, she had never seen the lake. Besides, I suspect she was glad to leave Winnipeg behind, if only for a few hours.

Saturday dawned bright and clear. We were in the midst of Indian summer, and it seemed more like June than October except sunrise was much later. When Paula and Rick arrived in their old sedan to pick us up, I was surprised to see that Rick's wife was a black woman with pleasant open features. I couldn't see much of her body, but I could tell at a glance that she was obviously well nourished.

After we exchanged greetings, Paula turned to Sarah. "This is such a lovely day, I brought my swimsuit. Why don't you bring yours?"

Sarah colored slightly. "To tell you the truth, Paula, I don't have one. I can't swim so I never felt the need for one."

When we arrived at the lake, the first thing I saw was a large body of water similar to our Slave Lake with perhaps a dozen white spots distributed randomly over its surface. When Rick stopped the car, he turned around. "Hey, what do you say instead of going swimming, we take old "Fun Times" out for the last sail of the summer? There isn't much wind, but at least we'll have a chance do a little sun bathing."

Sarah looked doubtful. "I've never been on a boat before," she said.

"There's a first time for everything!" Rick replied. "What about you, Jim?"

"This would be my first sailboat ride, but I'd like to try it. Wouldn't you like to, dear?" I said, turning toward Sarah.

Sarah's expressive mouth tightened in a look of determination. "I'm not going to be a wet blanket," she said, "but remember, I can't swim."

"That's why we carry life jackets," Rick said comfortably. He and Paula led the way toward a splintery dock that was surrounded by boats of all sizes and descriptions.

"Wait a minute, folks," I said when I saw people clustered around a food stand. "If we're going to do this, let's do it right! Let me buy a picnic lunch for the four of us."

"That sounds delightful," Paula said. "You guys buy some sandwiches. And don't forget the beer! Sarah and I'll go on out to the boat."

Rick and I trudged through the sand and joined the group milling around the food stand. We placed our orders, and stepped away from the counter. Rick nudged me and nodded his head toward a particularly spectacular blonde standing in a group of young people, beer bottle in hand, smiling and laughing with the rest. None of the women in the group were over-dressed, but she wore only three small triangles of bright red material; one on each nipple, and one guarding most of her mons Venus.

"That's Karen Olerud," he said. "I don't see her husband around, but he's usually close by. His dad was old man Winston's partner."

Just then the counter man called our number. We paid for our food and two six packs of beer. I would have liked to watch the blonde a little longer, but Sarah and Paula were waiting for us, so we made our way around beached boats and piles of sails and bedding, and all sorts of miscellaneous stuff piled on the beach between the boats. Everywhere I looked, people were industriously cleaning their boats and preparing them for winter.

The wooden pier wasn't as crowded as it had originally appeared. "There she is," Rick said, indicating a sailboat near the end of the dock.

Knowing little about boats, I really didn't know what I was looking at except for the exotic vision standing by Sarah's side. Paula had changed into a yellow string bikini top that barely contained her voluptuous breasts. Her mahogany coloration made Sarah, still wearing her shirt and shorts, seem almost unnaturally pale by comparison. As if she were aware of the unflattering comparison, Sarah had freshened her lipstick.

I tried not to stare at Paula, but she was more than merely spectacular. She was earth mother. Her broad hips and heavy bosom, to say nothing of her soft thick lips, broad welcoming smile, and slightly slanted eyes, gave her an erotic aura that most women could only envy.

Rick and I stepped aboard his little sloop --I shouldn't say "little," because his boat was big enough to have a small cabin and an inboard engine. He started the engine. Then he and Paula swiftly untied the mooring ropes which they looped over the pilings next to his boat. He stepped down into the cockpit and began backing his boat out of its slip while Paula stripped the covers off the sails.

Once we were clear of the pier, he stopped the engine. Then he and Paula quickly raised the sails. The light breeze filled the sails, and the boat leaned slightly as she began moving through the water. The silence was so absolute after he shut the engine off that we could actually hear the water gurgling past the hull.

Rick was in his element. He sat in the cockpit wearing only his shorts and a big grin, facing forward, his right hand carelessly holding the tiller. Almost as soon as the sails were set, Paula and Sarah went up to the front of the boat and lay on the deck, their heads in the shade offered by the sail while their bodies were exposed to the sun.

Paula removed her top. "I know it'd be hard to tell," she said, "but I don't want any tan lines. Hand me the lotion, please."

I watched, transfixed, as Paula gently rubbed sun lotion into her soft breasts. Her black nipples, stimulated by her hands, formed sharp spikes that were clearly visible even though I was standing a good fifteen feet behind her.

I felt my cock twitch, and suddenly began hoping that Sarah would follow suit. For some reason, I was as eager to show Sarah's tits to Rick as I had been to see Paula's soft mounds. As if she had read my mind, Sarah abruptly sat up. "I don't need tan lines, either," she said as she unbuttoned her shirt and slipped her arms out of the sleeves. "Hand me that oil, will you please?"

Rick was standing by this time, openly staring at the two semi-nude women, watching Sarah rub the lotion into her soft breasts. I couldn't help but glance down and was secretly gratified to see a telltale lump in the front of his shorts. Obviously, I wasn't the only person who was enjoying the view.

Paula rolled over on her stomach, cradling her head in her folded arms. "Do my back, will you, Sarah?" Sarah obligingly sat up, giving Rick a delightful view of her pear shaped breasts that swung and jiggled as she poured the oil in her hand and then transferred it to Paula's back.

Rick sat down again to concentrate on steering the boat. I was mildly shocked to see the tip of his partly erect cock appear on his thigh below the hem of his shorts!

The sun was intense. Less then fifteen minutes later, the women stood and came back to join us in the cockpit. "You guys ready for a beer?" Paula asked.

Paula ducked down into the little cabin. Sarah, meanwhile, sat in the cockpit. She unconsciously licked her lips as she nervously studied the end of Rick's cock peeking from his pant leg.

Rick intercepted her stare, and uncomfortably shifted to end his little exhibitory game by straightening himself up just before Paula returned with her hands full of beer cans. She was also wearing the shirt she had worn earlier. Sarah muttered something more to herself than to us, and made her way back to the front of the boat where she retrieved her shirt.

This time, however, instead of buttoning it again, she tied the shirttails together, partially covering her breasts but leaving her midriff bare.

All too soon, Paula dropped the sails and Rick started the engine. Instead of returning to the pier, he gently eased his boat into a narrow cement basin at an adjoining marina. "We have to use the travel-lift," he said. "She has a permanent keel so we have to block her up for the winter."

The travel-lift operator soon lifted Rick's boat out of the water and deposited it on its keel in a row of similar boats, all propped up and braced with strong timbers to prevent them from falling over on their sides.

Shortly before we reached the apartment on our return to Winnipeg, Paula turned to Sarah. "Do you folks play cards?"

Actually, the subject had never come up between us, but Sarah answered, as if it were the most common thing in the world, "Well, some. What do you have in mind?"

"We love a good bridge game," Paula said enthusiastically.

Sarah looked doubtful, so Paula quickly added, "We haven't been playing long ourselves, but it's real easy to learn, and it's a lot of fun. Would you like to try it?"