This story has seven chapters. A reader jumping into the middle of this story will find themselves lost and wondering about the plot line and characters -- so please start at the beginning. This story has plenty of erotic situations as well as a dose of philosophy here and there. I posted this as a "Group" story, however, Lit assigned it as a Novel; parts of this could be published in Group, Erotic Couplings, Incest, Lesbian Sex, Anal and, of course, Romance. If you want to ready more about the Pixie (Chapter 4 plus), see my story 'The Pixie, Joy and Me'. Your votes and comments are solicited and encouraged.
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Have you ever wondered what it would be like to star in a porn film?
I did up until about a year or so ago, then a bunch of things happened and the next thing I knew I'd appeared in several "X" rated films with some of my friends.
My name is Kara Barnett Turner. I'm thirty, five-foot five inches tall, with a nicely shaped '34C' top. I'm not bad looking and if I really 'doll up' I can even pass for 'hot'. I'm a dirty blond that translates to a brunette that keeps messing with lighter hair colors.
My childhood had been in a traditional family with parents that worried about all the things that parents are supposed to worry about: drinking, drugs, sex too early, unwanted pregnancies, slutty behavior and dress, wild parties, my reputation, who I hung out with, and on and on. Of course, I ended up just fine but I'm much more relaxed about life than my parents were. I have an older brother that is married to a small woman that we love and call the Pixie; they have two young children. We used to refer to the Pixie as a beach ball on a stick when she was pregnant.
I went to college in Texas and helped perpetuate that institution's reputation as a party school. I never flunked anything, but came close in a few courses my freshman year. I graduated on time, something about two-thirds of those that started with me didn't do. My parents have my diploma; tassel; and several smaltzy photos of me in cap and gown over their mantle at their home an hour outside of Columbus, Ohio. I live in Texas with my husband of three years.
Carl, my husband, is three years older than I am. He's a hunk, standing over six feet tall with sandy colored hair and a muscular frame. Sports are his thing; he's always trying something new and then excelling at them. He just mastered windsurfing for instance. We went together starting in my freshman year at State -- he played varsity football. The team didn't do too well that year. Carl thinks it might be because most of the team drank too much and shacked up with several 'honeys' in a nearby motel the nights before the last two 'big' games were played. I was not one of the 'honeys'.
Anyway, Carl and I proceeded to really discover sex and fuck away his last year in college. I spent more time naked in his apartment than I did going to classes. Thank heavens I have some brains since I bluffed my way through the five courses I took each of those semesters.
After graduation Carl took a job in his hometown an hour's drive from campus. We saw each other frequently, yet not every day so I studied a lot, got good grades, and graduated on time. Whew!
I moved in with him right after graduation to my parent's chagrin. They liked Carl but just didn't think we should be living together without being married. We both assured them that modern couples our age did this -- and, in fact, we were right.
Pretty soon we became like old married couples, I guess. We both worked hard at our jobs and started to save some money for a house and other material things we wanted in our lives. We discovered pretty quickly that we were not only sexually compatible but also shared a lot of the same values about when to have kids, how to save money, what to spend it on, and how to resolve our arguments. Most of our early arguments were about the division of labor in our household. Initially, Carl thought the wife should be his servant; I put a stop to that pretty quickly and we established a much more equitable distribution of household chores as well as a principle that 'If it bothers you and it's no one's job, then you do it.'
When I turned twenty-six, Carl formally proposed marriage over a beautiful candlelight dinner at the local inn. We'd both matured a lot and had saved up a down payment on a 'dream home.' Our parents were ecstatic that we were finally going to make it legal. We both laughed but humored them.
We got married in Texas since more of our friends were now from there than where I grew up. Some of my old friends flew down for the ceremony and round of parties that we hosted. One girlfriend from my hometown was my maid of honor; we'd been like sisters growing up.
I could write a whole chapter just about our wedding, the parties around it and who did what to whom but I'll save that for another time.
Anyway, after the four days of partying and our weeklong honeymoon down in the Caribbean, Carl and I settled into married life. Actually, not much changed compared to our living together for the three years prior to the wedding ceremony except we bought The House.
I use capital letters to refer to The House since we went deep into debt to buy it, yet it had 'dream house' written all over it. We knew we over-reached financially but this place had so many nice features about it we talked ourselves into it. At least the economy was healthy and we had good jobs.
The House was one of three on heavily treed cul de sac in the best neighborhood in town - right near just the right elementary school. We were thinking ahead. The House was five years old so had all the latest appliances and personal touches that today's builders put in their flagship homes -- marble this and that, tile we loved, cove molding, niches, walk-in closets, and on and on. Further it had five bedrooms, three full baths, a family room, media room and a den, plus the dining and kitchen areas. We also figured we could finish off the basement sometime. The landscaping was the best in town and we even had a large pool and spa in the backyard. We each had fifteen-minute commutes to work too.
We loved The House and spent the next two and a half years putting our own touches on it with expensive drapes, furniture, wallpaper, and artwork. We stabilized on the mortgage payments after a couple of years but our credit card bills ran up a little more than we'd expected; that said The House looked unbelievably great and was our showcase and joy. We loved to entertain and show our decorating and home projects off to our friends and neighbors.
We had some wonderful neighbors all around us and thus a fantastic social life came with The House. Our neighbors were other people our own age that had similar struggles to pay off their homes and 'toys.' Our best friends and next-door neighbors were Sy (short for Simon) and Nancy, and on our other side Mike and June. We saw them almost everyday and got to know them very well and we each developed a unique bond together.
Well, we all thought we were in house heaven until last year when the mortgage crisis hit and the economy started to turn sour. Sy had become a real estate agent after college -- and a good one; he specialized in first time buyers. After a couple of good years the real estate market soured he couldn't sell anything. Buyers in the property market had suddenly disappeared and further, the banks weren't too willing to issue mortgages to anyone.
Sy went for weeks without selling anything and those weeks turned into months. He tried hard, and even asked us for ideas or comments on his selling approaches. He telephoned constantly and had become very adept at laying out advertisements for the properties he should have been selling. Nothing worked.
We watched with a hopeful air until one evening when the Sy and Nancy came by the house. Nancy had been 'let go' from her technology job at the bank she worked at. Suddenly they had no income and were really worried.
"My God, we've got a $3,000 mortgage payment due the end of the month and that's all the cash we've got right now," Sy cried.
"And we're almost maxed out on our Visa card," Nancy added. "This is not a good time for us." She looked really worried and was on the verge of crying.
I asked, "Can't your parents help? Siblings?"
"They're just making it on their retirement and social security. Our siblings are hopeless; they're always asking us for money."
We tried to be reassuring: one of Sy's houses would sell soon and Nancy would be quick to get another job -- after all, she was smart, talented and pretty.
Those reassurances were harder to voice a month later when nothing had changed except they'd exhausted themselves looking for new jobs or a real estate sale.
Then the bomb dropped in our own lap: Carl lost his job. He'd been working on CAD/CAM systems in the information systems group for a large manufacturing company. Revenues were down and profits were rapidly evaporating. The company announced a five hundred worker layoff across the board. Carl got a pink slip and a severance check of seven weeks pay plus accumulated vacation and sick time.
Now Sy and Nancy commiserated with us, hugging us and assuring us that all would be well. We postponed a mortgage payment on their advice, notifying the bank that we were in temporary financial troubles.
My job evaporated two weeks later. I'd been working as an editor and writer for a magazine headquartered about five miles from our home. As the economy tanked, so did advertising revenues and then so did some of the jobs -- including mine. I got some severance pay as well.
The night I got laid off, a Friday, Carl, Sy, Nancy and I sat around drinking rather heavily and talking about all the paths that we could have taken that would have us still employed or even wealthy.
As the evening wore on, Carl suggested we hit the hot tub, something we'd done often before -- but always in swimsuits.
Sy said something about heading home to get his Speedo, but Nancy stood and said "It's time we took some risks and got daring, after all we're very close friends. We need to take risks to get jobs or make money. We'll start now with our social life."
With that, Nancy stood in the middle of our back patio and carefully took off every piece of clothing she had on. Sy froze in place watching his wife, his six-foot body silhouetted against the lights of house. Sy had been a runner in college and still had that lean, square-jawed, look. He had dark hair and a wonderful sense of humor.
We watched the unveiling of Nancy's gorgeous body in the dim light on our patio. She was about my height but with dark hair and had more in the tit and hip department than I did; yet without being a pound overweight. I'm sure we all noticed the little 'landing strip' of pubic hair she'd left after shaving most of her pubes. Totally nude, Nancy turned to us 'full frontal,' put her arms in the air in a playful gesture and went "Ta daaaa!"
That said, she turned, wagged he butt at us, and stepped into the hot tub. She leaned over rather intentionally revealing her ass and cunt to us, and triggered the bubbler then settled her body down into the tub. She let out a loud sigh of enjoyment we could all hear.
Sy, Carl and I all looked at each other. I guess we were trying to figure out if any of us had the daring that Nancy did to strip down and go into the tub naked. You have to understand that we'd been a very loving but also pretty sedate bunch of neighbors compared to Nancy's new standard.
