Addiction

I thought that I had a fairly normal life; some ups, some downs, but many more positives than negatives. At the start of this tale I had married Joyce, the first woman that I had truly fallen in love with, twenty four years ago. We had two boys, Dylan and Parker, who were at the start of this tale enjoying the beginning of the summer break before their senior and sophomore years, respectively, at the same flagship university in our state. Before and after the summer Joyce and I were empty nesters, and were enjoying our time together.

Joyce's only two complaints about Dylan and Parker were that: 1) They didn't communicate as much with her (and me) as they should (doesn't every mother of college age boys have that complaint) especially about their love lives, about which they were less communicative than the Sphinx. 2) They looked and acted so much like me that she wondered if any of her DNA had passed on to them. Dylan, Parker, and I are all six foot three, 200 – 215 pounds with sandy colored hair and blue eyes, and I'm almost in as good shape physically as they are (due to daily bicycling, weightlifting, kayaking, and/or CrossFit training).

Joyce is five eight, 125 pounds with almost black hair and green eyes, and she also is in good shape physically. However, the boys don't look anything like her, either their faces, body types, or coloring.

My only real issue with my family is that Joyce travels on business too much – she is gone from home an average of two or three nights a week. My job is local, and I set my own hours, so if she were home more we could do more things together and enjoy life more than we do especially since money is not a big issue with us.

**********

One Tuesday while Joyce was on one of her business trips and Dylan and Parker were at their summer jobs, I was near the end of an eighteen mile bicycle loop that was one of the best things about our community. There were parking lots A-E along the route, and I was parked in D. It had been a glorious ride on a nice low dew point sunny day. I was about to start braking to turn into Lot D when I came upon a woman cyclist along the side of the path with an apparent significant problem with her bicycle. I stopped to help.

"A serious problem?" I inquired with a half-smile as I pulled up just in front of her bike. She was kneeling, inspecting her rear derailleur, and looked up at me as she spoke, revealing a pretty face. She half-smiled back.

"Yes – thanks for asking. It seems that the aluminum hanger for my rear derailleur got bent somehow, and rotation of the rear wheel is difficult, let alone shifting," she replied, indicating good knowledge of bicycle mechanics.

"Mind if I take a look?" I asked.

"Be my guest," she responded, standing up.

I quickly took in her looks as she stood up and moved a couple of feet to the side. I sized her up as about five feet three inches tall, 105-110 pounds, small boobs, slender but muscular thighs and calves, and a perfect bubble butt; and her face looked even prettier when she stood up. I couldn't see her hair too well because of her bike helmet, but since she didn't have sunglasses on her brown glistening and intense "doe eyes" were readily visible and very appealing.

I inspected the rear derailleur and determined that her diagnosis was exactly correct. "As far as I can tell you identified the problem perfectly," I said with a smile after I stood up. "You also probably already know that even though you might be able to bend the hanger back into place you will not be able to do it here on the path, but the rear wheel will have to be taken off and the hanger probably worked on at a bike shop."

"I was afraid of that," she mused.

"Are you parked in Lot D?" I inquired.

"No, Lot E, about four miles away, and I can't ride there," she groused.

"I'm in Lot D – right near the bike path entrance. I'll give you a ride to your car in Lot E," I said with a smile. I could sense a little apprehension on her part so I took out my ID and offered it to her. "Here's my name and address. Call someone you know and tell them that I'm giving you a lift and that you'll call them back as soon as I drop you off. That way if I turn out to be an axe murderer at least you will expire with the knowledge that I'll get caught," I declared, the last sentence delivered with a big grin on my face.

Only after I said it did I wonder whether she might not think that my joke was funny, and would decline my offer.

"Cheeky bastard, aren't you," she laughed, instead of bolting as a result of my joke. She took my ID from me, got out her cellphone and made a call standing about four feet in front of me.

"Hey Cheryl, it's me, Brenda. I ran into some bike trouble out on the bike loop and a guy by the name of Brian Craddock, 727 Sagamore Lane here in town, is giving me a ride to my car. If I turn up dead, you know who to send the cops after," she said, then laughed, into the phone.

After a pause, obviously listening to Cheryl, she said "That's a great idea." Then she looked at me and with a smirk said "Cheryl thinks that you should take off your helmet and let me take a photo of you and send it to her so that the cops will have a face to go on in case your ID is bogus."

I chuckled, took off my helmet, and posed for a photo with a smirk on my face. The cute woman who had identified herself as "Brenda" then clicked a photo with her phone, pushed a few more buttons on it, and then put it to her ear again. "Did you get the photo Cheryl?" she mouthed into the phone. After about a thirty second delay she chuckled and said "You're evil; thanks," and terminated the call.

"OK, now if you dismember me you're sure to get caught," Brenda said with a smile.

"Here, you walk my bike and I'll carry yours to my car," I said as I clipped my helmet strap on the handlebars of my bike and then picked hers up and started walking.

As we walked to my car we engaged in small talk. When we got to my car I put both bikes on the bike rack on my trunk, tossed my helmet into the back seat, opened the passenger door for her, and she removed her helmet and then got into the passenger's seat. I couldn't help but notice her lustrous brunette hair which hung to her shoulders. "What's not to like about this woman's looks," I marveled to myself.

We exchanged a surprising amount of personal information in the roughly fifteen minute drive to Lot E (it's further by road than on the bike path). I was unusually open and chatty – there was just something about Brenda that inspired confidence. I told her about my family, including Joyce's undesirable amount of travel, and my two boys.

Brenda was equally forthcoming, and her situation was remarkably similar to mine. Her husband Stan travelled on business almost as much as Joyce did, and she had two daughters named Serena and Kiera that were a rising sophomore and senior at the same flagship state university that Dylan and Parker attended.

"What are your girls studying – maybe Dylan and Parker know them," I said/asked.

"Not if your sons are in engineering, like you said," she chuckled. "Serena is an art major with a minor in art history, and Kiera is a kinesthesiology major with a minor in art."

I laughed. "I guess you're right. Their classes are probably on opposite sides of the campus with 30,000 other students between them."

Our chat was so pleasant that when we approached Lot E I said "I've got an idea. Since I was going to my health club for a CrossFit class after this, and since you won't be riding your bike but have devoted the time for it, why don't you drop your bike off at Morton's bike shop – which is right next to my health club – and I have you as my guest for today. Have you tried CrossFit?"

"Are you trying to pick me up?" she laughed.

"No, just trying to see if your body works as well as it looks," I grinned in reply. "Whoops, did I say that out loud?" I chuckled.

"You are kind of a bastard, aren't you," she snickered. "OK – since I don't have anything else planned, I'll give it a try."

To make a long story short, we ended up stopping at the bike store, working out together for an hour – she did exceptionally well for her first time – and then picked up her bike which had been repaired, and then ate lunch at a casual dining farm-to-table café, before we said our goodbyes. As we did we gave each other a quick hug; then she said "If Joyce is going to be away tomorrow, why don't you join me for a kayak ride on the river? I normally go for an hour or two on Wednesdays when Stan is out of town."

"I'd love that," I replied. "I was going to go sometime this week anyway."

"As you probably have already noticed, I have a rack for two kayaks on my SUV's roof. I'll pick you up at say 8:00 a. m." she said.

"I'll be ready," I smiled. "I guess you already know the address."

"Yeah, about that," she grinned, "I could have been a stalker you know, yet you readily gave up your personal information."

"You wouldn't have trusted me if I didn't," I chuckled. "Oh, by the way, going back to me giving you my ID, what did your friend Cheryl say to you on the phone that caused you to say 'you're evil' to her after you emailed her my photo?"

Brenda blushed slightly, recovered quickly, snickered "That's for me to know and for you to find out," hopped in her SUV, and took off with a quick wave out the window.

As I got in my car I was not surprised to see my cock straining the crotch of my pants. Brenda was perhaps the easiest person to talk to I had ever met. Plus, while she was far from classically beautiful the shape of her body and her facial features, as well as the way that she carried herself in general, made her as alluring as any woman I had ever met. As I drove away I assured myself "You've never cheated on Joyce after being together twenty six years, including twenty four married, and you're not about to start now."

I hoped that I was right because I hated cheaters.

****************

Over the next few weeks Brenda and I became great friends. Since we both had jobs that allowed us the freedom to work when we wanted to, as long as we got the job done, and since we both loved all forms of exercise and outdoors adventure, we did things together at least three times a week, normally for several hours each time. It was really fun having a buddy. There was a problem however; I was getting significantly sexually attracted to her.

The problem came to a head one day when both of us got tipped over in our kayaks and ended up dragging them to the shore. At first we laughed and teased each other, but as Brenda stood up from strapping her paddle to her kayak her face was right next to mine – as close as it could be given our one foot height differential.

I couldn't help myself. I kissed her quickly on the lips. She gave me a quizzical look. I then hugged her to me and kissed her deeply. When we mutually broke it off she stared right into my eyes. "You know that we both hate cheaters, and that the last thing that we want is to break up each other's families. Cheaters seem to always eventually get caught. I'm attracted to you too, but kissing like we just did will lead to fucking and then likely disaster."

We silently made eye contact for what seemed like a long time. While staring at her my big head took over control from my little one and I finally replied with a smile "You're right. I apologize and will keep my hands to myself – unless it's to prevent you from drowning."

She smiled back, gave me a quick peck on the lips, and said "Since you're so noble, and since you weakened my knees with your amorous activity, how about strapping my kayak, in addition to yours, on the roof of my SUV.

I complied.

Nothing more was said or done for a week; then another incident.

Brenda and I were swimming in a local lake to cool after an hour of kayaking. She made some smart ass comment, and I snapped the elastic on her one-piece swim suit just above her ass. Quick as a cat she turned toward me and before I could do anything to stop her she grabbed my balls – through my swim suit.

"You don't want to get fresh with me, Brian-baby," she fake snarled. "I would hate to have to crack your nuts," she said as she squeezed – not hard enough for real pain but it definitely got my attention.

I don't think that the result was what she expected. My cock got rock hard and if my swim suit wasn't loose fitting would have burst it.

"Well, well, well; looks like you don't have any control of your little friend, do you," Brenda cackled.

"Please let me go – I'll be good," I moaned.

She laughed, released me, and then turned her back.

I got behind her and grabbed her boobs with my still hard cock pressing into her ass. "You can't do that," she groaned, making no attempt to remove my hands from her nipples which were straining the material of her suit top.

When I felt my cock pulsing I quickly regained control by backing off away from her. I plopped down on the ground. She turned toward me and then also dropped to the ground, about three feet in front of me.

"I'm really struggling, Brenda. We need to do something to help me cool my ardor for you," I mumbled.

"I need something to cool my ardor for you too," she groaned in reply. "I almost pulled down your shorts and started sucking your cock when it came alive."

"I can't give up interacting with you, though – we have such a good time doing things together; you're more fun than anyone else I've ever associated with, and I don't want to give up our friendship or activities," I grumbled.

After another delay she snapped her head up. "I have what I hope is a partial solution. From what you've told me Joyce is a very likeable person, and Stan is too. If we get to know each other's spouses – and maybe even families – that will have the effect of ramping down any lustful feelings."

I thought about it for a minute as her brain seemed to be hashing over scenarios. "I think that you're right," I replied. "How do we go about it?"

"I am in the process of planning a barbeque at my house for next Saturday– I'll include you, Dylan and Parker on the guest list. There will be at least thirty people there, including at least fifteen Serena and Kiera's age. How does that sound."

"Let's make it work," I grinned, and then avoided body contact with her for the rest of the day.

**************

Brenda's barbeque turned out great. I got to know Stan and she got to know Joyce, and the rest of the "adults" there were also friendly, not an asshole among them. Joyce and I were introduced to Serena and Kiera. Brenda was right – except for the fact that they each were about an inch or two taller than Brenda and maybe five to ten pounds heavier – they appeared to be closer to clones of Brenda than her children.

I did see Serena and Kiera at least introduce themselves to Dylan and Parker, and all of the under twenty two set seemed to have a raucous time together, playing volleyball, beer ping pong, and various other games in Brenda and Stan's backyard, which seemed to be perfectly suited for such activities.

We were among the last to leave the party – around midnight. On the way home of course Joyce tried to interrogate the boys about whether then met any interesting people. All they said, with Cheshire cat grins, was that they had a good time and were glad that they came. However, they were predictably completely closed-mouthed about whether any of what seemed to be a dozen very attractive women seventeen to twenty two years old that were at the party appealed to them.

Brenda and I post-mortemed the party when we went cycling and to lunch the next Monday. I asked her if Serena and Kiera had any impression of the good-looking guys there. "Brian, because I had an overly intrusive mother, I never ask questions about stuff like that, and they don't volunteer information. Stan tried to interrogate them about it and they just laughed him off with 'We had fun Dad, but we didn't get engaged, so leave it at that,' they told him."

The party had the desired effect; I went to a professional baseball game with Stan and two other guys one weekend, and Brenda went to a play with Joyce and the wives of the two other guys at the same time. For the next two plus weeks despite the fact that Brenda and I had outings together seven different times everything was low key between us – we had fun, but no kissing or groping.

Then the train went off the rails!

***************

In a strange confluence of events, Joyce and Stan both had unusual Friday afternoon-Sunday afternoon out-of-town conferences on the weekend three weeks after Brenda's party; Dylan and Parker left for the weekend Friday night to go to the beach; and Serena and Kiera left for the weekend Saturday morning to visit some sorority sisters at a lake house of one of their parents. Brenda had been bragging about what a good dancer she was, and we were feeling secure in our ability to avoid any lustful contact, so we made arrangements to go to dinner and a club. We didn't hide that from Joyce or Stan, but had to promise them that the four of us would go to dinner and clubbing the next Saturday.

"You scope out the best club for us," was Joyce's take.

When I picked Brenda up early Saturday evening, she looked as good as she ever had. While she had had a dress on at the barbeque – the only other time that I saw her in one – she was very understated there, including having her hair in a bun, no makeup on, and her dress didn't flatter her toned thighs or sculptured ass. This night her dress really flattered her, she had just the right amount of light makeup, her hair was well-groomed but loose on her shoulders, and she looked radiant.

We had a relatively low-key dinner, although it was with plenty of laughs – including at least a half dozen off-color jokes that she had gotten from her friend Cheryl, who was a single nurse. We went to one club that was too dull for us, but the second one was lively and just right.

Brenda was as good a dancer as she alleged that she was, and for a guy that has never studied dance I can hold my own with anyone. Plus, I wanted to stay out on the dance floor with Brenda because I didn't want her dancing with anyone else, and even then had to "discourage" a couple of drunks with a strong arm.

There were two things that were unusual that night.

The first unusual thing was that Brenda was drinking more alcohol than I had ever seen her. She and I are both almost teetotalers, but not this night. Between dinner and the clubs she probably had two glasses of wine and four pina colodas; I simply had a couple of beers.

The second thing was that when we danced two slow dances – including the last one of the night – she molded herself to me either unaware of, or not caring about, the effect that her body contact had on my Johnson.

As we drove to drop her off about 1:00 a. m. she was giddy and chatty, and constantly made contact with me, although in a playful rather than overtly sexual manner. When we got to her house she said "Can you come in and help me replace a couple of screens that I dislodged today, and that I don't want Stan to know that I did because it's a sore spot between us."

"Can it wait until tomorrow?" I asked.

"No – because I want to sleep in and Stan should be back early afternoon. Come on, Brian-baby. If you do, you can have these," she chuckled as she reached under her dress, pulled off her lace panties, and stuck them in my shirt.

"And how am I supposed to explain the panties to Joyce?" I laughed.

"Tell her that this is what you want to get her, and ask if she likes it," Brenda laughed.

Brenda could tell that I was hesitating. "I really need your help, dude – I'll even tell you what Cheryl said when I emailed her your photo the day that we met," she giggled.

I relented, and we entered her house – she had a little trouble with her key so I opened the door up for her.