Homecoming - the Epilogue

It's been nearly four years since Michelle's 'homecoming', her long Caribbean cruise with Brett. I've had a lot of people asking about Michelle's 'first time' with Brett, after her month-long forced abstinence. I haven't told about it because, well -- just because I haven't. I got involved in other stories, Matt and Adriana, Robert and Karen, and a few little tidbits.

I probably wouldn't be now, except for that e-mail from Alec, Michelle's first extra-curricular lover, in Kodiak while I was in the Coast Guard. He's coming to Kennewick next month and I have no idea what might happen, if anything. He's married now, so I'm guessing that there'll be nothing except maybe some reminiscing. But, if there's a story to tell afterward, I'd rather have already told the rest of Michelle's story first.

And there is, in all honesty, quite a lot to tell. My and Michelle's lives changed pretty dramatically when I showed her that story about Alec in Kodiak that was published on New Year's Eve, and she subsequently told me about her long-time affair with Mike in college. The whirlwind aftermath of that revelation had seemed to come to a close after Michelle cut that bracelet off her ankle.

It had been five weeks since that night. Michelle returned to her job with the law office and they were thrilled to have her back. She'd never used the gift certificate she'd been given and donated it to the local domestic abuse house a few blocks from our house and was even starting to look into online law courses to become an attorney herself.

Michelle's biggest unfinished business was Shaun, her boyfriend/lover. While she was gone with Brett, I made an executive decision to suggest to him that he call Diana, the woman Michelle tried to fix me up with while she was gone. Is this Peyton Place or what?

My date with Diana had gone fabulously and we'd spent a fabulous day, then hot night together, but she was a woman who wanted a permanent relationship; not part-time with another woman's husband. And she deserved happiness, after her husband had died a year earlier. He left her enough to buy her dream airplane and before he died, told her to live and enjoy her life.

To make a long story much shorter, I called Shaun and gave him her phone number, suggesting that they would likely enjoy each other. The last I heard from Diana, right before Michelle's homecoming, was a big thank-you. Apparently, they'd hit it off just like I suspected they would.

I told Michelle about Shaun and Diana, I forget, either the first or second night in Seattle. She took it well but had been apprehensive about calling him since we got home. I remember that she once told me that she'd have a very hard time if she lost Shaun the way I'd lost Jacqui. And it appears that's exactly what happened.

It was two weeks later before Michelle called him. She was in the bedroom with the door open and I was in the living room. I heard her say "Hi," then she closed the door. Maybe I should have minded, but I didn't. This was private between her and Shaun, just like many things had been private between me and Jacqui. We've always told each other everything, but often after the fact, which is exactly what I expected Michelle to do. Her phone call with him, though, I understood.

She came in the living room several minutes later, wiping tears from her cheeks. She sat on my lap, kissed me, and said, "That was a nice thing you did..."

I sensed there was more, "But?"

"But... I hate you!" She said it with a bit of a smile, certainly not with any sense that she meant what she said. "They're both happy, grateful to you. And going to get married." Another tear streaked down her cheek, "Hard, though, I wasn't ready to let go... guess I know how you felt when Jacqui left, huh."

Yeah, now she knew. Made me think back to Jacqui, too. I was devastated when she was transferred to Helena, but then when she told me she was getting married... That wedding was hard to go to, but I was happy for her.

I held Michelle on the couch, both of us watching Blue Bloods, then The Rookie and she was feeling much better when we went to bed a couple hours later. I'd say MUCH better if our lovemaking was any indication.

And that wasn't the only night that our love life was on top of the world. It was at least every other night, more often every night. She and Brett had pretty obviously been 'adventurous' because Michelle seemed familiar with a lot of new positions for sex that we'd never used before.

Like the night that she had me blindfold her and tie her to the bed face down, knees pulled apart tight and tied up to the top corners of the bed with her feet tied to the bottom. Now THAT was a fun night! But it sure wasn't anything we'd ever done before, obviously something she'd learned from Brett.

Another thing she'd learned from Brett was the change in her hair. Ever since we'd married, it's been her natural color, dark brown. Brett had convinced her to dye it a golden blonde. She was letting it grow, too, now several inches down her back; long, lush and silky. Michelle's hair added so much to her allure. She'd always been sexy -- from the time I had a secret crush on her when she was a cheerleader in high school; the night Alec spent with us in Kodiak; to her becoming a high-end escort and meeting Brett. Her smile has always lit up a room. But now, since coming home from that trip, she just exudes a whole new aura... that I can't even begin to explain.

But that 'thing' kept nagging at me, like it has with so many readers asking me to tell the story over the last three years; that first night with Brett, what was it like? Michelle told me about the massages, shopping, etc, but never that first night. I was hoping she'd bring it up one of the many times we were making love, but she never had. Actually, she hadn't told me anything more about her weeks with Brett. Although, I didn't wait three years to ask her, I just never wrote it.

It was a Saturday night, September seventeenth, after those five weeks of relative normalcy, (although our sex had been anything but 'normal'), Michelle and I were sitting on the couch, snuggled up, arms around each other, watching a sexy series we'd discovered on Netflix, Outlander. She was wearing one of her new nightgowns with a silky gown on over it and I had on a pair of boxers that Michelle liked -- especially, with the bulge inside them that she was nonchalantly manipulating with her fingertips.

I don't know what possessed me to say it; maybe just the fact that the babydoll she was wearing under that gown was one she'd bought to wear with Brett, or maybe the scene in the TV show, but I blurted out, "Hon... that first night... I've been dying to know..."

She smiled at me, a surprised look on her face, "Been wondering when you'd ask. What brought that up all of a sudden?"

I looked down, reaching underneath her sexy clothes and gently pinched her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, "Dunno, it just popped out... but honestly, been wanting to know."

She moaned a little, her nipples are just as sensitive as on our wedding night, "Mmm, that feels good... you sure you want to know?"

I nodded, "Yeah, it's been driving me out of my mind wondering," I told her.

Another little moan as I pinched a little harder, "Actually, it has me, too, wanting to tell you. I've been thinking how... if you'd ever ask, how to tell you."

I had a great idea, "You could, umm... just... tell me?" Actually, I was thinking that tonight, while we were making love would be an excellent time.

A little giggle and a shake of the pretty head, "Too special for that, think we need to work up to it."

She was making me nervous.

"I've... been thinking about it," her hand wrapped around my cock, squeezing, "Another month is too long..." Now she was really making me nervous! "I think two weeks... " She got up, walked over to the calendar hanging on the cork-board in the dining room, "The thirtieth, September thirtieth, I'll tell you everything. But until then..."

My nervometer peaked, knowing damned well what she was going to say, "I think we need to make it special, abstain until then... maybe even sleep in separate bedrooms..."

I'll tell you right upfront, the following two weeks were NOT pleasant. After the sex we'd been having, then simply stopped, starting that night! I was miserable, horny. She thought it'd be fun. I guess my concept of 'fun' was a little different.

Not once, not a single time, did I even see her in anything except baggy clothes or her old robe during those two weeks. I slept in one of the spare bedrooms, she slept in our room. Her workday always started at nine and mine at eight, so I never even saw her getting ready for work. When she got home, usually quite a bit later than me, she always texted me right before and asked me to go in my bedroom until she changed.

Living with her for those two weeks like this was hell, almost worse than the time without her, except for the fact I wasn't scared out of my wits like when she was gone with Brett. She told me she was 'hiding her body' to raise the anticipation for that night. Well, it was damn well working!

Fortunately, my work was busy. It was early fall, good weather and construction was booming. For anyone who doesn't recall, I'm a building inspector for the City of Kennewick, the manager of the office. We were busy with a backlog of new and ongoing construction, so I didn't have any time at work to ruminate on what Michelle was doing to me.

I'm not going to bore you anymore with those two weeks. Suffice it to say that it was a damned long two weeks! Saturday morning, September thirtieth, did come, however. I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before for obvious reasons. Sleep had become a precious commodity over lots of those nights, but especially that Friday night.

Even though it's now been three-and-a-half years, I remember the happenings of that Saturday almost like it was yesterday, every detail fresh in my mind.

Saturday morning, Michelle said she had a couple appointments. "Then we're going on a little trip," she told me. No clue where or what, except that she said she'd packed a bag for me.

So I moped around home, vacuumed the floor, shaved, brushed my teeth, ready to leave when Michelle got home, wondering what the hell she had planned. She'd also set out a suitcase and garment bag, asking me to put them in the Miata, "And no peeking," she'd admonished me. They were loaded and I sat down to find a college football game. I scrolled through my Dish and found Georgia and Tennessee. It looked like a bit of a blowout, but as I watched, it was at least entertaining. Jake Fromm was on fire, and the Dawgs were up twenty-four -- zip when Michelle got home halfway through the third quarter, almost one o'clock.

I stared at her. She was wearing a baggy sweatshirt and pants, but God, she looked good.

That honey-blonde hair flowing down her back, fingernails polished and beautiful, face radiant. And that perfume! "You've been..." Hell, I could hardly speak.

"Uhuh, had a little girl-glam time, you like?"

All I could do was nod. God, I was so fuckin' horny! And the anticipation was killing me. This seemed like a tiny bit of a preview for what was coming.

"Everything in the car?" she asked me.

This time I managed an actual verbal answer, "Uhuh."

So, a few minutes later, I was in the passenger seat of the Mazda and we were headed... I still didn't know where, except it was on I-82 toward Oregon. It was a warm fall day, in the mid-seventies, so the Miata's top was down, hidden away in the trunk, and Michelle's beautiful hair was blowing in the wind like a sexy movie scene, dark glasses and all. I couldn't take my eyes away.

Shortly before the bridge across the Columbia, Michelle exited toward Plymouth. I assumed we were headed toward Portland, going down the Washington side, instead of the freeway in Oregon. It's a beautiful drive, except so much slower.

The one thing I love most about the drive down the Washington side of the river is the tunnels. I still remember as a kid, my mom and dad's car, Dad honking the horn through the old tunnels. There are five of them, one right after the other just before the Bridge of the Gods at Cascade Locks. They're still exactly the same as they were thirty-plus years ago; unlined, two-lane rock tunnels, perfect to make the car horn echo, something I'll never outgrow. Michelle knows it, too, honking the horn as we go through every one. And in that convertible -- wow!

By the way, the 'Bridge of the Gods' is a Native American legend for the landslide that dammed the Columbia River and formed a land bridge roughly five-hundred years ago.

Enough gobbledygook geology. Michelle surprised me by turning left across the bridge. I expected her to turn on the freeway toward Portland, but she didn't. Instead, she headed straight to the old Columbia Gorge Hotel before the freeway.

We'd wondered about it several times as we drove down the freeway. It's big, beautiful, right on the banks of the river with a huge tree-covered park-like yard in front and it's old. Far as I know, it's always been there, maybe even in pre-historic times.

Michelle pulled in the parking lot and smiled at me, "We're there," she said.

I cocked my eyes at her with the surprised look on my face. My anticipation had been spiking by the minute since early morning, but especially now that I knew where we were going.,

"You want to grab the suitcase?" she asked.

Not much to do except what she asked. She carried the garment bag and me the suitcase and we checked in. The lobby is huge, with big chandeliers on the ceiling, ferry boat, Celilo Falls, and other historic pictures on the walls, ancient-looking furniture, virtually everything from days long past.

They even had a porter carrying our luggage and leading us to our room with a beautiful view of the river from the big balcony. The room was incredible, everything you'd expect from an ancient hotel, even to the extent of the old telephone on the wall with the separate earpiece and crank for ringing the desk. I learned later that the hotel had been built in 1920. Not so old by European standards, but it was in Oregon.

Once we were ensconced in our room, I had one simple, little thing on my mind. Well, two I guess; that night of Michelle and Brett, and fucking my wife! It seemed a shame to ignore the view from the balcony, but it seemed pretty secondary -- or terciary.

Unfortunately, I discovered pretty rapidly that Michelle had other plans, at least for the short term. When I tried to push her sweatshirt up over her head, I got it up about an inch before my hands were swatted away. "Not now, we're going out first," she said.

I groaned. It had been two very long weeks. I didn't know if I could stand even a few more minutes, much less going out.

"Your clothes are in the garment bag, I'll get them."

We'd already hung the bag in the closet so she stepped over and pulled out a very nice looking shirt, jacket, and slacks, all new, in contrasting shades of blue. She laid them on the bed, pulled a pair of black dress shoes and socks out of the suitcase and with a smile told me, "This is ALL you brought for tonight," then before I could mention that something was missing, she took the garment bag and her small overnight bag from the suitcase and disappeared in the bathroom.

I looked again at what she'd set out. I do NOT go out without underwear! I went through the suitcase. None. Zilch. Nada.

Oookay, I guess... I picked up the slacks. Nice. Not like any I'd worn before, soft, smooth, I don't even know how to describe them, some kind of microfiber? I pulled them on, sans underwear. It actually felt kind of good against my bare skin, sexy. Maybe not so bad, after all.

The shirt was a much lighter blue, silky, subtle stripes. It felt good, too. I put on the jacket, the same material as the slacks, and wished I could check myself out in front of the mirror. Unfortunately, my wife was occupying the bathroom where the only mirror would be.

So I took the jacket back off and lay down on the bed to wait. Visions of my wife filled my head when I closed my eyes: The time we went out to dinner with her wearing that totally transparent blouse... and the rest of that night. God, it seemed like an eternity ago, but was actually less than a year; The recording of Michelle and Jeremy. We'd watched it together a couple times since she got home. I closed my eyes and there they were, Michelle on her hands and knees, Jeremy behind her, pulling her hair, "Harder, Jeremy, harder..." over and over again. God, I was a fucked up, horny mess.

And then... I sensed her presence; opening my eyes, she was standing alongside the bed, dressed in a skin-tight, black dress I'd never seen before, a thin strap over one shoulder, the other bare. It was short, silky, no bra. The shape of her breasts, contours of her nipples pushed against the material, almost like it wasn't even there. It would have been right at home in bed as a nightgown. Hair brushed out down her back, red lips, sheer, black stockings, high heels strapped around her ankles, and that perfume! God, she was so sexy!

The seductive smile on her face, "You ready?" she asked me.

Hell no, I didn't want to go anywhere, except to drag my woman into the bed with me.

"I didn't want to go out that night. We were in our room. He laid this dress out for me, said we were going to dinner.

"It was the first time I'd seen it. When I put it on... it did something to me, made me feel so sexy... this is the first time I've worn it since that night."

Yeah, I could see why. It was sexy as fuckin' hell. Damn!

I scooted over to the side of the bed and sat up, reaching for my jacket. Michelle knelt in front of me, "He had me kneel in front of him... told me he wanted to 'set the mood' for the night."

She unzipped my pants. Now I knew why the 'no underwear'. I'd been hard off and on all day and in that hotel room, thinking and waiting...

I felt her warm lips and groaned, "He was so hard, like you are... god, I wanted him inside me," she looked up at me, "like I do you, right now.

"When I told him that, all he said was 'later'... he reached around my head and pulled me onto him," as I felt her warm, wet lips engulfing my cock, then her tongue exploring the tip.

After two weeks, there wasn't a doubt in my mind that I wouldn't be able to take much of this, especially when I felt my cock against the back of her throat, then the swallow and her throat opening up, her lips sliding to the base. A loud groan escaped my lips. I was already feeling the cum starting to rise and that familiar feeling of heaven just before the explosion.

And then the cold air on the wetness. "He pushed me away, said he didn't want to come yet, that he'd waited too long for the first time to be over so soon."

"I wanted to feel him, the soft skin on his steel rod, cum in my throat, to taste it... but he pulled me to my feet, told me it was time for our dinner reservation."

I watched as she stepped back into the bathroom with the door left open and held her mouth just so as she applied more lipstick where it'd rubbed off. As I watched, I put on the jacket that she'd bought just for tonight and she took my hand, leading us out the door to where, I still had no idea.

But I saw the rest of her dress... or lack of, would be more accurate, crisscrossed straps across her back, leaving lots of bare, still tanned skin before she slipped on a light jacket.

She handed me the keys to the Miata and stood beside the door, waiting for me to open it for her. Then slid in onto the leather seat, letting her dress slide up her thighs showing the frilly tops of her stockings.

She directed me through town, eastbound. The Miata was still new, so much fun to drive, almost like an oversized, high-tech go-kart. Down to the marina on the river, the Columbia Gorge Stern wheeler waiting at the dock.