Chapter 1
It started as a quiet night, no big plans, simply relaxing on the deck and enjoying some wine. The breeze was remarkably warm for late September and they knew there would only be a few more warm nights. The fire crackled before them and an empty bottle of wine was testament to the time they had already spent outside.
Claire had slid closer to Billy on the bench and now she draped her left leg across his right, tugging his legs apart. "Soooo", she said huskily, in the voice he knew meant she was getting to that point when things could become interesting, "we only have half a bottle left, the fire is dying, and our son is at a friend's." The statement trailed off, leaving a question, the answer known, hanging in the air.
"I guess I should get another bottle?" he answered.
"Well, since the fire is dying..."
"Oh, another log?"
"Not the kind of log I was thinking about", she whispered, her hand moving up his right thigh to the growing bulge in his jeans.
It was a pattern they enjoyed over 20 years; some wine, some innuendo, and then the unleashed inhibitions of two people who knew each other and their bodies intimately. Claire was 45, but kept fit by walking and dancing multiple times each week. Tall, with long blonde hair that alternated between soft waves and straight, depending on her mood, she carried herself well. She knew she could lose fifteen or twenty pounds but loved that her hips accentuated tight jeans or long skirts. It was a running joke between them that she was almost all leg. In fact, standing side by side her hips were almost at the waist of her 6'2" husband. In leggings with a tunic, or when she wore a skirt, her legs, calves accentuated with what she called "sensible heels", would turn the heads of any male. Her breasts were a full D and that was another reason she preferred not to work for stick thin and leggy. She often joked that it was better to pay fifty dollars at Victoria's Secret to keep them high than five thousand at the surgeons. She was proud of being north of 40 and in decent shape, which she credited mostly to the rigorous, but enjoyable, practice of belly dancing. She had come to dance later in life but it was always fun to watch the faces of friends and family at weddings when she would break into a routine of shimmying, hip drops, and snake arms on the dance floor.
Even now, sitting next to him in an oversized sweatshirt and jeans, Billy was wildly attracted to her. Time did that, he supposed. When Billy looked at himself he knew that a guy pushing fifty probably should take better care of himself but he could walk all day in the woods and enjoyed enough bike riding that his legs still kept the definition she found so attractive. Sure, he could stand to drop 20 or 30 pounds but he liked beer and good food. His job kept his shoulders and arms in fair shape and as long as he didn't have a beer gut, he was content. Dark hair cropped close in the style he had kept from the service had a slight tinge of grey at the temples but if he let any facial grow, it would be ghost white. A morning ritual with a razor kept that in check. Still, he couldn't complain too much as the one point of argument they ever really had was that whenever he had a few too many drinks he started to flirt with other women...any other woman. She hated that. It didn't help that for whatever reason he was very successful at it so he figured it certainly wasn't that he had great game, women just seemed attracted to him. That thought was not on his mind now, though. He figured they were about to retire to the bedroom, light some candles, pull out an array of toys, and screw like rabbits.
"Ok, let's try something different", she said. Billy glanced at Claire with a leer.
"Fine, hot wax? Try the next size larger butt plug?" Only recently had they experimented with anal sex. Each of them found it amazing. He was stunned when she suggested it last summer. They were well into love making, her bent over the bed with him tightly grasping her hips and thrusting away madly in what was, without doubt, their favorite position. Early in their marriage she found, to their mutual delight she was a squirter. Almost every time. They had made hotel beds so wet it was necessary to use towels to dry it enough to make a comfortable sleeping spot and after one lust filled weekend they were mortified to find an obvious stain that covered ¼ of a chaise lounge on the 25
th
floor of a swank Chicago suite. She was at first horribly embarrassed but then rationalized that the odds of anyone else being able to leave such a blatant mark of lust and passion put her very high on the roles of sexual champions. In wild abandon they were fucking, her head thrown back, gasps and an occasional moan of "harder!" escaping her throat when she turned her head, thick blonde hair cascading over the opposite shoulder and whispered, "My ass, fuck my ass."
He slowed his pace and ran a hand up her ass, spreading her cheeks, "Ass? Pass the lube." He squirted two shots between her cheeks and slid his cock between her cheeks, the bottom of the shaft rubbing the tighthole.
"No, I mean my ass, stick the tip in my asshole!" She stared at him fixedly, her tongue running around her lips. "I want you to fuck my asssssss." Each word separate, distinct, tapering on the final one to whisper. He grasped her cheeks again, spreading them and let the lube run down. He took more, spread it generously around her tighthole. He put even more on his cock, so hard now the head was a broad purple knob. Slowly he touched her. She tensed. He stopped, touched it again and she thrust her hips backward driving the tip past the entry. A deep moan escaped her lips. Her body shook. They began to learn... Billy was hoping that learning would continue tonight. His mind wandered, but Claire's voice jerked him back to the present.
"No, I was thinking a hot tub and some loud outdoor sex."
"I am making the call." He pulled out his phone and dialed the spa in town to reserve a room.
She got up, trailed her finger across his arm and said, "I'm going to pack a bag, don't come in just yet."
He finished the call, fed and watered the dog, and grabbed a clean shirt from the drying rack, pulling it on as he poured two more glasses of wine. He downed his quickly and called up the stairs, "Do you want me to sharpen up or just a nicer shirt?"
"Just something nice in case we go out later", she answered. He heard the door close to the bedroom and stared as she walked down stairs. She had brushed her hair out and put on one of the colorful head bands she liked to wear but it was the rest that stopped him cold. She had donned a pair of dark, straight legged jeans with knee high black boots. Not the riding boots she normally wore but a pair of suede dress boots that folded at the knee with a heel at least three inches high. A black silk sweater, deeply vee'd at the neck line highlighted her ample cleavage and a silver drop necklace held a diamond pendant in the gorgeous valley of her breasts. On her ears were bright silver hoops, hoochie hoops she called them, and each wrist was adorned with bangles. Make-up, perfectly applied, highlighted her large eyes. A swash of lip gloss amplified her mouth.
"Wow"
"You like?"
"Yeah, but I thought we were going for a soak?"
