Lives Well-Lived

Author's Note: As always, any feedback from readers -- whether favorable or not -- is much appreciated. Please vote and provide your comments! Regards, Average Bear

*

"LIVES WELL-LIVED"

The house lights in the hotel conference center dimmed. A spotlight flitted across the stage, resting finally on the solitary figure at the podium. Her sequined black dress shimmered with fragments of reflected light. She cleared her throat in a not-so-subtle effort to hush the dinner crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she began, "welcome to the awards segment of our annual Global Association of Risk Professionals' meeting here in Geneva...." As she extended welcomes to guests and lavished praises on organizers, an elderly woman shifted slowly in her wheelchair. She struggled momentarily to turn the chair away from the dinner table and toward the stage.

A diminutive young man seated beside her stood to assist. His brown, smooth-skinned hands contrasted starkly against her gnarled white fingers, even in the dim shadows of the stage lights. He turned and locked the chair, then nuzzled his brown nose against her pink cheek.

He pushed a wisp of her white hair behind her left ear as she beamed up at him. "Ah-kuhn," she whispered, "thank you, Sokren." He bowed his head in response, hands pressed together in a motion approaching prayer. "I am honored, yee-ay Lynnette." The term "yee-ay" in his native Khmer language of Cambodia connoted "grandmother," but was also a term of respect for an elderly woman.

The introductory speech had mercifully droned to an end. "And without further adieu, ladies and gentlemen, I give to you this year's winner of GARP's Enterprise Risk Management award. For his groundbreaking work in applying the field of enterprise risk management to the relief of human suffering, this year's award goes to Sokren Prath, executive director of Cambodia's 'Preah Vihear Project'!"

The crowd, never known as a raucous group, rose to their feet in polite applause. The brown-skinned young man strode slowly toward the stage. His traditional silk shirt became almost phosphorescent as the spotlight found him.

As the crowd continued to clap, the white-haired woman sat in her wheelchair, clutching an old photograph, tears streaming down her face. Her mind drifted back across many years to the beginning of her Southeast Asian journey...

* * * * * * * *

"Come on, Lynnette -- let's go!" prodded her husband. He hurried ahead of her, carrying their bags through the exit doors of Phnom Penh International Airport. "Come on, sweetie!"

Jeff Sinclair had always been a man of action. Dropping the luggage, he hailed the driver of a tuk-tuk, a sort of hybrid motorcycle-powered carriage.

Meanwhile, the overpowering heat had stopped Lynnette in her tracks. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, nose, upper lip and chin. As Jeff negotiated a price with the driver, neither truly understanding the other's language, Lynnette watched her husband with fascination. She raised her camera and snapped a photograph.

The picture captured the essence of the man Lynnette loved so deeply. Fine lines etched by time and smiles were just beginning to crease the corners of Jeff's cobalt blue eyes and smiling mouth. Flecks of silver salted his coarse mane of inky-black hair.

She thought about his numerous attributes that the camera didn't capture. There were the emotional ones -- his protective instincts toward her, his love of children despite their inability to produce them, his affectionate and tender ways. There were the spiritual ones -- his deep and abiding faith, his boundless optimism, his genuine humility despite his extraordinary abilities. And then there were the physical ones -- his rippled abdominal muscles, his taut buttocks, his thick and turgid penis anxiously awaiting her touch.

Saliva filled her mouth as her hand dropped to her side, still holding the camera. She stood still, watching him. Despite the heat and her fatigue, she knew she would taste his salty cum before the night was through. She would lick circles around his erect member and then take his cock head in her mouth, her head bobbing up and down, taking him deeper and deeper in her throat, seeking to bring him to orgasm. She would feel the warmth of his breath on her pussy lips as he prepared to penetrate her moist slit with his probing tongue. She knew he would wait to cum in her mouth until she came in his. Sixty-nine was their mutually favorite number, though only one of a few of their favorite sexual positions.

Lynnette felt her heart swell joyfully within her rib cage -- twelve years of marriage had done nothing to dampen their torrid affair. "But what have we gotten ourselves into?" she thought. A volunteer assignment with GARP, the Global Association of Risk Professionals, had led to a year of preparatory research, a boatload of uncertainty, dozens of well-laid plans, and a pair of one-way EVA Airlines tickets to Cambodia...

* * * * * * * *

"It gives me great pleasure and much honor to accept this award," stated Sokren humbly, clutching the podium. "I have many people to thank -- and much to explain..."

* * * * * * * *

Lynnette licked her ice cream cone as she and Jeff sat in the air-conditioned comfort of the upstairs room at the Blue Pumpkin café. She was thinking of his cock as she licked. The suggestive licks captured Jeff's attention.

"Sweetheart, you're making me hard just watching you do that," he smiled.

"Good. I'm going to make you miserable until you take me back to the hotel and ravish me," she teased.

"Soon enough," he promised, "but for now, let's talk about the work we're here to do."

"You're right, of course," she answered, "and I'm developing more and more of a sense of urgency about the work, not just about having you inside me."

She let the import of her last few words have time to sink in. Jeff squirmed in his seat, crossing his legs in an attempt to hide his massive boner.

She grinned as she watched him. "But back to the first urgency issue, the issue of TIME. These last three months in Siem Reap have felt like a dream, but time isn't a renewable resource. You remember that reference about the passing of time that you're always quoting from the Psalms?"

"Yep -- 'As for the days of our life, they contain seventy years, or if due to strength, eighty years... So teach us to number our days, that we may present to Thee a heart of wisdom.' It's from the last part of Psalm 90," Jeff replied.

"Yeah, that's it. Sort of like loveable old MacDonald Carey's words at the beginning of that old TV soap opera, Days of Our Lives: 'Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives.' I've been thinking, Jeff."

"Dangerous activity," he smiled, "Yes?"

"Time really does fly. We need to make the most of the time we have. Especially the time we have here. There's so much more of a difference to be made."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for instance, your finance assignment with GARP seems a little narrow in scope. Don't get me wrong -- it's a worthy proposition, and it's what you're here to do. I'm not saying you shouldn't keep working on it. But I don't think we should limit ourselves to financial work. Other differences are needed just as desperately in this country."

"Sure, that's obvious. Cambodia's been through hell on earth. Just think about the history. There was butchery and genocide. Millions of land mines were left behind, killing and maiming innocent civilians to this day. And now, even in peacetime, there's rampant poverty. The average citizen lives on less than two dollars a day."

"And then there are the KIDS," interrupted Lynnette.

"Yep. The country's lack of law enforcement and its relative obscurity gave rise to a prolific child sex trade. Add to that the highest rate of child abandonment in the world. Meanwhile, the AIDS epidemic found its Pacific Rim foothold in Khmer culture, leaving thousands of orphans in its wake. So what sort of difference-making do you have in mind?"

"I'm thinking about the kids as the future of this beautiful country. You've seen how so many of them roam the streets, begging people to buy their little trinkets. You felt like the Pied Piper the first time you bought from them near the temples at Angkor Wat, and droves of them followed you all the way to the car. I think we can do something to make their lives better."

"Like what?"

"I don't know -- something. Let's put our minds and hearts to it. You're the one who's always saying that to whom much is entrusted, much is required. We've been entrusted with certain knowledge, certain experiences, and certain abilities. Something is required of us."

"Yep -- you're right. Gotta say it, no matter how sappy it sounds -- you make me a better man than I am by myself. Guess that's why I fell in love with you. That, or the way you can make a skirt twitch with that little sway of your hips."

"You're a bad, bad boy," she smiled, "I'm going to teach you a lesson when we get back to the hotel."

"Is that a threat, or a promise?" His grin nearly reached both ears.

Back at the hotel, the door of their room was barely shut when Jeff wrapped his arms around Lynnette and lifted her off the floor. She leaned back and looked into the depths of those magnetic blue eyes, those eyes that reflected the fire in her bosom. She had to have him, right here and now. She locked her legs around his mid-section.

Their lips pressed together, expressing hunger that neither could completely convey with words. Jeff tugged from the bottom of the silk floral print wrap that encased Lynnette's firm and supple body, raising it above her waist. He pressed his steely crotch against the moistness of her blue silk panties.

As Jeff placed Lynnette's feet on the floor and pulled the last of the wrap from her body, the hotel's air conditioning brought her bra-covered nipples to full salute. Jeff's eyes locked on her turgid peaks.

She saw the raw need within him and immediately pulled her bra down in invitation. She pulled the back of the bra around her torso to unclasp it, then dropped it to the floor.

He bent his head down and took one areole in lips, then tenderly bathed it in saliva with his tongue. He enveloped it in his mouth and suckled as he kneaded the other areole between his thumb and forefinger. Both nipples protruded in full erection from the cool air and her sexual agitation.

He was always amazed at how new, how fresh she felt to him every time they made love. As he suckled first one of her breasts and then the other, she pulled her silk panties down, just a foot or so, silently asking him to give attention to her feminine core as well. He dipped the fingers of his other hand to her moist and molten vaginal lips. He slid them along her slit, lubricating them for penetration, but then paused before piercing her love tunnel.

"Let's get the rest of the way ready," he suggested, reaching for the waistband of her panties and pulling them to the floor in one fell swoop.

She was completely naked before him. As he raised himself up from the floor, he couldn't resist a quick kiss of her navel on the way back up. He nuzzled the silken hair adorning her pubic mound, inhaling the tempting scent of her sexual excitement.

He stood and smiled in silent command, begging her with his eyes to undress him, anticipating Lynnette's touch as he waited for her to remove his clothes.

She was ready to get him as naked as she was. His outfit consisted of a pullover short-sleeved shirt, long linen pants and a pair of sandals. Khmer culture did not permit men to wear shorts, despite the stifling heat.

As she pulled the last vestiges of clothing from his body, she once again straddled his torso, her arms wrapped around his neck. Jeff's erection slapped against her inner thigh. Lynnette reached around behind her ass and guided his penis to her vagina. She rubbed his cock head in circles around her labia, moistening it for entry. She then lowered herself onto his turgid shaft.

Feeling his penetration, she squeezed his torso with her legs, pulling him deeper within her depths. He began a series of slow thrusts as Lynnette pressed her breasts against his muscled chest.

She felt safe in his arms, lost in his love, despite being halfway across the world from the land she knew as home. She was right where she belonged.

His erection stretched her pleasantly, the friction of his thrusts bringing warmth and moisture to her throbbing slit. He reached with his fingers to the point where his penis was penetrating her vagina. He found the nub of her clit and began rubbing and gently squeezing it with his thumb and forefinger.

Lynnette had discovered in recent years that she was at times a squirter. It only happened occasionally, when she was overwhelmed with an intense orgasm. The first time it happened was during an episode of rough and tumble sex with Jeff, the frantic fucking of two desperate souls in need of solace after medical confirmation of their infertility.

She had at first been embarrassed at her female ejaculation, convinced that she had urinated on her beloved husband. Jeff's caring and tender response left her heedless of the incident; their only care was to comfort each other.

However, when he had returned from taking the sheets to the laundry room, he said to her, "Baby, I don't think you peed. There was no ammonia smell, nothing remotely like urine on the sheets. I think it was an orgasmic ejaculation."

It had happened several times since, and the one-for-one correlation with mind-blowing orgasms left no doubt in their minds. Lynette was a squirter of female ejaculate. Jeff was always pleased when it happened. He took it as an affirmation of the complete satisfaction that he had given to his beloved wife.

As the two of them clutched and groped, thrusting and writhing together there in the hotel room in Siem Reap, Jeff called out Lynnette's name. "Cum with me, baby!" he begged.

He felt her vaginal muscles clench around his cock, tensing and releasing, tensing and releasing. Moments later, as his semen spewed forth within her vagina, he felt the tell-tale sign of her female ejaculation. A burst of her fluid spewed into his pubic hair, its warmth running down his leg. This was the first time it had happened while they were in an upright position, him standing and her straddling his torso.

He whispered words of love in her ear as he walked toward the bed, her still straddling him, his penis still firm enough to stay lodged within her snug pussy. They had all night, and they would use it well.

* * * * * * * *

"First, I'd like to thank my surrogate grandmother, Lynnette Sinclair, and her late husband, Jeff, who first introduced me to risk management principles," said Sokren somberly, his voice beginning to tremble with emotion...

* * * * * * * *

Two years of intense language study and practice had rendered both Lynnette and Jeff fairly fluent in the spoken Khmer language. Jeff wrestled mightily, to little avail, with reading the intricate script of the written language. He had greater success with his studies of numbers -- though in English, not Khmer. Jeff had built a database of the Cambodian population's mortality experience.

He proudly announced to Lynette, "I'm thinking of using my mortality studies in a project larger than the GARP assignment. I'm thinking we should get charitable donors back home to pay for insurance premiums, and raise enough money to cover every household in the country for at least a subsistence level of living when a wage-earner dies. It's easy enough for me to figure out the pure cost and translate it into terms that donors understand -- this many families protected from financial disaster by a contribution as little as X dollars per month. And by eliminating the distribution system and the need for profit, we can do a world of good at a very reasonable price."

"It's the kind of thing that could catch on in underdeveloped countries around the world," she smiled in reply, "and GARP could help with the charitable fundraising back home. But oversight of the claims system will be crucial. You can't leave it with the government, at least not here -- too much corruption."

"Yep -- I remember seeing those mansions owned by government officials in Phnom Penh. No way that they bought those on a mere government worker's salary. We need to work on our networking to find people across the country that we can trust for the administration of the program. And I'm thinking that we can add to the program later -- do the same with disability on down the road. One step at a time..."

"And in the meantime, we have the non-financial project to look forward to," beamed Lynnette, "for the KIDS..."

Jeff took her in his arms, his lips searching hers, their tongues mating in primal passion. She would yield to his demands, and he to hers. Clothes flew in haphazard directions. Naked in body and soul, they explored each other's secret places.

Lynnette's recollection was clear on this one point: it was on the heels of this first discussion of the charitable insurance idea that she asked Jeff to try something new and special in their long-term marital and sexual relationship. She wanted to feel his cock in her ass, to know the sensation of his semen spurting into her rear channel while he groped her breasts and frigged her clit.

The memory of it was almost too sweet to bear. She had long wondered whether the pain would be worth the bliss. Thankfully, despite their third-world surroundings, they had access to medical supplies that included appropriate lubricants. Their supply did not include the KY brand, but a generic Asian substitute was available.

Jeff had been heroically gentle. He had massaged her puckered anus with an ample helping of lubricating fluid heaped on his middle and index fingers. He pushed and prodded with just the middle finger until it penetrated past her sphincter.

He simultaneously began stroking her feminine slit with the same two fingers of his other hand. Her vaginal moisture soon gave him the encouragement he needed to begin a slow, luxuriant finger-fucking that caused her to arch her hips. Her arousal began to cause her anal channel to dilate, allowing him to sink his middle finger all the way in to the hilt.

He worked his middle finger in and out of her back door, probing and pushing, until it was loose enough for him to push his middle and index fingers in together.

"I want your cock," she whispered to him hungrily, "please, Jeff, fuck me from behind."

He needed no further encouragement. He coated his cock with some more lubricant, then positioned his prick against her rosebud, all the while still plunging the fingers of his other hand into her vagina, deeper then shallower, faster then slower, bringing her to the brink of a jagged orgasm.

Her impending climax caused her anal channel to dilate further. He grasped his slippery cock and pushed its head against her asshole while his fingers of the same hand paved the way by prodding it open.

When his member was partially sheathed within her rear tunnel, he asked, "Are you sure you're ready for this, baby?"

"Uh-huh. Fuck me, Jeff -- take my virgin ass. It's yours and only yours, baby."

His erection stiffened at her words. She pushed back against his boner, he moved forward to impale her. His cock plunged all the way in to her anal channel. He began gently pushing in and out, still finger-fucking her pussy with his other hand.

Lynette's impending orgasm broke free shortly after Jeff stepped up the pace of his thrusts in her ass, right when his fingers found her clit at the top of her vaginal lips.

"Oh, baby, I'm cumming!" she moaned loudly.

Jeff felt her pussy clenching around his fingers, her ass clenching around his cock. He thrust twice more before spewing a massive load of spunk deep into her bowels. To no surprise for either of them, Lynnette squirted a large deposit of female ejaculate at the crest of her spasmodic climax.