Just Across the Fence

Even after my first story was published, my status here is still listed as 'Virgin'. I wonder how many stories I need, in order to become a 'Slut'. Answer is probably posted in some FAQ I have not read yet....

And thank you, those of you who have kind enough to leave encouraging comments on my first chapter of this saga.

Anyway, to business: Everyone's over eighteen, blah blah blah, you know the drill....

Fantasy: Something that is the product of the imagination; a conception or image created by the imagination and having no objective reality.

This.

Story.

Is.

A.

Fan-tas-y.

A work of Fiction.

Please do not lose sight of this fact as you read this story. Or any other story on this site, for that matter.

John and Beth get busy in this one, hope you like it....

Chapter 2. Getting Better Acquainted

When we finally pulled away from our somewhat tentative first kiss, Beth took my hand and said, "As long as we're rushing into things...you do know I would be thrilled if you would spend the night here, right?"

"Fools rush in where angels fear to tread, they say," I told her. "God knows I'm no angel, so I guess we know what that makes me. Sure, I'd love to stay here with you tonight. In for a penny, in for a pound."

"A pound?" Beth replied, grinning. "Now you're scaring me. If it's that big, I might need to reconsider."

"I have faith in you, Beth," I told her. "I bet you can handle it."

"Oh, I plan on handling it plenty, buster," she said, punching me playfully on the arm.

I went on, "But don't worry. You know how we men like to exaggerate."

"Actually," she said, a mischievous gleam in her eye, "Part of me is kind of hoping you're not exaggerating..."

"Which part would that be?" I asked.

"Come upstairs with me and I'll show you," she replied.

That led to more kisses, and there was nothing tentative about our smooching this time. Tongues wrestled, and spit was swapped.

"Shall we adjourn to the bedroom?" Beth asked, pragmatically, catching her breath when our lips finally parted again.

"In a minute," I told her, pulling out my phone. "First, I need to make a call."

"A call? Now?" Beth demanded, stunned. "Who the hell...?"

"To cancel a date," I replied, deadpan.

"You have a...date? TONIGHT?" she exclaimed, incredulous.

"Tomorrow night," I assured her. "But if we're about to embark on an exclusive relationship, it wouldn't be appropriate for me to stay here tonight without first letting the lady know I won't be able to make our date tomorrow."

"Oh," she replied, obviously relieved. "Yeah, I guess that wouldn't be very nice, would it? Sorry, you're right, of course. I'll go on upstairs, and you can come up when you're..."

"No, you need to stay here while I make the call," I told her.

"Why would I need to...?" she began, but I cut her off again.

"Because trust is an important element in building a relationship," I told her. "Trust means no secrets. You'll see in a minute why I want you to stay, OK? Trust me?"

"All right, John," she said, intrigued.

I selected speaker, and placed the call. At the second ring, Sue picked up, and her voice boomed out exuberantly, "What's up, John-boy? Did she break both your arms when you tried to make a pass at her?" Beside me, Beth's jaw dropped, her eyes wide in surprise.

"No, only one of them. But she's here with me, and you're on speaker," I told her.

"Hello, again, girlfriend," Sue called.

"Um, hi, Sue..." Beth managed.

"I'm just calling to let you know I won't be able to make our date tomorrow night, Sue," I told her.

There was a short pause, and then Sue said, evenly, "Well, I can't say I wasn't expecting this call, after seeing the two of you together tonight."

Uncertainly, Beth spoke. "Sue, I...I didn't know you two were...I would never..."

"Hush, girl," Sue said firmly. "How could you know? But if you two are going to give it a shot, you can do it with my blessing. I mean it. I love John to death, but he and I just aren't right for each other. Now we're just fuck-buddies. I hope and pray you two can be very happy together, for a long, long time."

"Thanks, Sue," Beth said, with a catch in her voice.

"And John, you listen to me, you cradle-robbing Casanova," Sue added fiercely. "You break her heart, you'll answer to me, you hear? I'll kick your ass from here to Tulsa and back!"

"Relax, Sue, I like my ass too much the way it is to risk that," I assured her. "And sorry for the short notice about tomorrow."

"Oh, don't worry about me," she replied. "I'll just call in my backup plan. As soon as I buy some new batteries for it...." Beside me, Beth collapsed giggling on the couch.

"GOOD NIGHT, SUE," I said pointedly, before the conversation could go any further off the rails.

"See you at lunch tomorrow, girl," Sue called to Beth.

"Can't wait," Beth replied, and I terminated the call to stop another round of goodbyes.

From her reclining position on the couch, Beth looked up at me teary-eyed. "I don't know if I can handle much more of this," she almost whispered. "I find a wonderful, mature new lover, and he turns out to be some kind of not-so-distant relation to me by marriage. And out of nowhere you arrange for me to meet my Best-Friend-Forever again, and she turns out to be YOUR lover. This is crazy."

"Former lover, Beth. Subtle, but important, difference," I told her. "And you should be thanking me."

"'Thanking you'?" she said. "For taking me to meet Sue? I already thanked you for that. What else should I thank you for?"

"After tonight," I replied, "You and Sue will have a lot more than just old times to talk about. I have no doubt you two will spend most of your lunch date tomorrow comparing notes on my performance in bed..."

In response, Beth grabbed a sofa pillow and launched it at my head. "Keep that up, buddy," she warned me, "And Sue will be the only one speaking from experience on that subject tomorrow."

That sufficed to start a brief, playful, and thoroughly enjoyable pillow fight, which ended with Beth pinned face down with her abdomen over my lap, somewhat ineffectively trying to shield her shapely ass with her hands as I pummeled it mercilessly with a cushion. Finally, cackling in amusement, she squealed, "OK, OK, I give, stop already, you brute!"

I released her, and we lay on the couch for a couple of minutes, arms entangled, as we caught our breath.

"If I didn't know better," Beth told me accusingly, "I might think you're stalling me on our rendezvous in the bedroom."

"You have found me out," I replied. "Guilty as charged. My problem is fear."

"Fear? Fear of what?" she wondered.

"Many things," I answered. "Disappointing you. Embarrassing myself. But I think I have a solution."

"Which is...?" she inquired.

"I must find my courage," I announced pompously. "And fortunately, I know where to look for it."

"And where's that?" she demanded, clearly losing patience with my antics.

"I keep it in the little bottle it came in, from the pharmacy, in the drawer of the nightstand by my bed," I said. "I'll need to get it refilled soon, but there are still a couple left...or I hope so, anyway."

"There had better be, Casanova, or you won't have to wait until you see Sue again to get your ass kicked," she threatened me.

"Well, then, I guess I just better go and see," I said, untangling myself hastily from her arms and rising to my feet.

Beth stood up as well. "I'm going upstairs to bed," she said decisively. "If you're not back in ten minutes, I'm going to lock the door and break out MY backup plan. And I already have plenty of fresh batteries for mine!"

"I'm on my way," I assured her, trotting through the kitchen towards the back door.

------------------

Not more than five minutes later, I had returned to Beth's home across our back yards, using the gate in our shared fence to get through. Reaching the top of the stairs only slightly winded, I walked down the hallway to the master bedroom, which was the only upstairs room with any light showing at the door, and entered. The bedcovers had been pulled down, and Beth reclined on a couple of pillows against the headboard, wearing a very sheer, revealing nightie, beneath which I could clearly see she was wearing no other sort of undergarment whatsoever, a fetching sight indeed.

"I didn't really see much point in any kind of striptease," she told me, "Since I was as near naked as makes no difference when you first saw me this afternoon."

"Yeah, but...wow!" I replied. "Like I said earlier, you make anything you're wearing look great. I approve."

"Thanks, lover. I suppose you wouldn't be back so soon if you hadn't found your 'courage'?" she inquired.

I walked up to the bed, took a small plastic sandwich bag from my pocket, and laid it on her nightstand. It held a single dark-blue pill, glistening slightly in the light of the lamp. She stared at it, bemused, and asked. "Just how long does it...?"

"Takes effect about twenty minutes after I ingest it," I explained. "Once it kicks in, I'm good for about two hours of constant erection, whether I'm engaged in sex or not, give or take a few minutes either way. I like to take it a few minutes after my partner first gets me hard. That way, we usually manage to get almost two and half hours of fun in. Takes some of the spontaneity out of sex, to be sure, but at my age, you're not going to hear me complain about that."

"Only once a day, right?" she asked.

"That's what the doctor said," I replied, "And the label. But at my age, two or three times a week is a more reasonable limit. I've found that using it any oftener than that makes the sex start to feel more like work than fun."

"The wonders of modern medicine," she commented.

"Sometimes, especially until you get used to it, it puts subtle pressure on a couple to spend every minute of the allotted time screwing. Makes it seem like you're wasting precious time if you want to take a few minutes to cuddle, or clean up, or even just get up to go pee."

"Once the clock is ticking, it's more like some kind of timed athletic event, instead of just relaxing and having fun?" she offered.

"Exactly, makes it more about quantity and less about quality," I said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking quantity if that's what you're into. And once you figure out how to relax with it and stop trying to keep score, having the extra time can be very rewarding."

"Enough about that, for the moment. Now that you've seen me naked," Beth said, "It's your turn. Let me see what you're bringing to the table, Mr. Miller."

Dutifully, and eschewing any sort of striptease nonsense, I doffed my clothes until I stood alongside the bed, facing her, naked. Spreading my hands out to my sides and rotating my body slowly to permit a thorough and leisurely inspection, I announced, "Here it is, such as it is, in all it's bandy-legged, pot-bellied, sunken-chested, man-boobed, bald-spotted, age-spotted, cringe-inducing, scrawny-assed, seventy-three-year-old wonder. It's not too late to come to your senses and change your mind about this, you know."

Beth scooted up to kneel on the edge of the bed beside me. She ran her soft hands over my shoulders and chest, and down my sides to my hips, sending a shiver up my spine. She unhesitatingly took my limp cock in her right hand and hefted it, experimentally.

"Probably not a whole pound, after all," she observed. "But close enough."

"Maybe once it becomes engorged with blood, it will be a full sixteen ounces," I suggested. "Keep fondling it like you're doing, and we won't have to wait very long to find out."

"We'll see, I guess," she said. "But as for me changing my mind, you're not getting off that easy. What I'm seeing-and what I'm feeling-only makes me more certain by the minute that I made the right call."

As we spoke, her gentle ministrations to my penis were indeed having the inevitable and desired result, and within a couple of minutes I was sporting a very respectable erection, slightly more than seven inches long, with girth in proportion. None of my partners had ever complained that my cock was too small, though in my youth a few of my less-experienced lovers had found it intimidating.

"VERY impressive, Mr. Miller," Beth gushed, still very lightly stroking my quivering rod. "You weren't exaggerating much at all." She leaned forward and tentatively, tenderly, and yet lasciviously licked away the first gleaming drop of pre-cum from the tip. The sensation was exquisite, and I shuddered.

With her free hand, she grabbed my arm and pulled me down to sit beside her; her other hand continued its easy, pleasurable manipulation of my cock, just enough to keep me hard. "Can I tell you what I want you to do with me tonight, John," she asked, coyly, almost shyly.

"I'm all ears," I told her, with a shrug, adding, "With the exception of that part of me you're working on there."

After a brief smile at my silly joke, she got down to brass tacks. "John, I haven't had sex with anyone since Jim died," she told me. "Oh, I jerk off regularly, with and without my toys, but always alone. I'm sure you can appreciate that it's not quite the same thing. I'm almost literally boiling with two years of pent-up sexual energy right now. What I want tonight is to be fucked silly, fucked until I scream for mercy, and then I want you to ignore that and fuck me some more. I guess if two hours plus is as long as we can go, I'll just have to make the best of it."

"Wow, you're setting the bar a little high for me, for our first night together, even with the magic pill," I pointed out.

"I know, and I'm sorry, but I'm so horny I can hardly think straight right now, and once we start, I'm liable to lose it completely," she confessed. "Down the road I'll be able to relax and enjoy it properly, but right now I'm just desperate for relief. Please?"

"Of course, I love a challenge. I'll do the best I can," I promised her.

"I didn't really think you would be difficult to persuade," she said, smiling, and we shared a brief hug.

"But there's something else," she went on. "I'm a supervisory nurse. I tell patients, orderlies, and other nurses where to go, what to do, and sometime how to do it. I'm kind of a take-charge type, because my job demands it. I don't care if my people like me, but I insist they respect me and the authority of my job title, not because I'm on a power trip, but because if they don't then I can't direct the team properly to get the job done. I don't put up with crap, and I don't suffer fools lightly. Even doctors usually know better than to mess with me."

"Um, OK...," I replied, not sure where this was leading.

She paused for a moment, and then continued, "But whenever I'm having sex, which is supposed to be fun and relaxing, I want to let my hair down and forget about being in charge. I want to feel like I'm the exact opposite of dignified, respected, and in control. Sometimes, like tonight, I want a lover who talks to me like a I'm a worthless, stupid piece of shit whose only redeeming value is as a repository for his semen-and he's not even sure I'm worth that. I'm not talking about being physically abusive; beyond maybe a little light spanking. Just verbally demeaning, rips me a new asshole with his vitriol. Do you think you can do that?"

"You're telling me you...get off on being degraded verbally, on dirty talk, while you're screwing?" I asked, fascinated.

"You have no idea," she assured me. "The more degrading, filthy, misogynistic, horrible, or offensive your insults get, the greater my pleasure becomes. I'll have longer, more intense, and more frequent orgasms in proportion to how well, and how imaginatively, you taunt and bully me while we're screwing. Let me know that I'm the slimiest whore you ever met, and I'll be the wildest woman who ever tied you down to the saddle so she couldn't buck you out of bed. Nothing you can think of to revile me will be too vicious, too disgusting, or too cruel to do anything other than get me more and more turned on."

"Jesus! I think I might need a thesaurus. Can I prop it on the headboard?" I asked, facetiously.

"You can prop ME on the headboard for all I care, as long as you keep the nasty slurs coming, and keep on fucking my pussy with this wonderful weapon I'm holding," she promised me.

"Are you sure you're not going to hold anything I say about you against me, after the fact?" I asked her, worried I might go too far and offend her for real.

"Absolutely not, darling," she promised. "Cross my heart and hope to die, nothing you say about me between the sheets, when we're having this kind of sex, will ever see the light of day anywhere else."

"'This kind of sex'?" I wondered.

"I don't necessarily need, or even want, what I'm asking for tonight, every time we make love. I know that you might prefer to enjoy a little more slow-paced, traditional lovemaking, whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears, and I'm fine with that too," she informed me. "Just not tonight, OK?"

"OK," I replied amiably. "Do you have some lube?"

"Yes, there on the nightstand, behind the lamp," she said, pointing. Looking, I saw she had a large bottle of liquid with a push-type dispenser cap. Perfect.

"We're liable to need some of that," I said. "My experience with the pill is that some women's vaginas can't keep up sufficient production of their natural lubricating secretions for two hours of sex."

Beth was nodding, "Yeah, it would suck to have to cut it short just because one of us got chafed," she said.

Looking pointedly down at her hand still gently stroking my cock, I told her, "'Cut it short' is not a phrase any man in my position ever likes to hear, lady."

"Well, then, I suppose we should change positions, shouldn't we?" Beth replied, releasing my cock and scuttling back to resume her position reclining against the pillows, her legs spread wide, one hand out clearly inviting me to come join her, the other suggestively massaging her pussy.

"Give me a second," I said, picking up the pill in the baggie and stepping into the master bathroom. It only took me a couple of seconds to swallow the pill with a handful of water from the tap, and then I returned and climbed onto the bed.

Knee-walking across to her, I asked, "How's the lubrication looking so far?"

"I would think a guy with a dipstick the size of that thing would already know out how to check a girl's fluid level for himself," she informed me.

I gazed at her thoughtfully. She had plainly told me what she wanted, so I was determined to give the lady her money's worth. And no time like the present to get started. Time to find out if she really meant what she said about how much dirty talk turned her on.

"Tell me, cunt, what the hell makes you think I would want to fuck a back-sassin' bitch like you in the first place?" I snarled at her, staring at her as coldly as I could.

For a moment she was genuinely taken aback, shocked by how suddenly I had changed, but then she realized what I was up to, just doing what she had asked me to; she trembled visibly. "I...I'm sorry..." she quavered.

"That's the truth," I said derisively. "You are the sorriest excuse for a girlfriend it's ever been my misfortune to have to put up with. If you think I don't have better things to do than waste my spunk on a cum-bucket like you, keep talking shit like that to me and see what happens," I warned her darkly. "Now, do you want to get fucked tonight, or don't you?"

"Oh yes, please, please, more than anything, I want you to..." she babbled.

"Stop saying 'I'," I ordered her scornfully. "Take that word out of your vocabulary. If I decide to let you tell me something, your name is Cum-Bucket. You got that? Tell me your name, cunt."

"My name is C-Cum-Bucket," she warbled timidly.

"You're fucking right it is, Cum-Bucket," I growled at her. "Now, tell me what the hell you want from me tonight, before I lose my patience and go find some twat who can at least appreciate what I do for her."