Sily Adventures #19

Some readers have complained that Jessica stays in the background too much. This is all her, so technically it's not my adventure, but I have the account, so I get the credit. Ha!

A letter arrived at George's office, and he gave it to us, now you can read it, too.

Dear George:

I wanted to say thanks, but that's not enough. I felt that I should tell you all of the story.

HOME, THE LAST DAY:

Today I signed the final papers to sell my company. After 40 years, it's time someone else took command, but my children have their own lives and don't want it.

I sold it to a guy named George ******* who I really like. He is a very bright young man who seems to be both truthful and concerned about others. He is raising two adopted daughters, and he talks about them constantly. He says they are the center of his world. That's how it was with me and Beth when ours were little.

It was hard to walk out the door for the last time, but these old bones need a rest. The new generation has the wheel now. So I felt a little morose as I dropped into my old chair to watch the news; a habit, none of it mattered much to me.

The doorbell rang, and Beth was as usual somewhere in the other side of the house, so I stepped to the door. I thought my old heart would stop, because my daughter stood there! Not her, but her as she was at twenty. Beautiful, long blond hair, cerulean eyes, perfect teeth. She came to my nose, a good 5'6", always taller than her mother.

I wouldn't have let my daughter go out in those clothes, tho'. My God, I could see her areolae and her nipples. Was she bra-less? And the skirt was so short I blushed to look! But legs like Jane's. So long that another yard of cloth would still not cover them. I could hardly breathe. I dropped my eyes and noticed blue toenail polish. Did my kids do that?

"Mister Conklin?" She asked, only it dripped out of her mouth at half speed, more like "My es ter Con ka lynn?" She didn't grow up in the Midwest.

"Yes, I'm Arthur Conklin," I replied. "Can I help you?"

"George wanted me to deliver what he called a bonus, because he said you were such a nice guy."

That sounded like George. Bet it was a bottle of Scotch. Good Scotch. She was holding something behind her back, and it was impossible to not notice the way her breasts stood out. Had I ever stared at Jane like this? Or even Beth, tho' I must have at one time.

"May I come in, please?"

"Of course. You're such a pleasant surprise my manners have run away." I held the door for her, and closed it behind her. Her smell intoxicated me more than any vintage she could carry. This was a knock-out of a girl!

"Here, Mr. Conklin, for you, Sir." She handed me a package, nicely wrapped, the size of two liters of Scotch. George is a generous man! "Where do you want me?"

"Excuse me?" I didn't understand her.

"I've given you the first gift. My dance is the second. Then I'll have sex with you, that's number three." She apparently understood what was happening better than I did.

Just then Beth came bustling out of the back, and was startled to see our guest. "Who is this, dear?" She asked in that half quizzical- half challenging tone that said I better have a reasonable answer.

The girl extended her hand before I could say anything.

"I'm Jessica, Ma'am. George's daughter. He sent me over to bring your husband some gifts. He really likes Mr. Conklin." My mouth fell open as far as Beth's. George's adopted daughter? He saw the pictures of Jane in my office; surely he noticed the resemblance.

"How lovely! Art, be a dear and open your present so this darling girl (meaning hot hussy) can go do young people things."

"Oh, he can't open the other two. This package is the first (she took it from me, and handed it to Beth) my dance is the second, and then I have sex with him." She smiled like an angel, as if this were a perfectly normal conversation.

"Did you say you were going to have sex with my husband?" Beth used her ominous timbre with a confused expression.

"Yes, ma'am. But you're welcome to join in. Or just watch if you'd rather." The gorgeous gal continued to grin.

"No one has had sex with my husband in ten years, and it certainly won't happen tonight with you!" I rarely saw Beth so agitated. Unfortunately, her estimate was about right, if you didn't count a few furtive masturbations. Difficult when you can't get hard.

Jessica burst into tears! She collapsed on the couch, sobbing into her hands, not at all the way I expected her to respond.

"George will kill me! I promised him I could do this alone. My sister messed up a gift and he punished her so bad! What will I do?" She looked up pleading. "Please let me dance naked. Please?"

I heard part of that. "Does George mistreat you girls? By thunder, I'll have him arrested. I thought he was a respectable man!"

"Daddy is the best man in the world! He loves us to death, and we love him! I volunteered to dance for you, because he said I looked so much like your daughter." So George had seen the photo of Jane.

"But dear, does he know you're offering yourself like this? Surely the liquor is the gift, not you." Beth tried to reason.

"No, I'm the gift. The Scotch is just for the Whiskey Dance. George said you looked like you needed to get laid, and he would know."

She pointed those enormous blue eyes at me, and I felt like Alice in the rabbit hole, falling forever. Then she bent her head and her shoulders shook with her sobs. I couldn't handle that when Jane was little, and I can't handle it now. "Beth, can't you talk to this....this girl?"

I stood in the hall. OK, I eavesdropped, but I couldn't walk away.

"You cannot be serious about all of this, Miss...uh, Jessica!"

"Yes'um. My sister Silky and I do this for special friends of George's. He doesn't make us do anything. Well, except not wear panties, but I'm wearing some now."

"But you can't...you can't....you simply cannot just come in here and take off your clothes. And the sex is impossible." Sadly, I agreed with her.

"Are you telling me –she dropped to a whisper – he can't perform?"

"Sadly, my dear, yes."

"I have these," she offered a familiar blue diamond pill from her purse.

"That's kind, but his heart... they say he can't use those."

"Well, then can I dance? I do a striptease. It won't hurt him or anything will it?"

"You are a very sweet child. I think that with selling his business and all a little strip tease would cheer him up."

"Can I ask a question about the sex stuff, ma'am? I don't want to be rude, but is there anything...any...well is there stuff ya'll especially like? Or, I'm sorry, liked? Sex stuff?"

"I was happy with the normal activities," Beth said. "Arthur, like most men, was always inflamed by perversity."

"You mean like a foursome with twin tattooed dwarves and a tranny doing scatology stuff?" Jessica was horrified.

"I don't even know what that IS. He once suggested, when he was very drunk, you understand, that he would enjoy....sodomy." I could hear the disgust in Beth's voice. I had gotten drunk enough to ask her for anal? Boy, I don't remember that!

"Oh, wow! I can do sodomy!" Jessica's smile radiated with her voice.

"Well, Jessie, I can call you that, mayn't I? He can't. I would even agree to it, but he is...unable." On that sad note I returned to the room.

Jessie had one of those tiny electronic devices that I can barely see, much less operate. In no time she had it connected to speakers the size of dough-nuts, and with remarkable sound. Technology!

Then to my amazement, a beautiful old Tango filled the air. "Beth, remember this? We used to dance to this all the time! Let's try again!"

"Do it with the young one, I think she can move better."

So after more than a quarter of a century, I found myself in the arms of a delightful girl – no, definitely woman – moving to the Argentine beat. I quickly realized I had forgotten a lot, and that she was doing things I didn't know. But she taught me, I remembered some, and eventually we actually finished a dance. She danced like she was on ball bearings – any move I made was effortlessly followed; sort of like driving an expensive sports car. I just didn't know many moves.

"Come on, Missus Conklin, join us. I can dance the lead."

"Oh, child, my knees can't bend like yours," she tried to make excuses.

"Bull Shit! You can too!" And Jessica swept Beth into a close embrace and began a basic eight count tango. Beth stumbled a little, and then began to remember the groves. Jess slowly but relentlessly pushed her to moves and more moves – paradas, ganchos, sacadas; she was rusty, but she started moving. Soon Beth and I managed the most romantic dance we'd had in twenty years, and my feelings for her engulfed me. This was the woman I loved.

By now, Jess was standing on our kitchen table, sinuously swaying to the music, which included new tangos I'd never heard before. As she moved, she slowly unbuttoned her blouse, pulled it a few times across her back, and threw it on my head. That perfume was an aphrodisiac. She shimmied out of her skirt in time to the music, never missing a beat.

She kicked it to Beth! Jess was wearing a bra, if that was the word. It was just lace, and she reached behind her back in that way women have in their genes, and unhooked it, sliding it down her arms and into my lap. Her tits were astounding. Smooth, round, full, just a little too heavy to point straight out. She had a silver ring pierced thru her right nipple, something women never did when I was young.

Now she turned her back to me, and presented an ass of truly awe-inspiring proportions; men have died for less. She wore a tiny thong that just covered her pudenda, and then slowly slid it down as she shifted from hip to hip. A final bend at the waist, and she expertly shot them into Beth's amazed face. My wife was becoming more captivated, in spite of herself.

Then began the Whiskey Dance; Jessie presented parts of her body and poured 21 year old Glenlivet into my mouth off her body. At first she put a finger in my mouth and dribbled the intoxicating drink over her hand. She did the same to Beth. She rocked back and did leg crossing I can't describe, but her labia opened and closed, vertical fish mouths blowing kisses. When she crouched down and spread her knees, I was staring into a soft, moist vagina, pink and engorged, that winked at me as she opened and closed her knees.

She stood, and bent at the waist. Now one perfect breast hung like a grapefruit from some dream tree, dangling right above me. The silver ring lowered to an inch from my mouth, and with a twist she was able to run rivulets of single malt into my mouth directly from the ring. My tongue had a mind of its own, and groped out to enter, and tug on, that ring, which pulled the whole nipple into my mouth.

I started feeling a long lost sensation. A stirring, a swelling. I felt as if 30 years of late night's overworked concretion was loosening; an encrustation I believed could never leave shattered in shards of mythic bonds, and my penis began to engorge. I freed it, so I could have the pleasure, even if fleeting, of holding it full in my hand once again.

Now Jessica, my cherub, turned and began to rub my lips with her toe. Sensuous in itself, but expanded by the small golden river of expensive booze running down from her crotch to my mouth. No whiskey was ever sweeter. Beth leaned her cheek against mine, and the toe fed one and then the other of us. Beth caressed my bulging hose with a hand that had been a stranger there for many years.

Jess gleefully saw it, and dropped to cover it with a warm lubricant. She motioned Beth over, and said, "Why don't you put this in me?" She gyrated so that her ass was spread before me.

Beth was shell shocked, but more engrossed every minute, so she guided my missile into the tight pink target, which gave readily to a little pressure.

Never in all my years, including a few exploits Beth doesn't need to know, have I had a warmer, tighter ring encircle my manhood. Probably this delusional world arose from a fatal heart attack, and this time I had died. And surely gone to Heaven! I stroked in and out a few times, getting my sea legs again, and could not breathe from the intensity of the sensation.

Beth stared and tentatively touched my shaft. "Art, you're hard!"

"You better believe it!"

"Put that in me, dear. I never did let you, and now this miracle, this girl with the whiskey tattoos, has given us another chance. Fuck me up the ass, Art, we may never get another night like this."

Jess slid me out of her, and with some quick gymnastics was able to steady my cock, my proud swollen cock, into the virgin ass of my darling Beth, My wife of 40 years.

No wonder I wanted to do this before! Beth was just as tight, just as hot as the teenager's benediction had been. I grasped her hips, and pounded like there was no tomorrow – and there certainly might not be. Beth swayed beneath me, and pushed actively back against me, more involved in our sexual congress than I could ever remember from the past. After only a few ephemeral moments, I felt her clinch around me, and moan as she orgasmed from ass fucking!

That was too much for me, and I poured semen that was probably created when Nixon was President into her anal passage. I followed that with Ford, Carter, Reagan, and was fast approaching Clinton, and maybe even Obama when I finally ran out of drippings and fell from her back door.

"Beth, my God, did you cum?"

"Like I've never cum before! Art, you made me cum from fucking me up the ass!" She rolled the words out to taste them; they were very new in her mouth. Her face showed the look of shepards seeing Angels.

I looked around, and Jessica had disappeared. I don't know when she left, but she did her job. I not only got laid that night, I've gotten laid four more times since then; but who's counting?

Thank you George, more than I can ever express, from both of us.

Yours always, Art & Beth