{I reread this before hitting submit, and yes, I realize it rambles. But then so does my mind.
What the hell, I am 68 years old and I can ramble if I want to, so there!
I was going to post this in "Humor and Satire" but nobody around here ever reads that stuff much and I am old so..?
Mature it is.}
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When Debra and I got married, I guess I expected it to be a bit like when I was married before.
My first wife became ill and was gone so quickly that I woke up one morning alone and life did not seem real. That had decades of sharing, sex on Fridays or sometimes Saturdays, movies, shopping, just living.
The one time we did try something on the crazy side we were behind some bushes in a park, voices all around nearby. Then suddenly a cop was standing there, we were caught with our pants down is what I believe the term is.
We probably could have gone to jail but the guy just looked and grinned as we hurriedly tried to cover up, then he suggested we get a room.
We never did anything like that again, but we had more than one really good giggle session about it.
The simple and easy truth is that I loved her completely, she was my life. For weeks that became months I could not accept her being gone. I found myself searching the house for her, finding only memories.
Several years of alone, living with ghosts of my lost wife followed.
Then I met Debra and it was like the Sun came back out?
I very quickly figured out that Debs as I usually called her was a different kind of female.
For one thing, she is a tad on the chunky side and doesn't care. The other thing is she loves to mess around in the bedroom, I swear it became her life's work to figure out how to get me up and going.
The other thing that is odd as hell is Debs does not have a single jealous bone in her body, if anything she gets fussed up at the idea of me seeing some sweet young thing.
Yes, I admit I do like to look, and not porno, either. I like the real thing.
Ever have your wife nudge you and say, "Honey! Check out the set of tits on that one!"...?
Mine does.
Does your wife wake you up in the mornings tugging on your dick about half the time, just because she likes to?
Mine does.
Does your wife hike up the bottom of her smock to make sure you know she is headed off to work at her medical office with no panties on?
Mine does.
The days that she does that, I know for sure that I am going to get some as soon as she gets home.
Debs knows damned good and well that if she does something like that, the idea will be inside my head all day with no way out.
Since she is a Registered Nurse, she spends her days poking and probing people, often in various stages of naked.
I accused her of getting her jollies from the kind of work she does, that just got me a big grin.
When we are in bed she often tells me stories about what happened at work that day. It turns out she really likes sticking her finger up some old guy's butt, and she loves handling and looking at their privates.
She admits that. She tells me all sorts of stories, we end up giggling about some of the things that go on.
At first I thought she was just making that all stuff up.
Now, I am reasonably sure she isn't.
On the outside, Debs is a slightly chubby barely 50 year old woman, normal.
I am still trying to get used to what this amazing female is like on the inside. It's getting past two years now and she does something to surprise me every couple of days.
The best description is that Debs is just plain naughty.
She also loves me and there is no doubt about that, I feel the same way about her.
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Which brings me to Rachel.
My jaw dropped when our neighbor Rachel asked me the question. She was such a cute little thing, I liked it that she came over to watch me tend the yard and chat.
Of course sometimes Rachel could best be described as looking sexy as hell, at first I figured she had no idea at all about that, she was just young, naive.
I thought that my on the slightly chubby and very naughty wife Debra might get her nose out of joint at me looking, since Rachel was no stranger on the street, she was right there next door.
Nope. Debra is completely at ease about sex, and completely confident in her ability to keep me so drained there isn't likely to be any real action on the side.
Now married I went from once a week in the bathroom with my thoughts to three times a week with her because Debs made sure of it.
Debra had been married once before, then single for years herself. I asked her early on if there had been lovers, easy to ask since she had just asked me the very same question.
"No, not even one." She told me. Same answer I gave her.
"Why me?" I asked her. We were in bed together at the time, both of us soaked with sweat.
"I read those stories you write, and you sounded like someone I wanted to get to know." She grinned.
OK. I have a couple of kinks, she has a couple of kinks. Perfect fit!
The other oddity was how quickly Rachel and Debra became fast friends, odd because Rachel was at least 25 years younger than my Debs.
Which made her a shade under 45 years younger than me.
Several times when Rachel came over in the evenings after her husband was gone to work, she and Debra would sit out on the porch and talk. I never really paid too much attention to that, I know that women sit around and talk about soap operas, things like that.
At least that is what I think they talk about, anyway. It only takes about 60 seconds of female conversation and I am off to the garage to sharpen fishing hooks.
Rachel had a hubby named Nathan, the guy is big and goofy looking, his hair sort of every which way. She claimed he was really smart, always bragging about him, but after talking to him a few times myself it struck me that he didn't catch on much.
Dough boy on the outside, the look fit the inside, I guess. I chatted with him about cooking a few times, no doubt he could do that, maybe that is what she meant? After all, he was the head Chef at the new place down on Coast Avenue.
He was more like a box of rocks about other things.
I took him fishing with me one Sunday, that was a trip to watch. He was putting a Shrimp on the hook and managed to get the hook into his finger, not just stick himself but he got it all the way through.
I happened to glance up and he was standing there with a silly look on his face, the line and sinker hanging off the hook securely in his fingertip, Shrimp still on the hook.
He obviously did not have a clue of what to do at that point.
It took me several minutes to get the thing loose what with the barb and all, I finally dig my side cutters out of the tackle box and clipped off the barb part.
Man did he howl at that, hell, I cut the hook, not his finger.
Guess it hurt like the dickens anyway. But it was either that or go all the way back to town to see a Doctor and we were way out on the dang jetty.
I got it out and he stuck the bleeding finger in his mouth, then made a face.
Guess his finger tasted like sand Shrimp.
I tied on another hook and baited the line, then he stood up and cast out towards the river. The sinker plopped down on the rocks behind him.
He ended up with a ball of line on the reel worse than any I ever saw, then looked over at me with that same dumb expression on his face.
It took me twenty minutes to get that sorted out.
Then he tried again and did exactly the same thing.
Finally I cast the thing out for him and he sat down, as luck would have it a great big old Bullhead grabbed his line in about two seconds.
He had the reel upside down turning it a couple of turns one way, then a couple the other.
I finally went over and hand lined the fish in, using my long handled net to lift it out of the water.
"Man, look at the size of that thing!" He said with pride like he had really done something.
"Here ya go!" I grinned, handing him the net with the nasty looking thing all wrapped up in the mesh.
He managed to get himself bit twice before I took it away from him and unhooked it.
Those Bullheads aren't like the little slick ones we get farther up the river. Nope, these things are lumpy and ugly, mostly just rows of needle sharp teeth and a head, with a little short stub of a tail and a big belly to hold whatever they manage to eat.
They lay on the bottom pretending to be a rock until something gets a bit too close.
Like Nathan's fingers.
I had to use a box cutter knife to get the mess off of that reel that time.
He sure was proud of that fish, it was pretty big as Bullheads go, maybe three pounds. He insisted on taking the thing home and cooking it for his dinner.
I didn't say a word, what the hell. Let him find out.
Nathan was a chef I guess, best he stick with his cooking, I thought. I did kind of wish I could be there when he bit into the thing, let's just say I cooked one of them myself some 40 years back.
There isn't enough seasoning on the planet to fix what those things taste like.
He and Rachel seemed to be happy though, at least on the outside. Hugging and kissing all the time whenever they both were around.
But there were some problems under the surface, as I found out later.
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My wife Debs works in a medical clinic as one of those Registered Nurse Practitioners (Debra says I am supposed to capitalize that) and Rachel became one of her patients.
Her specialty is Geriatrics, which means us old and getting close to dead coots, but Rachel was maybe 25?
Beats the hell out of me, that part. Yet Debra does get quite a few younger patients, probably because in our little town nearly everyone sees Debra or one of only two Doctors and both of them are way older than me.
