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Lolita Preteen

(2011-11-21 23:14:34)
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Related article: Eleven-and-a-half: A Fantasy Of Great Length by Ray WilderChapter 41: PattyThis is a work of fiction. All the characters, events and locations portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, events or locations is purely coincidental.Copyright � 1996. All rights, implicit or implied, except for distribution by this archive and personal use by the individual downloading the file, are reserved. Inquiries regarding publishing rights for this book should be directed to: raywildaol.com======================================== Patty could think of several hundred million places she would rather be than where she was now. Which was on the floor of her sister's living room with three obnoxious no-neck monsters using her as a trampoline. When her sister commented that Patty was so good with the children she silently wished she possessed something long, hard and tubular that shot projectiles. The image of Arnold standing in front of her apartment door with his huge member lying in the palm of her hand quickly changed her mind. Actually, she still wished for it, she just wished she were away from here with it. The three brats were only part of her reason for wanting to be somewhere else. Several other items fought for the top of her list: A) Her sister, Betty, was being especially asinine this evening. B) She couldn't get her mind off Arnold; fantasies of what her encounter with him the next evening was going to be like constantly intruded on her train of thought. C) Then there was Bob, Betty's husband. Patty had been making these mercy trips (as she called them) every few months for the last four years. The reason she kept coming back was because of Bob. He treated her with respect, was absolutely enthralled with her body, from an aesthetic point of view only, and never, ever, got as much as a hair out of place. No matter what the kid's did, no matter how goof ball Betty got, Bob was steady and understanding, patient, and loving. Until now. Patty realized there had to be moments in every relationship when a couple didn't see eye to eye on certain matters, even the occasional difficulty in settling differences. In fact, she had always marveled at how smoothly Bob handled Betty and the kids, defusing a potentially nasty situation before it had a chance to get out of hand. She had learned a lot from Bob; had used the techniques she had seen him employ in her own personal and business dealings. So what the hell was going on here? From the moment Patty walked through the front door that afternoon, Bob had been a bundle of nerves. Every little thing that anyone did upset him. He had already blown his stack a couple of times for no apparent reason and the slightest contradiction from the kids or the least little frustration triggered a tirade. Patty had always known that dealing with her sister would try the patience of Job. But this was Bob. Steady, wonderful, loving, caring Bob. And what the hell was wrong with Betty? She acted as though nothing were wrong. An idiot could see that something was amiss with her husband, how inappropriate his behavior was, and yet Betty seemingly ignored everything. Patty even got the feeling that her sister was actually condoning his behavior. She was trying to think of some way Lolita Preteen to confront her brother-in-law when Bob finally blew his stack and forced the issue, himself. After several minutes of kids bouncing on Aunt Patty, Bob came pounding down the stairs and yelled at them to move their activities outside. The two older ones responded immediately, but Suzy, the youngest of the three and the second youngest of the family, failed to grasp the necessity of complying with her father's angry demand. Bob yelled at her once again. Patty decided she was as much at fault for the children's behavior as they were so she scooped Suzy Lolita Preteen up, put the child on her shoulders and carried her through the dining room to the kitchen and the back door. She was swaying back and forth to give the kid a bit of a thrill and the little girl was flailing her arms about, trying to catch her balance. Patty walked past some open shelves mounted on the wall just inside the kitchen and the child's outstretched hand caught a small glass vase which tumbled to the floor and shattered. Patty recognized the vase as one that had been filled with flowers she had picked up in a shop several years before on her way into town. The place had been loaded with them, so there was no intrinsic value to the piece. In fact, Patty always brought flowers, sometimes in a vase, sometimes not, so there was nothing special about the event. She set the child down in the kitchen and went to get the broom and dust pan out of the closet next to the refrigerator. As she was opening the door she heard footsteps coming through the dining room and called out a warning. "Careful. Broken glass by the kitchen door." She found the implements she was looking for and came back to sweep up the mess. Bob was standing on the far side of the damage. "How the hell did this happen?" His language and the manner in which he spoke shocked Patty. She had never heard him say anything stronger than 'darn'. "Suzy and I were clowning around and I guess her hand knocked it over." In a flash, Bob was over the scattered shards and bounding towards his daughter who was sitting at the kitchen table completely unaware of the magnitude of her crime. Bob grabbed her by the shoulders, picked her up and began shaking her violently. "What the hell's the matter with you? How many times do I have to tell you to be careful in the house. I'm sick and tired of you kids running around here, ruining everything like this was a goddamn playground. If you want to roughhouse go out in the goddamn back yard. I'm sick of this shit. Now get out of here before. . ." He half dropped, half threw his daughter towards the back door. The child was a sobbing wreck and ran to her mother who was working at the sink. "Go outside like your father told you, Sue." Bob became furious that his daughter had not completely obeyed him and started to move across the room towards her. Patty could tell the next confrontation would be even more physically harmful. "Bob." He stopped in his tracks and turned to her. The anger in his eyes was frightening. He was so very mad. But as he saw Patty, the anger switched off and a dry, cool smile spread over his face. She was shocked at the rapidity with which he turned it on and off, but at the moment she could only think of the (was this possible?) poor child. "Give me a hand here, will you? I don't want to move and break any more glass." She extended the dust pan to him. He took a step or two towards her and then remembered the child. With a swift change of attitude that reminded her of psychosis, he whipped around to the little girl and shouted, "Get the hell out of here. Now." Suzy ran screaming to the back door and out into the yard. Bob tore after her, stopping at the screen door as it slammed closed before him. "If you don't shut up I'll really give you something to cry about." The effort Patty exerted to keep herself from flinging the broom at her brother-in-law was monumental. She took a couple of deep breaths and quickly glanced around the room to gather the sense of the environment: Betty's reaction (none?), the sounds of the other children (none?), her own feelings (got a couple of hours?) She almost chuckled. These were the very techniques she had learned from her years of watching the cool, even, unflappable Bob handle the most chaotic or unsettling of circumstances. Bob walked over and almost cheerfully took the dust pan . He hesitated for a fraction of a second before removing it from her hand, his eyes flashing to hers. There wasn't the slightest evidence of his anger. He was simply helping her clean up a small, insignificant pile of worthless broken glass. Patty gathered the pieces together with the broom and swept them into the dust pan as Bob held it in place. After all the mess was picked up he stood up, his eyes locked onto hers. "Thanks for taking care of that, Patty. I really appreciate it." He took the broom from her, turned away and drop the contents of the dust pan in the trash bin at the end of the counter. After replacing the broom and pan in the closet he walked back to Patty. "Can I get you something to drink?" Patty studied him. On the surface he looked cool, calm, unperturbed. But she could see something at the edges of his eyes. They were just a little too wide, his forehead just a little too wrinkled. And she heard it in his voice; ever so slightly unstable. Patty wasn't sure if she wanted to get involved with whatever was going on around here. Perhaps she should talk to Betty first. "Patty? A drink?" "Huh? Oh, yeah. That would be fine. Do you have any soda water?" "I think there's some down in the rec room. Come on down and I'll fix you some." "Sure. Let me just wash up. I meet you downstairs in a minute, okay?" Bob's eyes flashed over to his wife who was entirely too involved in whatever mundane task she was performing at the kitchen counter. He shrugged and turned to the stairs. "See you in a minute," he called as he descended. Patty took a moment to gather her thoughts. She watched her sister working at the sink. What the hell was going on here? She had no answer, so decided to check with someone who might. She walked over to her sister. As she got closer she could see Betty's shoulders tense noticeably. Her neck scrunched down as if she were preparing to dodge a blow to the head. "Betty?" There was no response. Whatever Betty was doing she did it more. Patty stepped up behind her and put her hand on Betty's shoulder. She cringed, pulling quickly away, and then tried to re-involve herself in her previous activity. Patty was very confused now. And just a little angry. She didn't like things that were out of control. She didn't like not knowing. Her blood pressure began to rise and she had to concentrate on not loosing control herself. "Will you please tell me what is going on here?" Again, nothing. "Betty. Goddammit. Talk to me, will you? Please?" Betty set down the kitchen utensil she was using and turned slowly to her sister. Her cheeks were streaked with the paths of many tears. She had been crying for some time now. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She shook her head in. . . frustration?. . . disbelief?. . . anger?. . . and then turned silently back to her chores. Patty started to get scared. This was more than just one of Betty's 'moods'. She had just stopped her brother-in-law from committing child abuse and her sister was a bundle of raw, exposed nerves on the edge of a breakdown. "Betty?" "Why don't you go down and talk to Bob," she replied without turning around. Her shoulders shuddered with a silent sob. Patty exhaled with a frustrated sigh and turned to the basement stairs. Just before she reached the door her sister called after her. "Patty?" "What?" she answered, a bit more tersely than she had intended. She calmed herself and answered again, more evenly. "What, Betty?" Betty hesitated for a moment and then just shook her head. Patty gave up and headed downstairs. Bob was over at the wet bar dropping ice cubes into two glasses. He smiled nonchalantly. "Hi, there," he said as he emptied a bottle of soda water into one and added a slice of lemon. He then opened the cabinet above the small sink and took out a bottle of scotch. Bob never drank before dinner, and very rarely afterwards. He poured two healthy fingers over the ice in the other glass and put the bottle down on the counter without replacing the cap. Patty was getting a very bad feeling about all this. Bob's behavior seemed too blatant to be misunderstood. At first she thought it was some parody of machismo he was putting on, but she realized he was playing it all a bit too real. She was torn between her need to find out the meaning of his conduct and an almost irrepressible desire to kick him in the nuts. This was definitely not the good-old-level-headed Bob she had grown to know and love. Definitely not. So if this wasn't Bob, then. . . She held her position at the bottom of the stairs and made him carry the glass over to her. His walk was steady enough, he didn't seem to be drunk. As he approached she examined his eyes. Again she noticed the slight widening, the little indication of some internal hysteria. His breathing was short, rapid. His grip on her glass was tight, the knuckles and fingernails turning white with the pressure of his grasp. What was it? Drugs? It seemed the only thing possible. But Bob? On drugs? If he was, then there was something seriously wrong, and drugs were only the symptom. Somehow she doubted it, though. She took a deep breath as he neared and held out her hand for the proffered glass, expecting to have to struggle for its possession. A quick flash of a piece of plexiglas with a key attached to it. Their eyes locked yet again; Bob's face wearing a sarcastic, self-satisfied, overly-confident smile, as though whatever he had on his mind was already a fait accompli. At the last minute Bob practically shoved the glass into her hand and withdrew to the sofa that made up one side of a conversation pit at the far end of the room. Whatever he had intended, he had backed away from it at the last minute. Patty was getting irritated. If he was going to shoot, then for God's sake pull the trigger. She studied him across the room for a second and then made up her mind to take this bullshit by the horns. She marched purposely across the floor and plopped herself down in an armchair that put her left knee/right knee with her irrationally behaving in-law. Her forceful, determined attitude seemed to scare him a bit and he quickly dropped the attitude he had been carrying since his confrontation with his daughter upstairs. That was better. Now, she hoped, she could get some answers. "Talk Bob." "Huh?" "Cut the bullshit and talk." He studied the contents of his glass for a moment, downed a good portion of it in back to back gulps, winced as the booze burned its way down his unaccustomed Lolita Preteen throat and then looked back at her. His eyes seemed to have trouble focusing on her for a second, but soon found their mark. For the zillionth time today they locked gazes, but this time the wide-eyed, frantic stare was replaced by shimmering tears that hung on his lower lids until he blinked. They tumbled from their perch, ran down his cheeks and splattered on his chest. He ignored them as though he was now long used to their existence. More followed and soon his nose was running. He reached to a small end table next to the sofa and retrieved a couple of Lolita Preteen tissues with which to blow his nose. Patty stayed alert but neutral. She wanted to find out what this was all about before she committed herself emotionally. Already her gut feeling was telling her the worst. She watched as, several times, Bob tried to form some word but was unable. Just as Betty had upstairs. Patty ran down a short but gruesome list of words people have trouble saying. Each of them fit the profile. She didn't want to hazard a guess and be wrong, especially with the situation being as emotionally charged as it was. She continued to wait, letting Bob know with her body language that whatever he needed from her to get through this, he could depend on her to deliver. Again the word formed on his lips. He made two attempts to say it and then tried another. "How are you, Patty?" The non-sequitur caught her by surprise, but she tried to remain focused. What did Bob want her to do? "Fine, Bob. How are you?" He hesitated for a second. "It's over, Patty." Patty waited. She had a feeling she knew what was over, but didn't want to say it, fearing that speaking it would make it happen. Bob shook his head and studied the woman in front of him. He knew she comprehended, but it was angering him that she was going to make him go into the details. He knew he would have to, but it was not going to be at all easy. "Betty's leaving me. Or I'm leaving her. Or. . . It's just over." "I'm going to hazard a guess that this has something to do with Betty's previous life." "Yeah. She's been seeing Patrick's father. I found out about it from a guy at the office who saw them together at a bar the other night. When I confronted her with it she just shrugged and admitted it, as though I'd just asked her what time it was. I couldn't believe it. I mean, not her having an affair. That hardly surprised me at all. This isn't the first time, you know." "No, I didn't." "Well, it's not. Or the second. Or the tenth. But I couldn't believe how little it meant to her. I asked her what she thought we should do about it and she told me she wanted a divorce. Un-contested, of course." "Of course." "She told me I could have the kids, too. Except Patrick. He was to go live with his father. Christ, Patty. What the hell am I supposed to do with three kids. I mean, I love them. I really do. They're my whole life. But I can't raise three kids by myself. This is supposed to be a joint effort." "Are you going to ask for child support?" "She said if I did she'd counter-sue for custody. I may not think I could handle three kids by myself. But I know what would happen to them if she was in charge of raising them." Bob knocked back the rest of his drink and set his glass down on the end table with a loud bang. Patty was afraid he was going to get violent again. Unfortunately, he had spent so many years being 'cool, calm, collected Bob' he didn't have any outlet for his anger. He'd lost his ability to vent his emotions, if he'd ever had it. Patty somehow doubted it. You didn't keep your cool the way Bob did without years and years of practice and suppression. And now it was all coming out and the only thing he could vent it on was his family. She didn't like the wild look in his eyes she'd seen earlier. "Are you mad, Bob?" "No. . . Yes. . . Yes. I guess I am. I mean, I don't usually yell at the kids like that." "Bob, I've never seen you yell at the kids. Not like that or anything. Never." "I can't seem to control it. I know I'm doing it. I know I'm scaring the hell out of the kids, but I can't even begin to stop it. The scary part is that. . . it really feels good. Not yelling at the kids. That part sucks." "Bob." "Yeah, I know. Make a sailor blush, right?" "Well, not that bad. But I've never heard you use that kind of language." "Offended?" "Hell, no. Just surprised." "I'm kind of shocked, myself. But what really has me baffled. . . scared. . . worried, is how. . . how good it feels to get mad." "Have you gotten mad at Betty?" "At first. I actually slapped her across the face when she reacted so cavalier about her affair. She's been ducking me ever since. I didn't think it was a very good idea for you to come down this weekend, but Betty insisted. I think she wants you here so I won't haul off and smack her again." "Well, I'm ready to slug both of you." "I figured you'd say that." "Well, yeah. I mean, come on, Bob. I've known you for a long time. We've been friends. We talk. We pal around. I've watched you with your family and marveled at your ability to handle them. And now this." "Do you realize how exhausting it is to have to work at making this extended family work together? Three fathers, a mother who apparently couldn't care less, four kids who, for the most part, are so emotionally unstable that, waking them up in the morning, I'm afraid I'll find one of them has murdered another in the night. They're angry. All of them. They all resent each other's presence. They all resent not knowing who they are and why 'real daddy' doesn't want them, or why they have to share their lives with someone else's kid. And I'm stuck in the middle of it." He heaved a sigh which shook his entire body. "I'm tired of it. I've been running my butt off trying to make this work and now it's all going to get thrown out the window. With a shrug." "Well, you deserve to get mad. Get angry. But the kids don't deserve to be the ones to catch it. I suspect you've never really gotten mad before have you?" "Sure. I've been upset." "Bob. We're talking major and minor league here. You get a flat tire, swear under your breath and change the damn thing. You get to the store and find out they closed fifteen minutes ago. Minor league. I'm talking about wanting to take someone and throw them up against the wall and beat them senseless with your bare fists. Like you almost did a while ago to Suzy." "That was pretty stupid, wasn't it?" "No, just misdirected. And I'm not advocating going out Lolita Preteen and finding some bum in a back alley and setting his clothes on fire, either. But you really do need to get mad. In an environment you can trust, where no one can get hurt. You need to take that energy and channel it into something constructive." "You want me to go to the gym, right?" "Wrong. I just want you to get rid of all this pent-up energy before I see your story on the six o'clock news." Bob leaned back heavily into the cushions, exhaling through tightly pursed lips. He studied his fingernails as though the secrets of the universe were contained in the small specks of dirt caught under them. Occasionally his eyes would flash up at Patty. He was worried, very worried. And Patty suspected the thing he was worried most about was that he might be misinterpreting what she was talking about. What she was offering. "Do the kids know?" "I suspect Patrick and Veronica do. Or at least they know something is very wrong. I doubt if Suzy and Marshall have caught on yet. We've tried to keep this thing quiet, although, as you saw a while ago, it's getting more and more difficult to keep a lid on it." "You suspect? You mean you haven't told them? Lolita Preteen Bob, what the hell's wrong with you? You never used to deal the kids out. Especially when it involved them like this." "I guess we. . . I was hoping that things would get sort of. . ." "Patched up?" "Yeah. That if I told the kids and it turned out to be not true, then we would have made them worry about nothing." "So, instead, you let them go on trying to figure out why Mommy and Daddy hate them all so much that they're being beaten and screamed at like never before in their lives. Bob. I love you. You're my favorite in-law. . ." "I'm your only in-law." "Right. And you're an asshole." "Thanks, Patty. Real confidence builder, there." "I'm not trying to build anything. I'm venting my anger so that I don't yank the wet bar out from the wall and clobber you with it. Two of those kids upstairs are your children. But all four of them are my nieces and nephews. I may talk disparagingly about them, I may cringe at the thought of spending a weekend with them, but I know that has more to do with not being used to having kids around me more often. Bottom line, though. They are my kin. My blood. And you're screwing around with their heads. You're an asshole. So's my sister. In fact she's a bigger asshole." "I was hoping I wasn't going to have to bear all the blame here." "But she's also an emotional cripple. She was brought up without any knowledge of how to make a relationship work. Love equals sex. That's all. Unfortunately sex equals babies Lolita Preteen and she never was too good at higher math. Couple that with the attention span of a thirty minute soap opera and you've got someone who changes lovers like a channel surfer with a remote control on a bad TV night. But you. You came into this a bit more prepared. I don't believe that no one warned you about what you were getting into. Who did you think you were? Superman?" "Yes." Bob was crying again. Good. She was hitting her mark. "Well, you're not, Bob. You're just a shmoe, like all the rest of us shmoes. Only you didn't believe it. You thought you could put yourself aside, forget about what you needed as a human being and give yourself totally to the task of righting the wrong that had been committed here. Right?" Bob couldn't respond. His body was being wracked by sobs, tears were now streaming constantly down his cheeks, his nose running. "Just nod your head, Bob. Let me know if I'm on the right track here." He nodded. "Fine. So here you are, with a wife that can't keep her hand out of the cookie jar, in fact has a very well documented history of this particular problem, and now she's at it again. So what do you do? You get mad at the kids. Great, Bob. Just great. Go ahead. Beat the dog. Drop the goldfish in the disposal and crank 'er on. Maybe you should go out and by a parakeet so you can twist its little neck real slow-like and listen to every little bone crack while it chirps its death song in the palm of your hand." "Fuck you, Patty." "What'd you say, asshole?" "I said, 'Fuck you.'" "No. Fuck you, you creep. My sister's a jerk, but you should know better." "What the hell do you know? What do you know about all this. You don't even. . ." "What? Say it, asshole. Say it. I don't even what?" "What do you know about family? What do you know about making a relationship work, huh? It's easy for you to sit there and criticize me and the way I'm handling this. But you can't possibly have any idea what I'm going through." "You're right." "You're goddamn right I'm right. Right. And stop trying to make me mad at you. I know what you're trying to do. You want me to take a shot at you. You want me to take this out on you so I don't hit my kids." "That's right, asshole. Better me than those poor, confused kids upstairs." Bob slammed his fist down hard on the arm of the sofa and propelled himself to his feet. He stared down at Patty, his breathing heavy and ragged. He tried to say something several times, stopped, walked away a few steps and then turned back to her. "You know, you're just as much of an asshole as me. You think I'm stupid because I'm taking this out on my kids. You're right. But you. . ." "Me, what?" "You don't get it, do you?" "What the fuck are you talking about?" "You. I'm talking about you. Look at you." "What is this? I thought you were the one with the problem. What's this got to do with me?" "This is about you." "Okay, Bob. I'm really confused now. You'd better start making some sense here." "You're not playing dumb? You really don't understand, do you?" "Work with me, here, Bob. We seem to have taken a turn without the turn signals. I thought Betty was leaving you for a former lover and you were beating the kids. How do I fit into all this?" "Aw, Patty. Don't make this anymore difficult than it already is. Do a little reading between the lines so I don't have to say it." "I don't like this, Bob." "You don't like this? Ha! You think I'm enjoying this? You think it's been easy for me to have you come down here every three or four months, stay for a couple of days, traipsing around here in your tight outfits, going to the beach in those posing suits you wear, sleeping in the bedroom next to mine while I lay awake until all hours of the night fighting off the almost uncontrollable desire to sneak out of bed and tap quietly on your door." "Oh, shit." "Yeah. Oh, shit, Patty. No shit." "All this time. . ." "I was being such a good boy." "But you never let on." "And if I had? You'd have been out of here in a shot with a quick stop at Betty to tell her what a scum bag she's married to." Patty stood up and walked to stairs at the opposite end of the room. She put her hand on the railing, her left foot on the first step. "I want to ask you a question, Bob. If you lie to me, and I'll know if you do, I'm out of here." There was silence. She took that as agreement. "If you'd met me before Betty, would you have married her?" "No." Shit. She was afraid of that. She did a quick run down of her own feelings in this matter and realized, without too much surprise, that she had deep feelings for this man. She admired him, respected him, even loved him as a close friend and relative. She cherished the time she got to spend with him, had admitted that he was the main reason she even made these journeys. He was nominally married to her sister. Did this matter? Yes. Her sister was dumping him for the slob who first dumped her with a kid. That only confirmed Betty's emotional instability. Could she take advantage of that? She didn't like the answer to that. She climbed the stairs to the top, turned the little button in the middle of the door knob, checked to make sure it was locked and then returned to the basement. When she reached the bottom step she looked over at her brother-in-law. Saying she saw him with new eyes would have been the understatement of the century. Yes, all the pieces fell into place. His kindness, attention, respect. The workouts, the critique sessions, him showing her his while she showed him hers. Checking in on her every night to see if she needed anything. Taking days off from work to go the beach with her and Betty and the kids. Had he ever taken a day off to go to the beach with Betty? She would have bet her last nickel on that until a few moments ago. Now. . . She doubted it. So here she was. And there he was, still standing across the room looking lost and confused. He knew that, in his mind at least, he had been cheating on his wife since they were married. Was the thought as bad as the deed? She doubted that Betty and the kids ever suffered for his transgression. If anything, Lolita Preteen the guilt probably made him a far better father, a more attentive husband, than Betty's kids could have possibly hoped for, or than Betty deserved. "Okay. So now what?" "I guess that's sort of up to you. I'm the bad boy with the dirty little secret. You're just the innocent bystander." "Not so innocent." "How so?" "I certainly didn't discourage your attentions, your enthusiasm for my sport. I think that our little confabs down here, discussing and comparing of body parts, perhaps I was too eager to involve you. I enjoyed them, looked forward to them. Especially when you started to make such wonderful progress." "I never thought your intentions any less than honorable." "I would have said the same thing of yours. And mine, now that I think about it. I'm pretty sure I was kidding myself." "I know I was. Why did you go upstairs? Were you going to leave?" "I locked the door." Patty stepped off the last stair and moved across the room to him. He seemed. . . scared, nervous. He was still on the edge, emotionally. Patty wanted to make sure he had a clear head about what was happening here. "First thing: What we're contemplating here is wrong. You're a married man. Married to my sister. She cheated on you, but that gives you absolutely no right to do the same thing to her. Second thing: I am your sister-in-law, other side of the same coin, but I thought it needed to be said. Third thing: Just because we've both been harboring certain desires about each other is Lolita Preteen no reason to act on them now. Especially now. How'm I doing?" "Back up to the first thing." "What about it?" "What is it, exactly, we're contemplating here?" "You want me to answer for both of us?" "Okay. What is it you're contemplating?" "I'm contemplating helping you relieve some of that pent-up anger and energy so that you'll stop taking it out on my nieces and nephews. What are you contemplating?" "Your breasts." "I've noticed. Beyond that." "There isn't anything beyond that." Patty sighed. She undid the buttons of her blouse and shrugged it off her broad shoulders. It slipped to the floor behind her. The bra she had put on at the rest stop just before the exit for her sister's house barely contained the two globes of her breasts. She would never have admitted it before now that she always Lolita Preteen dressed this way for Bob. But she did. Always had. Many times when they were discussing his or her progress in body building she had wanted to pull these stupid clothes off and let him drink the beauty of her wonderful physique. She had felt so stupid pulling a sleeve up here, a pant leg there so he could see a certain muscle group. She knew now what he had always wanted to see. He would get his wish. The snap for the bra was in the front. She raised her hands to undo it, but noticed him shaking his head. "What?" "Don't. You're right. This is not right, at all." "You sound about as convincing as a politician on the night before election." "Really Patty. I don't think we should do this." He walked towards her, his eyes still glued to the astounding sight before him. "I don't think I could forgive myself if you were to be coerced into some illicit act with me." He stopped inches away from her and reached up with his hands. His fingers spread as though he were going to place them over her breasts. They stopped, so close she could feel the heat of them. They began to shake, trembling with the conflict between his mind and his heart. His fingers closed into a fist, drew together, and then moved to the snap. Before she could blink he'd undone it. The bra literally flew open as it contracted from the strain of its efforts. "I have fantasized about this moment for years. Your breasts are the most wonderful I have ever seen." "Thank you. Touch them." "Huh?" "Touch them. I want you to touch them. Please." Bob started with his hands on the outside curve of each one. He lightly traced the circumferences with his fingertips. Patty hmmmed quietly and her spectacular nipples began to harden and lengthen. Before he had even made it all the way around they were erect. He slowly closed his hands around the globes of flesh and drew them together. His tongue snaked out from between his closed lips and he quickly flicked it across each of the long, rigid erections. Patty breathed in sharply, between closed teeth. "Oooo. Yeah." "Would you flex for me?" "Oh, baby, would I?" She shook her arms to rid them of the bra and then raised them above her head. Slowly tensing every muscle, she lowered them again to her side. As she did her body began to bulge and grow. Her pecs expanded and pressed her breasts harder into his hands. Veins and muscle fibers exploded over her body. Her shoulders widened, her biceps bulged. Bob's hands were suddenly everywhere, feeling everything. He pulled Patty to him and their mouths pressed together in a kiss so deep it sucked at each other's soul. His hips began pumping against her; she countered his efforts with her own pelvic thrusts. She could feel the length of his cock as it pressed against her. She reached to his waist and undid the belt buckle and then the snap at the top of his zipper. Bob's actions were getting more insistent, more urgent. She didn't want him popping his cork with his pants still on so she pulled away from him and began to unbutton his shirt. She pulled the shirt tail out of his pants and then spread the front open, revealing his wonderful, tight chest and abdomen. He had opted for definition instead of mass and had followed her advice religiously. The result was a hard, firm body covered with lots of wonderful little clumps and knots of sexy muscle. She ran her hands up to his shoulders, enjoying the roundness of his delts, and pushed the shirt down off his back. Everything was so well-defined. Every single muscle had its own identity. She knew that flexing wouldn't make him look much bigger. But the hard-etched look of him was a real turn-on by itself. "You've done very well. I can't believe Betty would want to throw this away." "She says it scares her." "What?" "Yeah. She says it reminds her of you. I think she feels like she's making love to you." "It's possible she realizes why you're building yourself up." Patty studied him for a few moments, silently assessing his various muscle groups. She had seen this before. Bob had no compunctions about baring himself for her. Their regular analysis of his physique had been complete. "This is great. For the first time I don't have to think about car crashes and dead body parts lying on the highway." "What." "That's what I had to do whenever you looked at me like this before so I wouldn't get a hard-on." "How considerate of you. What's the matter, did you think I'd never seen one before?" "Of course not. I just didn't think it would be appropriate. Especially if one of the kids was watching." "True enough. So you're not worried about it now, eh?" They both looked down at the front of his pants. "I guess not." "Good." Patty undid the zipper and pulled his pants down his muscular legs. He had done a great job of working the individual muscle groups without letting them get too bulky. The deep tan accented his white briefs nicely. And so did the nice hard protrusion pressing outward from within. She kneeled and helped him step out of his pants and then leaned back just a bit to study the sight before her. She knew it would feel very good inside her. It seemed to be quite thick and the head made quite an impression. She could also make out the outline of two big testicles which were pressed against the fabric. She leaned forward and blew a breath of hot air onto the fabric. Bob's body tensed noticeably. So did her own. He was right on the edge. "When did you cum last?" "It's been about a week." "I assume, then, that the pump is primed." "You blow on me like that one more time and I won't be responsible for what happens." "Good." She stood up, stepped back a couple of feet and undid the waistband of her skirt. It dropped to the floor leaving her clothed only in her sandals and bikini briefs. She let him gaze at her again for a while, enjoying the way he studied her. She realized what it was about this whole situation that turned her on so much: The risk. Here was Bob, ready to throw everything over the side, just for a shot at Patty's body. If Betty were to catch them, it would be all over. She would have grounds to Lolita Preteen sue for divorce and no jury in the state would find her at fault, no matter her own indelicacies. And stare he did. Each time his eyes moved to a different part of her body his hips gave a little thrust forward. She thought he must be getting a bit uncomfortable. "That must hurt." "Yeah." "Good." She slipped her fingers down into the waistband of her briefs and slowly slid them to the floor. She stepped out of them and picked them up in her right hand. She held them out to Bob and waved them back and forth, allowing the smell of her to waft through the air. Bob inhaled deeply through his nose; his chest expanded. He tensed his muscles, causing them to increase their definition. He spread his arms out to his sides, flexed them, causing his biceps to turn into hard, smooth rocks. He flexed his abdomen, his hips pumping forward, and his cock let loose. Again and again he thrust his pelvis forward and the front of his briefs were saturated with his cum. Patty rushed to him and pressed her body hard against his, grinding her crotch against his hardness. Their hands pushed, pulled, squeezed, grasped, rubbed, dug, scratched; their mouths sucked, licked, bit, chewed, kissed, blew, drank. Bob pressed his advantage and soon had Patty backed up against a support pole in the middle of the room. The cold metal shocked her and made her more aggressive. She grabbed his briefs, yanking them to the floor. She flattened herself against the pole, wrapped one leg around Bob's waist and grabbed the beam which rested on the top of the support with her right hand. With her other she grabbed Bob's hot, thick cock and aimed it at her cunt. He Lolita Preteen thrust once and was in. Patty shuddered as she felt him fill her. She moaned and then grabbed the beam with her other hand as well and wrapped her other leg around his waist. Bob pressed slowly forward until he was entirely enclosed by her heat. They stared at each other, enjoying the moment. Bob brought his hands up to Patty's firm, amazing breasts and began to fondle them. She squirmed on his cock. "Let's do some damage." Bob grabbed her waist, pulled his cock almost completely out and then thrust deeply. The force shook her upper torso, her breasts vibrated with the impact. "Oh, yeah. Again. Fuck me. Hard." As he pulled out of her she flexed her huge biceps to lift her body up. He rammed his shaft into her again and she released her weight from her arms and dropped down hard on him. "Oh my God, Patty. Oh yeah. Ooo." Again he pulled out. She lifted, her lats and arms expanding. She pursed her lips and prepared to take the brunt of his attack again. Wham. And again. Wham. Each thrust was hard and furious. They increased in speed until she could no longer lift herself quick enough. She held herself suspended from the beam, her legs wrapped around his waist, while he held her under her ass, his fingers digging into those luscious mounds. Harder. Harder. Faster. Faster. His abdomen flexed and contracted with each thrust. Her breasts bounced, the movement stimulating them, her nipples growing longer, harder, the wonderful globes of flesh aching to be touched, squeezed, handled. Her cunt began to flow as his thick shaft pressed deeply into her. She could feel the ridge of the head as it traveled back and forth within her. He felt so good inside her. So full. So hot. So hard. He established a rhythm, fast and furious, and maintained it. She watched him as his tight body heaved itself into each violent thrust with no end to his endurance in sight. A sheen of sweat began to cover his body, making him glow seductively. She didn't know what she was going to do about her breasts. She needed him to touch her there, but the position they were in kept his hands busy holding her up. She drew him to her with her legs. When they were both pressed up against the pole she released one of her hands from the beam and wrapped it around his neck. Then the other one. He never stopped thrusting. "Take me to the couch," she said as she pressed her aching breasts into his chest. He lifted her by the ass and carried her over to the sofa. When he was standing in front of it she released her arms and slowly leaned back until her shoulders were on its cushions. This made her abdomen become exceptionally hard and her breasts rode high on her chest. Still he continued to pound his cock into her. She was becoming quite agitated, her nerves began to tingle and sing as she was stimulated more and more. He held her there for a few moments to enjoy the view while he continued, and then slowly lowered himself and her ass until they were resting on the couch. Now he reached up and began to fondle her breasts. He started gently but she grabbed his hands and showed him how she liked it: Rough. He complied vigorously. He pulled and squeezed the long, hard nipples, stretching them out and flicking them with his fingertips. Patty began to moan loudly and had to stuff her fist in her mouth to keep from getting as vocally active as she usually did. This was going to be difficult. Bob was very, very good. He was also very, very hard and thick. Soon her cunt was screaming for release, but she could tell Bob still had a few more minutes to go before he was ready to shoot again. The fact that he had not gotten the least bit soft after cumming in his briefs told her how hot he was. She began to flex her internal muscles, clamping down on him each time he thrust powerfully into her. Within seconds he had doubled his speed and was grunting with the effort. Sweat was flying off him and his hard body gleamed. She wanted to touch him. She held out her arms and beckoned him forward. He climbed on top of her, swung his body around so they were both lying lengthwise on the sofa, and then he renewed his attack. She had never had a man move so quickly in her. Never had a man keep up the pace for so long. His muscles strained with the effort, but his breathing seemed deep and regular. Each thrust brought a quiet grunt which increased in pitch as he came closer to cumming. His furious, rapid motion set Patty's cunt to buzzing and soon the contractions began within her. She bit down on her lips to keep from screaming. From yelling. From swearing. From singing. From doing anything. She wanted to flail her arms and buck her hips hard against this amazing lover to drive him on to an incredible orgasm. She was afraid of making too much noise, though. He was so quiet. So determined. He just kept at it. So fast. So hot. His arms were braced on the sofa on either side of her body. Her own hands roamed up and down them, feeling the deep cuts between the muscles. She dug her fingernails into his delts as the waves of release rolled through her body. She tried to pull him down onto her, but he resisted. She dropped back down onto the couch and let the orgasm rumble through her. He then shifted all his weight onto one arm and, with the other, began to manipulate her clitoris. Her hips bucked immediately and she let out a low moan. She caught herself before it got too loud and turned it into a hiss of air. "Oh my God. Oh my God," she whispered. "Oh fuck. Oh God you're good. So good. Yeah. Yeah. Oh, shit. I'm. . . gonna. . . cum. . . again." Her body contracted and new waves flooded through her. She clamped down hard on his cock as he rammed himself deep into her, grinding his hips against her. She felt the first load of cum. He pulled back, slammed his cock into her again and a second one flew from the end of his cock. Again he pulled almost all the way out and then returned, his back arched, his eyes tightly closed, his face contorted with the effort and sheer ecstasy of his release. Each time he thrust forward he ground his hips against her and her clit screamed. She ground her pelvis against him to increase the sensation. After several more of these collisions he slowly lowered himself onto her, his triceps and pecs tightly knotted from the effort. She wrapped her arms around his back and dug her nails into the various hills and valleys of his muscular back. His hands reached up to her face and caressed her cheeks, traced her chin, lips and nose. He would occasionally place a light kiss on some part of her body, eliciting a hum or purr from her. After several minutes he wiggled his hips. "Holy shit. You're still hard." "Of course I am." "What do you mean, 'Of course you are'?" "Whenever you sleep over I have to go into the bathroom about halfway through the night and jerk off at least twice to get soft. I guess with the real thing, it's going to take a lot more than twice." Again he ground his hips forward. She moaned passionately. "You are, without any question, the most sexy, powerful, beautiful woman I have ever dreamed of making love to." "And you, sir, have the most amazing pelvic thrust I have ever run into. Literally. You've been working on that, I assume." "Religiously. I stand in the shower and pretend you're there. Actually, really being inside you slows me down a bit." "I Lolita Preteen thought we were going to catch fire there for a second." "Are you sore?" "A little. Mostly because I've already been pretty active today. In fact, considering how active I've been, I'd say it's pretty amazing I was able to pop off two orgasms back to back like that." Bob smiled and ground his hips against her once more and then slowly pulled out of her. She whimpered involuntarily as she suddenly felt empty. She glanced down between her breasts and saw his dark, rigid cock wavering just above her crotch. He clasped it in one hand and slowly worked it up and down the shaft. "Let me." They shifted position and she knelt on the floor between his legs. She took him into her mouth and began to suck and lick his cock. Her tongue teased and flicked the head. She squeezed the base of the shaft with one hand and gently massaged his big, bloated balls with the other. Bob's fingers buried themselves in her hair, combing and pulling. This went on for several minutes, the two of them just enjoying the union of their bodies. There was no more urgency, no more bodies crashing together at the speed of sound. Just a mouth around a cock. And a lot of hmming and oooing. "I like your cock. It's nice and thick. Tastes good." "Thanks. I want to taste you, too." Patty stood up in front of him. She spread her vaginal lips for him and he wiggled his tongue up towards her clit. He licked it twice, sending shivers through her body, and then moved off the couch to crouch on the floor. He tilted his head way back and worked his tongue down the lips of her cunt until it was burying itself up inside her. Now it was her fingers that combed and pulled at hair. She moaned and cooed as he drove his tongue up into her. His forefinger located her clit again and began to torture it with rapid, light attacks. After a couple of minutes, though, she had to pull away from him. "Sorry, love. We're gonna have to give things a rest. Besides, this was supposed to be the other way around. You still need some attention. Sit down." In fact, his cock had grown considerably darker. "That looks like it hurts." "A whole lot." "Good." "You keep saying that." "I keep meaning it." Patty knelt and consumed his entire cock in one gulp. Bob gasped and his hips pushed up against her face. She licked and sucked her way up and down the shaft and within a matter of minutes was rewarded with several large, powerful loads of cum. She sucked every drop out of him then slowly licked the shaft as it began to soften until it rested on its testicle pillow. He drew her face Lolita Preteen to him and kissed her long and hard, their tongues probed deeply into each other's mouths. Patty crossed her arms on his thighs and leaned her chin on them, heaving a big sigh. "So, Mr. Cum-Three-Times. Now what?" "You want it straight?" "Best way." "I think you ought to leave. Go home. I'm going to have a little chat with Betty and then a nice long talk with my poor, confused children. Tomorrow morning I'm going down to my lawyers office, file for non-contested divorce. I'll insist that she take custody of the older two kids. I get Suzy and Marshall." "And. . .?" "What about us?" "Yeah." "We don't see each other again Lolita Preteen until the divorce is final. One small transgression in the thralls of my grief might be understandable. I don't think I could resist a second time." Again Patty sighed heavily. "Patty?" "What?" "You know I love you, don't you?" "Aw, Christ, Bob. I really wish you hadn't said that." "Why not?" "Well, things are getting pretty crowded up in my neck of the woods." "Got a new beaux?" "You might say that. Not quite sure where it's all leading right now. But, in fact, it might be even more complicated than that." "Do I want to know this?" "Not right now, I don't think. I'm not sure, myself. I'll keep you posted, okay?" "Fine. Whatever happens, I just want you to know what this little thing here has meant to me." "And I want you to know what this little thing," she stroked the length of his now flaccid cock, "has meant to me." "Did you bring your stuff in from your car yet?" "Nope." "Got anything upstairs you can't live without?" "I don't think so. Why?" "Just thought you might want to slip out the back door here. Save you from having to. . . you know." "I am not going to skulk away like some criminal. If Betty doesn't know what went on down here, fine. But if she does, and wants to confront me with it, I'll stand my ground. The fact that I sneak away admits my guilt. At least Lolita Preteen this way I can throw it right back at her. Don't worry. I've been pushing her buttons a lot longer than you. I'll be all right. I'm just glad we didn't get too wild Lolita Preteen with the clothes. You see where my panties went?" "Over there." Bob pointed to the wet bar. Her briefs were draped over the scotch bottle, the neck sticking through one of the leg holes. "Nice shot." They gathered their clothing and dressed, Bob minus his cum-soaked briefs. He took them into the laundry room and dropped them in the washer. Patty watched him finish dressing. She loved watching a man deal with his penis. Bob pulled his pants up, fed the head of his shaft down the right pant leg and then shimmied the pants the rest of the way up his legs, giving his right one a couple of shakes to keep the thick tube of flesh from riding up. He then buttoned and tucked in his shirt, running his hand down the right Lolita Preteen pant leg again to straighten his cock out a final time. Patty sighed. He was so tight, so hard, so defined. And so thick. She could see the shaft pressing against the fabric on the inside of his thigh. She wanted to rub her hand along the length of it, but knew the consequences of that. It was soft now. Best leave well enough alone. When Bob was done he watched Patty with the same intense interest. Just before she enclosed her magnificent breasts within the bra he leaned to each one and sucked each nipple into his mouth one last time. The snap was fastened, the blouse buttoned and deep cleavage and the inside curves of the wonderful globes were all that was left to behold. He ran his hands over their surface and sighed deeply. "Never, ever, did I ever think I would have the pleasure of seeing your beautiful body unclothed. It honestly never occurred to me that it was possible." "Be careful what you wish for. It may come true." "That sounds ominous." "Honey, with what we're getting ourselves into here, a healthy dose of ominous would do us both some good. I want you to know that I'm not real comfortable with what just went on here. Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining about the sex. You are one hot fuck. And wipe that smug look of your face. I'm not trying to assuage the fragile male ego. We're both hot fucks. And I'll bet you were a bit more inspired than you are with my sister. So don't think you can take all the credit. But. We're messing around with more than just our own lives. There are the kids. And, even though she might seem low on the list of things we should have compassion for at the moment, there is Betty. So, before this goes any further, we both, and I stress the word both, need to get our heads together, our feet on the ground, and everything settled. You got me?" "Why do I feel like I'm listening to my mother?" "Sorry. I don't mean to lecture. But I don't want any misunderstandings, either. Another thing, and this may, indeed, shatter your dreams. What we did here did not link our lives together for the rest of time. Like I said, you're a great lay, but I don't want a boyfriend. Or more to the point, I don't want you as my boyfriend. I'll be perfectly honest with you. When I get back to my place I'm going to set about seducing my new next door neighbor who happens to be gorgeous, built like a tank and has a eleven-and-a-half inch cock. Him I wouldn't mind having for a boyfriend. That doesn't cut you out of the picture. He's a share-and-share-alike kind of guy and I personally like a lot of variety in my life. I figure about the time you get finished cutting through all the legal red tape your about to dive into, say two or three centuries from now, I ought to be just about bored with this guy. Don't look so forlorn. I've always had a short attention span. That's why I'm still single. When this is all over I'll look forward to climbing into bed with you and screwing our brains out until neither of us can see straight. That's the story from my side." "Gee. I wish you could be a bit more Lolita Preteen specific about my future. At least I have something to look forward to." "Bob, you've got a lot more to look forward to than just a roll in the hay with me. You make up your own mind. I just Lolita Preteen don't want you making any plans that included me without my consent. I'm very used to getting my own way. I have a hard time when someone comes into a relationship with their mind already made up. So if your plans include me in any way, and I hope they do, just remember where my boundaries are." "I guess I'd better get the ball rolling. Thanks for. . . for everything." "Thank you. I have to be honest, I never suspected you were such a good lover. Does Betty know this side of you?" "At first the sex was great. She's not as energetic as you, though, so I felt inhibited. And possibly I wasn't as polished as I am now. I certainly wasn't in as good a shape. But things cooled off between us pretty soon after we were married. From then on I was only like that in my fantasies of you." "Well, I hope the years of rehearsal were worth the opening night." "Patty, I never knew that sex could be that good in real life. I hope you still want to see me when this divorce stuff is over, because I've got fantasies I've been dreaming about for many years. God, what I'd love to do with your body." "I'll look forward to it." "Just don't get stuck on your neighbors cock." "I hope I get real stuck on it. You think you have an overactive imagination? You wouldn't believe what I've got planned for that man's penis." "I might surprise you." "Yeah, I think you might. You certainly have so far. But now you have to go and be Mr. Sensible Dad. I wouldn't wish this shit on my worst enemy. I certainly hate to think of you going through it. But if there's anyone who can handle it, I know it's you. Just keep the energy flowing. Don't bottle it up. Get to the Lolita Preteen gym and keep those luscious, tight bulges bulging lusciously. I'm sure there are an awful lot of women, and probably men, too, who would give a great deal to get a crack at that body of yours. And that cock. Just remember that. Make it worth your while. Make it worth everyone's while. You and the kids are going to come out of this okay. I know." "Thanks for the confidence. The tunnel looks pretty long and dark from where I'm standing right now. And I have to admit it would be nice to have someone like you with me for moral support, but I appreciate your being so honest, so painfully honest, with me. I'd like to give you a call every now and again, though. It'll be important to me knowing your point of view in all this." "You've got my number. Just don't be surprised if you get my machine a lot for the next couple of weeks. But I promise to call you back." "Great. So. I guess we'd better get this show on the road. I don't suppose you'd want to change places for a little while?" "What? I go up and talk to Betty and the kids while you get a eleven-and-a-half inch cock rammed up your ass?" "Remember those fantasies I was telling you about?" "Robert. You are full of surprises. But, no. Thanks, but no thanks." "I thought not. Oh, well. It was worth a try, anyway. Shall we?" "No time like the present. After you?" "No. After you. If Betty's at the top of the stairs with the frying pan, I'd hate to leave those poor kids without a father." "You're so thoughtful. Fine. I'm the one who's going to have to deal with her first, anyway. As a matter of fact, why don't you wait down here for a couple of minutes while I drag her out to my car with me. She's going to be mighty pissed off when I get through talking to her. That'll give you some breathing room." "Thanks. I'll get the kids and take them out in the back yard. I really should set things straight with them first." For the final time their eyes connected. They were two very different people from the ones who had come down to the basement for a drink a while ago. Patty had actually grown in awe of her brother-in-law. But she could not let him know, right now anyway, how deeply he had affected her. They moved together and embraced, pressing their bodies together, feeling the strength and passion of each other one last time. "God, he is hot," she thought. "My brother-in-law, a sex god. Who'd have guessed." Maybe Arnold wasn't going to have such an easy time bowling her over as she had thought. How would he feel, knowing that her attentions would be divided between him and this hot, sexy stud she was currently grinding her crotch against? She remembered Peter's insightful thoughts about him. If he was right, Arnold would be overjoyed. Probably want to have a crack at Bob, himself. What was it Bob had said? She might, indeed, be surprised. Bob was busy nibbling his way down Patty's throat. His hands were pressing into her breasts and his tongue dove into the cleavage for one last taste. He breathed in deeply, straightened up and stepped back from her. They scanned each other and Patty had to chuckle. "Yep. I think you'd better hang out here for a couple of minutes. You walk up stairs like that and I think even I would want to throw the frying pan at you. Take care of yourself, Bob. I want to see everyone come out of this okay. You, the kids, Betty, me. Everyone." "Thanks, again, Patty. Have a safe trip home. Sorry to send you away without dinner." "Don't worry. I'll grab something on the way. Give me a call in a couple of days, okay?" "Okay." "And say good bye to the kids for me." "Sure. Take care." Patty turned and went up the stairs. She paused for a moment to listen before unlocking the door. She couldn't tell anything. "Well, here goes nothing." She turned the button in the door knob, opened the door and stepped into the kitchen. Betty was sitting at the table, doing nothing. When she saw Patty she shot her a look that told her all she needed to know. Betty knew. But she also knew there was nothing she could do about it. "Come on, Betty. Let's talk." "I've got nothing to say to you." "Good. Then you can just listen. Come on. Out front."
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