T O N G U E – – T I E D

TONGUE-TIED

Renata was in a foul mood, although a satisfied smile did curl her lips as she peered at herself in the full-length mirror. She looked damn good, she thought. She knew she had a good body, anybody would. Slim, five-seven, pretty face, glistening shoulder-length black hair, firm not-too-big tits, flat tummy, toned upper body and long, lean legs. She was thirty-nine years old but people often took her for much younger. She knew she was hot.

Her Cleopatra costume showed off her bod tremendously, she thought as she eyed her reflection, which was exactly what she wanted it to do this night. Shiny, metallic crop top, accentuating her sexy cleavage, and its matching headpiece and leggy, slit skirt, and golden sandals. Her bare midriff with sunken navel on full display. Multiple gold bangles on her wrists, and a long, gold asp curled around her upper arm. Cleopatra would be catching eyes like flies tonight. Her husband Owen was dressing up as Mark Antony, but he hadn’t worked too hard on his costume. He looked more like an overage frat boy on his way to a toga party.

Renata and Owen were headed out to a Mardi Gras party, an annual fundraiser hosted by the chief benefactors of a local dance and theater company. It was a popular event that had grown in size and stature over the years, was fun for all concerned, and raised a lot of money in the process. Every year hundreds would purchase tickets and assemble at the estate home of Samuel and Eloise Hollingsworth, a couple of older, wealthy, artsy-fartsy music and theater buffs. The party was first class all the way, and took place at their large Victorian home, the backyard terrace and pool area, and the tented, torch-lit grounds. There was top-notch music, catered food and drink, and the parties were known to be wild and crazy, a final blowout before lent, for those who observed. Guests had been known to let it all hang out, so to speak, and would sometimes do things they might not normally do, and go farther than they might usually go. Part of the reason for that was the simple party rules: All must wear a costume, and all must wear a mask.

They’d anticipated this evening for weeks, but as they dressed and prepared to leave, Renata and Owen were not happy campers. They should have been looking forward to a fun night, dressing up and partying with friends like Leah, her best friend since high school, and Leah’s husband Luke. But Renata was not in the mood to go anywhere with her husband, and she wasn’t interested in seeing Leah anytime soon, either. She was pissed, madder than she could ever recall, but was determined to go and have a good time despite her husband, and didn’t care if he went to the party or not.

The reason Renata was mad was because of something she’d found out the night before, quite by accident. She and Owen were drinking wine and watching a movie on cable. There was a scene where this couple were making love on a beach and a small plane above was flying low and buzzed them over and over as they fucked. And Owen slipped up.

He said, “You remember that time we were lying on the beach and that 747 did that fly-over right above us at like five hundred feet? Shit, scared the hell out of everybody. We thought it was going down.”

Renata didn’t say anything at first, because she didn’t remember any such thing. But she did vaguely recall an incident years before where the beach town had arranged the fly-over as part of a weekend festival but didn’t get confirmation in time to notify the populace. It had frightened everyone and had them running for cover. There was a big public backlash over it, a lot of blame was thrown around. That had to have been twenty years ago. She remembered because she and Owen were engaged at the time and she’d been perturbed that he’d gone away for the weekend without her. Something with his family, he’d said.

“I don’t remember that,” Renata said. “Must have been somebody else.”

Owen immediately knew he’d stepped in it. His brain was wine-fogged, and he tried to cover for his mistake but he only made it worse. As he stammered along and dug his hole deeper, Renata was thinking back to when they were engaged to be married and later as newlyweds. Owen had raised the prospect of them getting into a swinging lifestyle, and Renata had wanted no part of it. He had mentioned that maybe they could swing with Leah and Luke, since they were all good friends. Renata had told him that if he wanted to swap with them, fine, she’d take Leah and he could go fuck Luke. That had shut him up.

“It was Leah, wasn’t it?” Renata said, interrupting Owen’s babbling.. “You were with Leah. You had an affair with her, didn’t you?”

Owen’s reaction left no doubt. He wasn’t getting out of this one. Gradually, it all came out. Through the tears and screams Renata learned that yes, it had been Leah, and it had gone on for some time when Leah and Luke were already married and she and Owen were still engaged. It was not a one-time drunken episode, which might have been forgivable. It had gone on for months and the two of them had kept their secret, and lived their lie, for twenty years. Renata didn’t know who she should be more pissed-off with: Her husband for fucking her best friend, or her best friend for fucking her husband.

“Does Luke know about you two?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“How many other women have you fucked since then?”

“Renata…”

“How many?”

“None. That was the only time. I…”

“Oh, bullshit. Why should I believe that? Cheat once, you’ll cheat again. I’d bet this house it wasn’t the only time. You’ve been lying to me for twenty fucking years.”

“It’s the truth. She was the only one. It was wrong, I’m sorry. It happened by accident…”

“Accident? Oh, shut the fuck up!” she shouted at him. “Was it by accident you did it again and again for months? I don’t want to hear any more of your shit.”

“Renata, calm down…”

“Calm down?” she shrieked. “You fucked my best friend, for Christ’s sake! Do you have any idea how much that hurts? Do you have any idea how many times men have come on to me over the last twenty years? Dozens. Maybe a hundred. And I could have fucked any one of them, or all of them, if I’d wanted to. But I didn’t. Know why? Because I was faithful to my husband. And I thought he was faithful to me. I didn’t know my husband was a cheating, lying sack of shit!”

Renata had gone to bed, slamming doors along the way. Owen slept on the couch. She hadn’t spoken to him since.

—-

Renata looked in the mirror again. Her costume was killer. She brushed her hair and put on the mask. It was gold and covered her forehead, eyes and cheekbones and curled over the tip of her nose. She was applying lip gloss when Mark Antony tapped on the open bedroom door.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked.

“Almost,” she said. “You go on ahead, I’m going to go by myself. I’ll see you there.”

“Honey, please…”

“Don’t, Owen. I don’t want to be around you right now. I need time. I’m very angry at you. You cheated on me, you’ve let me down. If you can’t understand that, and how much it hurts, and give me the space I need, then so be it. But I don’t want to be with you. Not now, not yet.”

Without another word, he left. Renata peered one last time at her image in the mirror. She sighed, took a deep breath, and shook her head. She thought of Leah and Owen, trysting, holding each other in bed, kissing, fucking, sucking, screwing, coming, sneaking behind the backs of her husband and his fiancee for months. And for twenty years she hadn’t had a clue. And over those years they had proven to be pretty good actors, and their secret had been safe. Could she trust either one of them again? If she didn’t know her best friend and husband of twenty years any better than that, could she ever really know anyone?

Renata heard a car horn blow. She pulled the window curtain aside and saw the Yellow Cab in the driveway. Right on time. She locked the door and got into the taxi. She didn’t want to drive tonight. She was mad, feeling vengeful, but loose as a goose, maybe a little reckless, ready to have a good time, ready for whatever. She had no idea what was going to happen tonight. She also had no idea what she’d say to Leah if and when she saw her at the party.

—-

Renata paid the cabbie and got out of the car. The band was already in high gear, the dance music loud and tight. Instead of entering through the front door she walked around the side of the house, opened a gate and followed the walkway to the terrace out back and made a beeline for the bar. After a short wait she ordered two vodka martinis, each with two huge olives. She ate the olives first so she’d have some food in her stomach. The first martini went down in three or four swigs, but she nursed the second.

She stood off to the side and scoped out the scene. The lighting was subdued but she could see the terrace was scattered with tables, quickly filling up. People surrounded the pool as well, although no one was swimming. Beyond the pool, on the vast lawn was a large party tent, under which were more tables, more partiers, and a dance floor full of dancers digging the jams of an eight-piece horn band.

She admired the various costumes as the guests moved around. Some were elaborate, some were simpler, some were just simple. But all wore masks, which added to the intrigue and made a person wonder who was behind each one. There was a werewolf, Dracula and his daughter, Morticia and Gomez, Dorothy and the Scarecrow, a cop, a fireman, Beetlejuice, Herman and Lily Munster, Charlie Chaplin, the Flintstones, Tarzan and Jane, an astronaut. Mostly couples. After a few minutes Elvis Presley, wearing huge tinted glasses covering half his face, walked up and started hitting on her, singing ‘Love Me Tender’. She stopped him mid-verse and told him not to get All Shook Up, but she was a Hard Headed Woman and to please take his Hunk a’ Hunk a’ Burning Love elsewhere.

As Renata sipped her martini, she kept an eye out for a bloody nurse and doctor. They would be her ex-best friend Leah and her husband Luke. If she saw them first, maybe she could avoid a confrontation. If she didn’t, maybe not.

After gazing at all of the costumes and taking it all in for twenty-five minutes or so, her second drink was gone so she went to the bar for one more. The tender had just handed it to her when she heard a familiar voice as she turned to her left.

“Hello, Renata, is that you?” Catwoman said, as Batman handed her a drink.

It was Flo and Joe, a couple who were very active with the theater group. Flo had a part in nearly every production and Joe was involved behind the scenes and directed a show every now and then. There was no doubt it was Flo, despite the cat mask and the painted-on whiskers. Her voice was nasally distinct.

“Yes, hello Flo,” Renata said.“Nice costume.”

“Oh, thank you dear. Yours is quite nice as well,” Flo said.

“Yes, it sure is,” Joe added, with too much enthusiasm. Renata could see his widened pupils in the eye holes of his mask.

“Whoa, down boy,” Flo said. “Or I might have to take you back to the Batcave.”

“Thank you, Joe,” Renata said.

“Where is Owen?” Flo asked.

“He’s here somewhere.”

At that moment Renata glimpsed a bloody doctor and nurse emerging from the back of the house.

“Excuse me,” she said to Flo and Joe, and walked off, across the terrace and past the pool.

Renata wanted to avoid her husband and Leah and Luke if possible. She was angry and did not want to create a scene. She wanted to save her confrontation with Leah for another time. So she headed for the tent to get lost in the crowd, the music and the strobe lights. She wanted to get laid.

—-

Renata knew Owen wasn’t much of a dancer so she wouldn’t have to worry about him hanging around the dance floor, he’d rather hang around the terrace near the two bars. She found a spot next to one of the tiki lamps and soaked up the music while she watched the crowded floor. With her sexy body and her revealing costume glinting in the torchlight and moving gently with the groove, she knew she’d get noticed.

It wasn’t long before guys started hitting on her. The Big Lebowski Dude was first. Not her type, but what the hell, she thought, one dance won’t hurt. She didn’t want to shut him down in case other men were watching. They danced one tune but the Dude’s bathrobe kept coming untied and his gut hung over the front of his shorts. When the song ended Renata thanked him and went back to her spot.

A hockey goalie was next. The uniform was loose and bulky, so she had no idea what his body was like. She hesitated, but went along with it. Again, one song. Then an inebriated Mafia Underboss slurred an invitation and she was about to accept when a female police officer came up and arrested him.

“Please excuse my husband,” she said, and took his hand. “I’ll take him back to the slammer so he won’t bother you anymore. Come on, Charlie.” She cuffed him and led him away.

Renata laughed, as did several people nearby, including The Lone Ranger. She’d noticed The Lone Ranger standing there watching her for a while, checking her out, enjoying the show. She admired his costume in the flickering light. White cowboy hat, black mask over his eyes, gray lace-up shirt with collar and matching pants, red neckerchief, gun belt, boots. He had a good body, too, she could see that, because the clothing was snug and molded to his broad shoulders and lean, athletic frame. She could tell he was younger, by how much she had no idea, but thought so what, what the hell, maybe this is the one, it’s a one-and-done anyway. She caught his eyes staring into hers. It felt like time.

She took three steps and was directly in front him. She leaned in and spoke above the music.

“I like your costume, Kemo Sabe,” she said.

“Thanks. I like yours, too,” he replied. “You look tremendous.”

“Thank you. So, where is Tonto?”

“No Tonto.”

“How about Trigger?”

“Trigger?”

“Your horse.”

“Oh. You mean Silver.”

“That’s right. Sorry. Hi Ho Silver. Trigger was Roy Rogers.”

“I put Silver out to pasture.”

“Ah,” Renata said, looking from side to side. “So. Are you really a ‘lone’ ranger tonight?”

“I’m here by myself, if that’s what you mean.”

“So am I. Wanna dance?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’ve been working up the nerve to ask you.”

“Come on,” she barked. She grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor.

She took him all the way to the center of the large cluster of dancers. Renata wanted the camouflage of all the bodies around them in case Owen or Leah or Luke happened to come into the tent looking for her.

Now, what she wanted was to do some dirty dancing with this young man in the Lone Ranger suit. And hopefully it would be foreplay.

—-

The Lone Ranger could cut a pretty good rug, Renata thought, and she was moving pretty well herself, too. The band was hot. The rhythm section was tight, the horns were bright, the drummer was in the pocket, and they played a nonstop set, segueing one upbeat dance number into the next, keeping the dancers on the floor. They danced to five soul and Motown hits in a row, bumping butts and grinding groins more and more with each tune, and worked up sticky sweats in the process. Then the band cooled it down and went into a slow blues. It was ‘I’d Rather Go Blind’, apropos for the two of them, both wearing masks and unidentifiable to the other.

Bodies all around them meshed for the slow dance. They stood there for a moment looking at each other. The Ranger’s dick was hard so he wasn’t going to let Cleopatra get away from him. He took her hand and pulled her into his arms. She nestled in close, wrapped her arms around him and their damp garments and flesh melded together.

The song was not a short one. Over six or seven minutes of searing vocals and guitar and sax solos, they danced closely and firmly, cheek to cheek and mask to mask. Her knee slipped between his legs on occasion and gently brushed his balls. He did the same to her, his knees caressing her thighs and teasing her twat. Renata’s breasts pressed into him and she could feel the rigidity of his prick against her navel.

As the song drifted through a long coda, impulsively Renata pressed her lips onto his and kissed him. She didn’t care who might see. He had virile but supple lips that felt good against hers. She liked that. But what came next almost blew her mind.

A moment after the kiss, as the band kicked into an uptempo dance song, he pulled her to him and kissed her hard with open lips. His tongue was like a launched projectile, propelling through her lips and teeth in an instant, and licking the back of her throat. It was big and strong, filled her, and she wrapped her jaws around it and tongued it back as best she could. What a mouthful. French kissing this guy was like sucking cock.

“Wow,” she said.

“Come on,” he said, and took her hand.

They walked off the dance floor and he led her out of the tent and around to the shadows behind the bandstand. In the darkness they kissed again. Renata was somewhat ready for his tongue this time. She tried to head it off at the pass as it slithered in, but it was too big, too long, too strong, so she did her best deepthroat. His hands roamed over her back and butt and she slipped a hand between his legs. The kiss was deep and long, and by the time it ended she was wet with desire.

“I wish there was someplace we could be alone,” she hissed, short of breath.

“I know a place,” he said.

“Where?”

“Come with me.” He took her hand again and led the way.

The property extended another fifty yards behind the big tent. They crossed the lawn quickly into the darkness and came to a small building, maybe the size of a one-car garage. It was bordered by a tall hedge.

“What is this place?” she asked.

“It was a music room. It’s soundproofed. So they could practice their music anytime and not bother anybody.”

“How do you know this?”

“I used to be in a band with their grandson and we used to practice in here. Nothing fancy, but private.”

He opened the unlocked door. The light switch didn’t work, but in the dim residual light from the half-moon and the party across the way they could make out a mostly-empty room with storage boxes stacked and a couple stuffed chairs. Good enough.

“Have you ever fucked with masks on?” she whispered into his ear.

“No,” he said.

“Kiss me.”

He did, another dive bomber, long and hard and wet, scraping along the walls of her mouth and tickling her throat. As they kissed she unbuckled his gunbelt and tore open his pants.

“I want to suck your cock,” she moaned.

She pivoted around and sat on one of the chairs. With his groin in front of her face, she shoved his pants and briefs down to his ankles and latched onto his erection. He was good sized down here too. Without hesitation she fed his cock into her hungry mouth. With one hand cupping his balls and the other palming his right butt, she sucked him like a junkie needing a fix.

In an instant they shifted into high gear. She kneaded his nuts with her wiry fingers, squeezed his tightened butt, and sucked with a vengeance. He helped, holding her head and swinging his cock into her mouth for maximum depth. They fell into a hard, steady rhythm together and in the dark, stark room The Lone Ranger’s ecstatic groans and Cleopatra’s slurpy moans echoed off the bare walls.

He reached down and slipped a hand inside her top and found her bare breast. It was firm and flexible and fit nicely in his hand, and she pushed into it to give him a better feel. The nipple was like hard rubber and she oohed with a mouthful of cock when he pinched it softly between his thumb and forefinger.

She backed off a bit, so that only the head of his cock was in her mouth, and started jerking him with her hand as she continued her power-suck.This lasted only another minute before his midsection quaked and his cock shimmied between her lips. He grunted thunderously with release and he came in a fiery stream.

Renata was amazed at the volume of cum that slung into her mouth. He again had both hands holding her head so there was no escaping. She tasted spears of hot semen, spasm after spasm. She swallowed twice but his slimy seed still coated her tongue and mouth and hung on the back of her throat. He pulled his drippy cock out of her mouth and knelt before her.

He put his mouth against hers, and here it came again, that monstrous tongue, slithering like an electric eel into her slippery, cum-flavored mouth and the top of her throat. She pressured her mouth around it but her jaws wanted to cramp, unaccustomed to such oral callisthenics.

His hands wandered downward and found the open slits in her skirt, and then her drenched panties. He shoved her body back deep in the chair and spread her legs. In the dimness he saw she wore dark panties that contrasted her light skin. He nosed her crotch and sniffed her dewy funk. Nice. He looped her legs over his shoulders and lifted her soaked cunt to his face, pulling her panties aside. He licked her thighs and the softness surrounding her pussy and tasted her pubes. His tongue tickled her labia and he kissed her clit and gave it a long, wet suck. Then he rammed it inside her.

Renata screeched like a car with bad brakes. Jesus, his tongue again, she thought, it’s amazing, filling her cunt like a torpedo in its tube. She felt new pressure on her buttocks from his clenched hands, and in reflex her body tightened up and her pussy walls chomped down on his wet, reaching tongue, as it jabbed her in and out. Goddamn, she thought, as she moaned with each cushiony poke. I’ve had cocks in there that never fucked me this good.

After a couple minutes of relentless tongue-fucking and her hands squeezing the shit out of her own tits, Renata was on the edge of rapture. She didn’t want him to stop but her cauldron was about to boil over. She let out a low-pitched wail when she started to come.

“Oh, God…”

Her body shook wildly. Her pussy unleashed hot, buttery cum that immersed the luscious tongue that filled her. He tasted her tang as he withdrew and it continued its flow onto his lips and chin and the seat of the chair. When her shudders were farther and fewer between he lapped up the leakage on her thighs and rose to kiss her. She sucked his tongue like a cock.

As their mouths frolicked he eased his body up, an uneasy task with his pants and skivvies wrapped around his ankles. Using both feet he was able to get one boot out from the bondage which gave him a little more agility for what was next: Fucking this fine woman. Whoever she is.

His dick was like cured concrete, ready for seconds. He wriggled into position and took her ass in his hands and lifted. One more minor torso adjustment and the angles matched up. He put the head of his dick between her split lips.

“Put me in,” he croaked.

She’d already had it once, with his tongue, strong but pliable, and now she was going to get it again with his cock, long and stiff.

She guided it into her drenched opening and as it filled her twat, his tongue again filled her mouth. He commenced to fucking her. He didn’t hold back.

In a split second she was getting it two ways at once. The slick, leathery tongue sliding into the depths of her mouth, and the thick, hard penis banging in and out of her vagina, worked together. He grunted as he fucked, and Renata moaned with each big push, as her ass was being body-slammed into the chair and the top of her throat was getting plunged.

After a couple minutes of that, The Lone Ranger’s gun was about to go off. He grunted even louder and put some extra oomph into his thrusts, and soon came for a second time. Strings of sperm were jettisoned from the head of his cock, into her. He was dripping sweat when he backed out.

“Damn, that’s good,” he rasped. “Turn around.”

He helped turn her body around, rather roughly, so her knees were on the seat of the chair and she was facing away. He opened her skirt slits and yanked her panties down several inches over her thighs. He spread the cheeks of her ass apart and found her asshole with the tip of his tongue and tickled her rim.

“Oh, My God,” she screeched thinly, short of air.

This was a first for Renata, nobody had ever licked her asshole before. At first she tensed up and pinched it. For several minutes he rimmed her and she moaned into the back of the chair. She could feel the fabric of his eye mask in her asscrack every now and then. Gradually she relaxed, and her unpuckered hole welcomed it, she pushed back, and floated on its feathery bliss. Then, without warning, she felt that big old tongue jet all the way up inside her ass.

“Oh, shit!” she bellowed.

It filled her up in an instant with a wet, cushioned pressure, and as a reflex she squeezed her asshole around it. It felt weird, but wonderful. It went all the way in, then half back out. Again and again. By the time the shock wore off she realized she was being fucked up the ass. By this guy’s big, fucking, magical tongue.

She couldn’t believe the feeling. How erotic it was. How much it was arousing her, and what a turn-on it was that this man was doing it to her. His tongue had been everywhere, she’d had it in all three of her holes, back-to-back-to-back, and it was amazing. He kept at it. She swayed her ass in time. It was almost like a dream. Then she felt the rush.

“Oh God, I’m gonna come…” she blurted.

She came in a torrent. Her ass bucked and her upper body buckled. Her cum sprayed out of her, coating the chair. She kept shaking as she released, slowly abating for a while as her body relaxed. It was an orgasm like she’d never before experienced. That tongue coming in through her rear had pushed her most intense climax ever out of her front.

They detached themselves from the chair and each other and stood up. She hadn’t said much during their encounter because most of the time she had had his tongue or dick in her mouth.

“That was amazing,” she said. “Thank you.”

She was suddenly afraid. What had she done? She wiggled her panties back in place and straightened her scanty costume.

“I gotta go,” she said, and ran out the door.

The Lone Ranger was left standing there with a red hot boner and his pants on the floor wrapped around one foot. Renata didn’t realize until later that she had left her headpiece behind.

—-

A couple hours later, Renata lay in bed alone. After running away, calling a cab, getting home and taking a long, hot shower, cleansing her body all over, in and out, she now was spent. She’d been bad, but after getting over the shocking realization of what she’d done, she felt damn good.

Reading a book or watching TV was out of the question. All she could think about was her liaison earlier that evening. It was brazen, scary, dangerous. But God, it was exciting. Now she was sorry she’d run out. Her brain was abuzz thinking about it, reliving it. His tongue, that fierce prowler, in her mouth, her pussy, her asshole, like an electric magnet, pulling orgasms out of her like she’d never had before. No man had ever made her come like that, her body out of her control, quivering, melting like heated jelly. It was almost like she’d watched it from above, out-of-body. She shivered, almost came again thinking about it.

Who was that masked man?

—-

Owen came home from the party late to a dark house. He slept on the couch again. In the morning he woke to the sound and aroma of Renata brewing coffee. He went into the kitchen and attempted to make conversation.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully.

“Good morning,” she said blandly, her back against the counter. She was barefoot and wore a heavy terry cloth robe, her black hair shiny-wet from a shower.

“I didn’t see you at the party.”

“Yeah, well I wasn’t in much of a mood to be a social butterfly. I didn’t stay that long.”

“Oh.”

The silence was blaring for a long, awkward moment.

“I fucked a guy,” she said, and let it hang there.

Owen stared at her, speechless, mouth agape, unsure of what to say because nothing he could say would make things better.

“You fucked a guy,” he finally uttered. “Are you serious?”

Renata nodded.

“Who?”

“The Lone Ranger.”

“The Lone Ranger? Come on Renata, this is not funny. Who was it?”

“I have no idea.”

“You have no idea?” he gabbled, almost spitting. “How can you have no idea?”

“It was dark,” she said. “We had masks on.”

Owen had to lean on the back of a chair for support. “You had masks on.”

“Yeah. I’d never done it with masks on before. It was very erotic. He had a big dick. I swallowed and I came twice.”

He sat there light-headed, in a daze. He’d come into the kitchen hoping to start the process of bridging the gap that had opened between them, but instead the gap was widening before his eyes.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I wouldn’t want it to slip out accidentally twenty years from now. In case we’re still together.”

Owen sat there shaking his head. He didn’t know what to say, and even if he did he knew this wasn’t the time to say it. They didn’t talk much longer. Renata asked him to go live someplace else for a while, she needed her space. He didn’t fuss about it.

—-

Later that morning Leah called. Renata let it go to voicemail and listened to the message. It was ‘Hey, Renata, sorry we missed you at the party, it was a blast, hope everything is all right, blah blah blah’. Renata knew Leah well and could tell by the message that she had no clue her twenty-year secret was out. She also knew Leah would call again.

And she did. After their initial hellos, Renata let her have it. She told her no, she didn’t want to see her at the party, and she didn’t want to see Owen, and if she’d seen either one of you, there would have been a major scene. Because now she knew all about the affair Leah had with Owen and their lies and play-acting and twenty-year cover-up, and she couldn’t believe what a cheating sleazeball Owen had been and what a lying, back-stabbing cunt Leah had been to have an affair with him, fucking over her husband and her best friend simultaneously, and if she had seen her and Owen at the party every guest at that party would know about their lurid treachery.

Leah had started crying halfway through the tirade. When she did finally speak there were no denials.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated several times between sobs.

“You’re sorry?” Renata sniffed. “Must be easy to be sorry after lying about it for twenty years. “Does Luke know about this?”

“No,” Leah said softly. “Are you going to tell him?”

“I don’t know,” Renata said. “I could tell him. Or I could fuck him. Which would you prefer?”

“Oh, Renata please…”

“It’s up to you. Let me know what you decide.”

Renata ended the call. She had no intention of telling Luke, and she sure as hell had no interest in fucking him. But at least it would give Leah a little well-earned angst.

—-

Renata and Owen had never had children. They’d assumed they would someday become parents, but they were young when they married and decided to wait until they were older to have kids.

They had watched from the sidelines as most of their friends had children, including Leah and Luke, who had a son and a daughter. They also witnessed from afar all of the problems and difficulties their friends had with those kids, and how worn out they seemed from dealing with them. Health problems, behavioral problems, troubles at school, drugs and alcohol, the expenses, and the stress that comes with all of it. By the time they were thirty they were pretty sure they didn’t want the headaches.

One time they were seated on a bench at a mall waiting to enter the cinema for a matinee, when a young couple walked by. Dad was holding the hand of a toddler as they scuffled along beside Mom, who was pushing a stroller with a wailing baby in it. They didn’t look like they were enjoying themselves. Renata and Owen looked at each other, shaking their heads.

“Can you see us doing that?” Renata asked.

“No fucking way,” Owen replied.

They never second-guessed themselves after that. Now, years later, Renata had reached what she believed was a crossroad in her life and marriage. She was glad there were no children to complicate the situation, or be hurt by it.

—-

Over the next couple days, Renata couldn’t get it out of her mind. The Lone Ranger. The sex. The tongue, the taste of it, the feel of it inside her. The orgasms, oh oh oh, the orgasms. Was it possible to be addicted to something after only having it once? She didn’t know the answer to that question, but she knew one thing for sure: She wanted more of it. She needed more of it.

Why had she run away scared? What was she afraid of, after the best sex she’d ever had? Afraid of being caught? Afraid of being embarrassed, or ashamed? She’d made it happen, it was no accident. Was it really the best she’d ever had, or was it the danger, the recklessness, her first new man in twenty years, that made it so intense? She thought about it constantly, while eating breakfast, driving the car, working out, while at work, or lying in bed stroking herself. She decided yes, it was the best she’d ever had. It was his goddamn tongue. It’s like the guy has two cocks.

But she’d run off. And now, how was she going to find him? And did he want to find her?

Ends up he did.

—-

Renata wondered how she could find out who he was and try to contact him. She couldn’t call around to people who were at the party. That would be a crapshoot at best and might not look so good. She could run an ad in the local newspaper, but nobody reads the paper anymore. And an ad could attract all kinds of crackpots.

She searched online for ways to find somebody if you didn’t know their name or anything else about them. She found the names of some websites where there were postings of people looking for people. Missed Connections, they called it. Maybe that would work.

First, she went out and bought a disposable phone. She didn’t want to risk releasing her real number out into cyberspace. Too many wackos out there. Then she composed her message. It read:

CLEOPATRA IN SEARCH OF THE LONE RANGER

WE DANCED TO THE MUSIC AT THE MARDI GRAS PARTY, THEN MADE MUSIC OF OUR OWN

LET’S RIDE AGAIN

CALL OR TEXT

123-555-7890

She posted it on four different popular sites and hoped for the best. She kept her burner phone with her all the time, charged up and powered on.

—-

Renata had some responses almost immediately, all texts. They were all fakes, guys having fun or hoping to get lucky. There was Zorro, Billy the Kid, Wyatt Earp, as well as a couple of Lone Rangers trying to bluff their way along. On the fourth night her phone buzzed and they connected.

–HELLO. LONE RANGER HERE IN SEARCH OF CLEOPATRA, the text message read.

Renata stared at it in disbelief for a moment and felt a nervous chill. She responded with:

–HI KEMO SABE. IS IT REALLY YOU?

–YES REALLY ME

–HOW DO I KNOW 4 SURE? I’VE HEARD FROM SOME KOOKS

–YOU KISSED ME RIGHT AFTER ‘I’D RATHER GO BLIND’. THEN WE HAD SEX ON A CHAIR IN THE MUSIC ROOM. I HAVE YOUR HEADPIECE TO PROVE IT.

–AH YES. GLAD I FOUND YOU

–ME TOO. WHY DID U RUN OUT?

–SCARED. I NEVER DID ANYTHING LIKE THAT BEFORE

–ME NEITHER

–CAN WE MEET? START OVER

–SURE. OR WE CAN PICK UP WHERE WE LEFT OFF. IT WAS WONDERFUL.

–YES IT WAS.

They’d both been thinking about that night, about each other. They agreed to meet the following Saturday, 3 p.m. at a bench in the back of the old cemetery behind the abandoned stone church next to the Civic Park. It was nearby, quiet and private. They would meet with masks on, keep the intrigue a little longer, and they would unmask together, and depending on how well the meeting went, perhaps they would make a night of it.

—-

Renata had difficulty deciding on how to dress for her meeting with the young man. He’d already seen and had all of her, so there was no sense being coy. But she didn’t want to look like a tramp, either. She decided on a yellow print sundress because it contrasted her jet black hair and tanned skin, and it was belted with a thin sash that when tightened would hug her slim waist and show off her ass. She wore the same citrus perfume and bangles she’d worn at the party. She debated whether or not to wear her wedding ring too. It hadn’t bothered him then, so it shouldn’t bother him now, but she took it off. There was a tan line around her finger.

Saturday afternoon was pleasant and partly sunny, cool but comfortable for a date on a bench. She arrived plenty early, she wanted to see him coming. She drove her car all the way to the back of the large cemetery and parked on the lane about fifty feet from the bench. She got out of the car with only her mask. The site was as she remembered: Wooden bench facing the pond, with privacy provided by dogwood trees on three sides. If anybody was approaching, she’d hear them coming. She sat on the bench, carefully put on her mask, and waited.

She reminisced as she gazed out at the pond. Years ago, she would sometimes jog through the cemetery and pass this very spot and appreciate the view and the solitude. Other times she and Owen would bring their dog Chip out here, and Owen would throw a tennis ball as far as he could out into the pond and Chip would dive into the water, swim out and fetch it with his mouth and swim back and drop it at their feet, over and over again.

Right on time, she turned to see a small, black pickup truck approaching. The truck pulled over about ten feet from Renata’s car. The driver’s door opened and the man got out and stood there a moment with his mask on, before he started walking toward her. She stood up in front of the bench. As he approached she took an admiring look at his broad shoulders and tapered, athletic body, dressed in jeans and a golf shirt.

They said tentative hellos. It was a bit awkward at first. Renata thought, how do we introduce ourselves? We’re not at a costume party this time. Where do we begin? It would be kind of stupid to shake hands after I’ve already fucked the guy. They sat at opposite ends of the bench. Fortunately, he broke the ice.

“You left this behind when you ran out,” he said, and handed her the headpiece from her Cleopatra costume. “It was on the chair.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Sorry I ran away.”

“It’s okay,” he said, and paused. Then: “Can I ask a favor of you?”

“Sure.” It was all she could think to say.

“May I kiss you before we take off our masks?”

This caught Renata off guard. Her brain zoomed back to their kissing at the party, and how hot it was, the feel, the potency, the passion of it. She nodded.

He moved closer and put one arm around her back. Her mouth was already open by the time their lips touched. The kiss was soft at first, but then, as much as she anticipated it, she was still surprised by it. By the size of it, the power of it, the taste of it. It was just as she remembered, like an explosion thrusting in, filling her up, entering her throat, a total mouthfuck.

It was like no time had elapsed since their togetherness at the party. She was instantly back in that music room. She was sucking his tongue, his strong arm was around her, pulling her close, she had a hand on his thigh, she was ready to get wet. It was not a short kiss, but it still ended too soon.

“Wow,” Renata said.

“Nice way to start off, don’t ya think?” he said.

She nodded. “You’re a magnificent kisser. Your tongue is…amazing.”

He grinned. “My secret weapon.”

He stuck out his tongue for her. It was enormous, wide in back and long and tapered. He flicked his chin with its tip.

“Oh My God,” Renata exclaimed. “No wonder…”

“No wonder what?”

“No wonder… Uh, let’s just say I’m glad you know how to use what you got.”

“Thank you. Can we take off these masks now?”

“Yes, let’s.”

They looked out at the pond and removed their masks. Then they turned to again face each other.

Renata’s heart rate about bottomed out. She looked at his handsome, young face, and it looked familiar. The light brown hair, the blue eyes, the high cheekbones, the prominent jaw, the winning smile.

“Dylan?” she croaked.

“Miss Renata?” he said.

Oh God, it’s him. It had been years since she’d seen him. A chill ran through Renata’s body. This young man sitting next to her, the guy with the magic tongue, who had already fucked her six ways from Sunday and sent her to a carnal paradise she’d never been to before and never knew existed, was Leah’s and Luke’s twenty year-old son.

“Oh My God! What have I done?” Renata cried, with a look of fear on her face.

“What do you mean?” Dylan asked.

“You must think I’m some kind of slut.”

“I do not. I think you’re beautiful, and sexy, and a hell of a dancer, too.”

“Oh please. A married woman going off with a young man half my age at that party? I don’t know what came over me. Really, I never did anything like that before. It’s just…”

“What?”

“I was upset. I found out my husband had been unfaithful. I was angry and vengeful. I went a little crazy, I guess.” She looked at him with leaky eyes. “Your mother would kill me if she knew what we’ve done.”

“Hell, she’d kill me too, probably,” he said. “Not to mention your husband.” He gently rubbed her ring finger between his thumb and forefinger, where her ring had been, letting her know he noticed. “I’m glad about one thing, though.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

Dylan took her hand into his and held it. “I’m glad you went a little crazy. We both did. And it was good. And here we are.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Dylan. This changes things.”

“Why Miss, uh Renata. And how?”

“Your mother is an old friend of mine. I’m old enough to be your mother!”

“So what. Age didn’t matter when I was the Lone Ranger. But it does now?”

“It’s not that. It’s just, it complicates things.”

“Look, Renata. Think about this for a minute. Think about why we are here, sitting on this bench right now. Think about what happened between us, and how incredible it was. And the effort you put out to find me. Why did you do that? And I responded, I was excited as hell when I saw your post. Why did I do that? And we arranged this meeting, to see each other again, and take our masks off, and be together again, and here we are. Why did we do that?”

“I know,” she said, but she was shaking her head.

“We did all that because we both wanted it to happen again. We don’t want it to be over. Because it was special and we both know it. Don’t run away again.”

“I don’t know,” she said. She pulled her hand out of his and picked up her headpiece from the bench seat. “I have to think. I’m sorry, Dylan.”

She stood up, then he did too. She kissed him daintily on his cheek, not wanting to risk seduction by tongue. They walked to the cars.

“You have my number,” Dylan said.

She got in behind the wheel.

“You smell great, by the way,” he said. “It turned me on the first time, and it’s turning me on now.”

“Thank you,” she said, happy that he noticed. She started the car and drove away.

He knew that he would be hearing from her.

—-

Dylan thought about following her, but didn’t want to freak her out. He thought he’d text her later just to say good night, or something like that. To put her at ease, and to show her he cared and wanted to see her again. He now had no plans for the rest of the day, but he would keep his cellphone handy. He wanted her.

Renata was all wound up and confused. She felt silly that she’d gone to the trouble to find and connect with a twenty year-old boy, embarrassed that the boy was her friend’s son, and disappointed that they wouldn’t be continuing what they’d started in the music room. Her highest hope had been that she and her mystery man would meet at the bench, hit it off in a hurry and end up in bed.

Within ten minutes she regretted running off again. Ten minutes after that she thought it was for the best. She’d love to have that boy’s tongue deep into all her holes again, and come again like she’d come before, but wasn’t her life fucked up enough right now? Pissed at her husband and pissed at Leah, her marriage and a friendship possibly coming to bitter ends. Did she really need to be fucking Leah’s son too, and adding that to the mix?

She kept a gym bag with workout clothes in the trunk of her car. She needed to burn off some energy and the stress she was feeling. She drove to the health club and rode an exercise bike like a madwoman for nearly an hour. The whole time riding she thought about Dylan, the pros and cons, and relived what had happened between them for the umpteenth time. She pedaled as hard as she could, in a trance, and streams of sweat flowed on her forehead, face, neck and arms. The sweat burned her eyes, so she closed them, and saw Dylan’s tongue, the dirty enchantment of it, the slippery maneuvers of it in her mouth, her throat, her pussy, her ass, and she pedaled harder still until, without warning her body convulsed, her legs jellified and slowed, and she came.

Cold goose flesh covered her sweaty arms. She shivered uncontrollably as her pussy released, and held on tight to the handlebars so she didn’t fall off the bike. Her orgasm was a detonation on the same scale of the ones she’d had with Dylan. And this time just thinking about that tongue had done it. Her cum blew out of her, soaking her gray workout pants. There was a wet stain the size of a cantaloupe in the crotch of her pants, which were attached like cellophane to her soppy cameltoe.

Fortunately, the club was almost empty, so after wiping down the machine she held her towel in front of her and walked to the locker room. She took a long shower and scoured herself clean while thinking about her bike ride and its volcanic conclusion, about Dylan, about herself, about Dylan and her together, and she now knew the pros outnumbered the cons.

She got home around six and uncorked a bottle of white wine. Clean as a whistle and horny as hell. She wasn’t really hungry but she knew she should eat, so she chopped up some celery, carrots and cukes, added some stuffed olives and put together a veggie tray. She was careful with the knife as she worked because her mind was elsewhere. It was on Dylan. She wanted him.

Renata picked up the tray, her wineglass and the burner phone and carried them into the living room and set them on the coffee table in front of the sectional sofa. She sat down and picked up the phone. She called Dylan and he picked right up.

“Hi, it’s Renata.”

“I know who it is.”

“I’m sorry I ran off. I won’t do it again.”

“Again. Really?”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Okay, that’s good. Third time’s a charm, huh?”

“Are you busy tonight?” Renata cringed when she asked.

“Nope. Been hoping you would call.”

“Would you like to come over?” she asked.

He said yes, of course he would. She gave him the address and asked him his ETA. He said about an hour, is that okay? She said she’d be waiting. He said he couldn’t wait, could he bring anything? Just yourself, she said, and they ended the call. Dylan wanted to get a shower and a change of clothes before he went over. Renata sprayed some more of the scent Dylan liked so much on her neck and shoulders, and a little between her thighs too, for when we went down there. She put on a cream-colored off-shoulder sweater dress–something that would come off easily–with nothing underneath but a thong. Then she put on some music and munched vegetables as she waited.

—-

Renata heard footsteps outside, then the doorbell ring. She was excited as hell and scared to death. Excited about what was about to happen, and afraid of what she might be getting herself into. But she was ready for both.

She opened the door and let him in. He looked adorable, good enough to eat. She closed and locked the door and flipped off the porch light, an unsubtle signal that he wasn’t leaving tonight. She turned to face him and Dylan immediately took her into his arms.

He wasn’t holding back. His lips made a beeline for hers. Renata felt the size and strength of his tongue take over her mouth and sucked it in. She put her arms around him and dug her nails into his back. They kissed like they hadn’t seen each other for years, not hours. He put his hands on her buttocks, pulled her as tight as he could and lifted her, feeling the soft pressure of her breasts against his chest. With a reflexive hop, Renata looped her legs around him and locked her ankles.

He backed her up so her back was to the wall, then pressed his body hard against hers. Their mouths were in overdrive, she could feel the drywall hard against the back of her head and his cock hard against her eager beaver. Pretty soon he was dry-humping her.

“Where’s the bedroom?” he gasped.

“Down the hall,” she said, with spittle on her chin. “Last door.”

He put her down and picked her up, one arm behind her back, the other under her knees.

“No more doing it in a chair for us,” he said, and carried her down the hallway.

There was a nightlight in the bedroom so he could see his way around. He laid her on the bed, kicked off his shoes and started unbuttoning his shirt. Renata sat up and started working on his pants. While she did that, he pulled her dress off over her head. Once naked, he fell on the bed, pulled her beside him, and continued what they’d started in the foyer.

They picked up where they’d left off, with a long mouth-pounding kiss. Dylan had one arm around her neck and his other hand roamed over her tits and stomach. Renata stroked his cock.

Soon Dylan’s mouth headed south, covering her with kisses on her neck and shoulders and breasts, and teasing her stiff nipples with whisks from his titillated tongue. He did this for some time and Renata squirmed in response, her fingers interlocked in his hair. Then she brayed like a zebra when he sucked one of those chunky nipples into his mouth. Now her arms were flailing at her sides. His mouth went from nipple to nipple and back and forth, sucking like a starved infant.

Dylan wanted to pace himself, make it last. He backed off her titties and let his tongue do some walking. Over her breasts, her stomach, her belly button. He went lower, getting her hot with anticipation, before moving his head back up, gently kissing her neck, then her lips.

“Damn, you smell good,” he said.

“God, Boy, if you only knew what you do to me.”

“You’re doing it to me, too.”

“Can I tell you something?” she said. He nodded. “Today, after I left you, I was all mixed up. As soon as I left you, I was sorry I did. Then I wasn’t sorry. I went back and forth. I was all keyed up. So I went to the gym to exercise, you know, work it off. I rode a bike harder than I ever had before. I rode for almost an hour, trying to make up my mind, thinking about you. About kissing you, and about what we did in that music room, and the feeling of your tongue inside me, and how spontaneous and beautiful and raunchy it all was. And I had an orgasm. A huge orgasm, just like the ones I had with you in the music room. Right there in the middle of the gym, which thankfully was pretty empty. I’ve never had orgasms like this before, Dylan.”

“Wow. Thanks for telling me. I love a story with a happy ending. And I’m going to make a bold prediction, right now.” He kissed the tip of her nose.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Renata asked, chuckling.

“Your next orgasm is going to be in my face.”

“Oh, bless you,” she laughed. But she wasn’t laughing for long.

“Damn, you smell good,” he said, as he whipped off her thong and threw it aside. Then he buried his face in her snatch.

Feeling his wiggly tongue worm into her pussy made her squeal like she’d been jabbed with a hot poker. There it was again, snaking around inside her, touching every nook, every pore, every animal inch of her, turning her twat into pudding. Her body twitched impulsively, it felt too good, she loved it, craved it, but almost couldn’t stand it and wanted to come, come, just come now. She was pushing her cunt in his face at a fever pitch.

She was soon to come. Her cunt was a marshland, and hugged his tongue as it jetted inward and outward and she ground her mound into his face. As promised, his face was plastered to her crotch and his upper lip half-wrapped around her puffy clit when she unloaded. Renata shrieked, and shook, and moaned, unh, unh, unh, unh, as if pushing a baby out of her womb.

Dylan’s tongue felt the flood first. He pulled back and let the ooze come forth, into his face, dripping onto his neck and the bed. Moments later, with her body still receding to a relaxed state, his body rose atop her. His cock was swollen and hard and stretched to its max, and he needed to put it to good use, and take advantage of her ravenous, saturated cunt. He slipped it in with zero resistance, like hot knife into cream cheese. And he fucked her, slammed his groin into hers, banged her over and over and they grunted in harmony, until his seed raced into her.

He collapsed on the bed beside her, held her, kissed her. They basked in the afterstink of hard love.

“Oh, God,” she said, after a few minutes.

“Wow,” he said.

“You drain me. And I’m hungry. Are you?”

“Yup.”

“Let’s go find something to eat.”

Dylan put on his pants and Renata threw on a robe. They went to the kitchen to whip up some food.

—-

“You really screwed up, Owen,” Leah said.

“I know,” he said.

It was early Saturday evening. Leah and Owen were seated at a table in the back of an out-of-the-way tavern where they had met for drinks to discuss their sticky situation. Luke was away with some pals for a golf weekend.

“After all this time. How did it happen?” she asked.

“Remember that time we were at the beach and that jumbo jet flew over really low, directly above us?”

“Of course.”

“Well, Renata and I were watching this movie on TV. And in this movie, a couple was fucking on the beach and this plane flies over them, really low, buzzing them and shit, not a big jet, but a small plane. And it triggered the memory of us, and I don’t know, I had a brain fart. I just remembered it and said without thinking, hey remember that time we were on the beach and the 747 flew over and scared the shit out of us? It was that quick. I was hoping she’d missed it, or would let it go, but she didn’t, she caught right on. I tried to bluff my way out of it but I was too late, she wasn’t buying it.

“Does she think that was the only time?”

“She knows it went on for a while.”

“No, I mean does she think that affair was the only one and it was over after that?”

That’s what I told her, but she didn’t buy it. She’s suspicious.”

“Oh, great.”

“She’s not dumb, Leah. I slipped up on this, yes. But she doesn’t have any proof of what’s happened since then.”

“You mean until you slip up again?” she said. “Do you realize what might happen if Luke found out? She’s pissed! She could tell him and hell, we all could be headed for divorce.”

“I’m sorry. Believe me.”

“You have any idea when she’ll be ready to talk to you again? Or me?”

“No. Not anytime soon, I don’t think.”

They talked over two drinks but didn’t resolve anything. They knew they had a mess on their hands. When they left the place, Owen tried to hold her and kiss her goodbye but Leah wasn’t having it. “Not a good time,” she’d said.

A little later Owen drove slowly past his house. It was Saturday night and he was curious. He saw a small pickup parked in the driveway and his heart sank. He wondered who owned that truck and if he was in there fucking his wife.

—-

Renata and Dylan ate grilled cheese sandwiches and the veggies, and drank the wine. The quick meal sated their appetite for food, but not for each other. Back in the bedroom, he had barely gotten his pants down before she had his cock in her mouth.

Dylan liked that. The last thing they had done before eating was fuck. And now she was sucking it, right after it had been inside her. The girls he’d been with, younger of course, wouldn’t do that. Maybe it’s a maturity thing, he didn’t know, but it was a definite turn-on. He thought back to their time in the music room, the way he’d held her head, fucked her mouth and throat. He did it again, gave it his all, and she took it, sucked it, throated it. He swung it into her, not lightly. He felt her fingernails digging into the crack of his ass as he pumped her face. He always thought his mother’s friend was attractive, but he’d never imagined she could suck cock like this.

He was balls to lips when he came. He groaned like a jilted croc when he released. She backed off some and he felt a short drag of teeth along the bottom of his shaft, helping it along. Six spasms later he shot the last of his cum into her mouth. They collapsed on the bed.

They kissed, their tongues played in the remnants of his cum. Her robe was still loosely tied so he opened it, ran his fingers gently over her upper body: her arms and shoulders, her neck and stomach, her breasts and bulging nipples. He kissed her neck, her ear, her breast.

They rested briefly. “Is there anything I can do? That you want?” he asked.

Her eyes bore into his in the dim light. Nothing was said for a long moment as Renata weighed her answer.

“Yes,” she finally said, licking her lips. “My ass. Could you do that again? What you did before?”

He kissed her lips and told her to sit up. He opened her robe and she wiggled out of it

“Roll over,” he said. “On your belly.”

Dylan stared at that perfect ass. He kissed it all over and traced his tongue along her crack. Renata oohed with delight. He spread her cheeks and licked her rim, and she leaned her butt into his face. When he finally jammed his tongue into her asshole she almost screamed, and he plunged it in over and over. He fucked her ass with his tongue for a few minutes until she squirted onto the bed, creating a puddle that they would cover with a bath towel before they fell asleep.

They slept like rocks. In the morning they woke with smiles, and did most everything again, plus Renata got Dylan’s dick up her ass for the first time. Before he left her house, she made sure he had her real phone number. She wouldn’t need to hide behind the burner phone any longer.

—-

Their affair was in full swing after that night. They quickly eased into a twice-weekly arrangement, usually Tuesdays and Fridays. Tuesday evenings they’d go around the world for a couple hours, then Dylan would leave. They both had to go to work Wednesday morning. But Fridays would be a sleepover, and Renata would get a double dose, in the evening and then again in the morning. She was usually sore for a day or two after Saturday morning. This went on for weeks.

Renata told herself it was crazy. She wrestled with the whole idea of it. She thought, I’m screwing a kid half my age, I’m old enough to be his mother, I was in college when he was born, there’s no future in it, what the hell am I doing, but it was no use. It was magic in bed, so what the hell. She’d never had sex like this, never ever before had she used her body so athletically in a quest for pleasure. How could she? She never knew it was possible.

She hadn’t had much contact with Owen, though he’d called her a number of times. He wanted to reconcile but she just put him off. She didn’t miss him, in fact she was pretty sure she didn’t want him back. What she wanted was what she now had, the intense, volcanic, multiple orgasms she was enjoying, orgasms like she never knew could happen.

Owen was watching her. He’d drive by the house evenings and weekends, curious what his wife was up to and who she was seeing. He saw the same truck in the driveway at various times, and from down the street watched a young man leave the house one Saturday morning. He’d spent the night. The next time Owen spoke to Renata he mentioned it casually. What, are you stalking me?, she’d said. He said no, he was just driving by. Kind of young, isn’t he? Old enough, and good enough, and by the way, you’re free to go fuck whomever you want, don’t let me stop you, she said. Then she asked him if he recognized him, and Owen said no, and she told him to take a better look next time. She knew if he figured out it was Dylan he would certainly tell Leah, and the shit would hit the fan. Or the fun would begin, depending how you looked at it.

—-

It was very early one Saturday morning, post-dawn sunlight was just beginning to filter through the bedroom windows. Renata awoke and lay in repose. Dylan was lying on his back beside her, breathing deeply in sleep. She looked at the silhouette of his head as the gentle light settled on his handsome young face. And then suddenly, as she admired the image before her, it dawned on her, like a brutal flash of lightning. She felt a chilly tingle run up her spine. How had she not noticed it before now? The slight slope of his forehead, the imperceptible flare of the nostrils, his high cheekbones, the curvature of his upper lip.

She reached over to the nightstand on her side of the bed and carefully opened the top drawer. She found small scissors there, and turned back to Dylan. She clipped a few strands of his hair, which was longish on the sides. She wrapped the hairs in a tissue, folded it up and put it in the drawer and closed it quietly. She turned back to Dylan, pulled the sheet that covered him. His dick was hard, like many healthy young men first thing in the morning. She sucked him awake.

Later that morning Renata opened the medicine cabinet above the sink that had been Owen’s in the master bathroom. Owen had left a comb on the bottom shelf that had a few of his hairs hanging onto it. She wrapped those in a tissue. She placed both tissues in plastic baggies, and labeled them.

—-

Dylan called Renata to tell her he’d be a couple hours late for their regular Tuesday-nighter.

Dylan and his friend Joey, and Joey’s uncle Don, owned a very profitable small business doing home improvements and subcontract work for builders. Roofing, siding, carpentry, drywall, windows, flooring, whatever. They were talented and reliable and the business had flourished. They had six other employees and had multiple jobs going at any given time. One big job was almost done and they had to knock it out tonight.

“Whenever you get here is fine with me, I’ll be waiting.” Renata said. “But you might disappoint my husband. He’s parked down the street, watching. He’s in a white Camry. Sticks out like a sore thumb. Hurry home.”

“I will,” he said.

Later, Dylan drove slowly down the street to Renata’s house. The white Camry was still there. He could make out Owen’s profile; he was looking through binoculars. He drove past the car and pulled into the driveway. He didn’t have to knock, he went right in.

Inside, he kissed Renata and said, “He’s still there. He’s got binoculars.”

“What a creep,” she said. “Wanna give him a show?”

He laughed. “Sure.”

They went into the bedroom. The window closest to the front of the house was directly visible from the Camry. Renata turned on a table lamp and opened the curtains. She stood there in plain view, and pulled Dylan to her and they kissed. A long, hard tonguefuck.

“Do me up against the window,” she whispered.

She unbuttoned his shirt while he unbuttoned hers, then they tossed them on the floor. They kissed while they unbuckled and unzipped and their britches dropped. She turned to face the window and leaned against it.

“Do me from behind,” she said.

He knew what she wanted. She smelled great as usual, fresh from a shower. He knelt behind her and his tongue did some ass-diving. Her body was up against the pane. Her tits smudged the window as they raised and lowered with each stab of his tongue.

Owen’s field glasses were zoomed in, and focused. He had a clean, tight shot in the soft light. His wife was naked, facing him with her arms splayed, moving up and down against the glass with a look of bliss on her face. But where was he, what was he doing?

He got his answer soon enough. He saw the guy rise behind her, his nude body flush against the back of her. His arms came around to the front of her and his large hands cupped her breasts. Her body soon started jolting upward, over and over, against the window as the guy fucked her from behind.

Owen zoomed in tighter on the kid’s face. He looked familiar. ‘Oh My God’ he said aloud to himself when he realized who he was. After several more minutes watching his wife being fucked, her body shuddered, and a huge smile came to her face. He watched as their bodies detached. Then she waved to him for a moment, before turning her hand around and giving him the finger. She was kissing Dylan as the curtain closed.

—-

“I think your husband figured out who I am,” Dylan said, three days later. “The binoculars must have done the trick.”

“Really?” Renata asked. “How do you know?”

“My mother called me and gave me a raft of shit.”

“Ah. I see.”

“I had to hang up on her after about ten minutes. She was pissed.”

Renata thought of about a hundred things she could have said about Leah, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

“It’s a relief, in a way,” he added. “No more secrets.”

But of course there were.

—-

Two weeks later, Renata called Owen and said she wanted to meet with him, we need to talk. He readily agreed. He thought finally, she’s come to her senses, no more wild fucking, it’s time to make amends, regroup and put all this behind us.

They met at a coffee shop they’d been to many, many times over the years. It was neutral territory, a comfort zone for both. At least that’s what Owen thought going in.

Renata was there when Owen arrived. She was seated at a side table with a cup of tea in front of her. She waved him over. He sat down facing her. She did not waste time with small talk or beat around the bush.

“See that woman at the end of the counter?” she said, with a nod in that direction.

They looked at the slim, fifty-something, gray-haired woman, sharply dressed in a navy business suit. She waved at them.

“Yes.”

“She’s my attorney,” Renata said, and picked up two manilla folders from her satchel on the floor. She slid one across the table. “And these are divorce papers. Everything is in order. All the documents are there, including my attorney’s business card. Any future contact is to go through her.”

She put the second folder on top of the first.

“In this folder are the results of a DNA test that proves beyond all doubt that you are the biological father of Leah’s son, Dylan.”

Owen sat there dumbstruck, like a deer in the headlights, shaking his head.

“Yep, you are Dylan’s daddy. I can’t believe you two haven’t at least suspected that this could be true, over lo, these many years. I’ll let you relay the good news to Leah, in case she doesn’t already know. I’m sure she’ll want to know it’s official.

“How did you do this?” he mumbled.

“It’s all in the file,” she said. She picked up her bag from the floor, and rose from her chair. “I’ll let Dylan’s parents tell him, it’s not my place to do so. I don’t know how he’ll take the news. You know, since his Daddy was spying on him with binoculars, and everything. And don’t forget Luke. I’m sure he’ll be tickled. Gotta go.”

Renata and her attorney walked out together.

—-

Dylan was estranged from his parents, but that didn’t slow him down. He kept sticking his tongue and dick into Renata every chance he got. After a couple months she asked him to move in. She liked having a talented craftsman around the old house, someone who could repair anything that broke or needed attention, who was handy whether it was inside the house, outside the house, or of course, in the bedroom.

The divorce proceeded smoothly. The attorneys for both sides already knew each other and worked together well. Renata was getting the house, half of the IRA and a sizable chunk of cash.

—-

Six months later, it came time to finalize the divorce. The settlement was held in a conference room at the firm of Renata’s lawyer. When they gathered around the table it was obvious to all that Renata was very visibly pregnant.

The procedure went smoothly. The attorneys conducted the signings quickly and efficiently. All papers were ready and they were done in twenty minutes. They were waiting for copies when some small talk was attempted.

“When are you due?” Owen asked.

“A couple months,” Renata said.

“What does Dylan think?”

“He is ecstatic. He’s going to have a little boy. Your grandson. That makes you Grandpa, and Leah a grandma.” She chuckled. “And it will make me like your daughter-in-law, and you’ll be my father-in-law, and Leah my mother-in-law, or something like that. Crazy, huh?”

The attorney returned with the copies and they all stood to leave. As they were walking out, Owen had one more thing to say.

“But such a big age difference,” he said condescendingly. “ He’s so young. What do you two have in common? What do you talk about?”

“Oh, we communicate very effectively,” she said. “But you wouldn’t understand. We speak in tongues.”

“Speak in tongues? What the hell is that?”

“See? I knew you wouldn’t understand. I guess your binoculars couldn’t help you with that.”

She hurriedly walked out without another word. Dylan was waiting for her.

---