Brae's Book

As Brae exited Arrivals, there was Arthur in a sport coat and slacks with a bouquet in his hand to welcome her home. Six foot, broad shouldered, crew cut, he was impressive for a sixty year old. She felt frumpy in the over sized gray cable knit sweater that did nothing for her ample breasts. She was wearing loose jeans and sneakers for the plane trip, her brown hair in a ponytail. He took her in his arms; they embraced and kissed. It was hard to believe she had only been gone a week.

"So, how are you? How are the boys?"

"Like me, they missed you. Let's face it, I'm not cut out to be a mom."

She laughed as they walked to baggage claim, "They don't like your cooking?"

"What cooking? We had delivery every night."

They claimed her bag and they walked hand and hand to the car.

In the car Art asked, "So, how was the meeting?"

"Oh. The usual. We met every morning, had lunch and after lunch, we went touring. There's a lot to see in New York. One day, shopping; one day an off Broadway show; one day, the Bronx zoo. Then each evening, one of the associate companies had us in for dinner."

"And after dinner?"

"We were on our own. We usually gathered at the bar."

"And were there any handsome men?"

She laughed, "One of the speakers addressed us as handsome men and beautiful women. And, yes, there were some handsome men at the bar."

"And were they hitting on my beautiful wife?"

"Let's just say, I never had to pay for a drink."

They pulled into the drive, kissed quickly and went inside. The boys were home from school and came to mom, hugging her, telling her they missed her. Art took her bag upstairs and placed it where it would be easy for her to unpack, but he didn't open it, not wanting to invade her privacy.

Back downstairs he announced that they were having pizza delivered. The boys cheered and Brae kissed him, thanking him for not making her prepare dinner.

After pizza, the boys were sent upstairs and Brae told Art she was going up and shower and change. Art went into watch TV. An hour later, she came down in a nightgown and robe. She and Art tucked the boys in and as soon as they stepped out of the boys' room, she wrapped her arms him and kissed him, her tongue invading. She led him to the bedroom, pulled off her robe and gown and crawled into bed naked.

Art stripped and climbed into bed beside her. They kissed and Art pushed her on to her back and rolled half way on top of her. He kissed her chin, her earlobe, worked his way down, kissing her neck, then her breast. He eased his hand between her legs, rubbing, and pushed a finger into her wetness.

Brae reached down, found his erect member and stroked it. As she spread her legs, Art knelt between them, running his tip up and down, finding the spot and easing in. Slowly he pushed in, Brae loving every thrust.

They kissed as he stroked in and out. He found her nipple again and sucked. She felt his member growing, going faster. She pulled him hard against her breast, "Bite it."

He did and as he exploded inside her, she shook with her own orgasm.

He kept stroking until he slipped out and lay down beside her.

They cuddled together, Art asked, "Did you meet anyone special?"

"You're jealous. You want to know if I slept with anyone. And I assure you, I did not."

She was quiet for a moment and then went on, "But, yes, I did meet someone special. There was a young man, but when you're fifty, most men are young. Anyway, we met; we talked. He told me about his wife and two daughters. I told him about you and the boys. He told me he had been in Afghanistan when the youngest was born. I asked him what he had done in Afghanistan and he told me he was just an ordinary Marine. He went on patrol. He watched friends be crippled, get killed. He was just glad to get out alive. I asked how he lived with it.

"He asked me if I had a book that I would often go back and read because I enjoyed it. I thought about some of the Literotica stories you and I have read together. I didn't tell him that but agreed, that there were books I reread often."

She was quiet for a moment, thinking, there were books that she read when she was alone, passages that would help her fingers or her vibrator bring her off. But she didn't need to tell Art about those. There were some pleasures Art didn't need to know about.

She went on, "He then asked if there were books that I would never read again and I agreed there were. He explained that his time in the Marines was like a book he read but wouldn't read again. It happened to someone else. He put it on the shelf and forgot about it."

"That's an interesting way to deal with it. So, what happened with the young man?"

"Oh, he escorted an old lady to her room and said goodnight."

"What was his name?"

"Hmm. I don't think he ever told me. As I said, he was a just a nice young man."

"Does he work for your company?"

"No, he was there for a different conference. I'll probably never see him again."

"Were there any others?"

"Other men and women at the bar? Yes, but he was the only one that impressed me. Now quit worrying and go to sleep."

Saturday morning, Art and boys were off to soccer. Brae straightened the house, went upstairs, changed the sheets and finished unpacking.

Then she filled the bath, added oils and perfumes, undressed and slipped into the tub to relax.

Lying there, she thought about the book she read on her trip. About a young man who escorted a woman to the elevator and when the doors closed, drew her in and kissed her. And instead of escorting her to her room, he took her to his. There they kissed as he removed her dress. He unfastened her bra, told her how beautiful her breasts were, kissed and sucked her nipples as he caressed and pinched. He sat her on the bed, pulled off her panties. He pushed her back, spread her legs and knelt between them. The woman wished that she had trimmed, or even shaved so that she could enjoy the feeling of his kissing, licking and fingering. His tongue brought her to orgasm, something her husband never did. He didn't stop, his hand beneath her, lifting her to meet the thrusts of his tongue. His fingers ran down between her cheeks, rubbing her other hole and she was swept with another spasm. Then he stood, pulled her to him and kissed and nibbled on her breasts as she unfastened his belt and his pants. The pants and shorts fell and the woman wrapped her hand around him, leaned forward, kissed, licked the droplets from the tip. She kissed and took him into her mouth.

Brae's hands went to her breasts massaging and pulling her nipples.

The woman in the book was taking great pleasure in exciting the young man but before he came, he pushed her away, forcing her back on the bed. He left her there as he finished undressing and rolled on a condom. He knelt between the woman's legs and pushed into her as she cried in pleasure.

Brae's hand went down between her legs, rubbing, stroking, pushing in two fingers.

The woman rose to meet the young man's every stroke. She shook with another orgasm and the young man pulled out of the woman, turned her over and pulled her to her knees. He slammed into her, no longer making love but fucking her. He slapped her cheek and she squealed "You like my cock in your cunt, don't you?" And the woman screamed "Yes." He slapped her other cheek, "You want me to fuck you hard?" and she screamed, "Yes. Fuck me." He slapped one cheek, then the other, again and again, stinging her.

He grabbed her hip with one hand and ran a finger down the crack of her ass, touched her other hole and rubbed it. As she began shaking, gasping for air, she knew she was close to another orgasm. As he stiffened and slammed into her, he pushed his finger in. Her orgasm hit her and she screamed. The orgasm seemed to go on forever, the young man groaned as he pumped into her.

He kept pumping into the woman, his finger stroking until his member slipped out. When he pulled his finger out, she screamed, "No.".

Holding her hip, he fell down beside her, and spooned behind her, his member against her backside, nestled between her burning cheeks. He held her as she shook and trembled. He pulled her to him and put his arm around her. He found her breast and pinched her nipple and she shook with another orgasm.

The woman squirmed, her stinging cheeks against him, hoping to feel him harden enough to enter her again. She reached back between them, wrapped her hand around his member and began stroking, trying to get him hard enough to enter her again. Even if it were her other hole.

But not only did his member not respond, his breathing slowed even as she was stroking. He had gone to sleep.

The woman released his member and slipped out from under his arm. Still shaking, she sat on the side of the bed, regaining her strength. The woman slipped out, dressed and went to her room.

In her room she stripped and lay down, the cool sheets soothing her stinging bottom. She thought about how much pleasure she had enjoyed as a result of the pain he had inflicted.

Brae slowly came down from her orgasm. As her breathing returned to normal, she mentally closed the book. It happened to someone else. She put the book on the shelf. She would never do something like that. She loved Art. No, it was someone else.

She stepped from the tub and dried herself, her nipples tingling as she rubbed them. As she dried between her legs, she shook. Looking at her thatch, she thought perhaps she would get Art to help her shave. Perhaps she could even get him to kiss her down there, something he hadn't done in years. Perhaps if she spent more time pleasuring his member, he would considerate it. It had been so long, she couldn't remember how he tasted.

She set the towel aside and found some cream. As she rubbed it on her sensitive nipples, she watched as they grew. She rubbed some of the cream between her legs and trembled. When she applied the cold cream to her stinging bottom, she flinched and tears ran down her cheeks.

It happened to someone else.

In the bed room, she pulled on a tee shirt and shorts and lay down for a quick nap before Art and the boys came home.

Perhaps at the meeting next year, she would open the book again and see what else the woman did.

Perhaps she could get her manager to send her to the branch where Keith worked. Yes, he worked for the same company and, Yes, she remembered his name. Perhaps she could write some new chapters for the other woman.