The Process of Illumination

"Thanks," I said, taking the tray from her. "Sometimes I wished I had taken dance lessons when I was a kid," I admitted, filling the bowl with chips.

"From what I can see, you have a kind of natural rhythm and flow," Christy observed.

I must have blushed, before quietly taking another swig of wine. Feeling the effects of her two glasses, Christy glided to the heavy R&B beat, adding a well-placed bump and grind when the music moved her.

"Come on Tif...I mean Barb – God, I'm sorry! You really DO resemble her," Christy took my wrists to pull me up to join her. Glancing at the wide eyes of our male vultures, I got to my feet and joined in her little impromptu dance. "I just love Marvin Gaye, don't you?" She stated, letting go of my wrists to take her wine, as she continued to gracefully step in time.

I nodded, smiled and let the music envelope me. As the song played on, I got more into it. Sensually moving back and forth, I mimicked her steps stride for stride, until we both seemed to move as one. Kicking off her tall pumps, she came closer to my height in heels. Christy took advantage of our parallel symmetry and moved to within a few inches of me. When she fixed her eyes on mine, with the look of a sex-starved vixen, I totally lost it and started to laugh. Still holding her wine in one hand, she laid her other hand on my shoulder to draw me closer. Embarrassed by my anxious laughter, I quickly did a 180, to avoid her pseudo come-on.

This move caught her completely off guard, and suddenly I felt liquid pouring down my back. She had inadvertently spilled her port wine down my back. "Oh GOD Barb! Shit, look what I've done!" Christy apologized profusely, as the cool, sticky juice settled into my top's absorbent fabric.

"Don't worry. I think I can take it out," I proclaimed, streaking upstairs to our master bathroom.

Yanking off my top, I surveyed the damage. Reaching back, I could feel wetness on my bra straps as well. Unhooking my bra, it was plain to see both items were soaked with the deep red port wine. Standing frozen my brain raced, trying to recall every household remedy for wine stains. Unfortunately that was the same brain I'd just recently drained a few hundred cells from, coincidently using the same diabolical substance.

"I've heard talcum powder works," Christy's voice surprised me, standing in the doorway.

"God Christy, I didn't see you!" I exclaimed, crossing my arms to hide my bare chest.

"Here, let me see," she said, gently pulling my arms down. I thought she meant the stained top, of course. "Oh God Barb, they're perfect," Christy said quietly staring directly at my bosom.

"What?" I asked, considering the seemingly irreversible damage to my clothes.

"Your boobs – they are perfect," she repeated, restraining the desire to feel them.

"Oh geez Christy, you're not..."

"A lesbian? No, I'm not queer. It's just I'm so fucking jealous," she added, eyeing every aspect of my round melons.

"YOU JEALOUS!? Give ME a fucking break, Miss 42-E, or however huge those things are!" I exploded, trying to recover my tits.

"Don't you understand? If I had anything close to that, I could have saved five grand! Instead, I get to strut around with this huge shelf, which has like zero give. It sucks." The tall, brick house confided, then proceeded to open enough blouse buttons to bare her extensive cleavage to me. Taking my hand in hers, she made me feel the super taut flesh-covered silicone.

At first taken back by such a lesbian-type activity, feeling her tits became more of a curiosity – a study in the marvels of modern enhancement. Christy was only too happy to discuss every facet of her preposterous prosthetics, showing me more and more of them as she spoke. As in so many similar cases, I assumed the reason for her augmentation started with a man.

Wanting to please her ex-husband, who was less than accepting of her original C cup size, seemed to be the initial motivation for the addition. Off came her blouse, as she described how the changes would benefit her job at Mickey's. Off came the industrial-strength brassiere charged with the daunting task of supporting such over-sized howitzers, as Christy told all the gory details of her operation.

"See Barb, you have this large, lovely natural set, and you have no idea how priceless they truly are!"

"I wouldn't go quite that far. At my age, I simply prefer not to advertise them," I replied.

"Mmm see, more than handful for sure, but so damn supple!" Bare chested Christy said, as her hands and fingers respectfully fondled my hooters. "God if it were me, I'd be showing them off regularly," she declared.

"I'm sure Donny would be thrilled with that," I smiled derisively.

"So, give him a thrill. Don't you love him? Don't you want the best for him? Hell, I say when you've got the best to give, GIVE him the best. He'd be so proud," Christy determined.

"Maybe I shouldn't always keep them under wraps. I'll consider it. How's that?"

"Tick-tock Lady! Now aren't you glad you don't have to haul these around?" She stated, shaking her mammoth mangos against me. I laughed. We both laughed, as I carefully hoisted her volleyballs to check the elasticity. "No need to be so tender with 'em. The only really sensitive parts are my nipples. I can barely stand to have guys suck on them – it's painful actually."

"God, I couldn't stand not having mine sucked, and sucked hard," I reflected.

"See how lucky you are! Now, let's find you something to wear, until we can fix those wine stains," Christy advised, as she pulled her heavy-duty harness back on. Still lying on the bed, my white halter caught her eye. "What's wrong with this?" She asked, picking it up.

"It's way too tight anymore and outdated, I'm afraid."

"Nonsense, it's a classic; plus you don't need a bra with it. Here try it on," She decided. As I slung the collar over my head, wrapped the one-piece halter around me, and tucked in my double-d's, Christy rummaged through my closet. "Great, why it looks terrific! Now here, try this on with it," she said, holding up an also dated dark miniskirt.

"My God Christy, my boobs are practically falling out the way it is, and you want me to squeeze into this old thing?" I challenged, gazing at the once-sexy skirt.

"Just satisfy my curiosity. Besides it'll be great for dancing." She threw it at me, as she buttoned up most of her un-tucked blouse.

"Okay," I caved in, and pulled my jeans off. Pulling the flimsy skirt up over my broad hips, I remembered how frilly it originally felt. Surprisingly, it hadn't lost that feeling over the years. Looking in the mirror, my first reaction was to let out another uneasy laugh.

"Jesus Girl, you're in great shape all the way around," Christy approved.

"Well, I have lost a few pounds. Maybe, with some nice pantyhose..." I rethought the notion.

"What for? You've got nice tanned legs. Screw the pantyhose!"

"If you promise not to dance with any more wine bottles," I smirked, stepping into my heels.

"I promise! Now, let's give those two a show they won't soon forget," Super busty Christy bubbled.

"Just so you know Christy, I'm not planning on stripping for these guys," I made myself clear.

"I understand. Oh, and just so YOU know, I DO plan on attacking young Ben, if that's okay?" She responded as we headed downstairs.

I jiggled like a bowl of fresh chilled Jell-O as we bounded downstairs. Donny's martini shaking came to an abrupt halt at seeing me. If his falling jaw needed fixing before, it was in desperate need of repair now.

"Close your mouth Honey. You act like you've never seen tits and ass before," I said. Judging from Ben's similar facial expression, I felt like the new hot slut in town.

"It's been a while. God, you look scrumptious!" My hubby uttered, handing me an ice-chilled vodka martini. Christy went directly to Ben's side, stealing his drink in the process.

"We should toast something," I announced.

"How about that outfit," Donny's eyes confirmed that any perceived competition between Christy and I was unwarranted. He's sweet that way.

"How about Ben's birthday?" Christy blurted out.

"Birthday? Ben, I had no idea! Is today your birthday?" I asked, feeling slighted that he hadn't shared such important information. Ben's eyes shifted briefly to Christy, then back to me for a discreet wink and a smile. That's when I figured it probably wasn't really his birthday; but perhaps a ploy to play on Christy's "giving" nature. "By all means, yes we must toast Ben and his birthday," I returned his smile and decided to play along.

Presented with the peculiar combination of wine and martinis, I decided together they produced a pleasant euphoria – an ideal combo for dancing and romance. The four of us paired off; Donny and I in the family room, while Christy and Ben remained in the kitchen. Lights were lowered. Music became a bit more sensual, and the kisses much more passionate.

Rolling around on the floor after a brief game of tug-of-war with my halter top, Donny was able to wrestle it away from me. The two of us hadn't had playful sex for so long, it was fun to rekindle that flame as well. When he went after my skirt, I pulled the large comforter off the couch. It wasn't long before we were naked, wrapped together in the cocoon of the warm blanket. Foreplay consisted of cock tugging and clit rubbing, mixed with whispers of off-color jokes, and frequent frisky kisses. I got a major case of the giggles, but somehow managed to mount hubby's stiff hardon. With the comforter loosely wrapped around the two of us, Donny settled into a nice fucking rhythm.

The dimly lit family room afforded just enough light to see a tall shadow approaching us from the kitchen. "Sorry to interrupt; just need to use the bathroom," whispered a nearly naked Christy, as she passed through. I thought little of the intrusion and went back to riding Donny's cock, adjusting the blanket to keep us both covered.

By the time Christy returned, Donny and I were in full fucking mode. Riding high, hard and heavy, my tits flayed and circled, as the security blanket slid down around us. "God you guys, that's SO damn sexy!" Christy exclaimed, suddenly appearing in front of me. Deep in the throes of a long sweet orgasm, the best response I could offer was an open-mouthed glance up at her. Standing tall in her heels and thigh-high hose, she practically straddled Donny's head. I'm sure he got quite a view of the brick shithouse beauty. A vision that certainly didn't diminish his desire to fuck my pussy.

"Would you guys mind terribly if we borrowed your couch?" Christy asked, fingering her pussy and fondling one of her massive mounds as she spoke. Under any other circumstance, I would have strongly refused. As it was, both Donny and I were beyond the point of no return, regarding our impending climaxes.

"Do what you want," I blurted out, before gritting my teeth and throwing my head back. Rocking and reeling from the mutual explosion of our first shared orgasm in some time, everything around me became a blur. It was several minutes later, basking in the afterglow and feeling my hubby's juices seeping from my pussy, that I noticed the naked couple making out a few feet from us on the couch.

Questioning what was normal behavior at that point would have been ludicrous. At the least, I probably should felt self-conscious. However, I (or should I say we) had a vested interest in Ben's 'education' and strictly from a clinical point of view, it was interesting and fun to observe the results of our handiwork. Poised on the couch, on all fours, Christy reached back to spread her cheeks, while Ben on bended knee edged his 10-inch long, thick rod between her slit.

"That's it Baby, give it to me," the stripper beckoned.

Watching Ben's toned rock-hard torso joining Christy's more mature, but equally tight and toned super body was like bathing our eyes in pure pornography. Not that Donny and I were minced meat by any stretch, but just observing two such well-suited naked forms was a sensual delight. Shaken from the eye candy by Donny's obvious throat-clearing, I realized I wasn't the sole voyeur. "Sexy together, aren't they?" He said, flexing his semi-erect tool inside me.

"Not bad for a pair of good looking kids," I understated, grinding my pussy to force a further response.

"I must admit, that makes me feel a little inadequate," Donny said, motioning me to focus on Ben's sizable vulcanized manhood. The youngster's long thrusts in and out of the older stripper were genuinely a sight to behold. I'd be lying to say the idea of riding or consuming such a delectably sturdy shaft didn't affect me. However, I'm no fool.

"You know what I always say," I prompted.

"I know, it's not the size that matters; it's how you use it," my hubby quoted. "But..."

"But what? You think it's easy to watch you drooling over a stripper. I mean, talk about feeling inadequate!"

"Don't be silly. You know I'm only TRULY turned on by the likes of you." He appeased me, as I climbed off of him.

By now, Christy had turned over to assume the missionary position. Any changes in arrangement mattered little to young Ben, as he continued to drill for oil. I had to fix myself on another diversion soon, or I would be drawn into considering nothing else but having his young tantalizing cock. Lying flat on the floor, I prodded Donny to go down on me in a sixty-nine. This way I could jack and suck him back into shape. Besides the fact that my husband gives some of the best head ever.

Performing sexually for our less than captive audience, I still delighted in emoting for effect. I was perhaps halfway into delivering a world-class blowjob when something odd dawned on me. I had to slow down and cut back my generally loud sloppy sucking to listen for it. I didn't hear it, hmm? There was nothing to hear.

The low moans, the groans, the audible affectations of two souls immersed in the art of making love – there were NONE! The panting, the verbal lust, and tactile sounds of lovemaking that Ben and I shared in the backseat of Donny's car only a few weeks ago, where were they? I found myself literally obsessed with the absence of any sound at all coming from them. Sure, one could hear the slippery, gooey, slapping sounds of the act itself, but absolutely no sign that either one of them were enjoying or even appreciating each other.

Donny was oblivious to the eerie silence. When it comes to sex, nothing short of an atomic device could distract him. Shrugging off my aural obsessing I returned to orally obsessing. Within seconds, I was back to power sucking speed, and about to savor another orgasm from hubby's tongue. Throwing convention or nervous frustration to the wind, Donny and I both loudly reveled in our orgasms. Perhaps this was our boisterous curse at inadequacies, or was it just over emoting? Who the fuck knows or cares. It felt REALLY good to let go.

Sometime during our thunderous copulation, the other couple must have achieved their own quiet level of carnal bliss. They were both in about the same stages of re-dressing, when Donny and I concluded our act with a final kiss. Suddenly feeling modest, I covered up, wrapping the comforter around me, as Donny put his clothes back on.

"Hey guys, how about a nightcap?" Donny offered, as if we just finished a set of gin rummy.

Combing through her long hair with a brush, Christy stated it was past her bedtime. With a combined look of pride and frustration, Ben gathered up their coats. After a series of short cordial goodbyes, they were gone.

"I'm not at all sure they actually had a good time," I remarked, picking up empty glasses.

"I know what you mean. It was kind of weird. Oh well, I got a fine piece of ass!" Donny rationalized.

"Why yes you did, and don't you forget it!" I returned and smiled.

It was maybe an hour later, when we heard the familiar sounds of Ben's truck on the gravel drive. A door slam, steps, and the key at the door. Donny had already crashed. I was downstairs still naked under my bathrobe.

"Oh, you're still up?" Ben said, locking the door behind him.

"Just checking the thermostat. So, Christy seems nice. What'ya think?" Shoving aside my mother's intuition.

"She SEEMED nice, didn't she?" Ben shook his head.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

"Did you ever wonder how she was paying for things like tuition, books, and raising her kid, especially since the kid's father is long gone?" Ben asked rhetorically.

"I assume she gets good tips. It never occurred to me actually," I answered.

"Me either! I should have paid more attention when she said, "and STUFF!" I believe her exact words were, "I still make pretty good wages as a waitress and other stuff."

"Ben, you're not saying she CHARGED you for tonight!"

First his eyes lowered, then his head, before he nodded. "She's a fucking whore," Ben mumbled.

"Are you serious? How much?" I stormed.

"Five hundred," Ben shook his head.

"Oh good God. What a fucking bitch! You can't afford that!"

"That's beside the point. I suppose it's the price ya pay for being a dumb, unsuspecting sap. No woman looking that good wants somebody like me," Ben said.

The empty wallet was one thing, his poor ego was torn to shreds. Whatever self-confidence he had reconditioned lay before him, like some terrible experiment gone wrong. Taking hold of his arms, I forced him to face me.

"Listen Babe, it's late. Get some sleep and we'll talk this over tomorrow. I'm so sorry," I said. Fighting back sympathetic tears, I turned away. He shook me back to face him.

"It really wasn't a total loss. I would have paid even more to see you like I did tonight," Ben said, staring straight into my eyes. "Hell, considering the wonders of you, I look at that five hundred as a minimal investment."

His tight grip on my arms confirmed how serious he was. Speechless in his grasp, my eyes flitted, as I searched for a quick, polite response. There was none. I couldn't bore him with some trite brush off. At the same time, I dare not reveal my growing feelings for him. My stone-cold silence would have to suffice. Studying his sad sensitive eyes, I sensed it just might have for the moment. His hands fell away. He turned and walked upstairs.

****************

Early Morning Apparitions

By the time I returned to our bedroom, Donny was sawing major logs, and was definitely down for the count. Sleeping in the raw is not my normal M.O. However, when we were younger, hubby and I would sleep commando after a nice sex-filled evening. He must have considered tonight one of those special nights. To keep with the program, I threw off my robe and settled my naked self in next to him.

Expecting to drift off into a normal sleep, I found myself tossing and turning. The combination of recalling Ben's beautiful long cock at work, and the sight of his pained expression when he arrived back home, was enough to keep me restless. Opting to examine the sensual side of my recollections, my hand slowly massaged my labia, until I dosed off.

A dream took hold of me. Of course, now I have no clue what it involved. I only know it was sexual and vivid enough to have me in a sweat. Climbing out of bed, I pulled my robe back on. The digital clock read 5:30 a.m. Once in the bathroom, I took a nice long drink of cold water. Staring into the mirror, I ran my fingers through my hair. Erotic remnants from my dream popped into my conscious. It was Ben. One suspended thought hung in my tired, but titillated brain: the overwhelming urge to have him.

Flipping the light off, I told myself, "Get to bed. Sleep it off." That's what I said, leaving the master bath. Imagine my surprise, when my body turned instead toward the bedroom door. Making my way down the hallway, I realized the urge was too strong to deny. "This was one of YOUR rules, you fool, and you're about to break it," I cursed myself, thinking back when the scraggly-haired, young stranger first showed up at our door.