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From: kellis <kellis@dhp.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Other Man's Chance (Mf Oral Caution) {Kellis}
Date: Thu, 14 Sep 2000 17:10:04 -0400
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The Other Man's Chance

a Short Story by Kellis
Copyright (C) September, 2000, Kellis





"I must say it, Johnny:  this is the very same dick."

When she had opened his britches, he had verified that the girl
reclining beside the pool showed no interest in affairs on the
porch.  Now he chuckled.  "If you *must* say it, Nel, then please
do.  But why shouldn't it be?  I believe it was Benjamin Franklin
who noted the invariance of the sexual organs."

"I believe it's identically the same."  She smiled fondly at the
object in her fist.  "And it behaves the same:  stands right up
when I shake hands with it.  If I pinch it just here --"  She
laughed aloud, the same silvery gurgle that had always tightened
his gut with desire.  "It still jumps the same way."

She fully retracted the foreskin and declared positively, "What
this is, is a young man's dick."

He sighed.  "In all these years, Nel, I think no one else ever
studied it so closely as you have.  How many hours do you think
you spent just turning it this way and that?"

She ignored the question.  "This vein here along the side was
just as large when you were only 21.  And this little wrinkle
half-way up the middle of the knob -- it's like a buttocks crack
in miniature.  That's unique, isn't it, Johnny?  At least, to be
so pronounced?  Have you met another man with one like it?"

"No, but I don't go around examining other dicks.  When did you
look at so many?"

"You *do* recall where we first met, don't you?"

"Of course.  I took you home -- well, back to your sorority.  I'm
amazed that you can remember it."

"I do, vaguely;  I was really looped!  But you know what kind of
party it was.  I went to such parties all over the campus that
spring.  Lots of dicks at those parties, Johnny."

"You didn't go to so many after you met me."

"No.  I took a fancy to this wrinkled fellow, didn't I?  And then
you introduced me to Arnie."

"Worst mistake I ever made."

She chuckled.  "You truly think so?  It didn't deprive you of
anything."

"Yes, it did.  I missed raising your children.  Arnie got that
pleasure."

"Believe me, you missed a lot of trouble!"

"I believe your children would have been worth it."

She leaned against him and kissed his neck.  "Thank you, Johnny.
I'll admit, especially in later years, that I wondered once in a
while if I'd made a mistake, marrying Arnie instead of you.
Especially after a whirlwind motel rendezvous that left me
perfectly drained.  Arnie seemed ... insufficient when I returned
from one of those.  But I was a homebody, Johnny, very content
with mom's taxi and wiping noses and letting a husband relieve
himself in exchange for comfort and security.  I thought I was
never cut out to accompany a globe-trotter or for that matter
to wait alone until he came home.  No, I concluded I had married
the right man.  But whenever I heard your voice on the telephone,
my heart rate would double.  You know I flew to you every time
like a lovesick teenager."

He nodded.  "Yes, I know -- the same way my heart behaved every
time I stepped off an airplane here.  Did you go through with it,
with telling Arnie?"

She chuckled wryly.  "Not then."  Her chuckle became a sigh.
"That's why you never called me again, isn't it?"

"Yes.  I would have done anything to avoid distressing you."

"Oh, Johnny!  You noble soul, I could almost hate you for that.
Instead ..."  She leaned forward and sucked him into her mouth.
He shuddered involuntarily.  She lingered only briefly before
raising up and turning curious eyes on his.  "Why did you never
ask me to do this?"

"I ..."  He shrugged.  "I had many others for that."

Her eyes twinkled.  "You thought I was too goody-goody?"

"Something like that."

"But I had been a liberal flower-child, Johnny.  I learned to
give good head before I had my first orgasm.  Arnie demanded it
right off.  Knowing I could satisfy him so easily was a strong
factor in my decision."

He grinned and shook his head.  "I would never have guessed
that!"

"But you asked if I confessed.  My conscience bothered me at our
last meeting.  I had told my sister about you and she really made
me feel guilty.  I think now she was envious.  But at the time
...  I said it only to cool you down.  You'd been seeing me two
or three times a month."  She sniffed.  "I'd become so
indifferent to Arnie that he asked me if I was going through the
change early."

She took a breath.  "You dropped me like a hot potato, Johnny."

"My company had a problem in Saudi Arabia about then, Nel.  As
fate would have it, I met a lonely German woman, a translator for
the embassy, in Riyadh.  She was almost adequate compensation."

"Huh!  Now I truly *shall* hate you!  Would you have met her if I
hadn't threatened to tell?"

He grinned.  "I don't think so.  I would have been flying back
here too often to get cozy with doe-eyed blondes...  You implied
that you did finally tell Arnie?"

"Yes."  Her face sobered.  "He suspected anyway.  I was foolish.
I missed you so -- especially this sweet sausage."  She leaned
down long enough to lick the glans.  "I turned from cold fish to
nympho when it was clear you weren't coming back.  I think I wore
the poor man out."

"But that was ten years ago!"

"He was 38.  And the fat deposits were already forming in his
arteries.  He asked me point blank."

"And you told the truth?"

"We'd got kinky, I'm afraid, mostly my doing.  I was tied to the
bedposts and he licked me until I was going out of my mind.  He
said, 'Did Johnny do this to you?'  I'm afraid I answered, 'He
didn't have to.'"

"Did you!"

"Then he drug the whole story out of me.  You know what's funny?
It actually made him hornier.  He almost wore *me* out!

"I'll admit I enjoyed it.  He found out you had never put into my
mouth or anus, so of course he had to concentrate on them.  He
bought some vibrators and dildoes, all sizes, one big as ... as a
horse, I guess, and used them in front.  It was sensually a very
interesting period.  I learned that I *could* pass out with
another man besides you, but he had to work hard at it.  Then
Arnie had his first heart attack."

The man sighed.  "I didn't know."

She retorted, "You were busy making your German blonde pass out."

He smiled.  "No, my dear.  No one else was ever so responsive as
you.  This was three or four years later, wasn't it?  By that
time it was a black-haired babe in Rome."

"Did she love you, Johnny?"

"She loved my credit card balance."

"Actually it was nearly five years ago.  He was in the hospital
two weeks for a bypass.  He came out on blood pressure pills that
ruined his dick."

"Then he was only ... what -- 43, 44?"

"It was congenital, Johnny.  His father died at 48, too.  I was
glad for the dildoes.  I could still give *him* a climax, but ...
Before long he wouldn't let me touch him.  I think he was ashamed
of himself, though it wasn't really his fault."

"Do you mean for the last five years --"

"Of course not!"  Her eyes flashed up at him.  "I knew what I
needed and I knew where to get it.  I went back on the pill, shot
the works at salon and boutique, contracted with some sitters for
the kids and a nurse for Arnie, and took a widow's stool at the
country club."

"A 'widow's st-'  Oh."

"I had some interesting times, Johnny, not up to your standards,
or even Arnie's before the bypass.  Don't you think it's ironic
that Arnie did his best stud work trying to make me forget you?"

"Yeah.  Ironic.  'Back on the pill,' you said?"

"Actually, not back.  I never was faithful to chemistry.  That's
why I bore five in twelve years.  I didn't worry about pregnancy,
especially the last few years with Arnie in back or at the top.
"Don't spill a drop," was his rule, and I seldom did, though it
was all a waste, of course.  But when I went to the country club,
I changed my rules drastically.  I've been very faithful to the
pills since."

She smiled reminiscently.  "It's been wonderful research."

He grunted.  "That's a new name for it!"

"No, I mean it.  I've been interested for some time in the ways
people differ from each other -- and the opposite, of course.  But
dicks are one important way.  I think each one is unique:
length, thickness, general shape, ratio of knob to shaft, every
measurement you can think of.  And here's your little cleft in
front, also unique.  I love it!"  She bent again to kiss it.

"All that from your widow's stool?"  He arched an eyebrow.
"Somehow I never thought of country clubs as hotbeds of
assignation."

She sniffed.  "'Hotbeds' is right!  Not for young women -- that
is, not for young women who are members.  They can't afford it
and more importantly they don't need it.  But for us older girls
...  I've heard it called 'the ex-wife's motel.'"

"Lot's of action, eh?  That's surprising.  Usually the old
marrieds who keep up those places bring in much younger women for
entertainment."

"Oh, that's certainly true.  But the country club is where the
money is, you know.  Always a lot of young men are sucking up to
it.  At a country club the old do the young, or --" she grinned
"-- sometimes vice versa."

"You're not so old, Nel.  46, aren't you?  Of course you look a
decade younger."

"Thank my cosmetic surgeon.  Too bad they can't lift boobs."

"Lift?  What I see looks eager as ever."

"That's the effect of a good bra."

"I always loved to lift them for you.  How about showing me your
bedroom?"  He looked right and left over her head.  "I haven't
congratulated you on the fine house Arnie built for you,
especially this big, screened porch.  I imagine you and Arnie had
some great times out here."

"Oh, yes, on breezy summer nights.  See those hooks?  He had some
leather loops made.  He liked to hang me from those hooks and
swing me back and forth on his dick while he leaned against the
bar.  Sometimes -- see that block under the edge? -- he screwed in
a dildo and swung me on it till I begged for mercy.  Other times
I had to bend over the bar while *he* swung."

"Good god!"  He shook his head.  "I can't believe this, Nel."

She shrugged.  "The leathers and dildo are behind the bar.  Take
a look, or wait till it gets dark and I'll show you how he did
it."

"I mean, I can't believe it's *Nel*, my Nel, who's confessing to
this.  What happened to the timid girl who was so afraid her
mother would find out about her games in all the frat houses?"

The woman chuckled.  "Johnny, I've noticed something about girls.
Their personality can depend on the man they're with.  You were
always so damned polite, so considerate and careful of my
feelings -- which I love, don't get me wrong! -- that I had to act
the very feminine, mannerly and somewhat timid young lady with
you.  If I happened to use the word, *fuck*, you would frown --
Ha!  You still do.  So with you I was passionate but still
refined, at least until I had a climax.  I don't know what I
might have said then.  I've recovered my senses enough times with
you laughing your head off to imagine it must be pretty raunchy,
considering that you would never repeat it.

"With other men, especially Arnie, I was free to be the pure slut
I basically am."  She smiled.  "That was another advantage in not
marrying you.  Refinement, however thrilling, is a strain.
Letting you have me every two or three weeks was about right.  My
god, Johnny, have you thought that we met almost that often for
nearly *twelve years*?"

"I've thought about that a great deal, Nel.  Lean forward again."

She chuckled, obeying.  "It's unlike you to do this, Johnny, with
Clarisse sunning herself only 50 feet away."

His hands proceeded to release all the buttons in the back of her
blouse.  He explained, "It occurs to me that your kids must have
seen you and Arnie together, probably a lot."

"You mean, in sexual embrace?"  She laughed derisively.  "I'm
sure they did, though it embarrasses most kids, you know, to
believe their parents could do such things.  Clarisse is the
exception.  She's the exception to most rules about kids."

"How old is she?"

"19, going on 40."  She sighed.  "Now you'll find out how much
they sag."

"Ah, Nellie!  I've always been crazy about your lovely cushions.
You'll think I'm pretending, but the fact is I like them better
now.  They're softer.  Look at this.  When I pull them away from
your chest, they fill my hands much better than they used to."

"Huh!  There was a time when you couldn't pull them away!"

"I like this much better.  Turn a bit, will you?"

Smiling fondly, she stroked the back of his head as he suckled at
the prominent nipples, stiff now between lips and tongue.  When
he moved from right to left, her hand departed his manhood and
cupped the right breast.  "I can do that, too, now."  His eyes
widened as she bent and raised the nipple into her own mouth.
She released it quickly with a chuckle.

He backed away.  "Does it do anything for you?"

She shrugged.  "No more, I guess, than you sucking your own
dick."

He snorted.  "Believe me, I tried hard to learn that when I was
young!"

"You mean you can't?  Arnie could, barely, though he much
preferred me to do it for him."  She cocked her head.  "Is that
why you never asked me?"

"No.  I love, ah, fellatio as much as the next man.  I never
asked you because ... well, because ..."  He shook his head.
"How can I say this without offending you now?"  He took a
breath.  "Because I thought you were too good a person, Nel."

"Are you learning better at last, Johnny?"

"Nellie, I'll never believe you're anything else.  But I have
learned a few things.  You can certainly suck my dick whenever
you're in the mood and if you hold still for it I'll even fuck
you up the ass."

She smiled then frowned.  "Funny.  I believe I liked you better
before."

"See?"

"But we're still going to do all that.  We're going to make up
for lost time."

His face brightened.  "And one other thing I forgot to mention:
I'll eat you out, and you won't need to be tied down, either."

Her eyes twinkled.  "I'll have to show you what the tie downs are
good for."

"I can't believe they're good for anything."

"Oh, but they are.  Men feel it, too.  At least Arnie did and I
*think* all the others do.  You must have noticed that you can go
too far orally.  Right at the last, when you're coming, if your
partner keeps sucking or licking, you can't stand it.  You'll
jerk away or push him off.  But if you're tied down, you *have*
to stand it!  That's an experience you ought to try, Johnny."

"Good?" he asked incredulously.

She shook her head.  "I don't know if good's the right word.  But
sensually there's nothing more powerful that doesn't leave a
scar.  All right.  Go ahead.  The zipper is on the left."

His hand retreated from inside her skirt.  "Really, Nel,
shouldn't we go inside?"

"Why?"  She grinned.  "You want to do it in front of Arnie's
ashes?"

He had to laugh.  "I'll do it wherever you will.  But we're not
exactly alone out here."

"Clarisse is the only kid home this week.  Here's something to
think about."  Her hand pumped him.  "This fellow is obviously
glad to see me."

"Of course."

"Well, for your information, his mate is glad to see you, too, so
glad my bottom feels melted.  We've still got the hots for each
other, haven't we, Johnny?"

"You know it!"

"Then there's no rush, is there?  Tell me, will you stay with me
for awhile?"

"Well, your reputation --"

"What reputation!  Everyone in the country club knows exactly
what I am.  Or was until today."

"Nellie --"

"You've got a motel room, I suppose."

"Yes, of course."

"For *your* reputation?"

He grunted.  "No one knows *me* here."

"Then give it up and move in with me."

"Nellie ...  In fact you've only been a widow for a week, you
know."

She ignored that point and tried another tack.  "You never took
vacations.  Don't you have some time-off coming?"

He nodded.  "As a matter of fact, I'm on vacation now -- for the
next four weeks."

"Wonderful!  Go get your things.  I'll send Clarisse to help."

"Are you sure, Nel?  You know, there's an advantage in separate
bases."

"Not compared to having your shoulder where I can lay my head on
it at night."

He grinned.  "You do have a point."

She stood up and screamed, "Clarisse, come here!"

He leaned forward to gather the halves of her flopping blouse and
brassiere, but she knocked his hand away.  He busied himself
instead with stuffing the lingering erection back into his
trousers.

Sight of the girl who opened the screen door stunned him.  She
was almost identical to his 26 year-old memories of her mother,
even to the pink, conical nipple he glimpsed when the sunsuit top
she had been holding up slipped out of her hand as she wriggled
through the door.  Her glance assessed his reaction above a
momentary wry smile as she recovered the cloth.  Then her whole
face brightened.  She exclaimed, "John Harvell!"

He got to his feet with a smile.  "That's me.  God, you're
lovely, Miss Lassiter!  Have we met?"

"Thank you," she answered gravely, "and I don't think so, not
properly.  I'm Clarisse, Mom's baby, and I've seen your picture
many times.  You're her lost lover that Dad was so jealous of."

John coughed, looking askance at the woman's sudden smile.  The
girl continued with a crooked grin, "Did I say something that's
not true?"

Nel responded, also looking at John.  "He's not lost."

"Not now.  From the condition of your blouse I assume he'll stay
with us?"

"For a while, at least.  Slip on your jeans and go help him move
out of his motel."

"With *plea*sure!"  The girl closed the distance and looked up
into his eyes.  "You probably didn't know that your picture, an
eight by ten, has been on Mom's dressing table since I can
remember.  You're older than it, but I think you look even better
now.  You look confident ... able ... resourceful."

He said dryly, "And you have a nice vocabulary."

She nodded above her crooked smile.  "At least I know to say
'thank you' to a compliment."

She whirled away into the house.

"That's quite a girl!" he breathed, staring after her.

"Do you like her, Johnny?"

"Well, she's a bit forward, I'd say.  But she's beautiful!  She's
you, very nearly identical to the way you looked after your
shower that first morning."

The woman's eyes twinkled.  "I wish I'd been holding your dick."

"Huh!  As I recall, you *did*!"

"I mean just now.  Then I'd know how much you liked her."

"Well, Nellie, no one compares to you."

"*She* would!  She likes older men, by the way."

"She what?  Don't be silly."

"I'm not.  She'll probably tell you all about it."

"About what?"

"How stupid and insensitive the young men are, especially
nowadays when most girls spread at the first hint."

"How would she know the difference?"

"I said she was 19, going on 40."

"Yeah, and I think I see where the 40 came from."

The woman smiled contentedly.  "You're right, she's very like me
in many respects, except maybe for her impatience with the boys.
Let's go on through; that sound of potatoes falling is her way of
galloping down the stairs."

"Won't you come with us?" he asked, holding the door for her.

"No, I'll wait."  She smiled at some secret knowledge.  "I want
us to take a shower together when you get back.  I used to love
your soapy hands on me."  She added over her shoulder, "Take your
time and enjoy Clarisse."

	*  *  *  *

As he guided his car down the winding driveway, the girl looked
it over briefly.  "Rented?" she asked.

"Yeah.  I only arrived this afternoon."

"How did you hear about Dad?"

"Your mother, I think.  Somebody left a message with my secretary
but wouldn't leave her name."

"That's not like Mom.  She's never so cautious."

"It wasn't caution, Clarisse.  Your mother and I have always kept
our options open."

"Oh, yeah?  You would've married her, wouldn't you?"

"In a second.  I did ask her, you know!"

"She's told me.  Then she was the one who kept her options open."

"Me, too.  She might have changed her mind."

"But she didn't, even when she had to go to the country club for
relief."

He glanced at her in surprise as he turned out onto the highway.
"You knew about all that?"

She sniffed.  "It's hard to keep servants these days."

"So?"

"So as the youngest I got to do the laundry.  The odor of last
night's seminal fluid is unmistakable."

"I ... see.  Weren't you pretty young to recognize that?"

"I was fourteen, I think."  She laughed.  "Once in a while you
say something that reminds me we're from different worlds."

He smiled, too.  "How does a barely pubescent girl of the early
Twenty-First Century learn to identify stale seminal fluid?"

"How do you think?  In my own panties.  Mom knew what to expect
with me.  I went on the pill as soon as my periods began, when I
learned to love boys and hate them, too."

He chuckled.  "Let's see.  You found them desirable but shallow,
was that it?"

"Exactly!"

He glanced up to find her smiling.

She added, "You know about them, then."

"I *was* one, Clarisse!  Take my word for it:  most of them
develop some depth eventually."

She sniffed.  "Maybe so, but they're altogether too long at it!"
She released her safety belt and leaned against him across the
divider.  "When I stood close to you before, I noticed the way
you smell.  Mmmm.  What are you wearing?"

"If you mean aftershave, I'm sure it's worn off since this
morning.  But look out, Clarisse.  Your mother told me that, too,
the first time we, ah ..."

"Got it on?"

"Ah, yes.  I recognize your scent, though the name escapes me.
Something about shoulders."

"*Sweet Shoulders*.  I snitched it from her squeeze bottle.  Hope
you like it."

"You have to know I love it."

"Normally I don't wear perfume, but I want you to feel at home."

He laughed uncomfortably.  "Now why is that, Clarisse?"

"Mainly because --  No, that's not true."

"What isn't?"

"I was about to say, mainly to make Mom happy.  But in fact I
want ..."

"Go on."

"I like the way you look, the way you smell, the way you sound,
the way you hold yourself ... and the flushed and happy look on
Mom's face.  I haven't seen that in a long time.  She's talked
about you a lot.  I know she thinks you're a real hero in the
sack.  I think you're a good man to have around, John Harvell."

He said nothing for a long moment, finally admitting, "You're
very eloquent, Miss Lassiter."

"Clarisse, please.  Always."

He drove on, after awhile asking her about herself.  She claimed
to be a rising sophomore at a prestigious private school, now
intent on transferring to State Tech in the fall.  Apparently the
only activity vigorously pursued at the private university was
sexual intercourse, which was all right for itself, but she was
tired of fucking brainless pieces of meat.  Her dad, with whom
she had developed close ties in his last years, advised her that
the more serious courses were only offered in technical schools.
She intended to find out for herself.  And no, she had no boy
friend at present.  A couple of boys up the road were available
if she needed to get laid.

"Is sex so casual as that these days?" he inquired.

"Well, you have to be careful about strangers.  AIDS will kill
you.  But, yes, I'd say it's a recognized physical need, like
waste elimination."

"Meaningless as that, eh?"

"Usually."

"If you believe that, Clarisse, you're missing something damned
big and important."

She grinned at him.  "Care to name it, John?"

He laughed.  "No."

"You mean *love*, don't you?  Is it really so important?  You and
Mom love each other, I think, enough that you never got married
even when you had given her up, while she and Dad, who admitted
they only wanted each other to fuck, stuck together like glue so
long as Dad could do it.  I don't think it's so important."

"God, Clarisse, don't take me and your mother as your prime
examples!"

"Why not?  You are very *romantic*, both of you, running to each
other at every opportunity.  I like romance as much as she does.
I'm her daughter, you know."

"Yes, I do know.  This ride takes me back 26 years.  You need to
be ready."

"For what?"

"To say, 'I'm Clarisse, remember, not Nellie.'"

She laughed.  "Thank you.  I know Mom was beautiful at my age."

"And so are you, my dear.  That's my motel, in the next block."

After parking the car he led her into his room, saying, "I really
don't know why your mother sent you -- to keep me company, I
guess.  I haven't unpacked anything to speak of but toiletries."
He took up a soft travel case.  "They're in the bathroom.  I'll
be right back."

The girl studied the undisturbed bed but remarked only, "The
other reason was to pick up some pizza for supper.  Do you like
pizza, John?"

"Yeah.  Pepperoni, onions and extra cheese.  Use that phone to
order it if you want."

But when he returned from the bathroom bearing the stuffed travel
kit, he found that she had used the time otherwise.  She stood
facing him stark naked before the turned-down bed, clothing
folded neatly on the writing table.  He paused, eyes wide.

"Am I truly like her, John?"

"Oh, god, Nel--  ah, Clarisse!"  Nerveless hands dropped the
travel kit to the floor.

The girl smiled beatifically.  "That's a good answer."  She came
to him, reached up and began efficiently to unbutton his sport
shirt.  Her hands raced down the fabric.  She separated the
halves, pushing the lapels over his shoulders.

"Clarisse, you mustn't do this."

"Then tell me to stop."  Her hands worked at his belt, then his
fly.  The odor of her mother's perfume filled his nostrils in the
flat air of the sterile room.  "Touch me," she directed as his
britches sagged to the floor.

"B-but ...  God, Clarisse!"

Her right hand had fished him out of his shorts.  While it worked
his foreskin, the left caught his dangling wrist and raised his
hand to a breast, sharply coned exactly as her mother's had once
been.  "Let me be her for you, Johnny," the girl whispered,
rising on her toes until her lips nearly touched his.  "Give me
that love this once, will you, please?"  Her lips pressed his,
followed by her tongue.

Her deft hand had brought him painfully erect.  He knew suddenly
that he had no decision to make.  It was already made.  He backed
away, causing her eyebrows to rise in worry that was replaced by a
smile of triumph when he threw off his remaining clothing.  He
took her in his arms and pressed their bodies tightly together,
kissing deeply.  A hand passed under her buttocks.  Holding her
feet nearly off the floor, he moved the embraced bodies to the
bed and laid her upon it.

He paused between her legs.  "Are you ready?"  Her answer was to
catch his manhood and draw it to her.  Indeed she was ready.
"God, Clarisse!" he murmured.

She laughed deep in her throat as he entered her fully.  "Oh,
Johnny!" she cried.  "Mom was right.  It's the way you smell!"
Her legs enclosed his hips and her nails bit his back.  Her hips
rolled forward in synchronism with his thrusts.

"Son of a bitch!" she cried distinctly.  "Son of a bitch, son of
a bitch, son of a bitch!"  She repeated the phrase again and
again until it was meaningless, until her body stiffened, head
thrown back, flushed pink from forehead to belly.  He continued
to thrust, his own pleasure building, but suddenly she relaxed
completely except for panting chest.  Her eyes fluttered.  She
looked up into his face just above her own.  "Did you come?"

"Not yet.  But you did."

"Oh, god, Johnny, I sure did!"  Her hips began to roll again.
"Now it's your turn.  Soon?"

"Yes ...  Yes, soon!"

To his surprise she twisted out from under him and folded her
body crab-like until her face was under his belly.  Her hands
clutched testicles and shaft.  Feeling another touch, he looked
down between his stiff arms to see her mouth enclose what was
left, cheeks collapsing in suction.

He sagged to his side.  "Clarisse, you little cocksucker," he
warned, "your mother never did *that*!"

Her response was to suck the harder, tongue swirling around the
head.  He reached over her, caught her hips and jerked her lower
body roughly around to his face, her cool thighs pressing on
either cheek.  Her female odor filled his head.  She shuddered as
his tongue plunged into sensitized flesh.  He stroked her
furiously until her shuddering became violent, when finally her
efforts on his manhood bore their wet fruit.  It was his turn now
to throw his head back, moaning incoherently.

Obviously she was experienced in this also.  Her pressure
withdrew, yet she retained him until his spasms ceased, throat
working as she swallowed.  Then she suckled gently once more,
making him moan, before withdrawing completely and raising up on
an elbow.

Her face bore a wide grin.  "Was that true, what you said?"

"What did I say?"

"That Mom never sucked you?"

"Not ... completely."

"Oh, good!  Then I'm the first of us to taste you."

He grunted.  "You think that's so great?"

"Oh, yes!  Here."  She twisted her body around, leaning toward
his face.  "Want to taste me tasting you?"

"I ... I ..."

But she had already kissed him, her tongue thrusting between his
lips.  Her hands closed on his cheeks and she made of it a long
and tender touching.  He recognized his own flavor only too well.

When she withdrew he asked, "How does a 19 year-old learn to give
such perfect head?"

"How do you think?"  Her eyes twinkled.

He shook his head.  "Not just by doing it.  Somebody taught you."

She nodded slowly.  "Someday I may tell you who."

He shrugged.  "I wouldn't know your boy friends."

"It wasn't a boy."  She jumped up from the bed, youthful energy
undiminished.  "I've got to order some pizza."

"Surely your mother couldn't teach it!"

"Why not?"  She frowned seriously.  "*I* could explain how to do
it!  The theory is simple.  Nothing hard about it at all."  She
grinned.  "Except the dick."

"I guess my problem is, I can't believe your mother would teach
you."

"Well, you're right, she didn't.  What happened to your yellow
pages?  Oh, here they are.  By the way, John, she was right.  You
*are* a hero in the sack!"

After he had settled with the motel office and picked up the
girl's pizza order, he said to her as they sped amongst rush-hour
traffic, "What have we done to us, Clarisse?"

She had folded up the center arm-rest and now sat snuggled
tightly against him, ignoring the seat-belt laws, a hand stroking
him gently through his open fly.  "You mean back in the motel?"

"That's what I mean.  I can't believe what I let ... *us* do!
When I get you home, I'm thinking I should turn around and go
back to the motel."

In the center mirror he saw her eyebrows rise quizzically.  "Why,
John?  Do you expect something bad to happen?"

"I expect you and me both to forget and play grab-ass.  God,
Clarisse, you are everything your mother was!  I don't see how I
can manage with two of you."

She thought about his words.  "Suppose we do forget.  So what?"

"So Nellie will immediately know what happened, that's what."

"Again, so what?"

He slowed down enough that he could study her face for a second.
She returned his gaze guilelessly.  He asked, "You don't really
expect her not to care, do you?"

"She'll care, John.  But not the way you think.  In some ways Mom
and I are *exactly* alike."

"Enough to share the same man?"

His gut tightened as she produced her mother's silvery giggle.
"We won't wear you down to a nub, John, I promise!"

An impatient horn blew behind him.  He knew again that his
decision was already made.

	*  *  *  *

They ate cold pizza appropriately -- in the kitchen -- washed down
by colder beer.  "Leave that," the woman instructed as he began
to fold the boxes.  "My baby will take care of it."

"Thanks, Mom," Clarisse intoned dryly.

"Come on, Johnny.  Ready for that shower?"

"It you are.  But a spot of relaxation might be in order first."

"Ate too much?"

"That was good pizza.  I don't get it very often.  I still think
we should've popped it in the microwave."

She retorted wryly, "Then we'd have been too stuffed for anything
but staying at the table to play cards."

He grinned.  "Sounds good to me."

"Aw, come on, lazy bones.  I've got something to show you
anyway."  She caught his hand and tugged.  With a tolerant smile,
he got to his feet and followed her from the room, at the doorway
throwing a wink back over his shoulder to the girl, now beginning
her clean up.  She grinned and winked in return.

Nel led him down a long hall.  "You can bring your stuff in
later.  I think one of Arnie's robes will fit you well enough.
You screwed her, didn't you?"

"Ah, uh, wh-what?" he stammered.

But the woman stopped, her arm slipping around his waist, and
smiled up at him.  "I knew she meant to try.  Isn't she *exactly*
like me as I was then?"

He managed to get out, "That's what *she* said!"

"Well, she's right.  I was 19 when we met, Johnny.  She's the
same almost to the individual hair.  You couldn't resist, could
you, anymore than you could resist me 26 years ago?"

"Resist *you*?  Are you under the impression that *you*
originally seduced *me*?"

She laughed outright.  "I saw you get out of your room-mate's bed
that morning and realized I was in *your* bed.  It was *you* I'd
been smelling.  Hungover as I was, I knew what my next move had
to be.  All I had to do was groan a little, Johnny."

He stared at her.  "You mean ...  But you said you were *sick*!"

"So you proved I wasn't, at least not with anything your dick
couldn't cure."

"My god, Nellie!"

"Don't feel bad, Johnny.  I let Arnie seduce *me*, and I never
did like him very much."

"Only enough to have five kids by him!"

"I wish you didn't feel bitter about that, Johnny.  Come in here
to the bathroom.  You can turn the shaving mirror to see the back
of your head in the big mirror, if you want to."

"Why should I want to?"

"Remember me saying I've made a study of how people are
different?  It's a curious fact that *ear shape* was once almost
adopted as a unique identifier.  The idea was to make a print of
your ear lobe, somewhat like fingerprints, and keep it on file in
case you needed to prove who you were."

"I never heard of that.  Are ears so unique?"

"Yes, they are.  Except for one thing.  They are often identical
from one generation to the next in the same family."

"You mean --"

"Yeah.  Father to son to grandson, and so on.  You could prove
your family but not your person."

"That's very interesting, Nel, but I don't see --"

She raised her voice.  "Clarisse, come here!  We're in the main
bathroom."

He stared at her.  "What're you up to, Nel?"

"You'll see in a moment.  How was she, Johnny?  Did she take you
back?"

"Oh, god, Nellie ..."

The woman giggled, still silvery as the youthful throat that had
just entered the room.  "What's so funny?" asked the girl.

Nel was smiling.  "We're making things hard for Johnny.  But I've
got something to show him.  Stand over here behind him, next to
the shaving mirror, and pull your hair back."

The girl glanced from woman to man to mirrors.  Though she
obeyed, in the glass he saw her frown at her mother.  He felt her
breasts impact his back softly.  The woman positioned the
adjustable shaving mirror.  "Can you see her ear and yours,
Johnny?"

"Yes.  Well, both our left ...  Good god!"

"'Good god' what?" demanded the girl.

"'Good god,' that was it," retorted the woman.  "Thank you for
your assistance, sweetie pie."

"I can take a hint," Clarisse sniffed, whirling out of the room.

The man was staring wide eyed at the woman.  "Did you already
know this, Nellie?"

"Yes, Johnny, since she was about twelve.  I've always been sure
of Clarisse, and I think the other four belong to you, too.  Not
a one of them looks like Arnie or has his small wrists and
ankles.  At least I hope so; then none of them got his weak
arteries, either.  The ear doesn't always come through, but when
it's identical as it is between you and Clarisse, you can count
on it.  That's what the books say, and it makes sense."

He sighed deeply.  "You should've told her, Nellie, before you
sent us off together."

"Why?  Did she let you come in her vagina?"

"Huh?  Not there."

The woman nodded.  "She doesn't take chances of that kind, any
more than I would."

"You don't mean she *did* know!"

The woman smiled roguishly.  "Remember the profile photo you sent
me from London?  Well, it's been on my dresser ever since.  Who
do you think it was that told me about identification by ears?"


END

All Rights Reserved
kellis@dhp.com
Stories Gratis at http://www.dhp.com/files/Authors/kellis/www

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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