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From: "E.Z. Riter" <ezriter@pdq.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} {EZ}rp Best Woman (MFF Rom)
Date: Wed, 15 Nov 2000 23:10:03 -0500
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The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for
adults in locations in which it is
legal.  If it is illegal in your location, DO NOT read.  This is
a copyrighted work.  Reposting or
any other use strictly prohibited without the express, written
permission of the copyright holder,
except may by posted as part of a  review or posted to
free-access, noncommercial archive sights.

Copyright 1999, 2000 by E. Z. Riter.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com

Please!        Give me your comments!

Dear Reader: This is a story of a man and a woman and an old
flame.  It's a romance with a twist.
Enjoy.  E.Z.



THE BEST WOMAN

Sharon and I grew up in the same neighborhood and attended the
same schools.  It was always
Sharon and Jason.  She was all my firsts, eagerly taken, eagerly
given.  More importantly, she
was the first woman who loved me and whom I loved. You never
forget your first love.  I'll
never forget Sharon.  We pledged undying love to each other from
the time we were thirteen.

Things change.  After high school graduation, she went to Europe
for the summer before
attending a college back east.  I was enrolled in our state
university. Europe and back east was a
ploy by her parents to separate us.  I knew that the moment she
told me.  I was angry: angry at
them for separating us and angry at Sharon for acquiescing to her
banishment.

I loved her.  And I loved sex with her.  Sharon was hot, full of
sexual energy and desire which
she directed at the man in her life.  I'd been that man since her
sexual beginnings.  I wanted to be
that man forever.   Back east, she found a new man, some guy she
met at school.  Eight weeks
into the school year, she was pregnant and married.  Sharon was
gone from my life.

I pledged a fraternity during rush week. It became the basis of
my social life.  I wasn't looking
for a life partner or any other term denoting a female acquired
for a lifetime.  I had a strong
interest in dating and sex.  Fortunately, the upperclass women
dating my fraternity brothers made
it their business to arrange dates for any important event.  They
defined important as any block of
time not occupied by class.  I was in full swing on the dating
scene two weeks after I pledged.

By my junior year, I was pursued as a good date, fun and with no
commitment hassle.  I always
had a date, sometimes dating two or three women at a time.  It
was excellent practice in
scheduling if nothing else.

Each fall, the fraternity held "mixers," inviting newcomers to
meet the fraternity brothers. The
mixer was held jointly with a sorority.  They invited the
females. It was always a lively party and
a great way to meet people of both sexes.

Debbie was at the first mixer my junior year.

She was in the big party room in the basement dancing with some
freshman who looked like
Tom Cruise.  The first thing I noticed was her face.  It was
expressive and beautiful.  She wore a
short, tight, red skirt which accentuated her beautiful ass and
legs. The skirt left little to the
imagination, although I was visualizing her without it.  Other
dancers flowed by, blocking my
view and ending what I'd planned as an extended evaluation.  The
next time I looked for her, she
was gone.

After the party, a bunch of us went to the campus hangout for
pizza.  Debbie was there, but
without the Cruise look alike.  Cheryl saw me looking at her.

"Want an introduction, Jason?" she asked sweetly.

"Oh, ummm, no, thanks anyway, Cheryl."

"Well, just let me know."

Cheryl Jacobson dated Ralph Winston, our fraternity president.
This made her our unofficial
"first lady", a nonexistent function she took seriously.  She
viewed part of her imaginary job as
yenta, which for non-Yiddish speakers is a matchmaker. That
wasn't bad for us guys in the
fraternity.  Cheryl knew every good-looking girl in all the best
sororities.  She did have a knack
for being a yenta.  She had introduced several couples who were
going to try to make a lifetime
of it. Cheryl knew of my predilection for noninvolvement and some
of the reason why.  She'd let
me cry on her shoulder once or twice.

As the semester progressed, I'd see Debbie at the parties, which
I attended with religious fervor.
Don't think I wasn't dating or getting laid.  This story isn't
about my sexual escapades.  This is
about a special woman and love.

Debbie was fun and positive, quickly developing the reputation as
a great date. I don't mean sex.
She was nicknamed "no deal Debbie."   I mean the guys who went
out with her always felt she
was special and she made them feel special.

When we bumped into each other, Debbie and I talked.  We started
as all couples do: exploratory
inanities leading to deeper discussions which revealed ourselves
except what we held dearest.
 From the beginning, I felt comfortable with her.

Cheryl called me one morning before class.

"Jason, there's someone I want you to meet.  Be at The Corner
Shoppe at twelve thirty and we'll
have lunch."

"I've got a class then, Cheryl, but thanks."

"Jason, I know your schedule.  Your last class ends at eleven.
I'll see you there promptly at
twelve thirty."

Cheryl was a good yenta.  It was hard to tell her 'no'.  I
arrived at the small cafe just off campus
at the appointed hour. She saw me coming and met me half way.

"This girl's something special.  I'm sure you'll like her,
Jason."

She held my hand in a bear-trap grip as she dragged me toward the
table.

It was Debbie.  She had a funny expression as I sat down. Cheryl
excused herself, leaving us
alone.  It was our first time together.

"If you want to leave, you can.  It's unfair for me to trap you
like this, but . . . "

I blushed, although why an adult male would blush in this
situation is beyond me.

"...why haven't you asked me for a date?" she asked, her eyes
piercing mine.

Maybe it was because I'd held my feelings in so long, sharing
only a little with Ralph and Cheryl.
Maybe it was Debbie.  I felt she honestly wanted to know about
me. Maybe it was me, feeling
differently about her than any woman I'd met.  Whatever it was, I
told her.  I told her about me.
About Sharon.  About everything.

She listened intently.  She did want to know me.  She began
talking about herself, letting me
know her.  Lunch passed into dinner, daylight into dark.  We left
the restaurant to wander the
campus, sitting in this building or on that bench, lost in each
other. Somewhere I took her hand.
Energy flowed between us.

Debbie was unlike any woman I'd dated.  She was sweet and
feminine, soft and alluring. She was
intelligent with a quick laugh. She also had a backbone of steel
and a mental toughness.  The
combination was appealing.

We ended in the lobby of her dorm.  Although men were in and out
of the womens' rooms at all
hours, she didn't invite me up. We kissed warmly.  It was a
perfect first kiss.

"I'd like to go out with you.  Please call me," she said.

"I will," I promised.

I gave her three minutes to get to her room.  I called from the
pay phone in the dorm's lobby and
made a date for the following night.

As I walked to my car, I knew my life would never be the same.  I
don't know if I realized it was
love.

We began dating: movies, concerts, pizza, and, most often, going
somewhere to talk. I didn't
push her sexually, which surprised me. I found out much later, it
surprised her, too.  For two
months the relationship ripened yet still we only kissed.

Then, one day, I had to have her.  After making sure my roommates
would be out, I took her to
my apartment. As I led her toward the bedroom, she stopped me.

"Jason, let's stay in here."

"Why?"

"If I go in there with you, we'll make love.  I'm not ready for
that.  Oh, I'm ready physically.  I
want you."  She blushed as she stammered out, "I'm not a virgin,
but I promised myself I'd be
celibate until . . .   Please, stay in here."

Over the next two weeks, we made increasing progress in the
mating ritual.  Debbie had luscious
breasts, tender, sweet and sensitive. She had delicious thighs,
soft yet firm.  Debbie had
everything.

One night, we planned to go to a movie, but she suggested we go
to my place.

"Can we talk?" she asked. I had never seen an expression like
hers.  It was love, wanting,
adoration, desire and warmth all rolled into one.  She sat on the
couch and took my hands in hers.

"Jason, I know you want me.  I want you every bit as much.  I
want to feel you in me.  And I
want more.  I want forever.  I love you."

She waited as I digested what she had said.  Her statement
surprised me.  I don't know why.  It
was obvious she loved me.  I loved her, too.

"If you ask me to, I'll come to you now.  But please, let's wait.
I'll joyfully come to you when
you're ready for forever."

The next week I took her home to meet my parents. I met her
parents when they visited her on
campus.  A few weeks later, she cooked a wonderful dinner at my
apartment.  Afterward, we sat
on the couch, sipping wine.  Her feet were in my lap.

"I'm ready," I said.  She froze and a strange look came over her
face.

"For what?"  she asked, her voice tight.

"For forever.  I love you, Debbie.  Will you marry me?"

She quivered, red faced with tears rushing down her cheeks. Then
she exploded, landing on me,
burying me in hot, hard kisses.  She madly unbuckled my belt and
yanked down my trousers.

"Thank god," she muttered hotly, "I finally get you in me."

She stood and dropped her sweat suit and panties.  She fell back
on the floor, pulling me between
her legs.

"Fuck me good, Jason. I've waited a long time for this."   She
thrust against me, pleading, "Fuck
me, Jason.  Oh, yes. Yes."

We fit together perfectly.

When round one was over, I carried her to the bedroom.  We fucked
until I couldn't stand.  As
she lay in my arms, I said, "I take that as a yes."

"Yes, my love.  I'll marry you," she whispered.

We lived together my senior year and married after my graduation.
Our life was a continual
honeymoon, blessed with children in our third and fifth years of
marriage.

When I got the announcement of my tenth high school reunion, I
was excited about going.  I
wanted to see my old friends and I wanted to show off Debbie.
Everyone was there: all the guys,
all the girls.  We laughed at the changes: baldness, pot bellies,
spare tires, wrinkles.  We were
growing older, but I thought we still looked good.

Sharon was there, too.  She looked like a wet dream.   She was
across the big ballroom when I
spotted her.

"Is that Sharon?" Debbie asked, her fingers tight around my arm.

"Yes.  How could you tell?"

"Women know these things, Jason."

In a few minutes, Sharon was beside me. She was bubbling and
lively.  She was divorced.  She
was very interested in me. Debbie watched her like a hawk.

As we talked, my old desires for Sharon flared.  As much as I
loved Debbie, Sharon turned me
on.  Way on. I felt guilty as hell, but there it was: I wanted
Sharon.

When Sharon left, Debbie's eyes burned into me.  "Jason, we've
never lied to each other.  Trust
is very important."  She hesitated. Her nails dug into my arm.
"She turns you on, doesn't she?"

"Yes, she turns me on. But, honey . . . "

She covered my lips with hers.

"It's okay. I understand."

If Debbie was upset by Sharon, it didn't show.  She had a
wonderful time.  Later, I saw the two
of them talking. The hair on my neck stood up. Whatever could
they be discussing?  Debbie
walked back to me with a smile on her face.

"Everything all right?" I asked.

"Of course.  Ready to go?"

"It's a little early."

"Let's go now, honey," she replied.   I followed her toward our
room.  Her strange expression
made me anxious. She held out her hands for me to join her after
I closed the door.

She said, "Jason,  Sharon'll be here in a few minutes.  I invited
her to have sex with us."

My mouth flopped open and shut like a fish.  "Why?" I gasped.

"You want her." Her tone was matter-of-fact.

"I don't understand," I said plaintively.

"Jason, I'm the woman for you.  Not her.  I love you more than
she ever could."  She watched me
intently.  Then, a devilish little twinkle appeared.  "I'm better
in bed than she is, too.  Fucking her
will extinguish that old flame forever."

"Debbie, we don't need to do this. I'm very happy . . . "

Again she silenced me with a kiss. Debbie was ruthless in doing
those things very important to
her.  I saw that look in her eye. There would be no changing her
mind.

When Sharon knocked, Debbie let her in.  The air was electric.
Sexual energy flowed from
Sharon.  I was so tense I was afraid I'd shatter into a thousand
pieces.  But Debbie was calm. We
made small talk as we sipped wine.

During a lull in the conversation, Debbie said pleasantly, "Why
don't we get comfortable?"

Casually, she began unbuttoning her blouse.  I didn't believe
this was happening.  As Debbie
removed her blouse, Sharon began to undress.

"Come on, Jason.  Join us," Debbie said as she lowered her
panties and kicked them into the
corner.

It was unreal, a Twilight Zone experience.  I feared Debbie would
run screaming from the room
when I undid my belt. But she watched me disrobe without comment
or embarrassment.  A little
smile was on her face.  Sharon, too, seemed unembarrassed,
although she was very excited. My
heart was pounding out of my chest.

It was strange seeing Sharon naked again. Her figure was lean and
taut, a dancer's body with
small breasts.  Next to Debbie's lushness, she was almost boyish.

Debbie pulled me beside her and put Sharon's hand in mine.  She
sat on the edge of the bed and
said, "I want you to enjoy each other.  I'll watch. It's okay.
Go ahead, Jason."

Sharon was wild and wanting.  I was wilder.  We fell on the bed.
The foreplay was short and
intense before I slipped into her flowing wetness.   I could see
Debbie from the corner of my eye.

Sharon sweated and moaned and bucked under me. Sharon was good,
damn good.  She came and
came again.  The tightening in my ass told me my orgasm was on
the way.  As I started to
explode in Sharon, Debbie whispered in my ear, "I love you,
Jason.  I love you." My head jerked
toward her.  She kissed me as the last of my cum fired deep into
my old flame.

I collapsed on Sharon.  We were sweat covered and exhausted. I
felt soft cotton on my back.
Debbie was wiping away my sweat with a towel. When I rolled over,
Debbie dried my cock
gently. Sharon, legs splayed, watched her. As if doing nothing
more ordinary than wiping the
kitchen counter, Debbie began drying Sharon's body.  She started
at the top. I tried to watch both
their faces as Debbie dried Sharon's breasts.

Sharon was peeved as Debbie approached her pussy.

"Look, Debbie.  Like this.  You'll recognize the taste," she
said. She extended a finger to collect
a drop of cum from her lower lips. Arrogantly, she sucked it
away.

Anger flashed for an instant from Debbie, but she smiled as she
jammed two fingers up Sharon,
making her gasp.  Leisurely, Debbie licked her fingers.

"You're right.  But - it's better when it comes from me," Debbie
said sweetly.  She began drying
again.  Sharon's mouth hung open.

When she thought we were sufficiently dry, she offered to get us
each a drink. Humming quietly,
she brought them to us.

"Well, you two were something," Debbie said.  "Did you enjoy
that, Jason?"

"Yes," I replied honestly.

"Good.  I'm glad you did," she said.

With Sharon on one side and Debbie on the other, we talked about
ourselves. Debbie was an
effective inquisitor.  Sharon told us about her two children.
The second was by another man and
caused her divorce.  She seemed embarrassed by her unexpected
revelation. Debbie talked about
our lives and our two children. She was so proud of them my chest
puffed out for us.

My cock was twitching again. My adrenalin started to pump.  I
knew what was coming and I
wanted it.  Debbie saw my rising member.  She stroked it lightly
with her fingertips.

When I was hard again, she asked, "Ready, sweetheart?"

"Yes," I answered.

"My turn," she said and lay back on the bed.

As I knelt between Debbie's legs, every fiber of my being was
attuned to her.  Debbie trapped me
with her knees and held my face in her hands. Time crawled as we
neither spoke nor moved. The
depth and strength of her love brought tears to my eyes and
pounding in my chest. Finally, she
spoke with feeling too intense to describe.

"Jason, I love you more than any woman has ever loved you.  I
love you more than any other
woman ever will. I'll never leave you, or have another man or his
child. I'm the best wife any
man ever had.  I'm your wife.  Yours.  Yours alone."

She kissed me. Angels screamed and bells gonged.  There was a
sensual gleam in her eye when
she broke the kiss.

"And, I'm the best fuck you can imagine.  I'm going to fuck you
as you've never been fucked in
your life."

Her hand slipped down to guide my raging cock into her wetness.
Slowly, we began to move
together. Softly but intently, she continued whispering she was
my love, the best, that nobody
wanted me more, nobody could do for me what she could.

I'd never been so emotionally engaged.  My world was her: her
feel and her pussy; her words and
her face.  I forgot Sharon was there.  I wanted this feeling to
last forever, but the pressure was
building.  Debbie pulled my head down by hers and wrapped her
arms around me.  Her legs
scissored, holding me tightly against her.

She implored, "Harder!  Fuck me as only you can!  Fuck me,
Jason!  Give me your seed!"

I was a fucking machine and she thrust against me with every
stroke. Her thighs crushed me. Her
nails dug into my shoulders, blood oozed from the cuts.  I
exploded with an emotional and
physical intensity I'd never felt.

Sharon dressed as I lay inert, too drained to move.  Debbie was
naked, sitting beside me, gently
stroking my cock.

"I wasn't trying to take him, you know," Sharon said.

"Yes, you were, but you can't.  He's mine," Debbie replied.

They glared at each other until Sharon looked away, red with
embarrassment. Debbie's voice was
unemotional when she said, "I wasn't afraid of you taking him,
but he had strong memories of
you. I didn't want him to go through life wondering if he made
the right choice.   He needed to
know, not wonder.  He needed to know I'm the best woman."

Sharon started to speak.  Something in Debbie's face stopped her.

"Good night, Sharon," Debbie said.

Sharon realized she'd been dismissed. She mumbled her goodbyes
and closed the door quietly
behind her.  Debbie lay against me, her breath hot on my neck.

"The old flame gone?" she asked.

"Forever."  She snuggled closer.

"You're the best woman -  the only woman - for me."

She giggled and sat up.  Her eyes were happy and bright.

"I'm glad you learned that today,  but I already knew it."

Her face changed from victorious to a soft, loving tiredness as
the tension of the evening flooded
from her.  Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Please, Jason.  Make love to me.  Then, let me sleep in your
arms."


The End

Please!  Give me your comments!

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com

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