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From: "First Name Last Name" <xxspillerxx@my-deja.com>
Subject: {ASSM} New: Life Is A Bitch,  by Spiller. (rom, not so much sex)
Date: Mon, 26 Mar 2001 14:10:02 -0500
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LIFE IS A BITCH.

     by Spiller

-----------------------------------------
Remember: Authors' only reward are you comments. So take a minute
of your time to mail your opinion to:
xxspillerxx@my-deja.com
-------------------------------------------------
The descriptions of sex in this story are of a kind that should
not be able to harm or hurt anybody.
..............................................................

     Life on the west coast of Denmark had definitely not turned
out to be what Erik had hoped for, and it was even further from
what he had dreamed of. Of course the three months of summer were
tolerable, at times even beautiful, but for the rest of the year
high winds, rain, sleet or fog set the mood. 

     His career as a teacher never took off. At least not the way
he had wished for. The stubborn and slow sons and daughters of
fishermen and farmers created a reality around him, which was
lightyears away from the romantic picture that was painted in
teacher's college. And socially he never really fell in with the
parents. Partly from tradition, partly inspired by the dangerous
work on the North Sea, religion plays a major role in everyday
life. A severe faith, bordering on fundamentalism, permeats all
levels of life in the small villages on the west coast, and as
years passed by he felt more and more alienated - as if his
surroundings turned their backs on him and just tolerated him.

     Of course he had applied for promotion a few times, on his
own school as well as on some of the neighbouring schools, but he
never got one. Unfortunately, in those years there was a great
surplus of teachers, and even his few attempts to get a teaching
job in the eastern part of the country, had failed. 

     With women he was no great success either. The local girls
married their own kind, and though he found a few pleasures among
the summer tourists, nothing ever came close to real love or
lasting relationships.  The few times he attended courses and
conferences, which might have been fair hunting-grounds, he had
no luck either. Probably because he was so eager to 'score', that
his female colleagues almost laughed at him.

     At least in the women's department he ought to have had some
luck, because actually he was a handsome man. Rather tall and
slim, with a kind face which mirrored his kind nature, a steady
job and a nice home, but already at fourty he had come to a
standstill, almost as if he had started to die from inside. If
you asked him that autumn in 1986 how he felt, he should most
likely have said: - Life is a bitch.

     That year, in late October, fate took him by the neck and
shook him. He bought tickets to a series of lectures at the local
library. "Modern explorers and travellers." Authors telling about
their journeys, and filling in background knowledge which had not
found its way to the pages.

     The first lecturer was quite famous in Denmark. Kind of a
dream-boy who travelled around the world in his old ketch, with
different crews of pretty young women. His long, golden hair, his
trimmed beard and bronzed body, and of course his fame, attracted
women from all over, and his lectures were always attended by 80%
women, the majority between 30 and 40. With dreamy eyes they
swallowed every word he said.

     They were five minutes into the lecture when she arrived,
and dumped her slim body in the chair beside Erik.

     - Sorry, I'm late, she whispered. Can I sit here?

     - That's OK, he whispered back, and looked at her for a
second or two. Everything about her was just too much: Her hair
too big, too many curls, too much makeup, her shirt too thin and
her skirt too narrow. Eventually he recognised her. She had left
school about 10 years ago - which meant she must be 25 now,
though she looked a bit older. Helle. No, Helga was her name. He
remembered her as a very lively and bright kid, fun as a pupil,
but also at times a pain in the neck.

     Erik slumped back in his chair and followed the lecture for
some time. He could not help comparing the perfect blonde babes
posing under the palms of Pacific islands to the scrawny, heavily
painted Helga, while she was totally engulfed in the dreamworld
that was painted in words and slides.

     After well over an hour a break was announced, and Erik made
motions to get up. 

     - I've better get outside for a smoke. It's not allowed in
here.

     - All right, I'll join you. I'm dying for a fag.

     Outside they made small talk about the lecture, and it was
very evident, that Helga was infatuated by the lecturer.

     - I'm sure I have a big poster they issued with his second
book. If you'd like it, I'll bring it to the next lecture. That
is if you are coming.

     - I'd love to have a poster of him on my wall, so I'll be
sure to come. Thank you.

     After the lecture he invited her for a cup of coffee in the
cafeteria across the street. For the duration of the coffee they
talked about Pacific islands, sailing, dreams etc., and as they
left she smiled at him and said:

     - OK, see you next Thursday, then.

     The next lecture in the series was quite boring, and they
left for the cafeteria after the first hour. Helga was very happy
with the poster, and then Erik brought out a book he had brought
for her to loan.

     - Now, this is a book about the real wild-life men. It's a
Danish author who has written a lot of short stories, very funny
and loving, about the rough guys living in arctic Greenland,
manning the outposts and hunting for fur. If you'd like to, you
can lend it, because that author is the next lecturer - and then
we could have our coffee afterwards.

     Helga smiled sweetly and accepted the book.

     - You know, actually I planned on only the first lecture,
but I'm beginning to enjoy myself. I'll read it, and I'll bring
it next Thursday. See you.

     For the first time in a couple of years Erik dreamed of
women over the next few nights. No, not of women, of Helga. He
would wake up in the morning slightly puzzled. She was nowhere
near the women that up till now had filled his imagination. First
she was much too young. She had a horrible reputation, and she
looked like it. Heavily painted with a slutty look, her clothing
cheap and tasteless, uneducated except for her 10 years at
school, most of which she had forgotten, and a language adopted
from sailors and fishermen. Erik was puzzled, but he had to admit
to himself that he was looking forward to their next meeting.


     - Wow. Some stories! She handed him the book and slumped
down on the chair beside him, five minutes late as usual.
Apparantly the stories had gotten to her, because she followed
the lecture with great interest, and she would laugh loudly, too
loudly, when the author expanded the stories with anecdotes that
had not reached the pages. During the break she asked if Erik had
more books by the author, and during the second part of the
lecture she asked the author several questions about the stories
she had read.

     Their usual cup of coffee at the cafeteria was real fun, a
lot of laughs and smiles and exchange of ideas, and as an answer
to her question: Yes, Erik had more books by that author, and yes
she could lend a few, and if she wanted she could stop for a few
minutes at his place to pick them up.

     - A nice hut you've got here, was her comment, standing in
Erik's livingroom. He chose a couple of volumes and handed them
to her. They had agreed that she would not stay for a drink or
some more coffee, as she had to be at work in the fish-factory at
six o'clock next morning, and with a smile and a peck on his
cheek she was away.

     Her heavy perfume was in the air when Erik sat down in his
armchair, and it felt like some of her lively spirit was still in
the room. He put Beethoven's fifth on the CD-player, and with his
eyes closed he enjoyed the music plus the feeling, that this had
been one of the best evenings he had had for a very long time.



     Life had not been easy on Helga either. Actually even worse.
When she finished school at 15 she left home to fend for herself,
only to find that unskilled labour usually is hard and poorly
paid. In her subconcious search for love and recognition she
drifted into the crowds, filling the local harbour-joints.
Sailors, fishermen and tarts, they were, and Helga soon became
one of them. The hard and cold work in fishing industries filled
her weekdays. Weekends were spent dancing and drinking,
forgetting her barren everyday life. More often than not, she
would let herself be picked up by some rough caracter, who would
fuck her for a night or two, and then discard her into the harsh
light of Sunday morning.

     Over the next years she really earned herself a reputation,
but reputation at least is some kind of recognition, and she
found it hard to tear herself loose from the environment, even
though she often realised the low level she had reached.

     Erik was the first man in years, who had spoken kindly to
her, and as winter passed she followed all the lectures, and
eagerly awaited her Thursdays. She even stopped going to the
harbour-joints every weekend, and by March she realised that she
didn't even miss it. Erik's undemanding kindness was really
unexpected, but she basked in it, and by and by her feelings for
him reached levels she did not know existed. 

     The last lecture in the series was scheduled for the last
Thursday in March, and gradually Helga came to look at that date
with a numb sorrow. During their coffee after the last lecture
but one, Erik asked if she'd like him to cook a nice meal so they
could meet at his place at six o'clock before they went to the
lecture.

     - I'd like that very much.

     - OK, then. I think this winter has been so nice, and a
dinner would be a nice way to finish it.

     - I'm really going to miss our Thursdays, and I only planned
on going to the first. But I'll look forward to have dinner with
you. Bye, and thank's for tonight.

     She got up from her chair, leaned over and kissed Erik on
his cheek, and away she was. The kiss did not pass unnoticed, and
the next few days you could hear whispers in the village: I
saw....,... or: You know, they say that Helga, the tart, you
know, she kissed Master Erik in Doyle's cafeteria last
Thursday.... etc.

     Dinner was partly a success. Nothing wrong with the meal, oh
no, but as eight o'clock drew closer Helga seemed to get more and
more moody.

     - Come, now, Helga. What's bothering you? You've got to tell
me, or I can't do anything to cheer you up.

     - I don't know. I don't think I can tell you.

     - Why?

     - I'm afraid you'll think I'm silly, or worse.

     - That's the last thing I'd think about you, Helga.

     - I'm so sorry that this is going to be the last lecture,
and then I shall not see you again, and I've come to like you so
much, but I know I'm not the kind of girl you'd want. There. Now
I said it, though I wouldn't.

     Erik looked at her for a few seconds. Her dark brown eyes
were shiny and a small teardrop had formed in the corner.
Thoughts, dreams and images raced through his mind at lightening
speed.

     - Helga. I've grown so fond of our meetings that you
wouldn't know. I hate to see them end as much as you do. Why
don't we skip the last lecture and just stay here and talk? Would
you like that?

     - I sure would. But, is that true? Have you feared the end
as much as I have?

     - This winter has been the best ever I've had in this
wretched little village, and that's because of you, Helga. I have
loved our talks, I've been looking so much forward to each
Thursday, hoping you'd turn up again to warm my heart and give me
the joy of your company. I never thought, though, that you might
feel the same for me, being so much older than you.

     During Erik's little speach the teardrop developed into a
stream, and Helga started to cry and laugh at the same time. She
got out of her chair and went round the table. Smiling, sobbing
and laughing, with tears of joy running freely, she threw her
arms round his neck and kissed him, again and again and again,
his eyes, his lips, his forehead, his cheeks. All over his face,
wet kisses, tears smeared all over him, dissolved mascara
painting funny patterns on him.

     - Move that silly chair a little, she smiled. She straddled
his lap, took his head in her arms and pressed it to her breasts.
Her sobbing and laughing disappeared and were replaced by a low,
happy humming while her hands roamed his hair, his back and his
shoulders.

     For a long while they just sat like that. Erik was
intoxicated by the smell of her strong perfume and the feeling of
her firm, young breasts against his face. Floodgates opened and
streams of happiness washed away his bitterness. Helga folded her
hands behind his head and leaned back with stretched arms. She
looked at him with eyes veiled by her feelings. Suddenly she
burst into laughter like pearls scattered on a glass surface.

     - Oh, my, you should see yourself. You've got half my makeup
spread all over you, dear. I must look just as funny.

     - You look like the only thing I'll want to rest my eyes on,
ever.

     - You sweet man. Kiss me. I want you to kiss me. Now and
forever. And that was what he did. Again and again. Her lips, her
cheeks and her eyes until every teardrop was gone and a warm glow
spread all over her.

     - Oh, I wish this moment could be put into a little box.
Then I'd open it every day to remember.

     - I think we can do that, Helga. If I cook our dinner every
day from now on, will you straddle me and kiss me every day, like
you just did? That way it shall live to be remembered.

     Again she hugged his head against her breasts, avoiding to
look into his eyes for fear of disappointment:  - Are you saying
what I think you are?

     - I don't know what you think, but what I'm saying is: Will
you stay with me? You can be my wife or my mistress or my
sweetheart - I don't care - as long as you stay with me. I want
to do all the things we haven't done yet. Make love to you,
listen to music with you, walk down main street holding your
hand, as long as I can hope that you'll stay with me and let me
love you.

     - You bastard, why do you make me cry all the time. Look,
I'm wet all over my face. Of course I'll stay with you. Why don't
you start by taking me to your bed and let me love you?

     Helga got up and held out her hand towards him. She looked a
total mess, but then Erik didn't look one bit better. As they
passed the mirror in the hall they broke into laughter.

     - My God, what a mess. Shouldn't we just clean our faces,
she asked.

     - Why? That's what we look like now. And if we can love each
other the way we look, we'll have ten or fifteen years where we
can't get any worse.

     Helga started to undress as they walked through the hall to
the bedroom, and Erik followed suit, so they were naked when they
stood beside the bed. Helga went up to him and threw her arms
round him. Together they fell down on the bed with Helga on top.
Her voice was a hoarse whisper:

     - Come, I want you in me. I want to be in you and I want you
to be in me.  With a hunger she had never felt, she grabbed his
cock and guided it in. For a few moments they just lay there,
savouring each other, then Helga could not stay still. She just
had to move every bit of her body against his, as if her skin
hungered for his. Her arms, her belly, her legs and her breasts,
every little square inch felt alive, as she sucked him into her
own body. She could feel blood running to her pussy and make it
swell, and plenty of juice was running down his cock as she
slowly moved up and down on him, enjoying every inch that his
cock moved inside her. A little later she put her hands on his
shoulders and raised her upper body. She looked into his eyes and
said:

     - Oh, Erik, I've never been so happy in my life. If this is
going to end, then let me die now.

     - This is not going to end, my dear, and I'll allow no one
or nothing to take us apart, ever.

     - You lovely man. I'm going to come right now, oh, my God,
I'm really coming!  The slowest and longest orgasm built inside
her. Erik felt her pussy squeeze his cock like a vice, and with a
scream she collapsed on top of him, her slim body shaking and
spasming for the longest time. As she was coming down he grabbed
her hips, turned her over without missing a beat, and with a roar
he hammered three or four times into her before he exploded,
gushing his boiling hot sperm deep into her pussy.

     Erik pulled out of her, as his cock went limp, and lay down
on his back. Helga lifted her left leg to rest across his,
resting her head on her right arm, combing his hair with her
left, showering him lavishly with wet kisses.

     - My dear, dear Erik. Never ever have I felt like this.
Never have I been so satisfied, and never have I felt more like
going on forever.

     Erik looked up at her. - You know, I haven't yet done
anything to those very pretty, small tits. If I start kissing
them for a while, do you think you can find something to occupy
you while I do it?

     - Mmmm, I'm sure, but I'll just have to clean my plaything
first. She moved down his body and took his limp cock in her
mouth, licking and sucking it clean of their juices. Then she
crawled up his body again, offered her small, pointed tits to his
mouth, while her left hand started playing with his cock, which
already was only half limp.

     When his cock was hard and shiny Erik grabbed her around her
waist and lifted her body up into the air. Then he slowly turned
her round, almost 180 degrees as his arms would allow, and
lowered her again. Helga got the idea and landed on her arms
while she spread her legs to straddle his face.
     - Shouldn't I go and clean up. I've got a lot of you in me.

     - Mmmm, and you are going to get more.  He dived ind, and
for a long time he licked, tasted and smelled her pretty pussy
and her wrinkled little diamond.

     - I can't wait any more - I've got to fuck you now!
     
     They turned round and again Helga guided his long, solid
cock to her pussy. Erik started the long ride to orgasm in a
slow, luxurious rythm, increasing his power and speed slowly all
the time. Helga was delerious. Small orgasms seemed to crash in
on her all the time, and when Erik finally growled and yelled
into the hollow of her neck, while he flooded her pussy for the
second time, she simply passed out from pleasure.

     When she came to she looked into Erik's worried eyes.

     - Tell me, is that something you do? I mean, go limp and
faint.

     - No. I haven't done before, but I'd sure like to try it
again.  She smiled at him, stars shining in her eyes.

     Far into the night they finally fell asleep, still clinging
to each other. In the early morning they agreed, that Helga would
throw out the rest of her pills, and Erik dragged himself off to
school, while Helga went home to pack a couple of suitcases.
Saturday morning the whole village knew that Helga had moved in
with Erik, and Saturday afternoon a visitor knocked on his door.
Samuel Sand, chairman of the school board, secretary to the
church council and member of city council.

     - Mr. Hansen, can I talk to you for a moment?

     - Oh yes, come on in.

     - I'll make this short. Rumours are running in town, that
miss Larsen has moved in with you.

     - That's correct.

     - Then it's my duty to inform you, that she is not the kind
of woman we like our children's teacher to associate with. We
know her reputation, and to say it frankly: Everybody thinks
she's a bitch.

     Blue veins swelled at Erik's temples and he stopped mr.
Sand.  - Before you get any further I'll warn you.

     - I'll just tell you, that I don't think you can continue as
a teacher here, if you persist.

     - Let me tell you, you little hypocrite. If Helga is a
bitch, then to me life is a bitch. Nothing you can do will
prevent us getting married as soon as possible, and it will not
be in your church. And then: Get out of my house, and do whatever
you want.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Postscript: Today, 15 years later, you would have a hard time
finding a happier home. Five children provide all the tumble and
noise you could wish for, Helga has matured into a real beauty,
and no one doubts that she's still seriously in love with her
husband. Mr. Sand tried to get Erik fired, but he never succeded,
and at 56 all bitterness has left Erik to be replaced by a
happiness he never knew of, and no one could be prouder of his
wife and children than Erik.

--------------------------------------------------------------
 



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