The Other Man’s Chance

a Short Story by Kellis

September, 2000



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

When she had opened his britches, he had craned his neck to verify that the girl reclining beside the pool showed no interest in affairs on the porch.  Now he relaxed, chuckling.  “If you must say it, Nel, then please do.  But why shouldn’t it be?  I believe Benjamin Franklin it was who noted the invariance of the sexual organs.”

“But it hasn’t changed at all.”  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.”


“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 pleasure!”  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 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?”


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?”


“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 ¾ in the kitchen ¾ 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?”





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