Adam's Journey

Stormy,

Thank you so much for taking the time to keep all our boats afloat. Your story has captivated us for so many years. You are a real gem and a story teller of the highest order. The little woman just loves your work also, in fact we save each new segment to read when we are alone and can fully enjoy the magic of one of your master pieces.

Your efforts add so much to our lives. There is no author we would rather read than you. However we have noticed that there are several on this site that are extremely talented so we appreciate all of you. We hope you and your family are well, especially during this holiday seamister. We have also enjoyed your friendship if we can ever assisted you in anything we would love to try and repay your efforts in our behalf.

The watchers
watcherdoit4fun

Stormy,

best wishes for the holidays and a happy and healthy New Year.

Hey Storm,

Just paid a visit after a long, extended leave. Damn work and tons of permisteral stuff to boot, just don't have time to sit at the computer right now like I used to.

Hope you had a great Holiday Seamister. I echo Timmy27's wishes for you to have a happy and healthy New Year.

The story is as awesome as ever. Can't believe how long I've actually been on board.

Take care Buddy

TrF2

Timmy, as always, thanks. I appreciate the support, and am just about ready to post another section or two, so shouldn't need any bump-ups for awhile! I am working on posting more often, trying to fit in some writing in smaller little bits of time here and there rather than sitting down and writing for 2 or 3 hours at a time like I used to. Wish I could - I like doing that better - but just don't have the blocks of time these days. I am adjusting to the new method, but getting going for 15 minutes here and 10 minutes there is not all that efficient. It takes me too long to organize my thinking and get the juices flowing, as you can no doubt relate to. Think it's going to work out OK though, if I work at it.


GH and peak, as you've begun to sense, the cruise is drawing to an end. It will take awhile yet - I have some loose ends to tie up and some issues to resolve - but I hope I can wrap it up somewhat soon, and on a good note. Still working on that! You two have kept me grounded throughout this journey, with comments, advice, the occasional wake-up call, and sometimes a bit of a kick in the butt. I do appreciate it.


Watchers, thanks. I know we've communicated since you posted this note, but I'd still like to say how much I appreciate your friendship and support. Probably the best part of writing this story has been the people I've met along the way - I hope that maybe some day I'll get to meet some of them in permister, and you two are definitely on that list. In the meantime, I'm glad you're still enjoying the story, and that you're so damn patient!


Trf2, glad you stopped in! I can definitely sympathize (empathize?) with not having the time to enjoy things as you might wish to, but I appreciate you joining when you can, and leaving me a note. Always good to hear from one of the story old-timers! Damn, have I really been working on this since 2008?? Coming up on 6 years?! This was never intended to be my Sistine Chapel! Hmm, I wonder if Michelangelo ever said that?


To all the readers, thanks. I hope to have some more posted later today, if I can finish editing what I've got. Hope you enjoy!

Stormy,
The new year is now really started. I can't wait. Still, after all this time, it's sad that 2014 will probably see this story conclude one way or another but I suspect you need the closure by now and it will maybe free up your mind to move on to something else - even if that is not posted here or even a story.

Storm

Regardless if it's two or fifty I look forward to your final segments. Even if your story ended now it would be all right. You have created a group of characters that all of us enjoy.

You and I both understand that this is what writing is all about. It's not the sex or the cuckolding. It's Adam, Kristi, Ron, Kori, Tiff and Pops that matter. You gave them to us. For that I will be forever grateful.

When you end this story all of us will miss them, you even more than us. I still pine for Sandra Monroe.

GH

The inlet was a shallow "C" shape, like a bent finger, perhaps a couple of hundred feet across where it opened to the lake but with a rounded shape at the back end, a blunt thirty or forty foot radius of smooth water above which a narrow canyon extended upwards, the opening and floor filled with a jumble of rocks. This canyon was bone dry, not green and lush and home to a small spring-fed creek like the one we had hiked and climbed a few days earlier; it was apparent that this particular gorge carried water only during the rare but heavy rains that produced the powerful and potentially deadly flash floods which had carried the rocks – which ranged from the size of your head to the size of a refrigerator – into the narrow defile.

Ronnie took over the helm, and we slowly skirted the edges of the bay looking for the best place to put ashore. I stood at the bow, watching for shallow water, rocks, or other obstacles for us to avoid. The only place anything was apparent was at the closed end of the bay, where the flood-borne debris of rocks and stones extended out for several yards just beneath the surface before disappearing into the deep, and I guided Ron around that area.

Although lacking the water-fed lushness of our other stop – and also the abundant humming, buzzing, and fluttering natural life as a result - the bay held certain stark and desolate beauty. Utterly barren and rugged, the low walls of vermilion, buff and ochre rock, striped in the layers in which the sediments had been laid down and sculpted into fantastic shapes by erosion, rose to our left, on the eastern side of the bay; on the other side, blocking the lowering sun from the west, the walls were higher, rugged, well-shaded and cooler looking, the stripes and striations less apparent in the shadows. There was an obvious white stripe - perfectly level, like a bathtub ring - which circumscribed the walls all the way around our little bay at about ten or twelve feet above the water's surface, marking a time when the level of the lake had been considerably higher than it currently was, while everything below that point and down to the water was striped with white minerals also, marking the lake's ever-fluctuating depth.

In keeping with our plan to find a spot where we wouldn't have to absorb any more sun than necessary, Ron steered us slowly along the western edge of the bay, seeking a spot along the base of the wall that looked friendly both for landing the boat and for setting up our proposed picnic/cookout. In the shade of the tall cliff it was not only darker and more welcoming, but it felt as though the temperature had dropped a good 10 or 15 degrees, a soothing balm to our sun-blasted bodies! About halfway along the western shoreline there was a narrow, rounded shelf that rose from the water's edge to a height of about three or four feet above the surface, a smooth, organic shape not unlike the bulge of a well-formed triceps muscle on the back of one's arm; it ran almost flat for about thirty feet or so before dipping gently back down into the water at the end toward the lake. It looked like a perfect spot to cozy up to the shoreline, a natural pier of sorts that might let us step from the boat's deck directly onto land – if the water directly in front of it was deep enough to allow us to pull in that close.

I positioned myself along the rail on that side, one of the large rubber fender cushions in hand to place between the boat and the rock face, and Pops did the same, about eight or ten feet away from me. We were both looking down at the water, watching for any indication that the bottom sloped up or presented obstacles as we drew close to shore. It was soon apparent in the crystal clear water that the rock face – obviously part of a tall cliff before the gorge had been flooded by the construction of Glen Canyon dam - dropped steeply below the surface, and that we would indeed be able to snug the boat up to our rocky pier.

Ron brought the big boat in as delicately as a mohel performing a bris, and as we slowly drew close to the rock face I dropped the bumper between it and the boat and stepped across onto the narrow shelf, mooring line in hand. It was a tiny bit disconcerting, knowing that I was standing on what had once been but a narrow ledge on the face of a tall cliff, with a hundred feet or more of rock wall above me and who knows how much of a drop remaining below! The water, of course, changed the dynamic entirely; I was unlikely to stumble and plunge to an untimely demise with the water's surface just a couple of feet below me. Unless, perhaps, I fell in and got crushed between the rock and the boat's hull, an occurrence which I fully intended to avoid. Anyone that has looked down into clear water where the bottom drops precipitously away, or who has snorkeled out past a coral reef to where the seaward face of the reef plunges into the darkness of the depths has likely experienced a similar feeling, part fear of heights, part vertigo, all of it entirely unwarranted because of the buoyancy of water.

Pops soon also dropped the fender he was holding between the boat and the rock, and stepped across as I had, holding the other mooring line. We both looked around for a moment, and then at each other. Apparently not one to allow the obvious to go unremarked, he said "There's nothing here to tie these lines to!" Truth be told, he beat me to the punch by a split-second.
And he was right; the shelf upon which we stood and the cliff face above and below it were all of smooth, rounded, sandstone, formed by eons of wind- and water-borne sand and grit into the typically organic-looking curves and contours common to the area. There were no points, projections, or or crevices nto which to tie the ropes. I nodded. "Well, I could fasten this rope to you, and you could just keep holding that one. You look like you'd probably make a pretty solid anchor-point."

"Funny guy - but I think not." He turned back to the boat. "Hey, Trell! Come on over here and make yourself useful – if you can tear your eyes away from Kristi's ass for a minute." Pops was right; all of the scenery around us, and Trell had been busily admiring the posterior view of my fiancée as she leaned on the rail watching us. I suppose you can't really fault a guy for demonstrating good judgment, but still, it kind of bugged me. Kristi just laughed, but Trell jumped like he'd been shocked and, I think, probably blushed - although it's tough to tell.

He hustled to respond, jumping across to join us on land. "What do you want me to do?"

Pops inclined his head, first toward one end of the shelf and then the other. "Go whichever way looks most promising and find a couple of big rocks – as big as you can carry – and bring 'em up here for us to tie off to."

He did, heading toward the end that faced the back of the bay rather than the one that led toward the open lake, disappearing from sight almost as soon as he hopped down onto the beach. Soon he returned, huffing and struggling under a rock that probably weighed close to fifty pounds. I think the shape and size were giving him more of a problem than the weight, but he managed to get it hoisted onto the shelf and then climbed back up and brought it to where I stood, setting it down in a shallow depression where it would be less inclined to slide into the lake – or into the hull of the boat. I tied my rope around it, knowing that it was not big enough to hold the boat if a wind of any strength kicked up.

I went with him to get a second rock for the other line, and between us we managed to bring a considerably larger one back, after which the three of us – now accompanied by Tiff and Kristi – lugged a couple more good-sized rocks up onto the shelf to add to our mooring piles. Ron stood at the rail and eyed our work with a critical eye. "As long as the wind doesn't pick up too much, that should hold. I think maybe I'll go ahead and drop the anchor too, just as a back-up."

While he did that, we began to haul food, take, cushions, and other necessities to the place the girls had picked out for our evening beach party. Actually, "beach" is a bit misleading, as it was not so much a beach as it was a massive rock with various other rocks of assorted sizes brownietered about on top of it. Nonetheless, we had a good spot for a cookout – although having all the cushions to spread out on the rock made it considerably more welcoming!

Pops and Trell took it upon themselves to go back aboard and bring the large propane-fired grill back, making sure they had it on a fairly level spot just downwind of where we'd set up. Ron and Kori soon joined us, each with a take in hand. It was refreshing to see that Ron still had his priorities straight! He remarked on the fact that the anchor had taken out virtually all of the rope – a hundred feet – before it struck bottom. My guess was that it was on another rock outcrop of some sort, because I thought the water was probably much deeper than that along this cliff face.

The main chores done, we took a vote – and as it was four to three, it was decided that the ladies would go scout up whatever firewood they could while us guys relaxed and had a take. Sometimes democracy works really, really well!
Seriously, though, they recognized that we had done most of the heavy lifting thus far, and with a bit of good-natured grumbling and a few threats about withholding sexual favors, they set out. In any event, as much as the three of them seemed to enjoy sex, we knew that their threats were hollow – and the cold, refreshing beer made even that minimal risk completely worthwhile!

Firewood – driftwood, in the barren environs around the lake - was apparently fairly sparse at this particular spot, because the collecting was slow and not very productive. After about ten minutes or so, though, we saw the three of them struggling to free a good-sized log from where it was trapped in the rocks, and, once they wrestled it free, straining to carry it. Trell parked his beer and stood to go help them, drawing a few good-natured jibes regarding his gender and sexual orientation from the rest of us. Women's work, don't you know! Ignoring our comments he hustled down the shore, and between the four of them they managed to carry and drag it to where we were. The girls' appreciation of his help, especially from Kristi and Kori, soon proved the wisdom of his move, and as they fawned over him Pops grumred "I guess my nephew isn't as stupid as he looks after all."

Ron nodded, chuckling. "No, it never hurts to ingratiate yourself with someone, particularly if you're hoping to get in her pants a little later on." He looked at me. "What do you say you and me get the fire going, since it's starting to cool off now that the sun is going down? Pops, you want to fire up the grill?"

Pops rose to his feet from the cushion on the ground where he'd been reclining, groaning as he did so. "Sure thing – oh, and me and Trell are cooking dinner tonight for all of us, our way of saying thanks for you folks letting us come and intrude on your party. You didn't have to do that, and we appreciate it – don't we Trell?"
The younger man nodded. "Very much! It's been...well, fun – a lot of fun. And educational!" He looked around at the girls, smiling shyly. "We've got something special planned - provided you like a good grilled steak or barbecue chicken. Uncle Reg..., uh, I mean Pops – is showing me how to cook."

Pops laughed. "It's not cooking, it's throwing some meat on the fire, boy. Cavemen could do it – pretty hard to screw that up!"

Trell grinned right back at him. "Huh! Obviously you've never seen me try to cook anything."

I was amazed – we all were – at how much better they were getting along than they had just days before. It seemed to be more than just reaching a truce; it seemed as though all – or at least most – of the resentment, defensiveness, and anger that Trell had arrived with had somehow fallen away, and as a result Pops had been able to let his guard down and relax, to enjoy his nephew rather than always arguing with him and threatening to smack him down for his lousy attitude. I don't know what did it; maybe it was seeing how the rest of us related to each other as friends, with humor and teasing, but always with affection; or maybe it was being treated as an equal, as an equal and (arguably – for all of us!) intelligent adult rather than some punk kid. Or maybe it was just that getting laid more or less non-stop by beautiful women has a way of draining not only your balls, but also all of your anger and aggression, and you finally realize that you have to preserve your energy for sex and quit wasting it on being such a disagreeable little pisshead. Whatever the case, the change was not only remarkable, it was absolutely welcome!

We all set about our tasks. We did not have a lot of small stuff for kindling the fire, but were able to break some strips and chunks off the ends of the log they'd found to add to our starter stack, and with the wood as dry as it was the fire started easily. Once it was up and crackling, we added a few bigger pieces they'd gathered and laid the longer log across it to burn through, using the campfire as the lazy man's way of cutting it into shorter lengths. Kori proved herself an adept bartender while Kristi and Tiff helped Trell and Pops bring out food, condiments, dishes, and everything else required for a nice meal on our beach. It started to look to me as though the galley on the boat must be just about empty, since everything was now ashore!

We kept it pretty simple otherwise, a cooler of beer with a couple bottles of a nice Chardonnay tucked down in the ice, a pitcher of Margaritas which Ronnie promised to go back aboard and refill as needed, and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and another of Merlot that we laid in the lake in a convenient shallow spot, keeping them just slightly cool to enjoy with our steaks. We all got comfortable and settled in on the cushions we'd brownietered about. It appeared, so far at least, that we were going to have our little bay all to ourselves, which is one of the things that make Lake Powell so nice; it's so big and has so many little nooks and crannies that you can usually find peace, quiet, and privacy, if that's what you're seeking. On the other hand, as we'd discovered, you can also find a party or meet some interesting people if you put yourself in a position to do so. This, our last night together, I think we were all on the same wavelength in wanting to find a place where we could just enjoy the company of our friends.

We were all relaxed, takes in hand, chatting and laughing with each other, when Ronnie used his best John Wayne imitation – which is apparently not all that good, because he usually ends up explaining who he's trying to imitate – to approach Tiff with a "Hey little lady, can a lonely cowboy buy you a take?" Accordingly, the conversation as always easily sidetracked, we managed to get off on the topic of our worst pick-up lines, the girls insisting on knowing which ones we'd actually tried, and whether any of them had actually worked. Trell started the ball rolling with "You must be a parking ticket, because you have 'fine' written all over you"; incredibly corny, but he claimed it worked, because it made the target of his affection laugh – which we certainly had. Kori, of course, thought it was cute, but the general consensus was that he was lying about his success with that weak line!

Ronnie raised the bar for bad bar-lines with "Roses are red, Violets are blue, I suck at poetry, but you have great tits", claiming to have said it once when fairly takes, and admitting to having gone down in flames. Everyone believed both that he'd actually said it (go figure!) and that he'd failed, and us guys seemed to find it much funnier than the ladies did...again, go figure!

They started on me to tell them my worst attempt, but I really didn't have anything I could recall! "I don't know guys, when I was in that part of my life I usually met women – or girls – other ways, not at pick-up places. I guess when I was out, in a bar or something, I'd usually just introduce myself, or ask if they wanted to dance, or maybe if I could buy them a take"

Ronnie harrumphed. "It works wa-a-y-y-y better if you offer to buy them a car. Amateur!"

Tiff was looking at me oddly, her eyes bright and her face slightly flushed with an early buzz. "That's not how you picked me up. As a matter of fact, you basically accused me of being a bitch."

"I did not! Well, maybe - sort of, I guess. But you have to admit, you were being a little bit defensive. And I wasn't really trying to pick you up, I was just making conversation."

Pops laughed. "Yeah, defensive; you've never seen her in full bitch mode. It's a sight to behold, positively awe-inspiring, and usually detrimental to making conversation."

Tiff objected, laughing. "Hey! Don't wreck their image of me as being all sweetness and light! Actually, I'm sure I was being a little bit bitchy with you Adam – but your approach actually worked, right? I'm here, after all! I liked that you stood up for yourself and didn't let me get away with being nasty to you. It showed you had confidence."

I smiled at her, shrugging my shoulders. "Actually I think I was just really tired and cranky from driving all night or I probably would have folded like a cheap tent – but I am very glad you're here, so I guess it worked out, right?" That got me a great smile from Tiff!

Kristi slid her arm around my waist. "Don't you know it's bad form to flirt with a beautiful woman when your fiancée is sitting right next to you?"

I raised my eyebrows at her "Mmm, yes, I suppose it is. Isn't there someplace else you need to be babe?" She pinched me on my belly, and I yelped.

That exchange drew a laugh from the assemblage, a smile from me, and a thank you – to Kristi, for the compliment, I guess, from Tiff. Then they resumed badgering me about providing my worst pick-up line embarrassment. I really had to think about it, but I finally remembered one. "OK, once, I saw this girl in a bar – I was single at the time, and young – and dumb and probably broke too - but I heard this great laugh, the kind of laugh that makes you smile just hearing it, and I looked around until I found her. Turns out she was also really pretty, and had a gorgeous smile..."

That was where Ronnie interrupted me. "How about her ass – did she have a nice ass, or some great big ol' titties? Who cares about her laugh?" The girls shut him up promptly, wanting to hear the story, but he got an appreciative chuckle from Pops, Trell, and me which is, I'm sure, what he was going for. Tiff prompted me "Go on, Adam – what did you say to her?"

"Well, she was with a group of friends, all girls, so it was kind of awkward – and this kind of stuff always made me nervous anyway, but I was a little hammered, so eventually I worked up my courage – the holy water-fueled kind, absolutely - and I went over and held out my hand to her, and said 'Excuse me, but would you hold this for me while I take a walk?' "
Ronnie did what would have been a classic spit-take, except that half of the beer came out his nose; I laughed. "Yeah, that's the same reaction one of her friends had – a couple of them just rolled their eyes - but you know what? It worked! I was probably bright red and sweating and stammering, and she took pity on me, I think. She actually left her friends and took a walk with me, and then we danced. Her name was Amanda, and we ended up going out for a couple of months."

The guys were jeering me, but Kori came to my defense. "I think it's sweet!"

Kristi was laughing at Ron, who was still coughing, laughing, and sputtering beer and trying to get his eyes to quit watering. "Yeah K, real sweet – in an especially creepy stalker sort of way! 'Hey babe, I know you've never seen me before and don't even know my name, but come away from your friends and out to a dark alley with me... but touch me first!'"

Nice – my own girl, piling on! They proceeded to have their fun with me; but then that was the main purpose of this whole exercise, wasn't it? I let them go for awhile, until they had wrung all they could from it, then distracted them by asking Kori what the worst line was that she'd ever actually had anyone use on her. The girls quickly agreed that the worst were when some guy tried to come on to them with some really crude or vulgar sexual line. Kori remembered a time when a guy had approached her and said that he had a huge cock and that for a dollar he'd show it to her.

The consensus was that that was pretty tacky, but Pops added a little levity by saying "Not that I'd ever be so crude, you understand, but I'm just curious; did it work?"

Kori one-upped him by answering "What, his cock? No, not all that well – and it turns out it wasn't even what I'd call huge." She paused, and then, with perfect timing, said "But I did get him to give me a dollar to look at it, so it wasn't a total loss!"

When the laughter died down, Tiff remembered that Pops had not shared his own worst line and prevailed upon him to do so. He paused to think for a moment, and then said, "Well I suppose that handing a woman a folded up cocktail napkin and saying 'Excuse me, but doe this smell like anesthetize to you?' might be considered a little over-the-top by some people. Oh, and it usually just got them to call over a security guard, so..."

Tiffany was aghast. "You never actually used that!"

He laughed that low rumble of his. "Actually, I did – a couple of times when I was young and stupid. But it's one you use mostly to make your buddies laugh, or maybe on a bet, not because you expect it to work. You never know though, you might get a woman with a good sense of humor that thinks it's funny, and you just might succeed."

Tiff, still shaking her head, looked at him. "Did that ever work for you?"

"Not once – but it could have!" He chuckled, shaking his head. "And on that sorry note, I need to get some potatoes wrapped and baking on the grill, or they'll never get done." As he rose to his feet, Trell volunteered his help – another positive sign, and one that never would have occurred just days before – but Pops declined any assistance for this simple task.
As he left, Ron, addressing me and still on topic, said "I don't know why you guys that actually are hung, like you and Pops, don't use a line that plays on that fact. I mean sure, you'll go down in flames sometimes, but with certain women it's bound to work. Occasionally, at least – right girls?"

Kristi laughed. "Only you would think so, Ron! Actually, it might – if the woman is alone and in the right mood – or a total slut. If she's with a group she'd have to pretend to be very offended. Besides, Adam doesn't have to use that line; he can always just wear that one pair of old jeans he has that leave so little to the imagination. Why tell them when you can show them, right sweetheart?"

I shook my head. "Truth be told, I never even realized that about those old jeans until you pointed it out. Now I'm too embarrassed to wear them anymore – although, now that you mention it, those kind of were my lucky pants!"

Trell was enjoying our teasing and jabbing. I think seeing the way we all relate to each other was a very eye-opening experience for him, the way we could constantly yank each other around without anyone getting upset or angry, or any juvenilebullcuckolds brownie about being "disrespected". He was even starting to feel comfortable enough to join in! "No, man, pants like that would be great, but you need a line to go with them, something like... OK, say you walk up to some chick and say 'Hey babe, do you work for UPS?', and then when she says no, you can say 'Too bad, because I need someone to handle my package.'"

He got us with that one! It was so quick, and so unexpected - and so stupid - that we all howled! Kori threw an arm around his shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. "Sweetie, you are too much! That's just crazy enough to work."

I feigned puzzlement. "But what happens if she actually does work for UPS?"

He started to reply "Well, then you could say..."
About that time he realized that I was teasing him and shook his head, laughing. "Man, if you too dumb to figure that one out, you probably shouldn't get the girl anyway!"

Laughing, I got to my feet and brushed some sand off my pants, then held my hand out to him to help him up. "Come on, you can help me freshen up everyone's takes while your uncle is busy on dinner." He distributed beers and poured refills on Margaritas while Ron fixed himself a Scotch and soda and I opened a bottle of Chardonnay and poured a glass for Kori. A good Chard, served in a big blue Solo cup – clearly we were people of class and distinction! On the other hand, the image actually fit us pretty well, despite Ron's efforts to make our trip as high-class and comfortable as possible. We had actually talked about it earlier, jokingly deciding that the blue cups were for white wines and the red ones, obviously, for reds, while other adult beverages could be enjoyed from various colored cups indiscriminately. It's good to have a system.

Pops came back from the boat, seven good-sized potatoes, wrapped in foil, clutched in his hands. Four big spuds in one hand and three in the other made me notice, again, how huge his hands were. It was funny, but once I'd grown accustomed to his exaggerated proportions and gotten to know him a little, he had stopped seeming so huge (although he certainly was!), and all of his other fine and interesting qualities had come to the fore. I suppose that's a precautionary tale of sorts as to why we shouldn't let first impressions dictate our feelings or actions.

Potatoes started, Pops came back to the fire in time to take the bottle of wine from my hand and pour one for himself, sloshing a generous helping into his own Solo cup – blue, of course – before returning the remainder of the bottle to the cooler. As we settled in again around the fire, set for a little more relaxation and conversation before dinner, Pops stood behind the flames, the rest of us spread out in a small semi-circle in front of him, across the fire. He looked around at the group, his dark eyes pausing on each of our faces, a small smile on his lips.

"My friends, I would like to propose a toast." He raised his glass in front of him, holding it out toward us. "Here's to accepting and being accepted, to understanding and being understood; to caring, and sharing, and to loving and being loved. Here's to beautiful places and beautiful women..." here he paused, his eyes going to each of our three beautiful women in turn, a broad smile for each of them before continuing "and to family..." here he looked long at Trell, still smiling warmly, "...to good friends, good food, laughter, and good times. It is my great honor and privilege to have been able to share these last few days with you, and I will never forget it. Thank you all, for allowing me to be here."

The man can give a toast, what can I say!? We all tilted our glasses or bottles toward him, tapping them together where we could, acknowledging his heartfelt words as Trell scramred to stand beside Pops, who put his big arm over the younger man's shoulders. Trell looked around at the faces in front of him before quietly adding. "Yeah, what he said; I can't top that. Thanks you guys, this has been amazing." Tiff just waved her hand from where she sat. "For me too! I've had such a great time, I can't believe it's almost over already. It's been so much fun!"

Ron looked at her. "Well, you know, it's easy for you – gorgeous chicks are always welcome! I had to think twice about letting these two big lugs on board. But in retrospect I'm sure glad we did!" He was trying to be cool and crude – his usual permistera, in other words – but his voice was husky; obviously Pops' words had moved him as they had the rest of us. It was not the first time that I'd seen Ronnie's soft heart betray him, and I felt sure it wouldn't be the last.

Kristi swiped at her eyes, wiping away tears before reaching out toward Pops. "Come and sit by me – and stop that – you're not supposed to make us cry! We're supposed to be having fun!"

He lowered himself onto the cushion beside her, stealing a quick kiss through her sniffles and giving her a quick hug. "Oh, I am having fun, gorgeous, really I am! And I'm sure we'll all have some more before this trip is through!"

Perfection as always. Thank you for making the effort to keep the story going.

Storm

At this site we all start by trying to create erotica and at that you are the master. That said, in the end a good story is really defined by the characters and how they interact with each other. Again you are the master.

Thank you for writing

GH

Stormy,
To misquote Paul Simon, 'Still great after all these years.'

Thanks

Stormy, Just wondering what happens when Kristi and Adam return home with Rain there in bed? I still think Rain will be a better long term relationship for Adam than even Kristi unless he can live forever with Kristi cheating behind his back, just like he first discovered her doing in the beginning of this journey.

Thanks stormy,
You always seem to add a segment while we are on vacation. We are in Zion's now not far from from the gang at Powell. I've never wanted to go house boating as much as I do now. Our states tourism board needs to send you a check and the boat rentals have been doing a brisk business since you started writing.

Thanks again
watcherdoit4fun

As I've already said several times, you have a wonderful way of telling a story Stormy. Well done my friend.

TrF2

peak, thanks. I do hope to wrap it up in 2014 - I hope not too awfully far into the year, but you know how that goes...
I would like to move on to something different, and maybe wrap up a little unfinished business elsewhere on this forum!

GH, it was reading you that taught me the importance of character development for erotic stories. It's what makes the difference between erotica and porn...to the extent that there is a difference. Probably lots of overlap and gray areas there. Masturbation fodder - your term that I'm plagiarizing - is something I strive to avoid, although I don't in any way mind the idea that my writing is enjoyed in that way by some, as long as it's being enjoyed. I can only hope that it is also something just a little bit more to most.

Timmy, thanks. I do appreciate your sticking around and your frequent comments. I also am in awe of how much you and GH continue to post on this site. It would be a much poorer place without either of you!

2ep, thanks for the comments. Neither Adam or me are entirely sure what he's going to do; he's still a bit conflicted, and is very aware, in the back of his mind, that he may always be with Kristi. He's also aware of Rain waiting at home, and of his attraction to Tiff. Tough problem to have, right? Any of us should be so conflicted!

Watcher, loved the shots of Zion. You are blessed to be able to enjoy such a beautiful place. Glad you're enjoying the story, and I'll watch for my checks from the tourism board to start showing up! P.S. Kristi says as long as you're in the area, stop on by. Apparently she's heard about you two.

Trf2, thanks. I'm not sure how I can feel like someone that I've never met is a good friend, but I do. I appreciate your friendship, and please know that it is reciprocated.

Another short segment. Just seemed like a good stopping place, so I did. And then posted it!
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We kicked back and relaxed then (it's always important to find time to chill out after a hard day of relaxing), just sort of shooting the breeze and enjoying the moment. After about half an hour or so, Pops called on Trell to come and give him a hand with the getting the remainder of the meal together, and Trell eagerly complied. Before we knew it there were thick steaks sizzling on the grill, topped with some blend of herbs and spices that Pops had blended himself, the aroma of the meat and spices making our mouths water. He had mushroom sautéing in a shallow s*******et on the side burner, and he showed Trell how to crack and husk a clove or two of fresh garlic, and how to mince it into tiny pieces before adding it to the s*******et, explaining how important it was not to allow the garlic to sauté too long or burn and become bitter. Then he opened a bag he'd brought along and threw what looked like some wood chips into the lower part of the very hot grill.

While Trell kept an eye on the 'shrooms, Pops returned to the boat and spent a couple of trips bringing out a large bowl containing a fresh Caesar salad he'd put together, and a number of sides and condiments, and Tiff joined in, carting out actual silverware, steak knives, and the seemingly indestructible glass plates and bowls – something called Corelle - that had come with the boat. Everyone present, having tried to cut and enjoy a grilled steak on paper plates using plastic picnic utensils at one point or another in their lives, applauded the wisdom of that choice.

Pops took a quick poll of how everyone preferred their steak cooked, and set about explaining to Trell how to achieve the desired results. I was pleased to see that nobody opted for anything beyond medium, as I'm a firm believer that the surest way to ruin a good cut of meat is to overcook it; not that I'm going to openly criticize anyone that prefers their meat tough and dried out, of course, but I sure can't claim to understand it! By now, as if the smell of the grilling meat didn't have us all drooling, the sound of the sizzle of juices dropping into the fire added the right auditory note to enhance the pleasurable ***.

Kori and me fetched the two bottles of red from the shore of the lake and opened them, pouring either the Cab or the Merlot to each permister's preference. They were maybe a few degrees cooler than was ideal, but none of us were big enough oenophiles to notice – and they would warm rapidly in the desert air in any event. Tiff prepared salads, insisting on serving them to us as we sat around the fire, and Pops and Trell plated the steaks, potatoes, and mushrooms in a manner that would have fit the appearance standards of any fine restaurant; as they delivered each according to degree of doneness requested, we set about slathering our potatoes with butter, sour cream, chives, and ground up bacon bits to taste. Just on his preparedness alone, with all of the choices and options, I felt like Pops had outdone himself; then I tasted my steak. Holy crap! Other than a few choice bits of the anatomy of certain females in various occasional pleasurable situations, it was unquestionably the best thing I had ever had in my mouth – certainly the best in the entire realm of my life's experience with food! Other than the occasional clink of silver on glass, a bit of chewing, and the occasional sigh of satisfaction the silence was complete, all of us completely involved with this incredible treat.

As a dedicated carnivore, I'd been to fine steak houses in many parts of America in my travels, including Keen's in New York, Gibmister's in Chicago, Killen's in Houston, Binion's in Vegas, Cattleman's in Oklahoma City, and, of course, Brook's and the Denver Chop House in Denver; I've been to all the top chains – The Palm, Morton's, Ruth's Chris, Smith & Wollensky, and Lawry's, among others, and to all of the ones that I can actually afford on a more regular basis or when Ronnie's not buying; I feel like I've enjoyed some of the best steaks and prime rib there are to be found, but they all paled in comparimister to this masterpiece! Precisely cooked to preference, tender, juicy, his permisteral blend of spices and herbs and buttery sauce and the garlicky sautéed mushrooms were the perfect accent to the fine quality meat; it was a five-star winner!

As I was savoring my second bite, Pops caught me staring at him, and his eyebrows rose in question. "What?"

I swallowed before answering. "I stand in awe – no, let me change that; I kneel at the feet of your magnificence!"

He chuckled. "I take that to mean that you like your steak."

"Huh! I've liked everything you've made, you're a great cook, but in this case 'like' doesn't begin to describe it! What's the word...ambrosia, that's it - it's the food of the gods! And you did this on a rocky lakeshore, working from a tiny little boat kitchen and on a measly little propane grill...what in the hell are you doing running a little bitty café in a dinky town like Hanksville? You could be earning six figures in some top restaurant – hell, with food like this, you could own a top restaurant in any major city and just about print money!"

Tiff objected "Hey! Careful how you talk about my town – and don't even think of stealing our little...OK, our big – secret! You can't have him, he's ours!"

"No offense meant lady, I love small towns, but he's wasted there Tiff! Really Pops, you could make huge money." Others were backing me up, mostly about the incredible food but, in Ronnie's case (probably sensing an investment opportunity) on Pops' potential for greatness.
Pops just shook his big head. "Nah. Been there, done that. Look, I'm happy doing what I'm doing. It took me awhile to figure it out, but money isn't everything; I love where I am and what I do, and at this stage of my life, that's what I'm looking for. Good people like Tiffany and her dad, the other folks in town, my own little place, my peace of mind – really guys, I'm not looking to change a thing. I don't need the money, and I love my life just fine, just the way it is. I appreciate the thought though; anyone that loves to cook appreciates the compliments on their work!"

We had all continued to eat as we talked, of course – the food was too good to allow anything else – and the praise continued to rain down on him. He tried to demur, his "It's just steaks", and "It's probably just the company, or the outside air – everything tastes better outdoors" falling on deaf ears. We may not be gourmands by any stretch, but we could all recognize greatness! Finally, he relented. "Well, I'm just glad you're enjoying it. These were some fine aged steaks – the good stuff - that I'd ordered for me and a few good friends. As it turns out that's what I ended up using them for, although it's for different friends than I'd planned – guess I'll have to reorder. It gives me a great deal of pleasure to know you appreciate fine food and the effort Trell and I put into it, so how 'bout y'all just shut up and eat!"

We did as instructed, enjoying every bite, until we we'd cleaned our plates, at which point we mostly sighed with contentment and leaned back, fully and completely satisfied. Really, it just doesn't get any better; good friends, good wine, incredible food, peace and contentment all while surrounded by natural wonders and a huge sky that was just beginning to show the first few stars of the tens of thousands that would soon appear. It was truly one of those vey special moments, and we all seemed to sense it as we silently shared it.

Eventually – surprisingly – it was Kori that broke the silence, interrupting our reverie with a loud belch! She giggled. "Sorry, excuse me – that snuck up on me!" A moment later Trell snorted, trying not to laugh, and that did it. Pretty soon we were all laughing and giving Kori grief for being such a little piggy. It wouldn't have surprised anyone if one of us guys was a bit uncouth – that's sort of our thing – but for K it was entirely out of character, which is, obviously, why it struck everyone as so funny. Childish, to be sure, but we were sure having fun!

As the mirth died down, Ron called for clean-up, planning on the four of us doing it and allowing Tiff, Trell, and Pops to sit and relax, since they'd done all of the prep, cooking, and serving labor. Of course they wouldn't hear of it, insisting that we all relax and let them clean up. Accordingly, all seven of us ended up working at it, bumping into each other and getting in each other's way. Still, it went swiftly, and soon we were all finding places to settle in around the fire. K nestled in between Ron and Pops on one side of the fire, then there was the big rock at the end, and on the other side, next to the rock, it was Tiff, then Trell, then Kristi, with me on the end; the other end of the circle – or the oval, really - opposite the big rock was left open, because that's the direction the smoke was drifting, out toward the lake where it seemed to hang just a foot or two above the water, a small gray curtain in the vast space.

The fire had burned low. Our big log, the long piece, had finally burned through enough that we were able to break it in half and lay both pieces, each now about 6 feet long, across the hot coals to burn into halves yet again. It was clear, however, that we were going to need more wood, and as soon as we started to discuss that fact, Trell rose to his feet. "I'll go. I'm sure I can find some. Anyone want to go with me?" He looked hopefully (and transparently) from Tiff to Kristi as he asked that, and I was only mildly surprised when Kristi stood and brushed herself off, offering to accompany him. Still, it gave me a little bit of a pang right to the upper left chest!

That sharp little sting eased some when she turned to me and, by looking at me in that way that couples have, eyebrows raised, silently asked me if it was OK for her to go with him. This was a whole different feeling, one that I'm not sure I liked a whole lot better; now I felt like my friends might judge me for being too controlling, for requiring her to ask my permission before she did something as innocent – in theory, at least – as accompanying Trell to collect firewood! I know what you're thinking: Fuck, this guy is never happy; damned if you do, damned if you don't! The reamister I know what you're thinking is because, at that moment, I was thinking pretty much the exact same thing.

The thing is, I couldn't help but notice that Trell had specifically addressed his request for help to Tiff and Kristi. He hadn't asked me, or Ronnie, or Pops, and so I didn't feel it was much of a stretch to assign an ulterior motive to his eagerness to wander off down the beach with one of the girls. I mean, I didn't just fall off the turnip truck you know – and besides, in his shoes I would probably have done the very same thing! That said, I couldn't fault his judgment and, like I said, the idea that he and Kristi might get together on our last night there didn't really come as a huge surprise. It was maybe the one pairing that had not yet happened, so there was a certain sense of inevitability. Accordingly, in one of those go-with-the-flow moments, I gave her a small shrug and a smile, more of a "whatever" than a ringing endorsement, and she understood.

She bent to kiss me, saying aloud "We'll be back in a few minutes – don't let our fire go out", but when she was close to me she whispered "You know you can say no – or come with us if you want."

I shook my head no, and as she straightened I said "You two be careful out there, but find lots of wood so we can sit up late by the fire tonight – oh, and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Kristi, recognizing by my words that I was along for the ride, bit her lower lip, and then, with a devilish gleam in her eye, said "Well, that doesn't really limit the possibilities all that much, now does it?"

That got a good laugh from the assemblage, the momentary awkwardness I felt about the group's awareness of what was clearly going to be some sort of interlude between my fiancée and Trell now past, accepted by them and (more or less) by me as part of the way we were all spending our time together. It was, in effect, no big deal to anyone else that they were in all likelihood going off somewhere to fuck. Except to me it still sort of was, even though I found I could accept the fact, that I could rationalize it. It still twisted my guts just a little, no matter how open-minded I wanted to be or thought I was, and despite the fact that she had made it a point to ask me, to clear it with me first; that helped, certainly, but it didn't make the pain and confusion completely disappear the way I had thought – and hoped - that it might.

Apparently, however, my façade of equanimity was effective, because Kristi turned and left with Trell; I know in my heart that if she had been aware of even the slightest trepidation on my part she would not have gone. Or at least I managed to convince myself that was the case. In any event, they turned and headed up the beach, back toward the jumble of rocks at the closed end of the bay. They started out hand in hand, but as he helped her down a small drop-off he took both of her hands for a moment, and as she then walked beside him he put his arm over her shoulder, moving it lower as they moved away, first to the small of her back, and then to the upper curve of her ass as they disappeared from the light of our fire. He wasn't wasting any time, that was certain!

Stormy,
Nicely set up again. Of course if Adam didn't truly care about Kristi, his heart wouldn't have missed a beat about this, especially after all that has just gone on during the boat trip. No, it's Kristi he (and the rest of us!) he is tied to. He just needs to reconcile how tight he is happy to tie those ropes, and how tight Kristi is happy to tie him. I suspect the next baby she wants him to man may be in her, for example. We'll see maybe.

Stormy,

I'm hurt - no Peter Luger in the list of great steak houses? Just kidding.

Great segment. Thanks for sharing.

Stormy,
I've been a closet reader for a couple of years. I admire your dedication to this story. You certainly are long lasting. Always look forward to the next post.

While I'm here - back to the top

Storm

That was excellent, both your description of the meal and the depiction of Adam's uncertain feelings about Kristi going off with Trell.

In one of your earlier responses to my comments you suggested that you and I borrow from each other. I would suggest that it might be more appropriate to say that we've learned from each other, at least I feel that I've learned from you. That said, I think both of us also write about the dismisterance and indecision inherent in life as a willing cuckold.

Anyway, thanks for writing. As always I enjoyed it immensely.

GH

bump....

Thanks for the comments everyone, you know I always appreciate the support. I'd like to come back later and respond, because, never being one to use few words when many will do, I would like to say more than just thanks. Right now, though I need to post and run. Just got this edited and wanted to get it on here before the weekend. Hope you enjoy!
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The five of us remaining around the fire chatted about nothing in particular, just enjoying the time, place, and company. Tiff moved closer to me, our elbows touching as we reclined with our feet toward the fire. To my complete amazement, Kristi and Trell returned in less than ten minutes, their arms laden with driftwood that they'd found. They explained that they had come across a place up the beach, up the shore a ways and behind some rocks, where the wood had apparently floated in and gotten trapped when the level of the lake dropped. There was a fair amount of now-very high-and-dry wood ranging in size from twigs up to small logs, more than enough to meet our needs for the evening. They dropped the loads they carried and headed back for more; although they hadn't been gone long, it was apparent that they had pawed at each other a bit, as their clothes were a bit disheveled.
Actually, none of us was wearing enough (the uniform of the day being shorts and a t-shirt, at most) to really appear noticeably disheveled. What made it apparent was that Trell's zipper was all the way down and gapped open over an obvious bulge, and Kristi's cute little tattletale nipples were in full alert mode. Since his zipper had been closed before, her shirt had had two more buttons fastened (not that I was keeping track...) and her nipples had not been like that when they left - and it was far from cold out - those struck me as pretty reliable indicators. Fact was, though, they just had not been gone long enough to accomplish more than a little groping and petting...and I'm not really sure why I thought that was a good thing! I guess perhaps because they had not just jumped all over each other and gone at it like a couple of rutting dogs, maybe. That's a good thing, right?

Ronnie took responsibility for stoking the fire, pushing things around a bit before adding more wood. I watched him as he poked the fire, raising a shower of sparks to the night sky. I'm used to camping in more wooded areas, many of which are quite dry after mid-summer, and have always been conscious of that and careful about sending out showers of sparks; here, on the barren, rocky lakeshore, the danger of fire was nil, so that particular concern did not exist. It wasn't until he had finished playing with fire and lowered himself back down alongside Kori that I noticed that she had sidled up against Pops, who was on her other side, leaning back in his elbows, feet toward the fire and thus toward me and Tiff on the far side. Kori was facing toward him, her breasts touching his side, propped on one elbow as she ran her other hand over the front of his pants.

More precisely, she was running her hand over a particularly long, thick bulge inside of his pants, a bulge that looked like nothing so much as if he had stashed one of those multi-battery Maglites – three D-cells, at least – up his pants leg. If she was looking for the ON button, it appeared to me as if she had already found it! Watching her fondle Pops – and being the acknowledged voyeur that I am – the tableau gave me a pretty significant thrill in the groinal region. Clearly it was doing the same for Ronnie – all the more so probably, as his wife was the fondler – because he was touching himself through his pants as he stared at them.

That Ron would silently play with himself as he watched them didn't particularly surprise me. What surprised me was when Ronnie snugged himself tightly to Kori's luscious backside and began grinding his little hardon against her as he reached across and slid his hand up the leg opening of Pops' shorts, clearly groping the older man's hard cock! What surprised me even more was when he pushed, pulled, and tugged enough at clothing and anatomy to get four or five inches of very thick, very hard, and very black cock exposed, and began to eagerly stroke it, his hand and Kori's vying for purchase. I thought my surprise was complete when Ron crawled across Kori and, leaning over Pops, gripped his big cock, using his hand to retract the heavy foreskin, and took as much of the big, dark penis as he could into his mouth!

Turns out I was wrong again; my surprise was complete only after Kori joined her husband in giving oral attention to Pops huge organ (they had freed most of it - with his eager cooperation - from his pants by now) and he sighed and leaned back, yanking on his pants to give them maximum access, as he said "Mmmm, now that's what I'm talkin' about!"
He had no qualms about Ronnie taking part in sucking his cock – and Ronnie, apparently, had no second thoughts about doing so either, even in front of an audience! You could have knocked me over with a feather – although I might have broken my now very hard cock if you had! Truth be told, although it was very strange for me to see my buddy Ron doing that – and the thought of doing it myself did nothing for me – the sight of the three of them simply enjoying each other so openly, so engrossed in what they were doing and so obviously finding pleasure in it, was both moving and arousing.

I happened to glance at Tiff, to see how she was receiving this, only to find her watching me, a small, crooked little smile on her face. Almost a smirk, I guess. "What?"

She laughed. "You should see the look on your face right now! It's classic, like you don't know whether to applaud, join in, or run away, yet you keep watching! You really are a funny guy, you know that?"

I shrugged and answered weakly "Well, at least everyone seems to be enjoying themselves."

She smiled. "Yeah, looks like. How about you? Are you some pervert that's just going to sit here and get his jollies watching other people do it?"

I tried to fight back even as I tried to deflect. "Hey! I'm not a pervert! I'll have you know that I'm a fine, upstanding citizen and a pillar of my community!"

She leaned into me and slid her hand into my shorts, seizing my swollen cock. "Mmmm, yeah – and I've got your fine upstanding pillar right here to prove it!"

Her fingers wrapped around me felt good. Real good. I groaned "Uhhmm, man! That's nice. I can't really help it you know, I get very horny when I see that kind of stuff. I guess I haven't seen it or been around it enough to build up any immunity. My body just reacts like this."

She giggled. "Why would you want to – be immune to it, I mean? I react the same way – only opposite of course, since I'm a woman – both from watching them, and from touching you."

"For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction – Newton's third law of motion, if I remember my physics correctly."

She was staring at me. "You're more than a little weird sometimes, you know that? Here, feel..." she took my hand and guided it to her pussy. I was somewhat surprised to discover that at some point in all of our comings and goings from the boat she had slipped panties on, but they did little or nothing to disguise her condition. She was hot, steamy hot, and wet, her panties noticeably moist, and her pure and unabashed arousal sent sparks through my abdomen, and my cock throbbed. Any remaining thoughts about Newton, or physics, or pretty much anything except the beautiful, horny woman in front of me vanished from my mind. I was just glad that my momentary nerd-ness had not scared her away!

Other than the panties that she had added at some point, she remained in nothing but a long shirt, with no bra beneath, and her nipples were also declaring her arousal. I cupped and then gently squeezed her right breast, marveling at the heft and firm resilience of it. Her boobs were large and soft and oh so feminine, but sagged very little, and that due solely to their size and weight. She had the largest breasts of our three ladies, considerably larger than Kristi's, and while I love my lady's smallish, firm tits, I can certainly understand where a pair like Tiff's could also be very enjoyable! A fleeting thought ran through my head that maybe the variety, the physical differences between people, was one of the things that so aroused Kristi and caused her to want to pursue other lovers from time to time. I could understand that, I suppose.

Her nipple was puckered and stiff, and she moaned softly as I gently pinched and fondled it, letting my fingertips bump across it as I stroked her. "Mmm! You know, I was already pretty wet, but if you keep doing that I might start making steam."

I laughed. "Now that I would like to see! That would be a new one for me; is it something you do often?"

She shuddered under my touch, and I chose to assume it was with arousal rather than revulsion. My choice was affirmed when she replied "Not nearly often enough! God that feels good – I hope you're planning to follow through on all this teasing and touching."

"Can't think of any reamister why we shouldn't. Can you?"

Her eyes searched my face for a moment. "You're not too weirded-out by Kristi and Trell running off like they did?"

I hesitated for a moment. "Uhh, no I guess not. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit 'weirded-out', to use your term, but not so much so that I'd let an opportunity like you pass me by. What's the old saying, good for the goose, good for the gander, something like that?"

She laughed. "Oh my god, my dad uses that one all the time – and yes, that's how it goes. I'm glad you feel that way, because I'd really like to feel that big, hard, gorgeous cock of yours inside of me again."

"What a coincidence! I'd really like to feel it inside of you again too - and I'm pretty sure that we can find a way to make that happen." I chose not to dwell on the fact that I'd managed to remind her of her dad at that particular moment; that just might have made me too "weirded-out".

She squirmed over against me, her body soft and voluptuous. My nostrils were flooded with the pheromones of a warm, sexy, healthy, horny female, and I felt my heartbeat and breathing kick up a notch or two in response. She kissed the side of my jaw, and then my lips when I turned my head to meet her, and her tongue found its way into my mouth, searching and probing. I sucked at it, tasting her, our tongues dancing, and my cock strained and throbbed in her hands.

My hands took over, tugging at her panties, and she wriggled around in an attempt – quickly successful – to help me get them off of her. Impediment removed, my fingers found her, gliding in her silky lubrication as I explored her soft folds, probing the sensitive nooks and crannies, my middle finger sliding into her as she gasped into my ear. She was so hot, and so wet, and when she squeezed down on my finger I think I might have let out a little gasp of my own! My heart was pounding, my body almost quivering with arousal as I touched her; when my thumb found the hard nub of her clit and her body convulsed with the sensation, and she groaned "Ohhh, god!" into my ear, I could feel the pressure of my own arousal feeding off of hers, my orgasm resting precariously on the brink of release.

I clenched all of my muscles throughout my pelvis and abdomen, fighting it off, and I may have even visualized the molecular structures of methane versus the more complex butane in my head, counting electrons, or done a couple of long equations. Whatever I did, it worked, and I somehow avoided coming all over both her and myself like some overexcited fourteen year old boy as my fingers brought Tiffany to a shuddering, gasping orgasm. It's not fair that she could let loose and climax while I clenched and shook and got muscle cramps to avoid embarrassing myself, but it is what it is – and the fact that she so clearly enjoyed it more than made up for the inequity!

As she came back to earth and collapsed limply against me, I freed myself from her grasp and rose up to my knees to get out of my shorts. The move was partly logistical – I did want my shorts off, certainly - and partly strategic; I desperately needed my aching cock out of her grasping, stroking fingers for a moment to allow my arousal to subside a bit. When I tugged my shorts off, my cock sprang out in front of me, hard as a broomstick – thicker, thankfully, and not as long, of course, but every bit as stiff!

Tiff looked up at me and smiled. "Wow! Did I do that?"
Silly question – but before I could formulate a clever answer, she leaned forward and took me into her mouth, her hand coming up under my balls to fondle me as her lips and tongue performed magic tricks on my cock. Any answer I might have been able to put together quickly dissolved into a gasp of pure pleasure.

She pulled back smiling up at me. "Let me know if you're going to cum in my mouth, OK? It's fine – just warn me first."

I groaned, enjoying her touch. "Uunnnhhh...right now that's not in the plan, but I'll try to let you know if the plan changes. Which it could do – suddenly."

She laughed. "That's all I ask." She went back to sucking me, demonstrating an enthusiasm and s******* that was sure to necessitate a change of plans if I didn't soon take steps to intervene. I was at that stage inside where the sensations all start to coalesce into that sudden, liquid rush of release, a release that I very much wanted to achieve deep inside of her. Plus, more than anything, I wanted to prolong our pleasure!

I pulled away, gasping as I slid out of her suctioning mouth. "Ohhh, damn! That was amazing, but I was about to lose it. Sorry." She still had my testicles in her hand as I squeezed the base of my cock with my right hand and felt the rush that had been building inside of me pause, and then slowly start to subside.

She shrugged. "I told you it was fine – really, I love it; I just like to be ready."

"No, I know, but I have other plans. I want to keep enjoying this – enjoying you – for awhile. It was too soon."

She raised her eyebrows in a sexy little challenge. "No, really, go ahead – I'll bet I can get you interested in a round two!"

It was my turn to laugh. "I have no doubt – and that sounds like a great idea – but it's still no reamister not to stretch out round one as long as possible." As I said that I said that I was pushing her back onto the cushions beneath us, and I started to kiss my way down her body, from her neck to her shoulders, to her breasts (where I'll admit to pausing for an inordinate amount of time relative to that spent on her neck or shoulders), and then on down to her stomach, probing her cute little navel, and then lower. She began to move beneath my lips, her hips gyrating, offering the universally-recognized invitation to explore lower still.

I bypassed her sex, brushing close, grazing her soft curls as she parted her legs to give me access, and gently kissed my way down her thighs, down on the outside, then across at her knee, tickling that tender area behind the joint with my tongue before moving back upward on her sensitive inner thigh, toward her moist heat. She gasped in arousal and frustration as I again skipped over her wet, swollen sex to make the same journey on her other thigh, down, across, lingering behind her knee, and then slowly – ever so slowly – back up the inside of her thigh, savoring her warm, smooth skin, her heat, her arousal, and the soft, musky, female scent of her.

I was looming over her, my hands on her legs and my achingly hard cock throbbing between my own as I touched and teased, opening her, ignoring her soft whimpers and moans and her writhing movements, all designed to get me to touch her center, while at the same time being deeply aroused by them. If what I was doing was working on her, it was working at least as well on me! I kissed and stroked my way back up her inn thigh again, my fingertips teasing her by softly caressing the lower curve of her ass. She was nearly frantic by now, writhing and moaning, biting her lip.

By this time Kristi would have been demanding that I get to it, that I proceed to the one spot where she most wanted to feel my tongue and lips – or she might have even grabbed my hair or my head and pulled me to her, taking control of her own pleasure, asserting herself by powering the issue. Not so with Tiff though!
I'm not sure if it was a desire to just enjoy each and every new sensation fully, as things unfolded, or a lack on her part of that type of assertiveness, but despite the fact that I was obviously driving her crazy she never pushed the issue, or tried to take control in any way. She had put herself completely in my hands – something that I sensed did not come easily to her – and I was determined not to disappoint her or betray her trust. Besides, I was enjoying the hell out of it!

I got up to my knees and moved between her legs, sliding my hands down the tops of her thighs to her knees, and just looked down at her for a moment, enjoying the beauty of her body, the flat stomach, smooth muscles flexing with each gasping breath; her high, firm tits with their large erect nipples, the taper of her waist to the flare of her hips, and her long, shapely legs. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, and her face and upper chest were flushed with arousal. As my fingers gently stroked her legs, her eyes opened, her pupils large, dilated with lust, but also with an unspoken question; she was wondering why I'd stopped.

I smiled at her, and her eyes dropped to look down the length of her body to where my erection jutted up between her legs, hard and swollen in front of my stomach. Clearly that was not an issue, and she smiled up at me before biting her lower lip and raising her eyebrows, silently asking me what I was doing. Rather than answering, I showed her. I slid my hands up her legs, enjoying the feel of her smooth, warm skin on my fingers and palms. Raising her legs so that they could ride over the tops of my arms and leaning forward, I continued to slide my hands up her body, over her hips and up her sides, my thumbs gently depressing her firm belly and then my fingers feeling the hardness of her ribs. At the same time that my hands came into contact with her breasts, my face met her pussy, and as I nuzzled into her wet heat and squeezed her big breasts, her body rose to meet me, thrusting her aroused and eager sex against my lips and tongue.

Seeing a new post on this story always makes me smile. I enjoyed it immensely.

Thank you, I appreciate and am enjoying your ongoing efforts as you bring this great story to a close.

GH

Stormy, that was HOT.

Just what I needed on this cold dismal looking morning. Thank you sir.

Thanks for another steamy scene, and another venture into Adam's confused head. With anticipation, I wonder which path Adam will take to complete his journey. Much appreciated.

Stormy,

I think I see where you are going here. Kristy is just trouble. Tiffany may be Adam's ultimate salvation, despite Kristy's protests of undying love.

Stormy, you are the Rembrandt of sex scenes and you just painted another masterpiece with that last segment.

Reading you and GH back to back is overpowering.

Excuse me, I have a strong urge to go and jump on my wife.

Excellent writing as always.

TrF2

Hello,

once again thank you for that fantastic story !
And I really love that segment : I love tiffany, she is more a girl next door, Kristy may love him but is simply too much for my taste. Living with her would be exhausting ! With Tiff it would be still possible to have some kink, some extra fun, but in a more subdued, control way, for some reamisters I have the feeling that since the dam broke with kristy it would be a constant thing.

Anyway, thank again.