When Our Love Was New by A_Bierce
I was tracing my tongue along that irresistible crease at the bottom of Kim’s left breast—she couldn’t pass the pencil test if her life depended on it—when I tasted something that had no business being there. The slimy texture and slightly bitter taste narrowed down the possibilities. A lot. Too much, in fact. I hadn’t shot off on her breasts for at least six months, maybe more. The obvious conclusion caused my erection to start beating a hasty retreat.
It’s amazing how fast your mind can work when pressed. I was pretty sure what it meant, but couldn’t be positive. I didn’t want her to know what I’d found until I had a chance to learn more, so I had to keep up with the program even though my dick was heading for the hangar. Before she could wonder why I’d hit the pause button while tasting one of her sub-boob creases—a place that used to be one of my favorite lick spots—I headed south.
She knew I was headed for one of her favorite lick spots and mmm’d her approval. After a brief stop to explore her belly button with a spit-soaked index finger, I dragged my lips to her mons but stopped short of the Promised Land. She rested her hands on my head without pushing. Yet.
Kim responded enthusiastically as I started worshiping her labia majora and minora. Her moans and motions inspired my little head to rise to the occasion again, confirming that it had no conscience. My heart may not have been in it, but my mind was saying “What the hell” and my dick was yelling “Hellya! Go for it!”
I didn’t tease her as long as I usually did before attacking her clitoris with lips, tongue, and fingers, but still managed to bring her to two satisfactory orgasms before thrusting into her. Despite the return of my hardon, the blow to my confidence (and libido) meant I had to keep pounding away a lot longer than usual before finally spurting a feeble output. There might have been a bit of love involved, but it was mostly just lust, a borderline hate fuck.
Kim, of course, had no idea why I lasted so long. “Wow! What do I owe that to?” She giggled. “I mean, to what do I owe that?” Still the English major, even after a thorough rogering. “If it was something I did, tell me so I can be sure to do it again.”
“Nope, just thought you had it coming.” She giggled again, unaware of my double meaning.
“Boy did I! Over and over and over.” The prolonged pounding meant she couldn’t tell that I’d just dribbled. She was so out of it I could probably even have faked it. She cuddled up against my side, then threw a leg over me. Before she could start any more preparations for a second round, I begged off with the beginnings of a bad headache. She was disappointed but still grateful. “Would it help if I massaged your scalp?”
“I think a hot shower and sleep will do better.” That sounded too much like rejection which I wasn’t planning, at least not yet. “Can I get a rain check?” She nodded and rolled over to seek her own sleep while I headed for the bathroom.
The long hot shower didn’t wash away my dark thoughts. I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep, but not long after crawling into bed with Kim I fell into a dreamless sleep that lasted until she called me to breakfast. I quickly shaved, dressed, and joined her and our two boys in the kitchen.
Mark is eight and Jason is five. Kim and I met our junior year at Fresno State. She got the aforementioned BA in English, me a BS in Computer Science. She was from Modesto, I was a Navy brat from Lemoore, and we both thought the Central Valley was too hot and way too damn boring. We got married a month after graduating and weren’t exactly flush, so our honeymoon was a weekend in San Francisco. We shoulda followed Tony’s example and left our hearts there.
Thanks to a recommendation from one of my profs, I was offered a job with a small company in Monterey that did custom software for county governments. We found an apartment in Seaside, a few miles north. Despite no experience with either business or law, Kim landed a job as legal secretary in a small law firm and we were launched. She worked for almost three years until a few months before Mark was born. By then I was making enough to support us, so she became a stay-at-home mom and seemed to love it.
When the small software company was bought by a bigger one, I was one of the lucky ones who didn’t get the sack. Instead, I was promoted and discovered that I enjoyed managing people and projects, in fact was pretty good at it. I got some stock options, we prospered, bought a house, settled into middle-income life. When both boys started all-day school, Kim started talking about going back to work.
Dipshit me, my only reaction was to start planning how to spend the extra money. Every once in a while I wonder if I could have headed things off if I’d reacted more wisely.
Aunt Monika thought it would be cute to teach Herman to speak German as well as English, so from the time he started talking he was bilingual. After a few years he was saddled with the nickname Herman the German. Inevitably, by the time he got to middle school—thanks to the innate orneriness of young males—it was shortened to Germ (not Germy, that was reserved for another poor kid named Jeremy).
He didn’t like it, so naturally all the boys except his good friends called him that, and sometimes even they couldn’t resist tweaking him with “Hey, Germ!” then a fake sneeze, or a sly “Hey Germ, infected any girls lately?” They finally quit after he started beating the snot out of anybody who called him Germ, good friend or no.
He’s too self-centered to realize it, but he’s had hardly any good friends since, just acquaintances who act friendly when they want something.
Herman was a big kid who grew up to be a big man—6-3 and a solid 220, thanks to spending a lot of time in the weight room after he showed a real talent for football. His size and speed were fortified by his natural aggressiveness heightened by his frustration at being called Germ. The result made him an outstanding defender in high school (all-state MLB junior and senior years) and college (where he was bulked up and moved to DE).
Germ had no illusions about being good enough for pro ball. He stuck to his studies, went on to law school, and joined his father’s criminal defense practice. It wasn’t the largest law firm in town, but the best known (some critics preferred “most infamous”) and definitely the priciest. The same bellicose attitude that made him a good defensive player made him a very successful criminal defense lawyer. He billed lots of hours and married a long-legged, big-titted brunette named Zoë.