Crumple Zone by JimBob44,JimBob44

*Author’s Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

*Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

*.*.*

“You, I thought, aren’t all of y’all going to Red’s? To celebrate your divorce?” Holly Tannenbaum asked, sticking her head into Marc Trahan’s office.

The beautiful blonde gasped as Marc looked up, eyes red. He nudged the thick sheaf of papers with his hand and attempted a smile.

“Honestly? They just needed a reason to get some wings and beer. My failure as a husband is hardly worth celebrating, is it?” The handsome man smiled sadly.

I uh, I don’t know enough of the details to know if you failed as a husband, or Becky failed as a wife,” Holly said, her beautiful hazel eyes peering into Marc’s warm brown eyes.

“Wow, that, that is the perfect HR response,” he smiled.

“What can I say?” Holly smiled tightly. “I’m good at my job.”

“Know what? Staring at this,” Marc again nudged his decree of divorce. “Isn’t going make this any better.

Even though her whitish blonde hair was in a large bun, a small hank of blonde hair had fallen forward. Holly pushed the hank of blonde hair out of her eyes. When she did so, the maneuver thrust her 32D breasts against her snug blouse. She nodded her head in agreement.

“True, true. When I divorced Mattie, sitting around feeling sorry for myself didn’t make me any less divorced,” Holly agreed.

“Know what? Casa Ole’s got a pretty decent margarita and I like their steak fajitas,” Marc said, standing. “Want to join me?”

Holly was on the verge of refusing, then looked into his hopeful eyes. She held up one finger.

“Give me one minute; need to make a phone call,” she agreed and turned around.

Marc picked up his vinyl briefcase and dropped the thick sheaf of legalese mumbo-jumbo that declared that he and Rebecca Trahan were no longer husband and wife into the cheap piece of luggage. Becky Trahan could go back to Stepping Stone, Louisiana. Becky could return to being Becky Wright. Becky could go anywhere, do anything she wanted to do; she was no longer Marc Trahan’s problem.

Stepping outside of his office, Marc looked at the nameplate affixed to the wall next to his door. ‘Marcus S. Trahan’ and underneath his name, the brass plaque read ‘Manager of Marketing.’

“Manager of marketing, Mom,” Marc thought. “Not bad for someone too God damned stupid tie his own shoes. But uh, how’s your precious Irwin doing these days?”

The rustle of clothes told him someone was approaching and Marc turned. His jaw slammed onto the floor and bounced a few times as Holly approached. She’d taken the time to release her thigh length white blonde tresses from her severe bun and had changed out of her bland, nondescript pantsuit into a slinky, clingy red top with spaghetti straps and knee length black skirt. In her five inch heels, she was close to Marc’s height.

Ready?” Holly smiled, gripping his right arm in her two arms.

“Oh dear God; I, I bet she doesn’t even have a bra on underneath that thing,” Marc thought as Holly’s impressive chest pressed against his bicep. “Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard.”

“Listen, hope you don’t mind, but I would just feel so much better if we took my car,” Holly admitted as they stepped out of the Boyd Building onto the attached parking deck.

“Hmm? No, no, that makes perfect sense,” Marc agreed as she led him past his F150 pickup truck.

“I, this? This is yours?” Marc gawked at the 1965 ragtop Ford Mustang.

“Mm hmm,” Holly agreed, unlocking the passenger door. “Well, really, it was my dad’s, but…”

“And how’d you manage to pry the keys out of his hand?” Marc asked when Holly started to walk around the car.

Marc got in and reached over and unlocked her door. She got in, flashing a good expanse of stocking clad thigh as she did so.

“Wasn’t easy,” Holly smiled sadly.

Marc was astute enough to see that Holly didn’t care to elaborate on how she came to be in possession of the classic automobile, so did not push the issue. She drove them to the trendy Mexican restaurant and they joined the small line of people waiting to be seated. Most of the patrons were just like them; the business professionals of St. Elizabeth Parish, looking to start their weekend with some spicy food and frozen alcoholic beverages.

The line moved quickly and within ten minutes, they were seated, menus in hand. Marc already knew what he wanted, but took a moment to see if they’d added anything new to the menu.

“Hmm, Margarita Fridays,” Marc read from a small insert in his menu. “Blue, you ever had a blue margarita?”

“No, you?” Holly smiled as an attractive red headed waitress placed the basket of chips and small bowl of salsa in front of them.

Marc ordered a twelve ounce blue margarita and winced when Holly ordered an iced tea, unsweetened. The waitress scurried away to place their drink orders.

“Great, now I’m going feel like a lush, drinking a margarita while you drink iced tea,” Marc complained.

“Hey, I wasn’t driving? I’d ordered the twenty ounce,” Holly assured him. “Maybe next time, okay?”

“Okay,” Marc smiled at the thought of there being a ‘next time’ with the blonde beauty.

He nodded with satisfaction as the waitress placed the drink in front of him, along with a glass of iced water. He picked up his glass and took a sip.

“May I?” Holly asked after Marc swallowed his sip and nodded in satisfaction.

Marc studied Holly’s beautiful face as she took a dainty sip of his drink. As she tilted her head, lips pursed in concentration, he admired her square face, large hazel eyes underneath two perfectly shaped slashes of light eyebrows, her slim nose and her full, pouting lips.

When she shrugged and smiled, her teeth were perfectly white, perfectly straight. Her face, her throat, her shoulders were lightly tanned. Her breasts strained against the slinky material of her camisole top and Marc swore that he could see the outline of her hard nipples and crinkled areolae poking holes into the stretchy blood red material.

“I kind of like that,” Holly agreed, then looked up as their waitress appeared. “Three enchilada plate, please. The chicken.”

“Gracias,” said their red headed waitress. “Senor?”

“Steak fajita,” Marc ordered, smirking at the red headed woman’s use of Spanish.

“So, Marc, why do you say you failed as a husband,” Holly asked quietly as their waitress walked away.

Marc told Holly about meeting Becky Wright on the campus of the University of Louisiana at DeGarde. In truth, they had little in common. She was a mediocre student that had grown up as the oldest child out of three daughters, grown up in a trailer in Stepping Stone, Louisiana. He had grown up as the baby of the family; three girls and one older brother. The girls had doted on him and the brother had bullied and tormented him mercilessly. Since he couldn’t fight back physically, Marc fought back by getting straight A’s throughout school.

Even though Trudy, Sacha and Helena had doted on him, Marc’s mother liked to joke, after three girls and Irwin, she was just too worn out to pay any attention to Marcus. Friends and family would laugh or nod knowingly, but to Marc, being ignored or passed over by his mother was nothing to laugh about.

Edmund, their father was a good and loving man, when he was home. When Marc was six, his mother and father divorced and Ed Trahan simply stopped coming around.

“And?” Holly prompted after a long moment of silence.

“Straight A’s. Got all straight A’s,” Marc affirmed. “Anyway, my roommate drags me to this kegger, we’re there ten minutes and this cute girl runs right into me, spilling her beer all over me.”

“Works every time,” Holly giggled. “Know how many cute guys I met doing that at Connelly?”

Marc laughed out loud at Holly’s admission. Their food arrived and Marc told Holly about Becky’s big push for a diamond engagement ring.

“You know, something she can show her Mom and her sisters and all her friends back in Stepping Stone,” Marc said and groaned in pleasure as the tasted his succulent steak fajita.

“Were you at the engagement ring status at that time?” Holly asked.

“I guess,” Marc shrugged. “I mean, she was the first girl that didn’t want to know all about Irwin, didn’t spend all her time staring at Irwin, following Irwin’s every move.”

“No, Marc. Were you ready to be engaged? It is a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question,” Holly said, hazel eyes studying him.

“No, not really,” Marc admitted. “But she got her nineteen thousand dollar ring, I got my degree; she’d already flunked out by that time, and we’re living in Camelot Apartments.”

“Which one? Mattie and I lived in apartment three oh two,” Holly disclosed.

“No kidding? We were in two oh seven, facing the pool. Anyway, remember? Martin sent three of us to that conference in Santa Rosa?” Marc said.

“Mm hmm,” Holly agreed, scraping some beans and rice onto her fork.

“But this big forest fire cancelled the convention. So Derek and I got on the next plane out; Finnegan had family out there so he stayed,” Marc continued. “We get back, Derek gave me a ride from the Lafayette airport home.”

Holly watched as Marc told of stepping into his apartment, entering his bedroom, and discovering his wife in bed with not one, but two African-American men. She studied his eyes as he described the horrific beating the two men delivered and of his wife calmly sitting in bed, watching the savage pummeling the two men delivered to him.

“Thank God for Mrs. Knudsen next door,” Marc said. “I’m pretty sure they would have killed me had the cops not shown up.”

Holly remembered Marc showing up for work a few days after the ill-fated convention, eyes blackened and nose covered by thick adhesive bandages. She looked at his nose; Marc’s surgeon had done a masterful job of repairing the damage.

“Room for dessert? We’ve got a chocolate flan that’s out of this world,” their waitress suggested.

“Maybe if I hadn’t eaten all of those chips,” Holly smiled at the waitress.

Marc paid the bill, left a generous tip, and assisted Holly from her seat. She pointed out that he’d left half of his blue margarita and he shrugged.

“Oh, my ex-husband? He would have been asking you what’s wrong with you.” Holly tittered, taking his right arm in her two arms.

“Oh, Becky would have finished it for me,” Marc agreed.

Outside, a man in his late seventies, early eighties offered Holly fifty thousand dollars for her Mustang. She flashed a brilliant smile and admitted, it had been her father’s; she wouldn’t part with it for any amount of money.

Pulling up next to his pickup truck, Holly thanked Marc for a wonderful meal. Marc was initially surprised that she knew which vehicle was his; there were still a few vehicles parked in the multi-level parking deck. Any thought about anything at all vanished when the beautiful twenty three year old leaned over and pressed her moist lips to his. Her arms wound around his neck as she thrust her enchilada flavored tongue into his mouth.

“Thank you,” Holly whispered, breaking their kiss.

“I uh, you, you kidding?” Marc grunted. “No ma’am, thank you.”

She kissed him again, pressing her full breasts into him. Marc resisted the urge to grab her heavy orbs, resisted the urge to pinch and twist and pull her hard nipples.

“I uh, hey, you, you like Italian? I, ever been to Benito’s?” Marc asked. “Want to go there tomorrow night?”

“I can’t,” Holly smiled easily. “Hank, I broke a date with Hank; we were supposed to go to the Carrie Hebert exhibition at the Lopez Center; she’s an artist out of Myndee, Arkansas! Anyway, we were supposed to go there tonight, but I broke our date to go out with you.”

Holly kissed him again, then sat back. Marc resisted the urge to adjust his rampant erection as he opened his car door.

“But, maybe next Friday? Oh, and maybe next Saturday? Think of something all three of us can do, all of us together, okay?” Holly said. “You, me and Hank, all right?”

“Uh huh,” Marc agreed, closing the door of the pristine classic automobile.

“Hey, Marc, come on, you didn’t ask her to break a date with her boyfriend,” Marc consoled himself as he got into his truck.

“Shit, you didn’t even know she had a boyfriend,” Marc continued as he started the truck.

: But God damn, that Hank is one lucky bastard, huh?” Marc said, remembering Holly’s passionate kisses, the feeling of her breasts pressing against him.

Marc shuddered as he made his way from the parking lot of his apartment complex to his apartment. Outside, frolicking in the complex’s overly chlorinated swimming pool were two obese women. Marc wondered who would have the gall to sell plus sized thong bikinis. As he closed the door of his apartment, he wondered who would have the gall to buy plus sized thong bikinis.

“Well, apparently those two would,” Marc said, shuddering again, then parodied the Guns N/Roses song ‘Paradise city. “Oh take me down to the Cellulite City where the thighs are wide and the girls ain’t pretty…”

Opening his briefcase, Marc again saw the legal papers. He wondered what Becky had thought when she received the papers. Then, pushing thoughts of his wife, his ex-wife out of his head, Marc again thought of the beautiful Holly Tannenbaum.

Monday morning, as Marc prepared his cup of green tea with a heaping tablespoon of local wild honey, several Boyd Investment Group employees looked on as Holly filled Marc’s ear with chatter about the Carrie Hebert display. ‘Powerful’ and ‘provocative’ were words Holly used the most. Marc noticed Holly never used the word ‘beautiful’ though.

“Well, I suppose some of it is beautiful, in its raw simplicity,” Holly said thoughtfully.

With a ‘see you later,’ Holly bounded out of the lunch room. A few of the men watched her shapely rear end walk away. Some of the men, and some women looked at Marc with questioning eyes. A few even looked at Marc with hostility.

The Human Resources assistant had built a reputation in the office as an ice queen. Holly had constructed a thick and high wall around herself, then outside of that wall she’d dug a deep and wide moat then filled the moat with fire breathing dragons. A few men had braved asking the beautiful young woman for dates, and had been politely but firmly refused. The ones that would not take ‘No’ for an answer no longer worked at Boyd Investment Group.

At four o’clock, Holly stuck her head into Marc’s office. He looked up from his hand-written notes and smiled. She returned his smile warmly.

Some mocked Marc for resorting to writing his notes out, full hand, rather than typing on his computer. But, Marc claimed it helped him to organize his thoughts into legible, coherent ideas and plans.

“You like red beans and rice? Hank’s making that; it’s Monday. For whatever reason, Monday means red beans and rice,” Holly asked.

“Yes, yes I do,” Marc said. “My grandmother? On my Mother’s side? Oh. My. God.”

“Well, want to come over?” Holly invited. “It might not be as good as your grandmother’s but…”

“Absolutely,” Marc agreed and Holly smiled happily.

She gave him the address of her Lambert Condominiums condo while leaning across his desk. Marc fought hard, but managed to keep his eyes on her face, rather than on her unbelievable cleavage. The twinkle in her eye let Marc know she’d done her stretching and posing on purpose.

“Think I passed that test,” Marc smiled as Holly bounded out of his office.

“You are just going to love Hank,” Holly assured Marc when she opened the door of the condominium. “I know I sure do. Oh! Flowers? Oh, Marc, you didn’t have to do that!”

“I might like Hank, I might even want to drink a few beers with Hank, but I very seriously doubt I’ll ever love Hank,” Marc thought as he followed Holly into the condominium.

She’d taken the time to change out of her severe business suit and now wore a tank top and yoga pants. Marc wondered why in was called a ‘wife-beater’ shirt. He knew people claimed whenever there was a domestic disturbance call on ‘Cops’ or ‘Live PD’ television shows, the husband usually wore a tank top and filthy jeans. But Marc had seen just as many NASCAR tee shirts, ripped up flannel shirts, and shirtless torsos making appearances on those shows.

Marc admired the miniscule black panties that showed through the yoga pants. He followed as Holly turned the corner and stood in a brightly lit room, holding out the vase of flowers he’d picked up at the Burns & Burns Grocers grocery store.

“Look, Hank! He brought us flowers,” Holly said.

“And some ice cold St. Elizabeth Lager,” Marc said, wondering if Holly was aware that her light brown areolae and hard nipples were visible through her tank top.

“Oh! Oh, look at them; they’re beautiful,” Marc heard a musical voice enthuse.

Entering the kitchen, Marc saw a beautiful young woman at the stove. Her long blonde hair was shot through with strands of brown, what most people referred to as ‘dirty blonde.’ She too wore yoga pants and a tank top. She appeared to be the same height as Holly, seemed to be very similarly built as Holly, with slightly darker skin, and a rounder face. Her eyes were a deep chocolate brown, his mother would have called them doe eyes.

“Just waiting on the drop biscuits to finish; you said you brought beer?” Hank smiled at Marc.

“I uh, yes, Saint Elizabeth; hope that’s okay,” Marc said, wondering if Hank knew he could see her dark nipples through her tank top. “I, a lot of people drink that Gratchley’s, but I think it’s pretty nasty.”

“Room on the bottom shelf,” Hank said, nodding toward the refrigerator.

“We still have…yes!” Holly laughed, finding four frosted mugs in the freezer compartment.

“Hank, huh?” Marc asked as he poured the cold brew into one of the glasses Holly offered him.

“Well, it’s really Henrietta, but she just is not a Henrietta, now is she?” Holly said, producing a second frosted mug for his deft hand.

“Whole weekend, Holly just would not shut up about you,” Hank disclosed as she served the meal.

“Me?” Marc asked in genuine surprise.

“Yes, you,” Holly said, resting her hand on his forearm.

“But now that I see those eyes, well, who could blame her?” Hank said.

They ate in the dining room. Marc made a pig out of himself, having a second plate and four drop biscuits.

“A woman likes when her man appreciates her cooking,” Hank said.

“Her man?” Marc wondered to himself as Hank and Holly cleared the table.

“Marc, what you take in your coffee?” Holly asked.

“Its decaf,” Hank called out from the depths of the narrow kitchen.

“Two cream, one sugar,” Marc said.

“”And Hank made her toffee cheesecake; oh my God, I get fat it’s all her fault,” Holly enthused, carrying a tray with three mugs of coffee.

“Olive U?” Marc asked, reading the printing on the ceramic coffee mug.

“Oh! This, this is so sudden, but I love you too,” Holly teased.

“Huh? Oh, oh!” Marc asked, then smiled widely. “Olive U, I love you, cute.”

Hank entered the dining room a moment later, three plates of cheesecake wedges on a tray.

“Marc, see me putting a gun to her head?” Hank smiled. “See me making her eat this?”

“Like I’m going be able to say no?” Holly complained.

“This, oh my goodness, this, this is so good,” Marc enthused.

There was a hint of tartness; Marc was willing to bet Hank added sour cream to the creamy filling. But the rich toffee offset the tart creamy goodness.

“Without that sour cream, this, this would be just too rich,” Marc said out loud.

“That’s right,” Hank agreed.

“Well, this is a work night for us,” Hank said, taking Marc’s empty plate and mug.

“So, we’re kicking you out,” Holly admitted, picking up her own plate and mug.

“I uh, but, I, I’m real glad you came,” Hank said from the doorway of the dining room.

“She’s waiting for a kiss good night,” Holly whispered loudly to Marc.

“Hey, Holly, uh, maybe he don’t want to kiss me?” Hank suggested, blushing hotly.

Marc smiled and got to his feet. He had lived with his older brother’s sneering and posturing and bullying for years and knew full well that physical hurts heal much quicker than emotional harms. Even if he were not attracted to the beautiful, sexy young woman, Marc would have done what he could to avoid hurting her feelings. But in truth, he was very attracted to Holly’s roommate. He was almost as attracted to the beautiful Hank as he was to the gorgeous Holly.

“I, uh, I was trying to think of some way I could get a kiss from you,” Marc said to Hank. “You know, a kiss, and not look like a jerk in front of Holly.”

He approached the young woman and took her small hands into his hands. She glanced down at their joined hands.

“Ooh, big hands. You uh, you know what they say about men with big hands?” Hank stammered.

Marc could clearly see her half-dollar sized areolae and rock hard nipples through the clinging tank top. Gently, he lifted her chin by bringing her left and and his right hand up to her chin. He smiled, gazing into her eyes.

“Yeah; that we wear big gloves,” Marc suggested and she giggled nervously.

Marc intended for their kiss to be a simple lip to lip kiss. Hank jammed her lips against his, then opened her mouth and licked his lips. When he opened his mouth, she thrust her tongue into his mouth, then sucked hard on his tongue.

“Good night. I, thank you so much for inviting me over,” Marc whispered, gently touching her lips with his.

“Good night,” Hank whispered, then turned and fled up the stairs.

Marc watched Hank’s adorable bubble butt scampering up the stairs. The yoga pants were somewhat translucent; he could see her tanned flesh underneath the thin material. Her panties were a pale pink thong, framing her luscious buttocks beautifully.

“I knew you’d like her,” Holly enthused, joining Marc.

“I, what’s not to like?” Marc agreed.

“I, I’m so glad you came over,” Holly whispered at the door.

“Me too,” Marc agreed.

Holly wrapped her arms around Marc’s torso and fully pressed her braless breasts against him. Her kiss was a sloppy tongue kiss. She smiled a satisfied smile when she glanced down at his rampant erection.

“Good night,” Holly whispered again, and gently pushed Marc out of the condo.

At work Tuesday morning, the usual crowd in the break room looked on as Holly enthusiastically greeted Marc. The same group were mystified as Marc and Holly sat together to eat lunch. Marc was amused as, throughout the day, coworker after coworker stuck their heads into his office, then gave him a thumbs up. By Wednesday, a few people braved asking Marc about the relationship.

Marc was a straight-shooter, which was how he had beat out the large field of qualified applicants for the position of marketing manager. Martin Boyd himself had been the final person to interview him and had liked Marc’s honest answers. Marc was not afraid to admit that he didn’t know everything about everything and there was always something to learn.

So when they asked him about the relationship, Marc answered that he didn’t know what the relationship was. But, whatever the relationship might be, he was thoroughly enjoying the developing friendship between himself and Holly Tannenbaum.

“So, managed to melt the Ice Queen, eh?” Brandon Walker, a recent transplant from Great Oak, Texas drawled, standing in the doorway of Marc’s office.

“Know what? I really don’t appreciate you talking about my friend like that,” Marc snapped. “Holly Tannenbaum? Is a warm and genuine friend. Just because you’re too asinine to see that, well, that’s your problem, not hers. Not mine. Now, go; you’re not being paid to stand around in my office.”

“You are the sweetest man,” Holly gushed when they met up at their four o’clock coffee break.

“Everyone in the AA Pool is sooo jealous of me,” Holly giggled warmly into Marc’s ear.

“Nope. They’re all jealous of me,” Marc smiled.

Thursday morning, Brandon Walker scowled when Holly invited Marc over for supper. Marc smiled; he could see three of the Administrative Assistants looking at him and Holly with stars in their eyes, and four men looking on with envious smiles on their faces.

“Hank’s making lasagna,” Holly enthused. “You thought the red beans and rice were good? Just wait. Just you wait.”

“I am there. Oh, and tell Hank I’ll pick up some wine,” Marc agreed.

“She’s going make me fat,” Holly insisted when she opened the door of the condo.

“Yes. I have that power, Holly. No. It’s not you picking up the fork and stuffing it into your face. It’s all me,” Hank called out from the kitchen.

“She’s making blueberry tarts for dessert. You tell me, could anyone possibly resist homemade blueberry tarts? With vanilla bean icing?” Holly demanded, kissing Marc hotly.

“Oh, you are such a victim. Let’s all feel sorry for Holly; hi Sweetheart,” Hank smiled as Marc entered the kitchen, carrying a large bottle of red wine.

“Hi,” Marc smiled, then bent and kissed Hank when she pursed her lips in invitation. “God, that, that smells unbelievable.”

“She makes her own pasta. You believe that?” Holly said, rubbing Hank’s back affectionately. “You believe that? Who, who makes their own pasta?”

“Store bought’s just so, so bland,” Hank said, searching for a corkscrew. “Baby, we got a corkscrew?”

“You don’t, I got my army knife,” Marc said, producing his Swiss Army knife.

This time, knowing there was dessert, Marc did not gorge himself. He would have liked to; Hank used fresh garlic and olive oil in her preparation of the pasta sheets.

“A woman likes when her man appreciates her cooking,” Hank smiled and kissed Marc when she got up from the table.

“I knew she’d like you,” Holly enthused, gripping Marc’s hand.

The fresh blueberry tarts were restaurant quality as far as Marc was concerned. Hank’s lasagna was also restaurant quality; her lasagna put his mother’s lasagna to shame and Marc had always thought his mother made the best lasagna in the world.

“Okay, it’s a work night,” Hank declared when Marc finished his tarts. “So, we’re kicking you out.”

“But you need to think of something for the three of us to do. And, no. Not the movies,” Holly said. “Something where we can get to know one another.”

“So, good night,” Hank said, standing in the doorway of the dining room.

“She’s waiting for a good night kiss,” Holly whispered loudly.

“Shut up, Holly,” Hank giggled nervously.

Marc gave Hank a warm, soft kiss. Hank was the one that opened her mouth and Marc did not hesitate in coaxing her blueberry sweet tongue out.

“Mm,” Hank sighed as Marc pulled her tightly against himself.

“Good night,” Hank said, then stomped up the stairs.

“I think she likes you,” Holly sang as she walked Marc to the front door.

“I know I like you,” she whispered and kissed him wetly.

“Mm hmm,” she purred when Marc’s hand rubbed up and down her tee shirt clad back.

“Mm, oh, oh I think you better go now,” Holly gasped when Marc braved brushing his hand against her left breast.

With another passionate kiss, Holly eased Marc out of the condominium.

The three of them fit in his pickup truck and he took them to Hop Kim’s Chinese restaurant. The trio had fun eating with the chopsticks and also sampled from one another’s plates. From there, they went to the Courtyard Bowling Alley, next to the Courtyard Mall in Pinoak, Louisiana. Holly had not been bowling since her early teens, and Hank had never bowled before.

Bowling was an excellent sport for two or three people getting to know one another. It fostered friendly rivalry, genuine cheers and encouragement.

They went in alphabetical order; Hank, then Holly, and Marc bringing up the rear. When Hank was up, trying to line up to throw the perfect strike, Holly leaned heavily against Marc, whispering, blowing warm breath into his ear.

“My mother was a beautiful blonde woman who loved my dad and me and my sisters wit all her heart,” Holly said, then applauded Hank’s three pin volley.

“She never said, and my Dad never said, but the reason they got a divorce was because my Mom was gay,” Holly disclosed, then got up to bowl.

“This is fun,” Hank giggled happily, resting against Marc’s other side.

“Yeah, a bowling alley’s the kind of place no one tells you to be quiet,” Marc opined.

Hank wound her arms around his torso and hugged him, pressing her full breasts into his side. She kissed his cheek then rested her head on his shoulder.

“Ha! Beat that!” Holly jeered when she’d managed to knock over five pins.

Marc smiled and picked up his bowling ball. Because the facility was only a few months old, the lanes were still quite slick, the shoes were quite stiff, and the balls were not chipped and worn. Marc wondered how long it would be before the facility was as run-down, decrepit as the Bowl-A-Rama in Bender, Louisiana.

Carefully, Marc managed to knock over one pin. His second roll was a gutter ball.

“Ha!” Hank teased him as she sashayed past.

Hank squealed, then laughed when he delivered a light slap to her shapely buttocks. Holly smiled as he took his seat next to her.

“I’ve seen your office,” Holly reminded him.

“Hmm? That’s nice. Oh! Hey, I’ve never seen your office,” Marc said.

“And I’ve seen all them bowling trophies on your shelf,” Holly giggled and kissed him.

Holly told Marc about losing her beautiful, wonderful, loving mother to a horrible automobile accident one morning. Holly had just recently begun the frightening, uncomfortable transformation from gawky girl into young woman; Holly truly needed her mommy.

“I mean, Dad had married Miss Wendy; wasn’t ever any doubt she loved us girls,” Holly said, then clapped for Hank’s two gutter balls. “You’ll do better next time Sweetheart.”

“You’ll do better,” Marc agreed as Hank flopped down and rested against him.

While Holly tried to ‘visualize’ the perfect roll, Hank kept Marc distracted. Her large breasts pushed into him, her warm breath blew into his ear and her small hand rested on his thigh. Marc somehow managed to get up and bowl, knocking down five pins.

“High school, college, then finding out Daddy had cancer,” Holly said. “I really needed my Mom.”

Holly told Marc about Roger’s fight against cancer, but finally losing the battle. And in the midst of all the chaos, she met Mattie Goldman.

“He made me laugh; he always seemed to know what to say,” Holly murmured.

Valerie, Holly’s mother had made sure that Holly, Alexandra and Kendra would never need for anything. Valerie had been very wealthy, thanks in part to her father’s holdings. Shrewd investments, smart real-estate planning had increased Valerie’s wealth.

Ms. Wendy had inherited half of Roger’s estate; she was his wife, after all. But the remainder was split three ways between Holly, Alex, and Kendra. As the oldest, Holly was given first choice of her father’s classic automobile collection.

“I was with him when he bought that Mustang,” Holly whispered. “I told him, that’s my car.”

“And now, it’s your car,” Marc said, giving her a light kiss.

“See that? Huh? See that?” Hank crowed. “Got seven!”

“See? You’re getting better at this,” Marc praised as a happy Hank sat down, crowding against him.

“She been talking ’bout me?” Hank asked but kissed Marc before he could say anything.

Holly’s squeal alerted them that she’d accidentally managed a spare. Hank hugged the girl, and in front of the twenty or so patrons and employees, kissed Holly on her lips. Holly smiled and hugged and kissed Marc as well.

“That’s called a strike, right?” Holly enthused. “Right? I got a strike?”

“Actually, it’s a spare,” Marc smiled and managed to knock down three pins.

Holly told Marc, just after her father’s death, Mattie announced he was moving back to DeGarde, his home town. Holly had felt true panic; she’d just buried her father, she had no mother, and now her boyfriend, her rock was leaving as well.

In desperation, Holly suggested they marry. Happily, Matt agreed. Holly was not completely clueless, though, and insisted on a pre-nuptial agreement.

“Hell, we’re going to be together forever; put whatever you want in it,” Mattie had smiled.

Forrest Maynard, one of Roger’s associates helped Holly and Mattie draft up the agreement. Seeing the way Mattie’s eyes kept drifting to Cyndy, the firm’s beautiful and very well-developed receptionist, Holly made a last minute addendum regarding adultery. Again, Mattie declared they would be together forever, so signed without hesitation.

Mattie rented an apartment in the glamorous, prestigious Camelot Apartments in Bender, Louisiana. Two months later, on a beautiful Saturday in May, Holly became Mrs. Goldman. The couple honeymooned in Marina del Grande Aqua, a sleepy little villa on the western coastline of Mexico. Holly never thought to ask how they could afford such an extravagant honeymoon.

Up until her wedding night, Holly had managed to preserve her maidenhead. Most boys, men were satisfied with grabbing a generous handful of boob and filling a beautiful blonde’s mouth with a hot load. Those that were not satisfied with those menial things balked at Holly’s insistence that her husband, and only her husband would ever get between her legs. Not steady boyfriend, not fiancé, her husband and only her husband would ever pluck her cherry.

In Marina del Grande Agua, Holly discovered she liked sex, loved sex, craved sex. She was ecstatic when she found out that her sunning lotion could be put to other uses.

She knew sucking, licking and pinching her nipples could provide very pleasurable feelings. Finding out that a good titty fuck could cause her to orgasm was thrilling. Somehow, the degradation of having her husband squirting his juice onto her face and throat and chest, coating her with his semen intensified the vulgar pleasure.

“And, oh my God; up the butt?” Holly whispered hotly into Marc’s ear. “Aw hell yeah!”

“You going bowl?” Hank teased Marc as he sat, golden brown eyes wide.

“Give me a minute,” Marc groaned.

Marc smiled, then laughed when he heard Hank and Holly’s elated squeals and giggles from behind him. Hank’s breathless ‘Holly! You didn’t!’ also made him laugh as he managed two gutter balls.

Returning home to the beautiful and spacious apartment, filled with tasteful, expensive furniture Mattie had selected, Holly found out they were in arrears, almost three months behind in their rent. And O’Neil’s was threatening to come repossess their furniture. They just received notice from St. Elizabeth’s Public Utilities. Then the bill for their honeymoon came in.

“And, of course, Mattie didn’t have a job,” Holly murmured. “Oh, he was looking. Well, he said he was looking. And he and his buddies Woody and Rickey? They’d meet at night; they had a business that was going to make millions.”

The three men would meet at Holly’s Camelot Apartment; Mattie had rented the apartment in her name, would chomp their way through snack foods and consume every drop of alcohol they could get their hands on while strategizing their market insertion, talking about securities, discussing labor intensive organizations. Holly first tried to reason with Mattie; they had no product, they had no service, they had no viable commodity. After a few times of being told to mind her own business, Holly confronted Woody, Rickey, and Mattie. Armed with the receipts of the massive amount of food and alcohol they’d consumed in just the past two weeks alone, Holly asked when she could hope to recoup her investments in RWM Strategical Management, LTD.

“Oh. I see, so…never,” Holly said after Rickey’s rambling, nonsensical explanation of their mission statement. “Well, the next RWM meeting? Needs to be at your home, Rickey.”

That was when Holly found out that Rickey’s wife would not let Rickey drink. Woody still lived at home with his parents, and his parents believed that Woody was clean and sober and attending AA and NA meetings on the nights he was actually at Mattie’s apartment.

Their first fight as husband and wife was when Holly placed a lock on her credit. The second fight was when Holly refused Woody and Rickey entrance into her apartment.

“We are on the threshold; months of planning are about to come to fruition,” Mattie declared earnestly.

“Then, meet at the library. Meet at Jitters. Meet in the dumpster behind Casa Ole,” Holly snapped. “But you and your buddies are not meeting here, eating my food, drinking my booze.”

“Oh. Oh, okay, Matt,” Rickey sneered. “Guess we know who wears the pants and who wears the panties in this marriage.”

When the apartment manager let Holly know the six month lease was nearly up, Holly decided she would not renew. Mattie whined, begged, threatened and pouted. Holly told him, he could renew the lease at any time. In his name. Not her name, his name.

Mattie claimed there had been some misunderstanding; he was continually mistaken for another Matthew Goldman, so his credit rating was in the toilet. Holly was unmoved.

Mattie objected to moving from a prestigious, upscale apartment into a single wide trailer in Kimble, Louisiana. Holly simply informed him, she was moving. And, since the furniture was in her name, the furniture was moving with her. Mattie’s mother and father were still alive, still living in Bender, Louisiana, just down the road. Mattie was welcome to go live with them if living in a trailer was so abhorrent to his sensibilities.

“I love Daisy Upchurch,” Holly giggled. “The women in the trailer park called her ‘DK’ and I was like, ‘what are y’all talking about? Her name’s Daisy Upchurch; shouldn’t y’all be calling her DU?'”

The women in the trailer park called the moderately attractive forty-something woman ‘DK’ for ‘Door Knob.’ According to one woman, every boy in the trailer park had taken a turn. Except for her precious baby boy, of course.

“Shee-it, even that little Donnie Mouton lost his cherry to DK, and sure as I’m sitting here? That Donnie boy is a queer,” Paula Boudreaux declared, letting out a plume of noxious cigarette smoke.

Two days after her twenty first birthday, a birthday Mattie had forgotten about, Holly came home from her job at Boyd Investments and found her husband pounding Daisy Upchurch on their bed. Mattie’s triumphant smirk turned to a scowl when Holly was not upset. His scowl turned to apprehension when Holly reminded him of the prenuptial agreement they’d signed.

“Uh, we, that? That was in Texas,” Mattie said. “This? This is Louisiana; Louisiana’s got that Napoleonic code, so that prenup is invalid here in this state.”

Penny Jones of Richards, Pellichet & Jones burst into peals of laughter when Holly told her of Mattie’s claims. Reviewing the document, Penny and Holly drafted a petition for the dissolution of the marriage between Matthew Goldman and Holly Tannenbaum.

Mattie’s lawyer, Parker Johnson was livid when he found out that Holly’s inheritance from both mother and father’s estates occurred prior to the union. The fifty percent that Mattie could hope to receive was fifty percent of the bills he’d managed to run up.

As for Daisy Upchurch, the afternoon tryst had been nothing more than stress relief. She liked fucking. She had wanted to fuck, Mattie had wanted to fuck. But it had not been love. And, Matthew was not welcome to move into her trailer; she had a young daughter to think of.

Mattie moved back home with his parents. This move put an end to any hope that RWM Strategical Management, LTD. would ever become a viable corporation. The Goldmans vehemently despised Ricky and forbade the arrogant young man entry into their home.

“Okay, hot shot,” Vernon Goldman told his son after the second month of Mattie living under their roof. “You? Got two weeks. Fourteen days from right now to find employment, steady, gainful employment, not some pie in the sky pipe dream that God damned user Rickey Hebert sold you. A real job.”

“I’m looking,” Mattie lied, chomping through a large bowl of Frosted Flakes cereal.

“Well, quit looking and start finding. Fourteen days or you will be looking for another place to live,” Vernon said.

“You, you would put your own son out?” Mattie gasped, stunned.

“What? We give birth to you, we feed you, send you to school. Finally, finally you get married,” Sherley Goldman said, standing behind Vernon. “Hey, our job? Is done.”

Holly was unmoved when Mattie let her know he’d managed to find gainful employment with Professional Dry Cleaners. While his chronic unemployment had been troublesome, it had been his unfaithful cock that had caused the divorce, not his lack of ambition.

“Your turn,” Hank told Holly after her two rolls.

Holly was ecstatic when she managed three pins on her first roll and three more pins on her second roll. Marc, Hank and quite a few men enjoyed Holly’s little breast bobbling dance of happiness.

Marc got four pins and sat down again. Hank gave him a soft, lingering kiss, then ‘accidentally’ brushed her hand over his lump as she got to her feet.

Shortly after Mattie extricated himself from their trailer, the neighbors in the trailer next door pulled a midnight move. Holly laughed as she told Marc about Mattie’s discomfort when Mitchell, the very decidedly homosexual neighbor next door made a pass at him. Marc smiled a sympathetic smile, then applauded as Hank managed to knock down seven pins. The next roll was a gutter ball.

“But, after the Watsons moved out? After Buddy got it all cleaned up? The Michaels moved in,” Holly continued her tale. “Hank how many of y’all were there?”

“Me, my momma, three sisters and ‘Do No Wrong Danny,'” Hank shrugged.

“Do no wrong Danny?” Marc asked, smirking as he thought about his older brother Irwin, a little angel in their mother’s eyes. Irwin knew this and certainly took advantage of their mother’s beliefs.

“Mm hmm,” Hank returned Marc’s smirk as she leaned against him.

Holly saw the new family move in. After a couple of days, time for them to settle in, she went next door and introduced herself. Her chocolate icebox cake was certainly welcome and Janice Michaels, the mother of the brood laughed in understanding when Holly confessed it was straight out of Burns & Burns Grocers grocery store.

“I mean, I know where the kitchen is, I’ve never burned water, yet knock on wood,” Holly said. “But cooking is not my strong suit.”

Well, sweetie, with looks like yours?” Janice said. “Uh, I’m pretty sure most men are willing to overlook that.”

One Friday after a long week of work, Holly came home to see Henrietta, the oldest Michaels daughter sitting outside, listlessly swinging her legs off the edge of the small porch in front of her trailer. The eighteen year old girl returned Holly’s friendly wave. On a whim, Holly walked over and asked Henrietta what was going on.

“Nothing,” Henrietta admitted.

“Really? I mean, isn’t Kimble Academy, you’re going to Kimble, right, isn’t Kimble having their Spring Formal tonight?” Holly asked.

“Uh huh,” Henrietta glumly admitted.

“So, why aren’t you dressed and ready to go?” Holly asked.

“Uh, Miss Holly? Uh, I’m fat?” Henrietta pointed out, indicating her chubby body.

“Yeah, you’re a couple of pounds over what most people think is acceptable,” Holly shrugged. “But that face? And, oh my God, those beautiful eyes. So, when do you plan to get ready?”

“Miss Holly, no one’s asked me,” Henrietta admitted sorrowfully.

Well, their loss is my gain,” Holly smiled, helping Henrietta to her feet.

Holly told Janice she and Henrietta would be having a sleep-over; scary movies, frozen pizza, ice cream, staying up too late. Janice said Henrietta could stay home; Janice would be going next door for the sleep-over.

“So, what’s your favorite pizza? Please don’t say mushrooms; mushrooms are so gross, Mattie loved mushrooms but I can’t stand them,” Holly said as she and Henrietta drove to the Burns & Burns Grocers grocery store. “He was always ‘pick them off’ but eww, you can still taste them.”

They picked up some frozen pizzas and a large tub of Burns & Burns brand orange sherbet, Henrietta’s all time absolute favorite. Holly smiled a sympathetic smile when Henrietta disclosed that she never got to eat it because Rocky Road was Danny’s favorite and the twins liked Strawberry.

“Why I’m getting the gallon thingy,” Holly said, squeezing Henrietta. “And, yeah, I know what you mean. My mom liked, loved Mint Chocolate Chip and Kendra, she’s the baby, and Kendra liked double chocolate.”

“Miss Holly, what you like?” Henrietta asked as they pushed the buggy through the grocery store.

“Anything, really,” Holly shrugged, not wanting to admit that Rocky Road was her favorite. “And, Henrietta, please, please quit calling me ‘Miss Holly.’ God, know how old that makes me feel?”

She picked up a few tubes of the Burns & Burns Supreme Cinnamon Rolls; Holly had not been kidding with Janice about her lackluster culinary skills. In the Beer & Spirits aisle, Holly picked up a fifth of Artigas Tequila. Henrietta quietly asked if they could get a six pack of Gratchley’s Beer and Holly put that into the buggy as well.

“Now, first things first,” Holly said when they arrived back and the trailer. “We need to get into our jammies; get this sleepover started!”

In the bedroom, Holly selected a cute camisole top and matching panties. Without hesitation, she stripped out of that day’s clothing and wiggled into her sleepwear. Having three sisters and a mom, Henrietta did not hesitate to strip out of her shorts and tee shirt and faded bra. She wiggled into a Number 5 Garrett Hartley New Orleans Saints jersey and scampered with Holly as they ran for the living room.

“Now, you ever see The Ring?” Holly asked, mashing the television’s remote control’s buttons.

“Unless it’s Cartoon Network or football?” Henrietta said.

Holly made them a pineapple juice and orange juice and tequila drink; the beer still wasn’t cold enough. Then, huddled together under a fleece throw, they started watching the scary movie. Forty minutes in, Holly started cooking one of the pizzas. At the well scene, both Holly and Henrietta screamed and clung onto one another. The final television scene elicited more screams and they clung to one another.

Holly pulled up Ring 2 and they drank the ice cold beer. When Henrietta put down her empty can of beer, Holly fixed two large bowls of orange sherbet. Now shivering with cold, the two cuddled together under the fleece throw in the dark living room.

And at the end of the second scary movie, Henrietta gave Holly a soft kiss, lip to lip. Holly opened her mouth and sucked Henrietta’s beer and orange sherbet flavored tongue into her mouth. Holly’s hand, which had been resting against Henrietta’s soft belly throughout the movie now reached underneath the jersey and softly caressed Henrietta’s flesh.

“All my life, all my life I had known, I am my mother’s daughter,” Holly admitted to Marc, her small hand resting on his upper thigh.

“I, you, you’re gay?” Marc deduced, looking into Holly’s hazel eyes.

“Bi. Very, very bi,” Holly admitted, then got to her feet.

“When Miss Holly came over to introduce herself,” Hank took up the tale. “I, God, I, I wanted to hate her. How, how can anyone be that beautiful? And not be a bitch? Oh, I seen girls like her my whole life. They all smiles and sweetness to your face then stab you in the back as soon as they can.”

“Mm hmm,” Marc agreed, thinking that some boys, some men were the same way.

Henrietta did notice, over the weeks of living next door to the beautiful Holly Tannenbaum that Holly’s smiles and greetings never varied. Not once did Henrietta ever notice that underlying trace of hostility she’d always noticed coming from the queen bees and their dutiful drones. Holly seemed to be a genuinely warm woman.

“When I was five, fixing go to Kindergarten, you know, big girl school?” Holly told Henrietta, hazel eyes warm with the memory. “My mom sat me down and told me she was so proud of me, her big girl. And, she just knew I was going be the prettiest little girl, and the smartest too.”

Valerie had impressed upon Holly, smart or not, pretty or not, it was never acceptable to make fun of others. Some children would be kind of fat, but it was not right to make fun of them. Some children might not know their ABC’s, but instead of laughing at them, Holly should try to help them.

“I miss my mom,” Holly admitted to Henrietta as they sat on the steps outside of the Michaels’ trailer.

“She sounds like an awesome woman,” Henrietta agreed.

Watching the terrifying movies, feeling the warmth from Holly’s body so close to her as they cuddled underneath the fluffy fleece blanket had been exhilarating, frightening, exciting, confusing for Henrietta. In school, her friends were crazy over Clay Kraggle, and Kincaid ‘Bridges’ Roberts or some of the other popular boys. They had all vied for positions in Ashley St. Martin’s periphery. Henrietta had not understood the appeal of any of the flighty, pretentious self-involved people in the upper clique of Kimble Academy.

“When you strip away their outer shells, you’re left with nothing,” Henrietta thought, looking at the reigning classmates.

But, sitting next to Holly Tannenbaum, bare leg pressed against bare leg, Henrietta thought she might finally understand what her friends felt when they pined for this or that boy. The fact that Holly was not a boy confused and frightened Henrietta.

Unable to take the warring thought and emotions any longer, Henrietta acted on her feelings. She placed a clumsy, soft kiss on Holly’s lips. And Holly returned the kiss, opening her mouth and sucking Henrietta’s tongue out and into her own mouth.

The clumsy kiss turned into clumsy touches. Henrietta felt Holly’s hand on her bare flesh, underneath her sleep shirt. Henrietta gasped out as Holly’s hand touched, toyed with Henrietta’s nipple.

“Bed’s a whole lot better than this couch,” Holly whispered.

“Okay,” Henrietta agreed, voice barely a squeak.

On holly’s soft bed, the two young women lay down and kissed. They used their hands to touch and carress each other. Holly gently pulled Henrietta’s sleep shirt up and off, then bent to suckle on Henrietta’s hard nipple. While her mouth teased and tugged on Henrietta’s nipples, Holly’s hand worked underneath the waistband of Henrietta’s panties.

Henrietta’s brain was mush as she felt another woman’s mouth tasting her highly sensitive nipples. Henrietta could not think as she felt another woman’s fingers combing through her dark profusion of pubic hair.

“Augh, ack, oh, oh my God,” Henrietta suddenly shrieked as Holly diddled Henrietta’s clitoris.

Holly gently urged Henrietta onto her back. Holly peeled Henrietta’s sodden panties down and off, baring Henrietta’s profusion of dark brown hair. Laying on top of Henrietta, Holly pressed her blonde curls against Henrietta’s thatch. Holly gently kissed Henrietta’s pouting lips, then wiggled down to capture Henrietta’s hard nipple in her mouth.

“Ack! Ack! Oh, oh my God,” Henrietta called out as Holly used her teeth to tug Henrietta’s breast away from her ribcage.

Henrietta shuddered and groaned as Holly again used her fingers on Henrietta’s clitoris. Holly then released Henrietta’s left breast and attacked Henrietta’s right breast. She pressed her fingers into Henrietta’s pussy, thumb mashing against Henrietta’s clitoris.

After fingering Henrietta to orgasm, Holly then wiggled all the way down Henrietta’s prone form. She brought her mouth to Henrietta’s fragrant sex and licked all around Henrietta’s inner lips, tasting Henrietta’s essence.

Holly licked and fingered and sucked Henrietta to a screaming orgasm. Holly found Henrietta’s G-spot and brought the girl to a second, thrashing orgasm. She then wiggled up again and kissed Henrietta’s gasping mouth.

After recovering from her powerful orgasm, Henrietta did her best to mimic Holly’s movements. Holly gently combed her fingers through Henrietta’s long dirty blonde hair and whispered words of endearment and love as Henrietta teased and tortured Holly’s breasts and nipples.

In the morning, Holly woke Henrietta with soft kisses. The two women swung into a sixty nine position and seemed to be in a race to bring the other to climax first. After they came down from their sexual high, Holly prepared a tube of cinnamon rolls. She gave Henrietta three of the large, gooey sticky treats, keeping two for herself. Then Holly painted Henrietta’s right nipple with a finger full of the canned frosting.

“You have to go just yet?” Holly asked, sucking the icing from the hard nipple.

“Oh, my momma was some mad! See, Saturday’s our big house cleaning day,” Hank giggled in Marc’s ear.

“But, after the first time we made love?” Holly cooed into Marc’s other ear. “I started calling her ‘Hank.’ She’s just not a Henrietta, is she?”

“I uh…” Marc stammered as two sets of lips gently sucked on his ear lobes.

“It’s your turn to bowl,” Holly lightly giggled into his ear.

Marc threw two gutter balls. The first gutter ball was unintentional. The second gutter ball was intentional. He then sat down while a giggling Hank got to her feet.

“What’s she been telling you?” Holly asked, but gave him a steamy kiss before he could answer.

“Nine! I, I got nine of them!” Hank whooped.

“Think this is, yes, this is our last, what’d you call it?” Holly said, getting to her feet.

“Frame,” Marc said, hugging Hank as she happily wrapped her arms around him.

“I got nine, I got nine, nanny nanny boo boo,” Hank sang and Marc laughed.

“Y’all had fun?” the older woman asked as Marc returned their shoes to the counter.

“Yes ma’am, we certainly did,” Marc agreed, accepting their three pairs of shoes.

Helping Hank into his truck, Marc chanced a quick pat to her luscious buttock. Holly smiled and actually posed with her buttocks extended for him to grope.

“I uh, um, oh! Oh, that chef guy, Milt Duhon? He, he’s going be at the Brick’s in Jazz Beach tomorrow,” Hank said, suddenly nervous as Marc started the truck.

“Oh yeah?” Marc asked.

“I uh, yeah, he, he’s doing, he’s going be making apple pie,” Hank said. “Every pie he sells? The money goes to the St. Elizabeth’s Animal Shelter.”

“Marc?” Holly cooed. “You take me to get an apple pie?”

“Uh? And me?” Hank demanded. “Uh? I’m one brung it up?”

“I promise you this,” Marc said, placing his hand on Hank’s thigh, stretching over the console of his truck to do so. “I won’t ever leave you behind, hear?”

“Want to come in for coffee?” Hank blurted out.

“I, Hank, you, you sure?” Holly asked breathlessly.

“I, you, you just heard him,” Hank verified. “He, he won’t ever leave me…”

With a squeal, Holly kissed Hank. Marc had to remind himself to keep his eyes on the road as the two beauties kissed passionately while seated in the passenger seat of his truck.

“I knew you’d like him,” Holly said happily when they broke the kiss.

“Yay, Holly’s right. Again. Let’s all cheer for Holly,” Hank teased, then giggled when Holly gave her a pinch on her butt.

Marc was not surprised that no one made a move to go to the kitchen to make coffee. Instead, Holly stepped behind the bar and poured three small snifters of brandy. Looking at the label Marc nodded in approval. Cire Apple Brandy was an excellent, inexpensive after dinner liqueur.

Snifters in hand, Hank pulled Marc to the couch. She positioned him in the center and took the cushion to his left. Holly slid onto the cushion to his right and leaned heavily against him.

“I knew, we went out for Mexican?” Holly breathed quietly into Marc’s ear. “I knew you was right.”

Hank didn’t whisper into Marc’s ear. Hank leaned against him and nuzzled his throat. Marc was at a disadvantage with the snifter in his hand. He wanted to put an arm around Hank, wanted to put an arm around Holly, but one hand was occupied with the brandy and Hank had the other arm trapped between their two bodies. And Holly had his other arm nearly immobilized.

“Here,” Holly cooed as Hank gave Marc a brandy flavored kiss to his lips.

Holly took Marc’s snifter from his hand and placed his drink and hers onto the coffee table. She then gently nudged Hank away and pressed her lips to Marc’s lips.

Marc jerked slightly as Holly fed him a small mouthful of brandy. Her tongue followed the brandy into his mouth. She pulled away and handed Marc his snifter.

“I sure could use a drink,” Holly suggested, kissing Marc again.

Marc took a sip of the rich brandy and pressed his lips to Holly’s lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth.

“”Here, Marc; you look thirsty,” Hank whispered, then took a sip of her brandy.

“Mm hmm,” Marc moaned as Hank draped herself against him.

His arm felt Hank’s bare flesh as she leaned against him. Her soft lips brushed his, then she firmly pressed her lips to his and fed him her mouthful of brandy.

“You thirsty?” Marc quietly asked, then kissed her before she could answer.

“Mm hmm,” Hank moaned into Marc’s mouth.

Marc fed Hank a mouthful of brandy. He was not surprised to feel Holly’s bare torso pressing against his other arm while he and Hank kissed passionately.

“I need to take the bottle upstairs?” Holly cooed as Marc emptied his snifter in their kiss.

“No. I, I want to be one hundred percent not drunk,” Marc said. “I, I want to know this is real and not some drunk dream.”

“You, you are so sweet,” Hank whispered.

“I told you you’d love him,” Holly said as they both helped Marc to his feet.

“Y’all are sure about this?” Marc asked as Hank reached the first step.

“You, you do want to, right?” Hank asked, large eyes wide.

“I, oh God yes, but, I, I just want be sure this is what y’all want,” Marc said.

“Mm hmm,” Holly enthused.

“I, I, this, I want this, I want this,” Hank said, her eyes pleading with Marc.

“I want this too,” Marc said and softly kissed her lips.

Satisfied, Hank led the procession. Marc admired her fleshy buttocks in her snug jeans as her thighs flexed and strained, flexed and strained.

At the top of the stairs, Hank turned to the left and entered a room. Marc followed into a dark room and smiled; he saw the flicker of a cigarette lighter, then a moment later, a candle came to life.

“I, candlelight’s just so romantic,” Holly enthused quietly as Hank lighted seven or eight candles scattered about the room.

The blackout curtains over the window did their job; the only light in the room was the candles and the open doorway. Entering the room fully, Holly shut the door.

Watching two beautiful blondes undressing was an exciting sight. Watching two beautiful blondes undressing one another, kissing one another, touching one another, illuminated by flickering candlelight was an erotic sight. Marc stood, transfixed by the sight until both women were nude. His brain kicked into gear when both beauties looked at him expectantly.

Holly’s breasts were large and capped by large areolae, each dotted by a thick nipple. Her belly was concave, marred only by a tiny pucker of a belly button. Her hips were slim, leading into her long thighs. Her pussy was covered by a light blonde triangle of curls. The curls did not hide the coral pink inner lips that peeked out.

Hank also sported slightly large breasts. Her areolae and nipples were darker than Holly’s, but were just as fat, were just as aroused. Her belly was a soft one, with a tunnel of a navel. Her lush hips led into somewhat thick thighs. Her pubic mound was a plump one, and was completely hairless.

Marc felt his sperm bubbling up as he watched Holly’s fingers caressing Hank’s pubic mound, watched Holly’s fingers delving into Hank’s wet pussy. The two women kissed, open mouth pressed to open mouth. Hank’s left arm was around Holly’s narrow waist, her right hand was toying with Holly’s breasts.

“I, mm, mm oh, oh, oh my Holly,” Hank gasped out as Holly continued to finger her.

“Oh yes my dear Hank,” Holly encouraged, her movements becoming more aggressive.

Marc was unsure what to do; for the moment, it did seem that Holly and Hank had simply forgotten he was in the room. And, for the moment, that was fine with him; he was enjoying the erotic sight in front of him.

“Mmng!” Hank moaned into Holly’s mouth as she shuddered.

Holly pulled her fingers from Hank’s depths. Turning, she gave Marc a soft smile and held out the two glistening fingers to Marc. Her smile widened as Marc sucked her fingers clean.

“I, I’m not going last long,” Marc whined as Holly took her fingers from his mouth and reached for his throbbing erection.

“Oh, okay,” Holly whispered and eased Marc onto the king sized bed.

Gripping his fat cock in her small hand, Holly applied pressure to the base of his cock. She lay down on his right side and Hank lay down on his left side. Keeping the pressure, Holly lowered her mouth over his cock, sliding her mouth down until her nose pressed against his pubic hair.

Hank watched, eyes wide as Holly bobbed her head up and down the length of Marc’s cock. Then Hank tore her eyes from the erotic sight and pressed her lips to Marc’s lips. She opened her mouth and Marc sucked on her tongue.

“I, mm, augh, oh, oh Holly?” Marc whined a moment later.

“Hank, come see,” Holly hissed urgently.

Hank pulled her mouth from Marc’s mouth and brought her head to Marc’s cock.

“Lick him, lick around the head,” Holly cooed as she again applied pressure to the base of Marc’s cock.

Marc writhed under the exquisite torture. Hank’s tongue was soft, warm and wet. Her licking was done with feather soft strokes around the head of his cock. When she finally did sink the head of his cock into her mouth, Marc let out a long groan.

Holly released her hold on the base of his cock. Hank’s tongue continued to torment him as her soft lips encircled the shaft of his cock. Her movements were slow and deliberate as she bobbed her head up and down.

“This is the first time she’s ever done this,” Holly informed Marc.

“It, it is not, I, it can’t be…” Marc panted. “She’s, she’s too good at…”

“Heard that, Sweetheart?” Holly laughed happily. “He says you’re good at this.”

“Mm hmm,” Hank agreed, applying more suction to her movements.

“I, oh God,” Marc grunted and loosed a torrent of sperm into Hank’s waiting mouth.

“Don’t scarf it all,” Holly giggled as Hank moaned her approval.

Marc was squirming in painful pleasure; his cock was always so sensitive after ejaculation. Finally, Hank released his cock and sat up. Marc watched as Holly and Hank shared his semen. Marc watched as Hank fondled Holly’s heavy breasts as they kissed.

“Now, Mr. Marc, you going just lay there, make us do all the work?” Hank asked, laying down and cuddling up against him.

“Well…looks like y’all were doing pretty good without my help,” Marc admitted.

“Come on, lazy bones,” Holly giggled, cuddling up to his other side.

“Oh, all right,” Marc sighed, then made Hank squeal as he rolled over and grabbed her.

“No, no, bad man!” Hank laughed as Marc made growling noises. “Holly, help me!”

Marc managed, fairly easily to position Hank onto her back, head propped up by two pillows. For a moment, Marc fully rested his body on top of hers, relishing the feeling of her softness beneath him. He softly kissed her lips, then kissed down to her throat. Hank shivered in pleasure as his five o’clock shadow rasped softly over her skin.

“Mm,” Hank purred as Marc kissed along the tops of her breasts.

Marc kissed along the tops of her breasts, kissing the valley between the two succulent orbs. When his trajectory brought him to her right areole, Marc softly traced around the dark brown circle until his tongue found her hard nipple.

“Mm hmm,” Hank cooed as Marc suckled on her nipple.

Hank gasped out as Marc bit down lightly on her nipple. Then he released her right nipple and kissed from her right nipple to her left areole.

While his mouth was tasting her breasts, Marc’s hands were gently rubbing Hank’s throat, shoulders, and arms.

When he moved his mouth to the underside of her breasts, Marc moved his hands to her breasts. He teased her breasts, lightly raking his fingernails along the tops of her breasts, coming closer and closer to her tightly crinkled areolae and hard nipples.

Marc kissed Hank’s soft belly, then caused her to giggle when he took a few nips at her soft flesh. He thrust his tongue into her navel, causing her to squeal.

Hank’s squeal had been muffled. Marc looked up and saw that Holly and Hank were engaged in a passionate kiss.

Marc reached Hank’s hairless pubic mound. He could smell her excitement wafting up and found it to be a very arousing scent. He delivered several soft nips to her plump pubic mound, avoiding the cleft that bisected her mound.

Finally, Marc stuck his tongue out and licked upward, from the bottom to the top of Hank’s cleft. Her inner lips were puffy, slick and wet with her excitement. She moaned with the contact and Marc moaned at the taste. Returning to the bottom, Marc flattened his tongue, trying to cover her entire area. On his third pass, Marc located her clitoris and slapped at the fat nub. This caused Hank to shudder and groan in pleasure.

“Is he good? Is he making you happy?” Holly cooed to Hank.

“Uh huh,” Hank moaned, then grunted out loud as Marc gently bit down on her clitoris.

Marc drove two fingers into Hank while his mouth continued to play with her clitoris. Marc sought out Hank’s g-spot while he continued to please her with his mouth.

Hanks scream was sudden and piercing. Holly immediately shoved Marc away and flailed her fists, striking him with considerable force. Marc threw up his arms, trying to protect himself from the screaming, crying Holly.

“Holly, no! No!” Hank screamed out, tackling the wildly swinging Holly to the bed.

“Get out! Get out! I, I can’t believe you! I trusted you and you…” Holly screamed at Marc.

“Holly no! No, Sweetheart! No; he didn’t hurt me,” Hank protested.

“Yeah he did; I, you screamed,” Holly sobbed, clutching onto Hank.

“Hurt me? Holly, no, I, he hit something inside of me, my pussy and I came. I came so hard I, I just screamed, it felt that good. It, it was so intense I just screamed,” Hank tried to explain.

“Really?” Holly asked, voice small.

“Really,” Hank said, then giggled. “I mean, DAMN! I, it felt sooo gooood!”

“I, oh! Oh Marc, I, I’m so sorry,” Holly cried out and crawled out of the bed to Marc.

Marc had his boxers and jeans on and was trying to untangle his shirt. Holly hugged him, stymying his efforts. She kissed his unresponsive lips.

“I, I am so, so sorry; I thought you were hurting her,” Holly sobbed now.

“I, listen, I, maybe I better go,” Marc mumbled.

“No! Oh, no, no, Marc, Marc, please don’t,” Hank begged, scurrying across the bed to where he and Holly stood.

“Please,” Holly begged, trying to pull him back toward the bed.

“Please? Please? For me?” Hank begged, now hugging Marc from the side.

The two women managed to drag Marc back to the bed. With a giggle, Holly managed to topple Marc onto the bed. Hank immediately began kissing his face. He returned Hank’s kiss when she started nibbling on his bottom lip.

While Hank kissed Marc, Holly worked Marc’s jeans and boxers down and off. Marc’s cock was semi-flaccid, but Holly’s warm mouth soon coaxed him to full hardness. Marc grunted and shuddered when Holly began to tongue his heavy balls.

“You ready?” Holly asked Hank.

“Mm hmm,” Hank said, pulling her nipple from Marc’s sucking mouth. “I’m ready.”

“You sure?” Holly asked, bending over and digging around underneath the tall bed.

Marc watched Holly’s pale buttocks wiggle and undulate as she tried to retrieve something from underneath the bed. She let out a squeal and giggle when Marc grabbed a handful of her butt.

“Oh, I, oh don’t, I might, I might want you to put that big cock up there,” Holly moaned out as Marc’s thumb grazed against her anus.

Holly managed to grab a foam rubber ramp from the floor underneath their bed. Marc watched as the two women wedged the ramp underneath Hank’s buttocks, elevating her pelvis. Hank’s inner lips protruded from her bald mound, puffy and wet. Marc watched a trickle of Hank’s excitement dribble down over Hank’s light brown anus. Marc wiggled forward and knelt between Hank’s spread legs.

“I, oh, oh dear God yes,” Hank hissed out as Marc pressed the head of his cock to her opening.

Holly crawled around and pressed her lips to Hank’s lips. Hank opened her mouth and the two women kissed hungrily. Hank shuddered as Marc’s cock entered her. Holly’s mouth muffled Hank’s grunt of pleasure.

“Give me those titties; I want those titties,” Holly demanded and began forcefully tonguing Hank’s tightly constricted areolae and hard nipples.

“I, oh, oh Baby yes,” Hank cried out.

Marc was unsure if Hank’s declaration was for him or for Holly. He could feel her vaginal walls struggling, almost as if she were trying to prevent his entry. He did not look down, even though he would have liked to. He would have liked to see his cock, nearly half of his length fully imbedded in her sweet, tight, young pussy. Marc could feel the excitement, the need to ejaculate building in his balls.

When he was seven years old, Irwin had wanted to be Frankenstein’s monster for Halloween. But Irwin had outgrown the costume. Marc was thrilled that the costume fit him. So, Irwin had ripped the mask to shreds. Their mother tried to glue it back together but it was ruined. Their mother punished Irwin; he could not go trick or treating that night.

“Irwin beat the living shit out of me; like it was my fucking fault,” Marc thought and the impending crisis passed.

“I, oh God, oh God, I oh aieegh! Aieegh yes!” Hank screamed and Marc felt his crotch grow wet.

“I am not hurting her,” Marc told Holly as their eyes met in the flickering candlelight.

Holly let out an elated giggle. Marc smiled and she raised up onto her knees and pressed her lips to his. He opened his mouth and the two kissed as Hank continued to pant and groan in pleasure.

“Know what? If I killed that ass hole, bet there’s no court in the land that would ever convict me,” Marc thought as he continued to dredge up incidents of his childhood.

Soon, too soon for his liking, even the vitriolic thoughts about his older brother were not enough to stem the tide. Hank gasped, grunted and groaned as Marc began the instinctual frenzied thrusting in and out.

“Where, where you want me to come?” Marc gasped out.

“In, come in me, come in me,” Hank screamed. “Shoot that, augh! Oh God yes!”

Marc bellowed and Hank cried out as they crested together. Finally, Marc gathered a shuddering breath and slowly pulled his wilting cock from Hank’s splayed depths. He slumped onto the bed, using the velour covered foam rubber ramp as a pillow. He jerked and grunted when Holly’s warm mouth swallowed the length of his flaccid cock. She made loud, slurping noises as she cleaned Marc’s cock of his and Hank’s combined juices.

“So? How, was your first time everything you’d hoped it would be?” Holly asked Hank, then kissed her before Hank could answer.

A few moments later, Holly roused Marc, holding out a snifter of Cire Apple Brandy. Marc took the offered glass and toasted her and Hank. While he drank, he watched Hank thrusting two fingers into herself, masturbating. She smiled and sucked her fingers clean, then held out her arms in invitation. Marc swallowed the last of the brandy and knee-walked between her spread legs.

“I, oh, oh yes,” Hank hissed as Marc again pressed the head of his cock to her puffy lips.

Having already ejaculated quite forcefully into her, Marc was able to hammer Hank’s squelching, sloppy pussy for several long moments. As her orgasm approached, Hank’s thighs wrapped around his waist, holding him deep inside of her. Again, her orgasm was heralded by a loud scream. When her thighs fell away, Marc again began to hammer her forcefully.

Hank cried out again when Marc stiffened and shot a thick load of semen into her. Again, Marc collapsed and used her ramp as a pillow for his head.

“You not done, huh? Holly cooed into his ear as her small hand wrapped around his limp cock. “Huh? You got any for me?”

“I, God, I, I don’t know,” Marc wheezed.

“Aw, poor baby,” Holly giggled, then peered at the slumped Hank. “Hank! You wore this poor man out.”

“He had it coming,” Hank wearily quipped.

Holly brought up some glasses of Strawberry flavored Coconut Water. Marc wiggled to lie next to Hank against the mound of pillows and quenched his thirst. When Hank held up her own empty glass, Holly took the glasses back downstairs. Hank leaned over and softly kissed Marc’s lips. She opened her mouth and the two lovers tasted each other’s tongues.

“Oh, goody!” Holly giggled, bounding onto the bed. “Look who’s ready to play again!”

Marc grunted into Hank’s mouth when Holly’s wet mouth swallowed his cock. Holly bobbed her head up and down the length of his erection, then straddled his hips.

“Mmph, I, oh, oh yes,” Holly grunted as Marc’s cock pressed into her.

“Don’t hurt her,” Hank teased and Holly froze for a moment.

Then the two women shared a hearty belly laugh. Holly was still giggling when she again began to bounce on Marc’s hard member.

“God, that, that’s what we looked like?” Hank asked Marc, watching as Holly’s puffy lips dragged back and forth long Marc’s cock.

“Mm hmm,” Marc agreed. “We looked sexy, hot.”

Holly began to bounce vigorously. Marc reached out and fondled her bouncing, swaying breasts. Holly grunted her approval as he pinched and tugged her hard nipples.

“I, oh, augh, I aieegh!” Holly suddenly stiffened and cried out in orgasm.

“I, oh, oh God,” Marc gave a guttural bark as his own climax seized him.

“Ooh, I, ooh, I can feel you shooting up in me,” Holly panted as Marc spurted a heavy load into her pussy.

Somehow, Marc found himself sandwiched between two beautiful, nude women. The comforter was thick, and he was soon bathed in sweat. Two warm bodies rested firmly against him, and the comforter did not allow him any room to cool down.

Marc was deliriously happy when Hank needed to pee. He flung the heavy blanket off and panted. Then, he also went into the bathroom to relieve his aching bladder.

“Come on; we’re cold,” Hank whispered urgently when he returned.

“Yeah,” Holly sleepily ordered.

“If I die, it’ll look good on my tombstone,” Marc thought to himself. “Killed by two sexy women.”

Hank prepared cherry tarts with a pecan praline topping. Holly complained Hank was trying to make her fat. Marc thought he needed to replenish the calories he’d sweated out during the night so did not complain about the sugar-laden breakfast.

“And, who’s ready to make love?” Hank asked as Marc finished his second tart.

“Ooh, me, me, me, me!” Holly enthused.

This time, Marc knelt behind Hank as she put her mouth over Holly’s blonde curls. Marc took a moment to admire Hank’s beautifully rounded buttocks before sliding his erection into her bald pussy.

“Mm ack, I, oh yes,” Holly grunted out as Hank noisily lapped at Holly’s crotch.

“Mmng! I, yes!” Hank cried out when Marc delivered a light slap to her buttocks.

Mark reached under and used Hank’s heavy swaying breasts as reins. Hank moaned her approval as he pinched and twisted her fat nipples. Holly screamed out in orgasm, then Hank screamed her own orgasm. Just as Holly and hank both began to crest in their second orgasms, Marc cried out and filled Hank with his own climax.

“Y’all, remember, y’all wanted to go to that Brick’s,” Marc reminded them when Holly began to tongue his flaccid cock.

“But, that’s not until two o’clock,” Hank said.

“Uh huh, but uh, I need go home? Shave? Shower, put on some fresh clothes,” Marc said. “Then we’ll eat lunch there, and be there for when Milt sets up.”

Fine, fine,” Holly groused.

“And if I’m lucky enough to come back here,” Marc promised, kissing Holly. “We’ll start up where we left off.”

“Promise?” Hank asked, again laying with her hips elevated on her foam ramp.

“Anal. You ever…” Holly asked Marc as he tried to locate his socks.

“I, oh damn,” Marc groaned as Holly intentionally posed, displaying her perfect buttocks.

“Quit,” Hank giggled and Holly giggled as well.

“I knew, I just knew you’d like him,” Marc heard as he made his way down the stairs.

Marc showered, shaved, even debated on taking a nap, but decided on guzzling a few cups of coffee instead. Holly and Hank were obviously excited; they were dressed, ready, and waiting outside for him.

There were television cameras set up inside of the Brick’s Pizzeria; apparently they were be taping this function. Marc was not surprised that Milt Duhon, the local celebrity, the cook on Channel 12’s ‘The Cast Iron Stomach’ pulled Holly up to help him in sifting the dry ingredients. Hank’s braless breasts bobbled and jiggled on television as Milt had her whisking the wet ingridients together before he showed the television cameras how to make the perfect, flaky, buttery crust.

“The pies are twenty five dollars each, Chelsea Duhon, the local reporter, and Milt’s wife said into the camera. “It’s fifty dollars each if they want the cast iron skillet as well.”

“I’d like two of them; with the skillets,” Marc said as the waitress came around to take his order.

“Yes sir, and thank you,” the waitress beamed. “Each sale goes to support the St. Elizabeth’s Animal Shelter.”

“Momma! See? I told you! I told you it’s him!” a red head squealed, bursting into the crowded restaurant, dragging a much older woman with her.

“Mealy! They’re taping,” Louellen Stamey chided Amelia Stamey.

“Hi! I watch your show all the time; I record it while I’m in school but the minute I get home it’s on,” Mealy Stamey Babbled excitedly as Milt paused his actions and stared at the interloper.

“Miss, please, please sit down,” Bill Henderson, the stage manager urged.

“I just love you so much,” Mealy gushed as her mother and Bill guided the girl to a seat.

“Now, we got the filling ready go in; I need me a volunteer…” Milt said when Bill gave him the ‘Go Ahead’ signal.

Mealy vaulted out of her seat and around the counter before Milt could complete the sentence, declaring, “Me! Me! Me, I’ll do it! I’ll do it!”

“…to wash up all them dishes, then sweep and mop them floors, oh! And we got us a volunteer yeah,” Milt said, smiling at Mealy while the audience laughed.

“I’m serious, ask my momma, I watch you all the time,” Mealy prattled as she spooned the apple chunk filling into the skillet. “You the whole reason I’m be a cook; I’m going to the Elgee Culinary College right there, you ought teach a couple classes over there, I swear!”

“Hey Momma, she ever take her a breath?” Milt asked Louellen.

“If she does, she does it when I’m not looking,” the older woman smiled tightly.

Marc and Hank and Holly sat and watched as the cute, bubbly eighteen year old red head fawned and gushed over the older Milt Duhon. Hank clutched onto Marc’s left arm, Holly clutched onto Marc’s right arm. He patted their upper thighs and smiled when he received two kisses on his cheeks.

“I swear, that girl’s about to have an orgasm,” Holly whispered into Marc’s ear.

Chelsea did a quick interview with each person that had purchased a pie. Upon learning that Marc had bought each of them a pie, and a skillet, Marc received two enthusiastic kisses, on camera.

Walking away, under the guise of needing the restroom, Holly purchased a third pie and skillet and told the waitress to give it to ‘that adorable red head’ and her mother. Holly cautioned the waitress not to tell the Stamey mom and daughter where the pie had come from.

Arriving at the condominium, Hank quickly cut three slices of pie and served the still very warm pie with a scoop of ice cream.

“Yawn. I’m tired. Pie always makes me so tired. Holly?” Hank asked.

“Hmm? Oh, oh yeah, yawn. Pie? I don’t know if I can even make it all the way up the stairs,” Holly agreed. “Marc?”

“Me? Hmm, no, no not really,” Marc teased as Hank slipped her pull over shirt up and off, revealing her beautiful boobs.

“See?” Holly said, also slipping out of her shirt. “You’re so tired, you don’t even know what you saying.”

“See, Marc. You’re very tired,” Hank ordered, pulling him out of his seat.

“Hmm. I, I guess I am,” Marc laughed and followed the procession of the two nude girls up the seps.

“Oh, oh, anal!” Holly said, walking on hands and knees across the bed.

“Really? You really, I, I’ve never seen that, I, oh!” Hank said, beginning to masturbate as Holly produced a tube of lubricant.

“Move them hands,” Holly ordered, kissing Hank. “Told you, that’s mine, that’s my job.”

“Then do your job,” Hank ordered, spreading her legs wider.

Marc watched for a few moments as Holly tasted Hank’s splayed inner lips. He watched as her fingers delved into Hank’s depths. Then he coated his index and middle fingers with the lubrication.

“Hmm, mmph, augh, I, yes,” Holly grunted as Marc’s thick fingers pushed into her winking anus.

Holly shivered and grunted as Marc twisted the two fingers around. She shuddered and gasped when he scissored his fingers inside of her rectum, widening her hole.

“I oh, oh sweet Jesus fuck!” Holly barked out as the blunt head of Marc’s cock pressed against her greasy anus.

Hank wiggled around and knelt next to Marc. Her beautiful eyes were opened wide as she watched Holly’s anus flower open, watched Marc’s slow progress as he pushed his cock into Holly’s anus.

“I, oh my God, she, you, you’re doing it,” Hank breathed, then pressed her lips to Marc’s lips.

Marc was grateful for the beautiful nude girl’s presence. He was grateful for the distraction; her nude body pressed against him, her soft, passionate kiss, her enthusiasm. Otherwise, he would have already ejaculated; Holly’s anus was squeezing his cock in a velvet vise grip, her rectal muscles were trying to force him out. The heat was incredible, the vulgarity, the naughtiness of the entire experience was indescribable.

“Oh, shit! Shit yes, I God, I love it up the…” Holly groaned, voice strangled.

“I want to…” Hank started to say.

“No! Not until…” Holly ordered.

Marc suddenly felt Holly’s fleshy globes pressing against his abdomen. Looking down, Marc realized he was imbedded in Holly’s luscious ass, fully inside of her to the hilt.

He could see her greasy light brown ring stretched taut around the girth of his thick cock. He could feel her muscles squeezing and pulsing around the shaft, squeezing and pulsing around the head of his cock. Marc could hear her pants and grunts and whimpers as he held himself inside of her bowels.

“Oh God, oh Jesus, I mmng!” Holly cried out as Marc began to pull out of her rectum.

She grunted and groaned and panted as he pulled himself out of her bowels. When he began to push back into her, Holly drove herself backward. She screamed out and thrashed in pleasure.

Marc ceased trying to be gentle and began to fuck her ass with vigor. Holly grunted, screamed, cursed and called out for him to fuck her.

“I, oh, I, Jesus! Aieegh! Aieegh! I oh God, God damn it yes!” Holly screamed in orgasm as she felt Marc’s semen flooding into her guts.

The shower was a walk-in shower with dual shower heads and a padded bench. After Holly scrubbed Marc’s cock clean, she kissed him hotly, rubbing his cock with her small hand.

“Mmng, I, oh, oh Marc, oh yes!” Holly cried out when Marc picked her up, pinned her against the shower wall and began fucking her with long, forceful strokes.

After flooding her pussy with semen, Marc staggered back and sat, hard onto the padded bench. Holly giggled, finding that his cock was still hard, still buried inside of her.

“Come on, Tiger; Hank’s waiting for her turn,” Holly giggled, kissing him.

Hank was indeed waiting, ass perched in the air. She squealed and gurgled as Marc pushed himself into her wet, ready pussy. Holly wiggled to lie in front of Hank’s mouth and Hank cooed and murmured as she ate the cream pie Holly fed to her.

Monday morning, Marc was sluggish and slightly chafed as he staggered down the stairs. He had to go toward Kimble, rush through a shower and shaving, dress then drive back toward Bender. He was twenty eight minutes late; thankfully, he was the manager of his department of one.

At their shared coffee break, Holly laughed her happy, musical laugh as she teased Marc about coming in late. Then she reminded him that it was Monday, and Monday meant red beans and rice at the Tannenbaum house.

Tuesday morning, Marc again had to rush to his apartment, rush to his job. Tuesday evening, he got smart and packed a suit and shirt and his toiletries.

Thursday morning, Martin himself called Marc into his office. With some hemming and hawing, Martin finally got around to divulging that someone had lodged a complaint that Marc had used his status, his position as a manager to coerce a subordinate into a sexual relationship.

“Tell Brandon Walker that Holly Tannenbaum is an assistant manager and is in a separate department of Boyd Investment Group,” Marc smiled. “I have no authority over her or her department. There is no coercion going on in our relationship.”

“Had to follow up on it,” Martin said, still looking ill at ease.

“Oh, I understand. And, yes, I would encourage you to follow up with Ms. Tannenbaum,” Marc said.

“Why don’t you just move in?” Hank asked on Thursday evening as Marc brought in his casual work outfit for casual Friday. “Oh, and where we going tomorrow night?”

“Bowling again?” Holly asked.

Go-carts after a very messy roast beef po-boy at Momma’s was met with approval. The video arcade after Marc managed to beat both Holly and Hank on the track was also met with approval.

Tuesday, right before he clocked out for lunch, Holly burst into Marc’s office. She playfully shoved his rolling chair aside as she rapidly typed on his keyboard.

“You have got to see this,” Holly enthused as the Channel 12 streaming video started.

“And I’m here with Mealy Stamey,” and we fixing make us a down and dirty quick chicken cacciatore,” Milt Duhon announced as a beaming Mealy Stamey stood next to him.

“I bet her panties are soaked,” Holly whispered as Amelia’s adoration of Milt Duhon was undisguised.

Marc and Holly ate their lunch at Marc’s desk, watching the streaming feed of the show. Holly sent a link to Hank’s cell phone; she was sure Hank would want the recipe for the chicken cacciatore.

“Seriously, why you don’t just move in?” Hank asked as she fixed Italian omelets on Saturday morning.

“Think about it,” Holly whispered. “Two beautiful women, making love with you…”

“Feeding you, taking care of you…” Hank agreed, placing his plate in front of him.

After the fourth weekend, Marc agreed to put in his thirty days’ notice at his apartment. He boxed up his clothing and put a few mementos and keepsakes into a separate box. At the moment, he was undecided of what to do with the furniture.

“Know what? I, I bet Charmaine would love that table,” Marc thought.

Charmaine Hebert, Marc’s cousin through his mother’s unmarried baby sister was only too happy to come get the table and six dining chairs and the living room set of couch, recliner and end tables, coffee table and two brass lamps.

“What about the bedroom set?” Marc asked the beautiful, chubby eighteen year old girl as her two male friends helped her.

“Bed’s not big enough,” Charmaine smiled.

“Yeah,” one of the hulking young men smiled.

“I uh, oh, oh!” Marc said, then gasped at the looks Charmaine and the two young men shared.

“You wasn’t my cousin, I’d tell you there’s room in our bed,” Charmaine admitted, unconsciously thrusting her pneumatic breasts in his direction.

“But we are,” Marc hastily reminded the beautiful brunette. “I, I’ll see if Alondra could use the bed.”

Alondra Anders was Marc’s nineteen year old niece; Gertrude ‘Trudy’ Trahan had married Jonathon Anders the Saturday after her graduation from St. Thomas Aquinas. They liked to joke that Alondra Michelle Anders had been born five months premature; she’d been born in November.

At present, the nineteen year old girl and her boyfriend and two or three other couples were renting a double wide trailer; Marc was pretty sure the beautiful but flighty girl could use the furniture. He was sure they could also use his serviceable cookware, is sturdy plates and bowls and cups.

The Saturday morning after he had moved in, had edged aside the winter clothing in the guest bedroom’s closet for his clothes and put his toiletries into the guest bathroom, Marc watched with some curiosity as Hank and Holly both went into the bathroom. They normally did not shower until after their breakfast, and usually, he was invited/ordered to join them in the large shower.

“Okay, and we wait thirty minutes, and…” Holly said as they came out of the bathroom.

“God, that long?” Hank asked, crawling into bed again.

“Hi. What you doing?” Holly asked Marc.

“Nothing. Just laying here,” Marc smiled.

“Really? Me too!” Holly enthused, gripping his morning wood in her hand.

Holly straddled his hips and guided him into her. She smiled down at him as she sat still, using her PC muscles.

“I, oh, oh yes,” Holly hissed as Marc insinuated a finger into her tight rectum.

“Remember, I get to…” Hank said to Holly.

“Mm hmm, I, God, I hope you get to,” Holly agreed, eyes tightly shut. “Real soon, hear?”

“A ‘brrrp!’ sounded out just as Marc and Holly were beginning the familiar grunts and thrusts of their impending climax. Hank shut off the cell phone’s alarm and bounded out of the bed.

“It is! It, Holly, its blue!” Hank screamed an ear-shattering scream from the bathroom.

Marc’s semen shot up, striking Holly’s breast and belly as she dismounted. Holly didn’t seem to notice as she hurried into the bathroom.

A second ear-shattering scream and the drumming of feet had Marc’s erection wilting. A moment later, Holly, still wearing her semen streak on breast and belly, and an ecstatic Hank raced into the bedroom. Both girls leapt onto Marc, both tried to kiss him at the same time, bumping each other’s heads.

“Oh you beautiful, beautiful man!” Hank laughed joyously.

“Oh, this is, oh you are, you are so wonderful!” Holly laughed.

Finally, Marc got the information out of the two girls; Hank was pregnant. This was what the two women had hoped for; this was why Holly had been so elated when Hank had invited Marc into the condo after their bowling date. On that Friday, Hank had been at her most fertile period.

“We, I, I’m going be a Mommy,” Hank now sobbed, overcome with joy.

“What you think about that, Daddy,” Holly asked, kissing Marc before he could answer.

There was no breakfast and lunch was not served until two thirty that afternoon. Hank wore nothing but fuzzy socks and an apron as she quickly whipped together some cheese and roasted vegetable crepes.

“By the way, ass fucking?” Hank said as they sat to enjoy the meal. “Never again. Holly? You, you’re insane, hear? Shit hurts.”

Two Tuesdays after Hank’s happy discovery and announcement of her pregnancy, Marc looked up when Holly lightly knocked on his doorjamb. Marc smiled, then lost the smile when Holly silently pointed at his office door.

“I uh, yeah, yeah you can close it,” Marc agreed.

“I, you know, I been feeling a little off last couple of days,” Holly said, taking a seat in front of his desk.

“Yeah, I…” Marc started to say.

“Anyway, I just got back from Dr. Turner’s,” Holly said, voice low, flat.

“Every, is everything okay?” Marc asked, the color draining from his face.

“I, no, no it’s not,” Holly wailed out, bursting into tears.

“I, oh, oh my God, is, is it cancer?” Marc could scarcely bring himself to ask as he knelt down next to her chair, wrapping his arms around her.

“I’m pregnant,” Holly sobbed out.

“I, you, you’re what?” Marc asked.

“I’m pregnant. Right about two months now,” Holly cried.

Doing the math in his head, Marc realized both Holly and Hank had conceived that first weekend he’d been in their bed. He smiled, squeezing her even tighter.

“I, this, this is wonderful,” Marc happily said.

“I, God! Hank, Hank’s going kill me!” Holly wailed out. “I, how? How could this happen?”

“Well, see, the Daddy and the Mommy…” Marc joked, elated.

“I know how it happened,” Holly shrilled. “I but how did this happen? This wasn’t supposed to…this, this was supposed to be just Hank.”

“I, but, but that that’s fantastic! That’s fantastic! I, Holly, Holly Tannenbaum, I, will you marry me?” Marc laughed happily.

“I, wait, what?” Holly asked.

“Will you marry me?” Marc repeated.

“What? I, are you, Marc, I, I can’t,” Holly stammered out.

“I mean, I know we can’t have a church wedding; I mean, we’re both divorced and…” Marc prattled.

“I, Marc, Marc, I can’t marry you; I’m already married,” Holly said.

“Huh? No, no you’re not. You, you said, you and Mattie, y’all are divorced,” Marc argued.

“I, Mattie? Yeah, yeah, we, we’re divorced, but Marc, I, I’m, Hank, Hank and I, we we’re married,” Holly stammered out.

Marc sat on the floor, hard. Holly’s lips continued moving, she was still speaking, but Marc couldn’t hear a word she said.

Slowly, Marc got to his feet. He numbly opened the door of his office, then walked around and sat at his desk.

“I, Hol…Mrs. Tannenbaum, I, please leave my office,” Marc ordered, swiveling to look at his monitor.

Marc felt himself crumpling inwardly. His insides were just so much jelly packed inside of his skin.

Becky, his wife had used him; he had just been a means to an end. She had wanted the prestige of being married, she had wanted an expensive, glitzy, glittery ring and the title of MRS. She had wanted a fancy car, fancy name-brand clothing, and an upscale apartment. And Marc was just the fool to give her those things.

After she’d coerced, manipulated him into giving her those things, Becky had decided she wanted to try out other things. After their divorce was final, Marc had discovered, through Becky smugly throwing it into his face, that his loving, devoted wife had tried gang bangs, had tried a lesbian fling. The two black men was just another thing for her to cross off her list; she’d never had a black cock before that evening.

And, apparently, Hank, and Holly had only wanted sperm. The two women had only wanted a baby. And, now that Hank, that both of them had conceived, Marc was no longer needed. He was disposable.

Ten minutes later, Marc sent an email to Martin Boyd, citing personal matters. Then he left the Boyd Building.

Marc entered Red’s Sports Bar, sat at a table and caught the attention of the scantily clad waitress. She smiled flirtatiously as she thrust her barely contained breasts in his face.

“Ice cold St. Elizabeth’s Light and a plate of the wings. Hot, hot, hot, hot as you can get them,” Marc said, ignoring her silicone enhanced breasts.

The apartment was empty; he still had two days left on his lease, but it was empty. Marc was pretty sure the landlord had rented the unit the moment they’d concluded the walk-through. Perhaps his mother would let him spend a few nights in her home, just until he got another place to live.

“Buy a girl a drink?” Holly asked as the waitress swiveled and swayed away from his table.

“How’d you find me?” Marc glumly asked.

“Followed you,” Holly admitted. “Surprised you didn’t see me right behind you. Not a whole lot of classic Mustangs out there.”

Marc said nothing. Holly waved the waitress over and ordered an iced tea, unsweetened. When the woman placed the drink on the table, Holly looked into Marc’s flat eyes.

“I know, well, I assume…” Holly said.

“Know what happens when you assume?” Marc tried to smile.

“…I know what you, you’re thinking,” Holly went on. “You, you’re thinking we, Hank and me, Hank and I, we just used you.”

“Well, didn’t you?” Marc asked bitterly. “Isn’t that exactly what happened?”

The wings arrived and Holly reached out to grab one. Marc’s hand shot out and stopped her.

“Sweetheart, they, look at them; they’re still smoking. You can’t eat that yet,” Marc cautioned.

“See?” Holly smiled. “Even though you think I, we used you, what did you just do?”

“I give up. What did I do?” Marc asked.

“You called me ‘Sweetheart.’ Even though you’re mad at me, you called me…and you just stopped me from burning the roof of my mouth,” Holly said, grabbing a celery stick from the plate.

“Marc, we, Hank and I, we were looking at in vitro fertilization, looking at doctors,” Holly said. “Then, one day, I went to dinner with you. Whole time, whole time we were sitting there, not once did you call your ex-wife, sorry, I don’t remember her name, but…”

“Becky,” Marc said, nibbling on a carrot stick.

“See? Even now? You could have called her a nasty name. But you didn’t. I went home and told Hank I just found the Daddy we need for our baby,” Holly said and again reached for a wing.

“Yay me,” Marc mumbled.

“I told her, I found a man, a real man. And, our baby, he or she, our baby would have a Daddy, a man that would stick around and teach him how to ride a bike, teach her how to roller skate…” Holly said, dunking the wing into the blue cheese dip.

“Well, Daddy needs to learn how to roller skate first if I’m going teach her,” Marc smiled tightly. “And please, please tell me he or she won’t be playing soccer, oh God kill me. Having to go watch my niece Alondra just running back and forth…how can a bunch of kids do that much running and never score a single damned point?”

“Marc, we, we didn’t use you; we chose you,” Holly said and whistled at the spicy heat of the wing. “This, oh, oh my God, Hank, hank needs to try this…Miss! Waitress?”

“Yes ma’am,” the young woman asked.

“I need an order of these, to go,” Holly said, pointing at the wings.

“Separate checks?” the waitress asked Marc.

“No, no, put it on my bill,” Marc said.

“Marc, we could have, we were already prepared to go the clinic route, but then I met the most wonderful man in the world. And watching you throw gutterball after gutter ball? I, I prayed, I even said a ‘Hail Mary’ that Hank would accept you and for a Jewish girl to say a ‘Hail Mary?’ Well, shit, you know that’s serious,” Holly said, linking fingers with him.

Holly ate the majority of the wings. Marc had to move the Styrofoam container of the second order of wings out of her reach, else Hank would get no wings. He ordred a plate of assorted sliders and bacon potato skins. Again, Holly ate the majority of those, but Marc was sufficiently fed.

“Please, please come home. Its home. It’s our home, you and me and Hank,” Holly begged. “If you’re not there? It, it’s not home. It’s just a place.”

Marc slowly shrugged his shoulders in defeat. Holly squealed happily and kissed him. She waited while Marc settled up the bill, then they left the bar together.

“I’ll take…” Holly said, reaching for the take-out box.

“No, you won’t,” Marc smiled. “I’ll make sure Hank gets it.”

“Oh, but she’s not going want all of them,” Holly wheedled.

“And what she don’t eat, I will,” Marc said, hitting the key fob for his truck’s door lock.

“Hey Marc?” Holly asked, standing by her Mustang.

“Yeah?” Marc asked, looking over the bed of his truck.

“I. We, we love you,” Holly promised.

The End.

**Author’s Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. I thank you sincerely for reading my stories.