She Did Me a Favor

For some reason that just melted her, because she whispered something in Spanish and then she was all over me, kissing me deeply and working her hands over my body. She quickly got my sweater off, and the T-shirt I had under it, then attacked my pants.

In less time than it takes to write this, I was naked on her sofa and Dolores was standing in front of me unzipping her dress. It fell to the floor and I know I stared in utter reverence. Her glorious tits stood out like small torpedoes, capped by fat areolas and long, stiff nipples.

But what absolutely riveted me to the sofa and made my cock spring to immediate life was the space between her legs. Dolores Valdez had the thickest, prettiest pubic bush I've ever encountered on a woman.

It was dark, like the hair on her head, and it spread from her abdomen all the way to her butt. Not only did it frame her juicy pussy like a portrait, but it gave her pink rosebud a nice border. The whole effect was enhanced by the garter belt and hose she was wearing, and the heels she still had on.

I idly stroked my throbbing cock as she leaned over and offered me her tits. I figured my cock would be OK long enough for me to enjoy Dolores' breasts. I reached up and fondled the hanging globes, twirled her nipples between my fingers then brought them to my mouth and suckled her like a baby.

Dolores gasped then moaned as I worked her tits with my hands and my mouth. After a few minutes of acute breast worship, I slid a hand down between her legs and stroked her wet pussy. It was steaming, and her clit was already red and exposed.

On a hunch, I got my fingers nice and juicy then slipped them further back and circled her asshole. Bingo! Dolores growled in pleasure and ground her crotch to my hand while she leaned further over and kissed me frantically.

"I want you there," she said lustfully, and I wasn't going to argue, because I wanted her there too.

But first, she wanted me in her pussy. She was ready to come, and I was ready to give her a fucking she'd never forget.

Dolores straddled my hips on the couch while I held my cock straight upright. I sort of wiggled it around in her hole until I found the right spot and we came together almost like we'd been doing it forever.

She slid down on me and I thrust up into her, and within the first few strokes she had her head thrown back in wanton ecstasy.

"Ah yeah, baby, good cock," she panted as her climax came to a quick crescendo. "Good lover."

Hearing that kind of praise from a woman like Dolores, on top of the experience with Marci, was a real boost to my ego, reaffirming that I had plenty of gas left in my tank, no matter what Beth might have thought.

We worked like a machine as Dolores began to jerk and moan in her rampant climax, ending with a sharp cry as she crashed over the top.

As I felt her body shudder, I reached behind her and slid one finger from each hand between her butt cheeks. I managed to gather enough of our commingled juices on my fingers to rim her little browneye.

Dolores kissed me wildly then, and whispered in my ear that she wanted me to fuck her ass now.

I grinned from ear to ear as I lifted her off my body and rolled out from under her. She was leaning over the sofa, head down and buns up. I just marveled at the succulent ass that was about to be at my disposal.

A lot of black guys I know say most white men don't appreciate a nice, wide booty, and that may be true in most cases. But right then I understood what they meant, because Dolores had a butt that any black man would drool over. It was just plump enough to be meaty, but it was firm.

I shook myself out of my reverie and reached a hand between her legs and smeared a generous helping of pussy juice over her anus and slowly let my middle finger penetrate her sphincter.

Dolores gasped then growled as I began to slowly finger-fuck her ass. I gradually picked up speed, then eased a second finger in there and started to open her up a little more. I was captivated by the way her wisps of hair defined the target area as I worked a third finger in her butt.

She couldn't stand it.

"Holy fuck, Pete!" she cried. "Fuck it, fuck my ass. I want you in my ass. Now!"

Never let it be said that I don't give a hot woman what she wants. I held my cock at the base and swirled the head around the entrance to her pussy, just to get a little more lubricant on me.

When I was satisfied that my cock was juicy enough, I lifted myself up and pressed the head to her anus and slowly pushed. It didn't take long before I popped past her tight ring and slid all the way into her ass.

As I did, I cried out at the exquisite feeling of Dolores' ass enveloping my cock, and Dolores screamed in absolute rip-roaring passion.

She hurled her butt back to get as much of my iron rod in her ass as I possibly could, and she was foaming at the mouth in a steady stream of unintelligible Spanish gibberish.

I gripped her butt hard and gave her what she obviously wanted, a really hard reaming. As I fucked Dolores' ass with a runaway lust, I reached under her body and squeezed her tits. That lit the fuse on another convulsive climax, as Dolores rolled her head around in a sexual frenzy.

I was getting closer and closer to a meltdown, and I increased my pace to a peak. Just about the time Dolores was ripped by another orgasmic twitter, I felt something like nails explode out the end of my cock as I came deep in her bowels.

I flooded Dolores' backside with a staccato burst of cum that quickly oozed out from around the base of my cock.

I pumped her full of semen until I was finally drained, then I pulled my cock out and felt a chill roll through me at the way her anus stayed open for a couple of seconds and the way cum flowed out of her gaping hole.

Then I collapsed onto her back and gave a laugh of utter contentment. That moment was the first time I thought about thanking Clark Slater for setting the events in motion that had led me to that point.

Thanks to Clark, and his tawdry affair with my wife, I was free of my comfortable, but boring life in a nowhere town. I was free of an increasingly loveless marriage and a chaotic family life in a decaying house. I was free of a job that had long since ceased to challenge me in a large corporation where I was lost in the shuffle.

I was free to go anywhere, do anything and fuck anyone I wanted, and I couldn't have done that with a clear conscience had I not caught my wife and her lover in the act of adultery.

After catching our breath, Dolores and I retired to her oversized bathtub, one of the few extravagances she'd indulged herself since returning to town, where we spent a long time bathing each other in between kissing and licking and sucking.

We ended up fucking again right there in the bathtub, then retired to her bed and fucked again before we finally passed out from well-sated exhaustion.

I spent the next day visiting with my family, then I set out in earnest the following day. As I drove, I reflected that it had been exactly three weeks since I'd caught Beth and Clark, three weeks that had completely changed my life.

This trip was the first step in living my new life. Over the next three months, I wandered the western half of the country, seeing places I had only read about.

My first stop was Mt. Rushmore, then I spent a couple of days exploring the site of the Battle of Little Bighorn. I walked the grounds and communed with the ghosts of Custer and the Seventh Cavalry, and with those of Crazy Horse and his warriors.

After that, I drove to Jackson Hole and camped out for a week and a half while I toured Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons.

I had to laugh when I got my first look at the Tetons, thinking that the Frenchies who named them must have been awfully hard up to see women's breasts in those jagged peaks.

From there, I drove up to spend some time in northern Idaho, camping on the banks of Lake Pend Orielle. I had been there once before, when I was a teenager at a Boy Scout Jamboree in 1969. In fact, my fellow scouts and I were among the few Americans who didn't see the first moon landing because we were camped well away from televisions.

While I was there, I fished the lake and hiked the trails, enjoying the cool mountains of the northern Rockies.

When I awoke one morning in late October to three inches of snow on the ground, however, I knew it was time to move on to more temperate climes.

I went to Seattle, then down the Pacific coast through Oregon to spend some time in the Napa Valley – and yes, I did sample some of the excellent wine that the area produces – before going to Yosemite for several days.

After that, I visited an aging aunt and uncle in the Los Angeles area, and he helped me achieve a long-held desire to see Southern Cal play UCLA in the Rose Bowl, one of the truly big rivalries in college football at one of the most historic stadiums in the country.

I also took a day to spend at the beach in Venice, getting an eyeful of all the California hardbodies that hang out there wearing very little. I was in a gift shop across the street from the beach when I saw a postcard and got the wicked idea of sending one to my wife and her lover.

It showed four very nubile, very scantily clad babes together with the heading that read, "Greetings From Venice Beach." I wrote a note on each one thanking them for fucking around on me, so I could take this trip. Then I sent one to the house for Beth and one to the hospital for Clark.

That was the weekend before Thanksgiving, and it was time for me to get to where I really wanted to go.

My best friend from high school lived in Durango, Colo., a beautiful mountain town not far from the Four Corners. He and his wife had started a small business and they needed someone to help with computer marketing and other cyber-arts.

It was perfect for me. He owned a small house that he'd been using as a rental property where I could stay, and he offered a flexible work schedule that would allow me the freedom to go wherever I wanted whenever I wanted.

I had spent a lot of spare time on the road doing a lot of writing, and I had the makings of a pretty good book. I simply wrote about myself and my trip and why I was doing it, along with other pertinent reflections.

Once I completed my business with Beth and settled in Colorado, I'd have time to polish my work. It was all about the changes in a middle-aged life as a result of one disastrous event.

I didn't know it that Monday when I headed east toward Colorado, but my life was about to change again, in a completely unexpected way.

I had been in Durango a couple of days when Chris, my friend Kyle's wife, announced that she had invited a friend of hers over the share Thanksgiving dinner with us. This woman lived alone, Chris said, and didn't socialize much, but Chris hated the thought of someone being alone on Thanksgiving, so she had extended the invitation and it had been accepted.

Funny how life pivots on little decisions like that.

Maybe I would have met Maureen McDermott anyway, once I moved to Durango. But who knows what might have happened in the interim? Perhaps she'd have decided to move on, or maybe someone else would have swooped in and knocked her off her feet.

I don't know. All I do know is that when Maureen walked through the door of Kyle and Chris' house, my stomach did a shimmy, and before the day was out I was determined that I was going to make her mine.

I saw a woman in her mid-30s who was quite tall, at nearly six feet, and slender, but not bony. She had a pale complexion peppered with freckles, flaming red hair cut very short, and soft green eyes that were an enchanting blend of mischief and sadness.

And when she opened her mouth to speak, it sounded like a symphony of leprechauns.

Yes, she was a full-blooded native of Ireland who had come to the States with an Irish dance troupe, one of these Riverdance groups, and had settled in Denver.

She had moved to Durango about a year earlier after breaking off an engagement to be married two days before the wedding. Seems she had caught her groom-to-be at his bachelor party in the act of fucking a stripper who had been hired for the night.

She hadn't intended on crashing his party, but she and a couple of her girlfriends had been on their way to breakfast after their hen party when she happened to pass a strip club and saw her fiancé and his group coming out. One of the girls from the club was wrapped around her betrothed, and she had decided to follow them to see what happened.

It had been an emotionally scarring event, one more blow in a life that had seen plenty of them.

Her father had been an alcoholic who beat her mother until they fled him when Maureen was 15, after he'd started beating on her. Even then, she said, her father stalked them relentlessly until the police finally stepped in and he was charged and convicted of spousal abuse.

She'd subsequently been raped when she was on holiday in London when she was 22, and she'd had her heart broken several times after that, culminating in her fiancé's betrayal.

I think the reason we hit it off so well was because we understood what betrayal was all about.

Over the previous weeks of traveling, I had thought a lot about Beth and what she'd done, and I couldn't get past the inconsistency of her protestations of love for me with the image of her in bed with another man. She had betrayed me and our marriage, and I didn't have a clue as to why.

I had been telling myself all along that I didn't care, but that wasn't entirely true. I did care. I wanted to know what had happened to the love we'd once shared, why Beth had felt she was entitled to take a lover on the side, knowing how I felt about fidelity.

I did keep up with what was going on back home, mostly through e-mails to and from Laura, who seemed to have decided at this late date to repair our relationship. She was plainly worried about Jason, who had indeed lost his job and was begging Beth to let him move back in.

I spoke to Beth a couple of times, briefly, but whenever she started to get weepy or tried to apologize, I cut her off. I did promise her that I would sit down and listen to her when I got back. It wasn't going to change anything, but I wanted to hear what she had to say.

Nothing was going to change my mind by then. I had made my decision on what I wanted, and I wanted to live in Durango. As a result, I spent three weeks getting settled in my new home and helping Kyle and Chris with their business.

And I was spending a lot of time with Maureen. We talked long and deep Thanksgiving night, about everything, to Chris' amazement and delight, and when I walked with her out to her car, we sort of looked at each other and we kissed. There wasn't a lot of passion in it, but there was a lot of promise.

Over the three weeks I was there before I returned home – or, rather, my soon-to-be former home – we dated probably a dozen times, and we got more and more intimate.

I knew I had to be careful because of Maureen's past. She had been hurt badly by men, and she was wary of being hurt again.

But the more I got to know her, the more I realized that despite her history, she was a woman with a hot-blooded nature. She was a dynamite kisser, with lips that were just full enough to enjoy and a tongue that knew what it was doing.

Waiting was excruciating, because the more time I spent with Maureen, the more I wanted her. She was so sexy, so sensual and, yes, so needy, but I understood her need to be cautious, and I respected her desire to take it slow.

My patience was rewarded the weekend before I was scheduled to head back to finish my business with Beth. Kyle and Chris wanted me to get a real taste of Colorado, so they planned a four-day ski trip.

There's a nice ski resort right outside Durango, and Purgatory is real close, but they wanted me to enjoy the whole ski experience. So they pulled some strings with a friend of theirs in the real estate business who helped us get a nice two-bedroom condo at Telluride, about 70 miles away.

I was having dinner with Maureen one night a few days before we were to leave, when the subject of the trip came up, and she asked what she should bring. I just kind of stared at her, and she gave me a Mona Lisa smile.

"You knew I was going, didn't you?" she said.

"I was hoping, but I didn't know if it was my place to invite you or not," I said. "You know the condo only has two bedrooms."

"And that's a problem how?" she said, smiling a little wider.

"Are you sure?" I said, taking her hands and looking deep into her eyes.

"Very sure," she said. "I knew you were the one I've been looking for all my life the first time I met you. I know you, know your heart. You're a good man, Pete, and you deserve to be happy. I think I can make you happy."

Did she ever.

We drove up to Telluride on a cold, clear Thursday morning. The early winter snows had been heavy in the high country, so we figured the skiing would be good, and it was.

I had been skiing once before, a long time before, when a group of us from college spent a week at Vail. Maureen had been once before the previous season with Kyle and Chris.

Despite that limited experience, Maureen and I took the one-day ski school that was recommended before we tackled the slopes on our own.

Once we'd been taught the basics, she and I had a blast going up and down the mountain. We prudently stayed away from the black slopes, the expert trails, but we did try a few of the blue trails, the intermediate slopes, and found we could handle them with a fair bit of skill.

It was bracing to spend the time out on the mountain with a woman I grown to care about quite intensely. I wasn't sure yet if I was in love, or if she was in love with me, but we liked each other a lot, and we were comfortable in each other's company.

We ended that first day sore and tired, but it was a good kind of soreness and a pleasant tiredness that comes from having a lot of fun.

The four of us ended up at a nice, modestly priced restaurant for our post-ski dinner, and we toasted our rapidly cementing partnership, in every sense of the word.

When we got back to the condo, I showered, then sat back on the large waterbed with a book I'd been reading while Maureen took a long bath. I was toying with the idea of joining her, but decided not to be pushy. I wanted her to make the first move.

I'm glad I did.

She came in the bedroom smelling like peach blossoms, clad in a long, moderately heavy robe. She stood just inside the door and smiled at me. Slowly, she undid the sash of the robe and let the sides fall open.

"See anything you like?" she said, her soft Irish brogue sounding ever so sexy.

I just nodded as I feasted my eyes on Maureen's tall, trim body. My God, she had a flat stomach, legs that seemed to go forever, beautiful little A-cups on her chest and a thick, but nicely trimmed thatch of hair between her legs that matched the flaming color of the hair on her head.

I rolled off the bed and walked up to her, my cock leading the way as it tented my sweatpants. I let my hands softly caress her body as we came together and kissed slowly, with a smoldering passion that was steadily mounting.

It was like we were in a dream world as I softly slid my hands over her stiff pink nipples while she pulled my T-shirt off and lowered my pants to free my cock. I slipped the robe off her shoulders and we stood together naked, our eyes signaling our approval of what we saw.

We walked to the bed then and lay back, our bodies sliding together. Like magnets, our hands quickly found each other's sex. I slipped my hands between the dewy lips of her pussy while she softly stroked my rampant cock.

Unlike my two previous encounters, with Marci and Dolores, I didn't feel the urgency, the need to get on with business. We sensed, instead, that we had all the time in the world to explore each other, to love each other.