The Bucket List

"Hold that thought for a couple of minutes more; this feels so good I don't want to move."

If we had stayed like that for a few minutes longer I would have surely fallen asleep. I think she sensed this and began to move her hips back and forth.

"Now for round one of the main event."

She rolled over onto her back, and pulled me on top of her.

"John, you always want to be sure that the woman is protected against pregnancy before you engage in sex. The second thing you want to make sure of is that she's properly lubricated. I can assure you," she continued with a sly smile, "that I am OK on both counts."

I supported my upper body on my arms and guided my cock to the mouth of her pussy. With a little pressure it slowly entered her. The feeling of her moist, hot pussy grasping my cock as I inched deeper and deeper was incredible. I looked down into her eyes when I had no more to give her. She looked up at me with a knowing smile. There is no greater feeling than that between two people as they share this most intimate of embraces. I began to rock my hips back and forth, slowly at first, her pussy trying to prevent me from leaving, which I had no intention of doing. Back and forth, in and out, I moved until I could feel the signals of my imminent orgasm. Edel threw her legs over my hips and urged me on.

"Harder, deeper. I'm going to cum again... cum with me, John."

I froze in place, trying to push her down through the mattress as my orgasm hit.

I collapsed and rolled over on my back pulling her with me, my cock still imbedded deep in her.

"Wow, is it always like this?"

"It can be if you work at it. Remember, it takes both of you to make it so."

She put her head down on my chest and this time we both fell asleep.

I awoke a short time later. Edel was sitting up, straddling my hips.

"Welcome back. I thought I was going to have to start round two without you." Edel again beamed her angelic smile down at me. "This is referred to as the cowgirl position, for reasons that will become more obvious shortly. It's one of my favorite positions because I can control most of the action and receive more stimulation."

She had a handful of my cock, which was becoming erect once again, and was guiding it into her pussy. She lowered herself until she had all of me. After several moments, she started to bounce lightly up and down, slowly at first, getting the feel of my length, she leaned forward and offered me first one then the other of her beautiful tits.

"Bite them, squeeze them; I love it."

I was loving it, too. I could feel her begin to pick up the pace. Soon I was lifting my hips in sync with her movements. The room filled with the sounds of slapping skin and creaking furniture. This was pure animalistic sex and it seemed to go on forever.

Suddenly she sat upright and ground her pussy down on my cock. I reached up, grabbing her nipples between my fingers. I pulled and twisted until she froze, her mouth open in a silent scream, her eyes clenched tightly shut. I could hold it off any longer and, with a groan, I too came once again.

She seemed to collapse forward and I gently turned her over on her back and went for a wet washcloth. I returned and wiped the sweat from her face. Her eyes began to flutter open and her breathing returned to normal. She reached up pulled me down to her lips and kissed me.

"Thank you," she said, "I had forgotten just how good it could be."

We held each other and fell asleep.

The sun was already up and peeking through the curtains when I woke the next morning, alone. There was a note on the nightstand.

Thank you John,

Last night was incredible for me, I hope it was good for you also. As far as I'm concerned you don't need any other lessons. I'll just tell you that there are many other variations that two lovers can experiment with. The most important thing is to have fun and never hurt one another.

Remember me,

Edel'

'Yes, Edel I will always remember you.'

I got up and showered. I looked at the clock; it was nearly 10AM. I hurriedly dressed, threw my things in my bag and proceeded downstairs to meet Joe for breakfast.

Joe was already there having coffee. I sat down, poured myself a cup and said, "Thank you."

There was no need to say anything else; the smile on my face said it all.

After breakfast we checked out, retrieved the car, and headed for home.

"I don't have to tell you that whatever happens in Beverly Hills stays in Beverly Hills."

I just nodded.

Once again when we got home I turned on my computer and updated my list;

Number 6 - Have oral sex with a pro - DONE

Chapter 12

I worked out alone on Sunday. I found out that MaryAnn was away for the weekend. I really missed her. I had an empty feeling inside of me. Was it the guilt over what I had done or was it the fact that having done it, I craved the companionship that we had developed? I went into the combat room and pounded the bag until my arms felt like lead. The sweat was pouring off me, I was exhausted but I felt great. I spent the rest of the day hanging out at the pool and soaking up the sunshine.

Joe and I had a quiet dinner together. Sometime around 9:00, I saw MaryAnn coming up the stairs from the direction of the garage. She was carrying an old gym bag and wearing sweats. I was disappointed when she passed by the family room and headed directly upstairs to her room. Later, when I went upstairs to my room, I stood by her door debating on whether to check to see if there was anything wrong. But I decided that I would respect her privacy, turned and went to my room.

At six the next morning, I was back in the gym, running on the treadmill. MaryAnn entered a short time later,

"Sorry I'm late, I guess I overslept. How was your weekend?"

"It was OK. How was yours?"

"It was OK."

There was an awkward silence. We each knew that there was more to the other's story, but didn't want to press the issue. I did notice that she was wearing makeup this morning, which was unusual for her. MaryAnn never wore make up in the morning, she really didn't any, she had a natural beauty that didn't need enhancement.

After the treadmill, she pushed me hard on the weight bench. I was up to 100 lbs on the bench press and 30 lbs on my curls. I was no Atlas, but for my size I thought I was doing pretty well. My body had gone from slim and soft, with no visible sign of muscle, to sleek and toned, with the beginnings of set of six-pack abs and well-shaped arms and legs. I had put on about fifteen pounds, but my pants were getting loose.

I had breakfast alone that morning. Afterwards, I went to my desk in the study and found an envelope taped to the monitor of my computer. In it was the usual sheet of paper with the next task:

Number 5 - Work for a week in a Homeless Shelter.

I sat back in my chair; this was going to be interesting.

I talked to Joe that night at dinner.

"Joe, do you want me to set something up?"

"No, I've already arranged everything. We start tomorrow morning at seven."

"What's going on, what are you starting tomorrow?" MaryAnn asked.

"John and I are going to be volunteers at The Sisters of Mercy Mission in LA. We start tomorrow and will be gone for a week."

"I think that is a very noble gesture. Is there anything you want me to do?"

"Yes, there is as a matter of fact. I'll talk to you about it later; I still have to think about it a little more."

Joe got up from the table,

"John, be ready at 5:30AM. Wear a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt, pack a bag with another pair of jeans, underwear and several tee-shirts. We can do our laundry there."

MaryAnn and I talked after dinner. The events of the weekend, whatever they were, were in the past, and there was an ease to our conversation. She told me that she had worked at SMM a couple of years ago and that it was a real eye-opening experience for her. She told me that the Mission was not only a soup kitchen, feeding homeless and near homeless people in the area, but was also a shelter for women with children, some who are homeless, some who were battered and abused.

I excused myself and went upstairs to pack, while MaryAnn turned towards the library.

I awoke before the alarm, grabbed a quick shower and dressed as Joe had suggested. I was walking downstairs, my bag in hand, when the doorbell rang. Joe ran across the foyer and opened the door.

"We'll be out in two minutes."

Outside, I could see a cab, engine running and lights on, and the trunk open. Joe went back to the kitchen and returned moments later with two containers of coffee. He handed me one, picked up his bag, which was by the door, and headed outside with me hot on his heels.

As we traveled towards LA, Joe, in between sips of his coffee said,

"MaryAnn told me last night that she filled you in on what SMM does. We are going to be volunteer workers, primarily in the soup kitchen, but will be available for anything that the sisters need done."

The sun was just making its first appearance of the day as we turned off the freeway and headed down the nearly deserted streets of an obviously poor section of the city. There was graffiti on buildings on both sides of the street, small, rundown cottages, abandoned houses, empty lots -- all the signs of a neighborhood in decay. The cab turned the corner and stopped in front of what at first glance appeared to be an abandoned grocery store. Above the door, a sign proclaimed: Sisters of Mercy Mission - All Welcome. Below that was the same message in what I assumed was Spanish. There was already a line of people standing near the front door.

The cab dropped us off at the curb, we retrieved our bags from the trunk, and walked across the parking lot to the side door. We banged on the door and soon a pleasant face appeared in the small wire mesh re-enforced window in the door.

"Hello, welcome. You must be Joe and John our new volunteers. Come in, I'm Sister Ann."

We followed her into the kitchen; all around us the atmosphere was that of controlled chaos. People shouting to be heard, needing supplies, asking for help, cooking food on a well worn but functional commercial stove.

"You'll have to excuse us; it's always this hectic just before we open the doors. You can put your bags over here. I'll show you to your serving station and introduce you to the others."

We walked out of the kitchen and into a large room, three-quarters of which was filled with long tables and chairs. In the front of the room, closest to the kitchen, was a single row of tables with chafing dishes ready to accept trays of food.

"Joe and John, I'd like you to meet Anna and Juanita. Ladies, these are the two gentlemen I was telling you about."

We all exchanged greetings.

"Joe, you'll be handing out the toast and butter packets; John, you've got the apples and the cartons of milk. The ladies will answer any questions that come up. Good luck and, once again, thank you for coming."

At 7AM sharp, Sr. Ann opened the door and stepped aside. A steady stream of people filed through the door, took a tray, and made their way down the row. Scrambled eggs, hash brown potatoes, toast and butter, an apple and a container of milk were provided. Once they were through the line, they headed to an empty seat and ate their breakfast.

There were homeless men and women who looked like they hadn't had a decent night's sleep or a bath in weeks, single mothers with two or more kids, elderly men and women who were once self-sufficient and had believed that social security was going to provide them with a decent retirement, and even some relatively young men and women who appeared to be capable of supporting themselves, but for one reason or another couldn't. They were all here accepting graciously the help that the mission made available. The line seemed endless, but by 9:00 we were standing idle, only a few people were left in the room.

"You two did well for your first meal."

We turned to see Sr. Ann, leaning against the kitchen door.

"Grab yourself some breakfast and come sit by me."

We did as we were bid. Sr. Ann sat across the table from us.

"I just wanted to tell you a little about Anna and Juanita. They are two of our many successes here at the Mission. Anna was a battered wife; she had no skills, no education. She lived with us for five years, got her G.E.D., and works in a doctor's office as their receptionist and file clerk. She has her own apartment and works the breakfast shift nearly every day. Juanita is a single mother. She came here two years ago penniless, with an infant child. She learned to speak English, and works as a waitress in an all-night diner. After her shift, she takes care of her child and then comes downstairs and works. Now she'll go upstairs, get a few hours sleep, play with her son, take a nap and then do it all over again. We provide the daycare and the night supervision for the times when she's not here."

"You seem to run a first class operation here Sister. How do you do it day in and day out?" I asked.

"Well, fund-raising is a full time job here. There are three of us living upstairs, along with ten women and their families if they have them. We are more fortunate than most shelters; through the grace of God, we have been blessed with an anonymous donor who makes up the difference in any budget short falls."

I turned my head to look at Joe... and got a swift kick in the shin for my trouble.

"After you two eat, you can come back to the kitchen and help with the washing and drying of the trays and utensils. We have a lot of work to do before 3:30; that's when we open the doors again for dinner."

The little dynamo that is Sr. Ann stood and hurried to the kitchen.

"Sorry about that; they don't know anything about me and I want to keep it that way."

The kitchen was almost deserted when we got there. Sr. Ann was reviewing the menu for supper tonight and the rest of the week, and the cook was looking through the walk-in cooler at the inventory of food. When she exited the cooler she told Sr. Ann,

"We have enough for tonight and tomorrow morning, but after that we are going to need a delivery."

"OK, I'll place the order."

"Guys, this is Sally our cook. Sally these are the two volunteers I told you about."

"Great; you, come here so I can show you how to work the dishwasher. And you will rinse, dry and stack the trays for later."

Sr. Ann laughed as she walked out of the kitchen,

"Did I tell you Sally used to be a cook in the Army?"

For the next two hours Joe stacked the trays into racks and fed them into the washer, while I pre-rinsed them and then removed them from the dryer and stacked them for the evening meal. The kitchen was steamy hot and the sweat was pouring out of us... and we were loving every minute of it. We were doing our part to help these people help so many less fortunate than ourselves.

At noon, we had a chance to take a break.

"We're going outside for a little walk."

Sally, picked her head up,

"Don't go off the block; this is gang territory. We have sanctuary on this block only because of the work that we do. If you stray off this block, you're fair game."

It was a sobering statement, emphasizing that much more what this Mission meant to the good people of this area.

We walked up and down the short block; there were people hanging around in front of old rundown buildings. Some of these people I recognized from breakfast, others appeared to have just rolled out of bed. There was so much poverty, so much hopelessness; how could all of this exist in a land with an abundance of practically everything? Couldn't the government do something; should the government do something, or was it up to us all as individuals to help organizations like the Sisters of Mercy help those that wouldn't or couldn't help themselves? I had no answer.

At 1:00 the kitchen began to come alive once again. Big pots of water were brought to a boil, potatoes were peeled, whole chickens hacked into their parts. The workers seemingly appeared out of thin air as the preparations were made for the next meal. Joe and I were shown where and what we were to be doing. We brought out the stacks of trays and the utensils, and took out the garbage from the morning meal.

At three-thirty, the doors opened and the people began to arrive. There weren't as many in line at any one time, but the line never seemed to be totally empty. Three hours later, we closed the doors for the evening. By my estimate, we had served close to three hundred meals. Now came the task of cleaning up; the garbage was dumped, the floors were mopped, the tables cleaned, the trays and utensils were washed and dried. By 9:00, everything was ready to start all over again the next morning.

And there was Sr. Ann.

"Get your bags and come with me."

We followed her upstairs. What used to be offices and storage space had been turned into living quarters for the three sisters and the ten families that were currently living there. There was also a common room which served as a living room, play room and dining area for those that couldn't make it downstairs.

"It's not much, but it's all we have. There's a bathroom with a stall shower at the end of the hall, be sure to lock the door when you're in there. We don't want any surprises."

"It will do just fine, thank you Sister. Good night."

The room was small, with just enough room for two cots and a small chest of drawers, which held the only light in the room. There was a small window and a ceiling fan.

We took turns in the bathroom, opting to shower tonight rather than in the morning. When we were both done for the night, I reached up and shut the light.

"Joe, Thank you."

The next thing I knew, it was morning and our day started all over again. For the next six days, our routine never varied, only what we served. It seems poverty never takes a day off.

On Monday when the Mission closed for the night, we were finished with our one-week commitment. But, we couldn't get a cab to come into the neighborhood at nine at night, so we spent one more night on our cots in the small common room.

Tuesday morning, we said our goodbyes to the staff and volunteers. Sr. Ann was there to walk us out.

"I want to thank you both one last time. All of us here at the Mission appreciated your help. Will we see you again someday?

Without hesitation, we both answered, "You can count on it."

Two hours later I was sitting at my computer, the list up on the screen. After scanning down it, I entered:

Number 5 - Work for a week in a Homeless Shelter - DONE.

I smiled and felt pretty good about myself as I remembered the people of the Sisters of Mercy Mission; then I saved my work and shut down the computer.

Chapter 13

Wednesday morning I fell back into my usual routine. I was down in the gym by six. MaryAnn was already into her workout as I got onto the treadmill.

"Well, how did everything go?"

"You worked there, so you know: it was hard work, harder than I've ever worked before, and it was the most rewarding work I've ever done. I'm sure I'll be going back there sometime in the future."

"When you do, I want to come along, too."

"I can think of nothing better than to have you with me working side by side in service to others."

Six months ago I could never have said that to anyone, especially someone like MaryAnn, but now it just felt right.

"I'll hold you to that."

After our workout MaryAnn and I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast and a relaxing day out on the patio, soaking up the sun. Once again she asked me to help her put lotion on her back. Unlike the first time, however, there was no hesitancy on my part. I marveled at her muscle development, the smoothness of her skin, and the firmness of her butt. All that touching did have an effect on me -- which did not go unnoticed I'm sure. Instead of running upstairs as I had done before, I got up, cleaned off my hands and walked down to the pool and did about twenty laps.