Together—You and Me - The Epilogue

She shrugged, and then sat on the bed. He never asks for much, she thought. Sure, Dean has a thing for lingerie; he likes seeing me wear it and not much else. I guess he could be like Stacy's husband. Always coming home drunk and passing out on the floor. A smile flashed across her face. Or like Brianna whose husband had a BDSM fetish and liked whips and chains. Amy slipped on a pair of white heels. No hose this time, unusual for Dean, and that made her even more concerned. She stood and took in a few long, slow breaths. She opened the door and walked through the house in her bra, panties and heels.

She saw Dean leaning on the railing of the deck. The mountains in the background with their snowy tops seemed to poke right though the clouds. The sliding door squeaked as she pushed it open. Dean didn't move. He didn't say a word. Amy stopped at the door's edge and looked around nervously. She took a few tentative steps toward her husband, and felt as if every eye in Colorado was watching her. Dean heard her heels as they struck the wood planking. In a matter of seconds, she stood beside him and looked at the mountains.

"Well, here I am. As promised."

Dean turned and placed his hand around her waist. "You look sexy."

"I'm standing here in my underwear. I'm not feeling sexy. What if the neighbors see me?"

"Our nearest neighbor is over a mile away. We're half a mile from the main road. No one will see us."

That's when Amy noticed Dean had shorts on. "That's not fair," she proclaimed as she pointed to his belted chinos.

"And what are you going to do about it?"

Amy grinned. "This!"

Her fingers quickly freed the snap on his shorts, and within seconds Dean's shorts pooled around his bare feet. Amy let out a gasp 'cause today Dean went commando.

"Oh dear, what do we have here?" Amy said, holding his swollen cock. "I still turn my husband on?"

Dean slipped his arm back around her waist and pulled her close, pressing his hard cock against her body. "Absolutely." He moved one of the straps of her bra across her shoulder and down her arm. He cupped her face in his hands and placed a kiss on her lips. "You still do after all these years." The other strap moved down her arm. He put small kisses along her shoulders, biting the bra straps. His tongue moved slowly across her shoulders. He buried his lips into the nape of her neck and kissed her.

Amy slipped her hand around his neck while she nibbled his ear. "I suppose you're going to make love to me out here on the deck?" She felt the clasp of her bra snap open. Her bra dropped onto the deck.

He moved his head slightly. "No..." Then he pulled her tighter against his body. "You're going to get fucked out here on the deck."

His hands grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off her feet. "What! Put me down!"

Dean smiled. "All right." He marched her over to a picnic table and sat while Amy stood before him. He stroked his manhood as his eyes moved across her body.

"Now what?" Amy asked cautiously.

Dean held his hand out, palm up. "Panties."

Amy shook her head. "No, not out here."

He hooked a finger inside the elastic band of her panties, and pulled her close until their knees touched "You were saying?" He gave them a sharp tug and they stopped below her knees. He held his hand out once more.

She looked around nervously and slipped the small white panties down to her ankles then over her heels. She dropped them into his open palm.

"Spread 'em." Amy knew what he wanted. Sometimes Dean liked sex a bit rough. After all, she promised him a day of whatever he wanted. The sun threw long shafts of sunlight across the deck, and in a strange way, Amy felt young again. She moved her legs apart when Dean reach up and cupped her pussy. A finger smoothed around the entrance of her sex. He felt her moisture build, and soon it flowed down her inner thigh. She tilted her head back, and her hair billowed across her shoulders and down her back.

"Ooh, damn honey. She caught the edge of the picnic table and her legs moved farther apart. Her eyes closed and she felt his fingers exploring her most intimate regions.

Soon he had her soft pink lips spread. The hot summer breezes seemed to blow between her moist folds. His finger rubbed along her clit, and she rose on tiptoes. His fingers touched her, and then he reached behind her back and pulled her closer. He kissed her nipples, and Amy's body soon began to turn to liquid. Her legs grew weak. Dean coated his manhood with her nectar.

"Sit," he commanded.

Amy straddled the bench while she lowered onto Dean's pulsing cock. She used her fingers to guide him into her hot channel. "Ooh..." she moaned. She began to move rhythmically up and down. His hands gripped the table's edge while his head tilted back. A loud growl came from deep in his gut while his body shook. Amy's hand dropped back onto the bench's edge. She moved slightly and rose almost to the point where he'd fall out only to push him back. His hand caressed her breasts, squeezing her nipples between his fingers. Amy lowered her head; Dean's eyes were still closed, when she said, "Who's fucking whom?"

Amy increased her tempo. Her small breasts bounced with each frenetic stroke she made on her husband's cock. The sounds of sex filled the air as the cheeks of Amy's ass slapped against his bare skin.

Dean placed his arms along the edge of the picnic table; his head tilted back, eyes closed. Amy's hips moved and rolled his cock. She bent down, still moving her hips, and she dragged her teeth across his nape. "Who's getting fucked?"

Her lips pulled and kissed Dean's nipples. His body arched and every muscle tightened like an over wound watch.

"OHMYGOD!" He wrapped his arms around her waist trying to slow her strokes when Amy felt his body erupt. He jerked a few times, and then his grip loosened. She felt his swollen member explode inside her. Amy's fingers dug into his shoulders; her body flushed as her climax surged through her body. She rested for a minute or two then stood. Small silver trails of cum pooled around the root of his cock. He put his head back to rest on the table.

"Not bad for a old couple, huh?" Amy proclaimed while she watched the red of his skin slowly fade.

Amy bent over to pick up her panties from the deck when he grabbed her hand. "Leave 'em off."

She noticed cum sliding down her inner thighs. "Someone sure was horny." She reached out and touched his shoulder. "And so was I, honey."

Dean winked then stood and began to walk to the door. "I'll be right back."

She noticed how her husband's body appeared so solid, so firm, and the way his tanned skin caught the fading sun. His shoulders seemed as rigid as a steel beam. Amy moved her head slightly to the left, then the right. She licked her lips while her eyes followed his tight bare ass into the kitchen.

She didn't think about all those eyes that might have been watching her. Amy conjured a vision of her friend Brianna wearing a tight black corset, a riding crop at her side, her high-heeled boot balancing on the back of her husband. She stifled a giggle. I guess being naked on the deck isn't that bad. Could be worse. Better to face the breeze than bend in a hurricane.

Time has a way with people. It never stops, and, at times, moves at such a crawl we barely notice. While Amy and Dean were quietly surrendering their youth, time marched on.

Over the past eight years, Dean's troubles only surfaced on anniversaries known only to him, and even during those times, the nightmares came and left quickly. Dean would simply tell Amy, "Without nightmares, there can be no dreams."

Amy walked to the edge of the deck, and placed her hands on the weather-beaten railing, staring at the mountains in the distance. It's funny how we attach time to pictures, events or people. She knew, as best as she could remember, that Max, the counselor from the VA, died around the time Willow turned four. A stroke, if she recalled correctly.

Shortly after that, Molly and Harold perished in a fire. But not just any fire. One cold January night, their restaurant, Molly's Bar, caught fire. Due to a cracked chimney liner, flames licked the greasy old building beams. Everyone escaped, but for some reason Molly ran back into the burning building. Harold rushed in behind her. They didn't come out. Dean said it must have been something important she left inside, something above the cash register, and Harold died trying to get her out. They died together.

Dean and Amy were the beneficiaries of Molly and Harold's insurance policy. They were set for life. Amy wiped a stray tear. She'd return that money ten times over to have those two back in their lives.

A minute later Dean emerged with a washcloth. He sat on the bench and wiggled his finger. Amy rolled her hips, trying to walk as sexy as a naked, middle-aged woman can walk. His hands went between her legs and the warm cloth made her jump.

"We used to make love for hours when we were younger," she said. "A lot has changed..."

"I suppose so." He moved the cloth down both legs and back up behind her thighs. "It's so damn hard to get twenty minutes alone around here anymore." Dean dropped the washcloth on the picnic table, moved his hand through her hair, letting the wind catch it. "You're just as beautiful now as you were when we were younger. He then walked over to the hammock, slipped in, and then patted it. "Come on and climb in with me."

"You think we can both fit on this thing?"

"Sure, why not. I'll steady it for you." Dean put his foot on the deck and held the hammock steady.

"We're naked out here," Amy said, as she crossed her arms, trying to hide her breasts.

"So we are... Come and get in."

Amy climbed in. It shook and tilted while Amy snuggled against Dean. He pulled his foot up and the hammock rocked slowly.

"I've been wanting to do this for a long time," Dean said.

"Screw me on the deck? Or have me lying naked on the hammock."

"Both, I guess. Haven't you ever had a fantasy?"

"Girls don't have fantasies."

"Right," Dean said sarcastically. He rocked the hammock while their toes made love. They rocked in silence as they watched the sun cut through the cracks of the mountains, throwing long pillars of light across the land.

Amy leaned on an elbow then twisted a length of her hair and pulled it across Dean's chest. "If I tell you, you won't make fun?"

"Make fun of what?"

"My fantasy."

"Of course not." Dean perked up, his attention piqued when he heard Amy's mention of a fantasy.

"I have this, I don't know what to call it, perhaps a dream, but whatever it is it seems so real."

"Go on, I'm listening."

"I'm at a large party, but it's not a party-party. It's more like an expensive social gathering. Everyone's sipping pricey champagne from fluted stemware. I'm wearing a long black evening gown with a slit on the right that goes to my waist. My shoes are black stilettos with diamonds on the buckles. I've got on the tiniest panties imaginable, a lacey push-up bra, and hose so sheer if it weren't for the color, you couldn't tell I'm wearing them. Everything is black."

"Am I there?"

Amy cocked her head. "No... I'm alone. Then two men come up beside me and take hold of my arms. They lead me away from the crowd. I'm put in this room. It's all in glass. A man comes in wearing a black tuxedo with a pastel yellow handkerchief in his breast pocket; he accuses me of being a spy, and says that I've stolen secrets from his client.

"I tell him I'm not. He doesn't believe me. He points a gun at me. I'm told to strip. I protest, but I do what he says. When I'm naked this man comes over and he searches me."

"You said you were naked."

"I am, at least in my dream. He searches every orifice. When he's satisfied, he cuts the legs from my hose, ties my ankles to the chair and forces me to pleasure myself as he watches."

Dean listened raptly as his wife described her dream and fantasy to her husband. "What happens next?"

"After I climax, he removes the bonds, bends me over the arm of the same chair and takes me from behind. That's where the dream always ends."

"Damn! Wow... Do you have any idea who this guy is?"

Dean could feel Amy's face burn. "Yes, I do. It's you!" She snuggled close to Dean and the stubble on his cheeks scratched her face. "I'd like my fantasy to come true someday."

He moved his arm over her shoulder and cupped her left breast. "I think that's doable, if you're up to it?

Amy giggled. "Sure... After all, I am a spy, aren't I?"

Dean's thumb caressed her nipple 'til it hardened. His little finger wrapped around the smooth curve of the bottom of her breast. Suddenly, his fingers stopped. "What's this?"

"What's what?"

He took her hand and placed it at the spot where his finger lingered. "Do you feel that? It's as hard as a rock."

Someone kicked her in the gut. Her fingers found the lump. "Ah, it's nothing, these things come and go."

"I've never felt one before."

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

"Perhaps, but you're going to have it looked at, right?"

"Sure... Now where were we?" Amy tilted her head and kissed Dean.

*******

While it seemed to be only the size of a small pea, and she told Dean it wasn't anything to worry about; it did, in fact, worry her. Several times she was almost caught at work, standing in a bathroom stall, her top off, her bra tossed over the door, checking to see if the lump had grown.

She thought it had. Her mind generated one scenario after another and as quickly as she conjured one, she dismissed it.

Amy, busy with work as usual, didn't hear Dean as he and Amy's boss walked over to her.

"Hi," Dean said.

Amy checked her wristwatch. "It's a tad early for lunch, don't you think?"

Dean looked over at Amy's boss then back toward Amy. "I'm not here to take you to lunch."

"Where then? Is something wrong with the girls?" Her face went ghostly white. "Are they hurt?" Amy dropped a stack of photos and they slid along the light table.

"No, Willow and Audrey are fine. However, you and I have an appointment."

Amy fussed with a large transparency on the light table, and then tried to gather the dropped stack of photos. "With whom?"

"Your doctor. I made an appointment to see him."

Amy looked at her boss. "I'm too busy. We've got deadlines to meet."

Dean stepped closer to Amy, and then looked over his shoulder. "Bullheaded, isn't she?"

"Women aren't bullheaded, we're stubborn," Amy's boss said, flashing a smile. "And your wife is terribly stubborn."

Dean's eyes focused on Amy. "If you don't go with me willingly, I'll toss you over my shoulder and take you to the doctor's office. Your choice."

"You wouldn't dare!" Amy sneered.

Two heartbeats later, Dean tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She kicked and pounded his back with her fists. Without a word, he walked to the main door, with Amy screaming expletives.

"I'll put you down, but we're going to the doctor's office, agreed?"

"All right. All right, put me down."

Dean stood her up and Amy adjusted her skirt; all eyes were devouring the scene. "You know they could see my butt hanging out."

"Perhaps." He held the door and they walked out together.

*******

They drove across town to Amy's doctor. The waiting room was practically empty when they arrived; they just got comfortable when a nurse called her name.

"This won't take long," Amy said, "I'll be right out in a minute or so."

Dean stood. "I'm coming, too."

By the determined look in his eyes, Amy knew it would be useless to protest. Dean followed Amy into the examination room. A nurse checked blood pressure, pulse, the usual things, and then handed Amy a gown. "Remove your clothing and put this on. The doctor will be in shortly."

Amy sat on one of the wooden chairs, slipped off a shoe, and massaged her toes. "You know this is a waste of time, don't you?"

Dean sat quietly and didn't say a word. Amy slipped her other shoe off, stood and began to work on the zipper of her skirt when she stopped. "This is stupid, too. I'm not going to sit here naked when all he's going to do is check my boobs." She worked on the buttons on her shirt and tossed it over to Dean. She slid the straps of her bra down her shoulders, reached behind her back, and opened the clasp. She handed Dean her bra, put the gown on and sat on the examination table. She swung her legs while they waited.

"It's cold in here," she said.

"Examination rooms usually are."

"This is a waste of time."

"I'm concerned."

A knock sounded and then the door opened. "Hi, Amy, what's the problem today?" The doctor turned and saw Dean sitting. "Ooh!"

"Doctor Edwards, you remember Dean, my husband. He's the reason I'm here."

"Yes, of course." Doctor Edwards extended his hand and shook Dean's. "Pregnant again, are we?"

Amy blushed. "No. A few... I don't know when..."

"Three week ago," Dean interrupted.

"He found a lump in my left breast." Amy continued, "It's not big, probably fatty tissue."

"I see," Doctor Edwards began, "When did you get your medical degree?"

Amy's face flushed.

"Let me take a look. You can wait outside if you wish, Mr. Bradley."

"No!" Amy said, with a touch of fear coloring her voice. "He's seen me naked."

"I suppose he has." The doctor opened her gown and touched her breasts. Amy looked away, then over at Dean sitting quietly on a hard wooden chair. The doctor's hands moved gently and expertly around each breast. His fingers guided by decades of practice and years of schooling.

"Is this the lump your husband found?"

Amy moved her fingers to her left breast, and touched the doctor's finger resting exactly on the suspected lump. "Yes."

She caught his eyes and she watched as they changed to a deeply troubled look. His pupils drew in tight and his facial expression changed. He closed her gown.

"When was your last mammogram?"

"I've never had one."

"Why? They don't take but a few minutes."

Amy shrugged. "I didn't think I'd need one. I'm so small."

Doctor Edwards shook his head. "This is one example where size doesn't matter."

"What's wrong?" Dean asked.

"There's a lump, all right. As a matter of fact, I can feel what I think is two, or maybe three, smaller ones around the large center mass. You're going to leave here, and get a mammogram today." The doctor stood and opened the door. "I'll be right back." He wiggled the door on its hinges. "Go ahead and get dressed." He pulled the door closed behind him.

Amy jumped from the examination table and started to dress. She was about to snap her bra together when she stopped. "Here," as she handed Dean her bra. "Why put it on? I'll have to take it off when we get to the other office." She sat back on the examination table.

Dean pushed it into his pants pocket as the doctor returned. He pulled out a wheeled swivel stool, then sat and rolled between the two. He handed Dean some papers and then patted Amy's hand. "I called a colleague. I told him what I felt, and he also suggested a mammogram. Now, I don't want either one of you to read more into this than there is, but he also suggested a needle biopsy of the lump."

Dean's eyes flared, and he looked at Amy sitting on the examination table as pale as parchment paper. Her face had gone blank. "What's that?" Dean asked.

"It's a simple procedure. The breast is numbed, and a small needle inserted into the mass. A technician will withdraw a bit of the material. It's checked in the lab to see what's really there. It's a simple procedure."

Amy tried to smile. "I don't do needles very well. Does it hurt?" She looked at Dean and attempted to smile once more.

"The procedure is...uncomfortable."

Amy shrugged. "Wonderful! Nothing like having your boob stabbed with a needle, is there?"