A Privileged Stumbling Into Love

The Grove Park is one of those swanky mountain resorts with a couple four star restaurants that anybody with pull in Asheville wishes to be seen in. It also has a prime grade bar in the great room where men and women mingle with other men and women hoping to improve their own station in life. In other words there are gold diggers and of course, the sowers of gold. I was one of the latter, Mother always told me even though it all seemed to be pyrite to me.

Nonetheless, come Friday evening when the only woman I desired at the time was likely entertaining a man 25 years her senior and my father's old golfing buddy, I strolled into the great room and lingered by the stone fireplace for a moment to take the place in.

My parents used to bring me here when I was a child on weekend getaways and I always fascinated myself with the trappings of these privileged people. They were the thirty something set at the time and I was too young to measure the lilting flirt, the subtle touches and the tantalizing double entendres. It was an adult game of sorts that even Mother and Father played, looking back in hindsight although I never had a clue then.

For now the field was fertile, the harvest was in and the reapers not so numerous. There were a few business types pushing their alpha creds and a couple gullible kittens eating it up but none of them interested me. There were two who caught my attention but the Moriarty Line went into immediate effect when the sparkling glint off the left hand struck the alert sensors directly behind each of my pupils. Married cunt was not a marketable pussy in the quest for my Gilead's Balm.

"There's no dancing here." The voice across the bar said as I scanned the room.

Turning back to the curious female voice I found two sparkling blue eyes peering back at me with an accompanying smile. She was dressed in the black attire of the Inn's mixologists and was shaking, not stirring her latest creation before straining it into a rimmed martini glass.

"Change jobs?"

"Oh no, I slum at Jacks on Saturdays and I'm here Tuesday through Friday. Testing the waters among the one percenters tonight?"

Well, I could only titter at the insinuation. August, short for Augustine, was the typical young college grad hanging around Asheville because she didn't want to move into the cold world outside the confines of the town her parents sent her to a few years earlier only to find a job in her profession, whatever it was. She tended bar because she wanted to stay carefree.

I had struck up a conversation with her a few weeks before she steered me toward Marylyn on that Saturday night at Jacks and just assumed she worked there full time. A consummate conversationalist, she had me convinced of her whole life's story before I had one page of mine concluded. She was also handsome, not beautiful in the commodity sense but handsome in a startlingly feminine manner.

"My theory on the one percenters, my dear August, is that half of them can barely count that high and the other half are perilously counting on that fact. I'm hoping I can strike with impunity among the former."

"What a conniving bastard you are." She laughed. "I get off at 11PM if you keep grounding out but I never eat where I work and I'll be hungry."

With that she was off to segue into the spirited delights of the next customer's order. I watched her walk down the bar consciously admiring how her rather small breasts move fluidly with each step, a teasing minuet of sorts. With a tip of the glass, two fingers of Makers were gone and ignoring the impassioned faux pleas of dozens of fair, rich maidens, I strode across the lobby back out to the front doors and fresh air beyond.

It wasn't grounding out by any measure; the little moist delights of a couple wives were certainly within reach but my compass didn't point in that direction and for whatever reason I just lost the desire to pursue the gold diggers. August was probably the reason but my thoughts at the time went to Marylyn and I couldn't scratch out the imaginary vision of her little quim being maneuvered and plumbed by such a dullard toad as George Nason.

I couldn't fault Nason for desiring her; Marylyn was the woman and reason that angora sheep were placed on this earth. Full, firm breasts encased in deliciously soft white wool revealing an ample cleavage of delicate smooth skin. What man wouldn't lust after her? I know I wasn't thinking rationally. No man of sound mind should commit to a noncommittal woman no matter how enticing; it is never profitable in the end but who the fuck ever said I was of sound mind to begin with.

I walked in the gardens for quite a while before settling in and lighting a cigar I had picked up at the concierge desk with a slight of hand. Awful I know but it reminded me of my Asbury Academy days and it really was quite good. Mother would be disappointed I didn't bed a desirable lady but she'd never know and besides, I'm not supposed to know she'd be disappointed.

It was just a couple minutes after 11PM when I returned to the bar only to find August on the arm of a man just leaving. She looked happy; he looked ecstatic and I just looked. I then laughed to myself and passed through the doorway back outside before I heard the pitter of soft soles on the stone steps behind me.

"Denny, wait up" she exclaimed as she rushed to close the distance.

I glanced back to see the ecstatic one retreating into an almost morose expression hidden only by the disappointment seeded deep in his eyes. The handsome girl bounded up and clasped another arm, this time my own with a brilliant smile plastered on her face.

"The other fellow, he's sure to be disappointed, you know."

"Oh, Robert, he was only accompanying me to grab something to eat since I didn't see you around when I got off. I just assumed, you know, that, well, never mind. You know what I mean."

I did. Poor Robert just lost out and I benefited from not delaying myself any longer than I did. Thirty minutes later we were at Barley's Taproom snacking on a pizza and a couple pints of beer. She knew half the people in the place including all of the wait staff so we were constantly getting people dropping by our table. I didn't really mind as I was enjoying her company if that's all I got. I didn't have to worry.

"I need to be fucked really good, Denny." She whispered in my ear when she came back from the 'powder room', smiling as she took her seat.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't at least blush and I just nodded with a big smile on my face. August didn't even give me a chance to reply before she said "My place is right around the corner. Let's go."

The small rooftop loft off Aston Street was a bohemian enclave decorated with the city's finest eclectic furnishing with just a tinge of weed aroma to clinch it as the definitive alternative living space for 'Berkeley East'. For me, I didn't care. I watched the lithe naked creature with breasts the size of apples snake her sensuous form in my direction and gently push me back onto her quilted boudoir.

"You really like having your cock sucked, don't you, Denny?" She teased unmercifully. "Sucked by a very bad little girl." She pouted not allowing her lips to fulfill what I fucking wanted, no, needed right at that very moment.

I only grunted an unintelligible response before she looked me right in the eyes and winked before swinging her opened thighs right over my face, lowering her bushy cunt down onto it while taking my prick entirely in her mouth with one fluid sucking move. My arms encircled her firm ass as fingers opened the cheeks revealing a puckered asshole and a delightfully pink moist vagina.

August didn't give me time to admire it as she began fucking my mouth with the smooth gyrations of her hips forcing my tongue from her clitoris to her anus and back several times all while bobbing her mouth up and down my very appreciative prick.

I don't think more than a couple minutes passed before she began bucking her pussy onto my mouth and exploded into a quivering orgasm. She slowly rocked her sex on my mouth as her wave subsided and pulled her mouth off my cock.

Swinging her legs off and to the side, I watched as she reached over to the side table and flipped a fucking egg timer over and watched the sands start their downward journey.

"Fucking awesome. Now fuck me" She purred as she laid back and opened her thighs wide giving away the pink inside the rings of dark hair around her moist vagina.

I mounted the nimble little goddess and sank deep into her hot buttery pussy. She didn't have any control over this; she was going to be fucked and she knew it. August just opened her legs, clenched my ass and took it, meeting me on each fuck into her womb. A spreading flush of color, the panting breath and the gasps of sexual arousal revealed her body's excitement and as with eating her pussy, her body wracked into an orgasm in only a couple of minutes.

"Don't stop, you fuck... Fuck me and take it, baby." August whispered through her cum.

I could only laugh really as I increased the pounding fuck and nailed her young tail and like clockwork she exploded into another, her third orgasm of the evening. She didn't stop and I obliged, screwing her ass to the bed sheets until after the fourth, more lingering orgasm, I pulled my prick out of her snug pussy and spewed ropes of milky white semen onto her taut belly.

We both lay back in the bed for a bit and watched the ceiling fan as we gathered our breath and thoughts.

"The egg timer?" I asked.

"You had that much time to make me cum the first time or you were one and done." August laughed. "You passed your exam quite nicely, I'll add."

"So that means I get another go?"

August didn't even answer; she just lowered her mouth on my cock and worked it slowly for a few minutes while lightly scratching my belly until I was reasonably hard. When I was ready, she mounted me and rode cowgirl gently and lovingly for several minutes until she knew I was close and then slipped off and took my semen in her waiting mouth.

It was a few minutes later before either of us spoke or moved off the bed. She rolled off to the side and picked up a small bud of rich looking weed and ground a small portion of it onto a small silver plate before toasting it in the business end of a bong on her dresser. One hit, then a smaller one before she passed it to me; I partook and we both lay back on the propped pillows watching through the skylight above us.

"Marry me, August" I said before we both roared with crazy stoned laughter.

"I like doing this too much to be married" She said as she reached over and gave my dick a squeeze. "Maybe after I'm thirty".

"I can wait seven years."

In her stoned condition she thought that was funny as hell and her high pitched laugh got me going as well so we just lay there pleased with ourselves until we fell asleep. She was gone when I woke and left a note telling me where things were and to lock up when I left...

Late that morning, the coffee was black and milling crowds were busy along Biltmore Avenue as I watched people while waiting for the barista to bring me another Danish and a refill. I was being the glutton for punishment if the truth was known; I still had Marylyn on my mind even after the exquisite time with August the previous evening. For the past couple of months, Marylyn and I would visit this place every Saturday morning and I'd watch her pick at her coffee cake while I devoured the pecan encrusted concoction before me while planning the day's activities.

Mother once told me I'd know what love is when the world burned down around me leaving nothing but ashes and all I'd see is the woman who blinded me to it. She was close; all these people about, some beautiful and others not so but all I could see was her sitting across from me in the empty chair.

'Fucking moron.' I thought to myself. 'What's the fucking matter with me?' The barista broke my thoughts and thanking her I turned back to the breakfast before me.

I didn't need to fall in love; that only complicates things and I prefer the simplicity of an uncluttered existence. I nearly convinced myself of it too. I had purchased a simple one bedroom apartment with a loft a couple streets over the other side of I-240 and furnished it with that busy man décor and a case of Woodford's double oaked reserve as an accent piece.

If August and her post hippy enclave was one side of the universe, Marylyn's two bedroom condo was right out of Southern Living without a thing out of place and fresh cut flowers even. She said her mom decorated it for her when she first moved here. It didn't stop her from tearing up the sheets when I was there but those sheets hit the washer first thing in the morning and fresh linen was on the made up bed before breakfast.

Some sage or another said it; opposites attract and he or she was probably right. I was attracted to both of them. Whenever I tried to drown out thoughts of Marylyn with the fondness of August's snug moist sex, memories of Marylyn's soft full breasts swaying in my face as she rode me into the night snapped me out of it. It was a losing battle. I was a pussy whipped man who lost the prize to my pride; passed over and bested by a fucking toad. Fuck me.

Another sage once said work is the best medicine for disappointment and I'd like to have met him and congratulated him for his brilliance. The company sent me to Charlotte for what was supposed to be a few weeks to help a sister plant get through a new production software startup. It had been three weeks since Marylyn dusted my manhood with her weekend dalliance on the bed of George Nason and I was just as besotted then as I was when I first saw her. Charlotte was the respite I needed at the right time...

"Mother, Patricia Crenshaw is like a puppy dog that you just can't give away. I mean, she is a nice girl and all but I'm the worst thing that could ever happen to her, seriously!"

I stayed at the family place while I worked just outside Charlotte and my dear mother busted my balls trying to fix me up and just would not relent until I agreed to take the young lady to dinner. Of course I gave in and entertained her at the Boathouse and stopped off for drinks where she proceeded to indulge in one Tequila shot too many. I got her home about 2 o'clock in the morning but not before she forced me to endure an utterly perfect blowjob. I still believe one of our mothers coached her with her sage and salacious advice.

"Milton, do you know that her daddy is a billionaire? That is spelled with a 'B', dear. We always thought you two were a wonderful couple, even when you were little children. And besides, you know once you are married, you'll all have your own interests."

Mother's lip curled ever so slightly when she said that almost as if she knew that I knew all about her various 'interests' over the years, as well as Father's. It is kind of an unspoken custom in the moneyed circle of friends they both kept; they were indeed a loving couple, inwardly and outwardly even if they did both pleasure themselves with respective extracurricular affairs. Mother has her torrid indiscretions and Father has fucked himself silly with some girl half his age probably more times than he can count but for some strange reason they still love each other and I still love them even if they did saddle me with an absurd name.

The thing with Patricia Crenshaw is that she actually is a fine looking young woman, an excellent cocksucker and having enjoyed the snug fit of her pussy in my teens, an outstanding fuck. The other thing is she's an incurable neighborhood bike and every boy I grew up with has wet his dick in her quim at some time or another. I don't fault her for that. She just isn't for me and she damn sure isn't going to be a faithful wife; she loves a lot of dick too damn much.

Even still, I placated Mother a couple more times with Patricia knowing the most that would come of it would be a stellar blowjob and a grunting fuck or two. Mother got her comeuppance for interfering in my non-existent love life unbeknownst to her while Patricia and I dined at a place down near the marina.

"Denny, I know both sets of our parents put a lot of pressure on you and me to somehow consummate some sort of match made in heaven but can I be honest here?

I nodded as she continued.

"I love fucking you and I mean I L-O-V-E love fucking you" she said maybe just a tad bit too loud for the setting. "But, what momma and daddy don't realize is that neither of us is looking to get married to anybody. I know you aren't and I just want to have some fun and enjoy life for a while. If we did what they want, we'd fuck it up and have a set match made in Hades, not heaven. You know what I mean, Denny?"

She looked at me with those cocksucker lips and eyes and I just burst out in laughter.

"I told Mother that same thing a hundred times but like you said, she and your mom have been cooking this thing up forever now. Hell, we went out when we were kids probably a couple dozen times and what did we do every time?

"Fuck like rabbits." we said in unison before letting peals of laughter escape between us.

"Just like we're gonna do for the rest of the night when we get out of here" she added and that's what we did. As long as both of us were single, unattached and I was in town, there would always be a piece of ass just down the shore at Lake Norman. If we made it to forty and we were still single, we told ourselves in post coital bliss that we'd go ahead and get married just for kicks. I told my mother we had a dozen years long engagement in front of us and she let it go, always the optimist...

Mother meant well with her meddling but I'm sure she didn't understand; at least she didn't understand that what they both did had some significant impact on how I regarded relationships. I never had a girlfriend in high school or college or since for that matter. What I had were pleasant conquests; some average, some memorable and a few others fucking outstanding. I suppose I could have plodded on through life mimicking Mother and Father and settled for some chick I didn't love, well, someone like Patricia Crenshaw and probably be happy. She'd be happy, I'd be pleased and we both would probably be fucking somebody else within the year and still be happy. My grandfather called it being 'pleasantly comfortable' with a bottle of scotch, a good cigar and an excellent piece of ass. He was a simple man at heart, the old bastard.

So I found myself sitting on South Tryon street in downtown Charlotte enjoying a late brunch at the Famous Toastery, one of my old haunts just down the street from Stearns-Rogers offices. The waitress had just taken my order when I looked up to see George Nason and another man walk up with a two young ladies with them; both of them a couple generations younger than what should be permissible for old fucking goats like them. Hell, they were too young for me.

George didn't notice me or didn't recognize me and they all entered the place and I returned to Dear Abby and the sports until an interruption a few minutes later.

"Denny! Oh my god, how are you?"

I looked up into the vision of my tormented dreams and a delight of soft angora swept across my eyes as Marylyn Sutton bent down to give me a hug at the table. I should have smelled her soft lavender scent; instead I sensed the eau de fragrance of the cuckolding toad. It might have been imaginary but the effect lingered.

"Marylyn, nice to see you" I caught her glance through the plate glass window with Nason's eyes returning the look. Maybe there was the slightest smirk on his face.

"Can I join you?"

Of course I offered her the seat. She looked through the menu briefly and ordered a fruit plate before the waitress slipped away.