Bridge Group Ch. 10

He turned the album upright and opened the front cover to find a single card in the middle pocket of the first page. The card was the size of a photo and had a single line of type: “It’s Empty Without You!” and was signed with her unmistakable back-slant signature - Joanne.

The frown was still on his face as he turned it over and over, looking for some other secret. He pulled the card out of the pocket, but it was not a folded card, just one side, one message – nothing else. Jack shook his head and reached for the square cut-crystal decanter half-full of a single-malt scotch. He stared across the lip of the glass into a mirror and wondered why she would go to all that bother to deliver the coded message.

“Trying to make up I guess,” he shrugged, a feeling of lonely sadness draping itself over him as the final light died into night.

The next night, he found the mailbox empty as he pulled close and rolled down the window. He pulled the newspaper from its box below the mailbox and then headed down the driveway. The headlights swept across the door and he noticed the mail once again leaning against the door.

Jack sat at the table and cut open the envelope. A single photo album page slid onto the table. He laughed as he glanced at the single photo, a wedding photo of him drawing the garter down the pretty leg of Joanne seated on one of those plush, straight back chairs of the wedding reception hall. He had often teased her that the photo showed how eager she had been because her grip on the gown pulled it high on her thigh and gave the audience a free show.

He remembered seeing the thrilling white triangle of her panties from his kneeling position at her feet. He recalled how choked up he had been on that scary day of commitment and adventure.

Her legs gleamed in silken glory, the nylons a color that gave her legs a golden glow of invitation. Light perspiration from the heat of the day, gave them an even greater sexual stimulation value. He remembered the feel of those nylons under his hand as they drove away from the reception and spent two hours of tormented eagerness driving to Chicago for their first night together.

Jack thought back to that terrifying day. She was one of those rarities, a virgin on her wedding night. It was old-fashioned by today’s standards. She had managed to hang on to it in against his best efforts over two years of passionate nights in his car.

“God knows I tried everything!” he mused.

The windows would steam up with their body heat as he slipped his hand into her bra and squeezed those lovely breasts and teased her nipples into brisk hardness. Her tongue would fondle his as he rolled her nipple between his fingers. She would wriggle and moan under his groping, grasping, fondling hand. She had sensitive breasts and loved having him play with them.

When his hand slipped under her skirt, along her nylons, across the smooth thigh and then the soft protective curls of her pussy, she was always, always, very, very wet. He would slowly feel the pool of moisture under the silky panties and eventually, slip his finger past the guarding elastic leg band and roll the creamy fluids under his finger. She would sigh and moan softly as he pushed his finger inside and began finger-fucking her tight pussy. Joanne would thrust her breasts upward for his lips to nibble, and writhe in pleasure at his touch.

She would lay across his lap, her arm pressing against his cock as he agonized in need.

The furthest that he had ever got her to go was to straddle his legs and press her pussy against the bulge of his cock. Mostly he went away dissatisfied but thrilled by the foreplay, his balls aching for relief. Jack’s throat was dry thinking about it.

And so, their wedding night had been an extremely exciting event.

Jack turned the page over and found one more familiar photo. It was taken three years later when he had at long last talked her into letting him take pictures of her without her clothes. She was sitting on the bed in the same white lace negligee she had worn on their honeymoon. The gown she had walked out of the hotel bathroom in. The gown she allowed him to open like a final wedding present and discover her beautiful white lace panties, bra, garter belt and white stockings. She looked better than the wedding cake itself.

It was her presentation of her body to be deflowered.

Jack’s mouth went dry as the memories that flooded back.

He had untied the satin bows down the front and buried his face between her breasts as she pressed into his arms.

Then the embarrassment. His excitement had been so great that he had to run to the bathroom and throw up.

“So much for the magical, virginal first night of wedded bliss!” he murmured.

But things got much better as he returned to their first bed and slowly undressed her and fondled her in all the ways that had become familiar in their necking sessions and then moved to the ones that were unfamiliar.

She was wet, and her wetness felt familiar in its warm, creamy, abundant pool under the moist panel of her panties. He had pressed his lips to the soft folds between her legs and inhaled the sweet virginal scent of her pussy. It was overwhelming. She raised her hips as he slipped her panties down and gazed at the sweet, fresh-looking slit. Her lips pursed out at him and he slipped his tongue along the soft fold of her swollen outer lips. He could not wait any longer and neither of them needed any prolonged warm up. The maddeningly exciting fondling on the long drive had them on a knife-edge of passion.

He remembered the taste of her virgin pussy and how it had excited the rampant lion in him. He lunged forward on his knees as Joanne opened her legs wider and reached out for him, smiling with lush, lipsticked lips. Eagerly, too eagerly, he had guided his cock for the first time to the wet vestibule of her vagina. He moved it up her tender slit to touch her clitoris, bringing a sharp intake of breath from Joanne.

“Yes, .. hurry, darling!” she whispered.

The head of his cock slipped inside the tight channel. The heat of her body felt like an inferno around the head of his cock and he looked up from the penetration into her dark brown eyes. She had never looked more beautiful. Her eyes were wide with the startling pleasure she felt between her legs. She smiled gently and pulled him to her.

“Are you OK?” he whispered>

“Yes .. yes .. .. yes, just go slowly, .. .. it’s OK, yes, darling,” She replied.

He had pushed again and felt the tightness of her vagina and then the barrier inside. His kisses were on her neck as he lay poised over her. He asked with his eyes if she was ready. She half closed her eyes and nodded. He could feel her ready herself to accept his thrust.

He had never felt anything so tight. He pressed against the barrier and it seemed impossible to enter. The head of his cock lodged in a tiny hole that would only let the tip enter and then held him there. Her eyes were wide now, and she held her breath.

“Go ahead,” she gasped.

He pressed harder and felt a searing heat as his cock tore through her hymen. It was excruciatingly hot. And wonderfully tight.

“Oh, god!” she said tensely.

“Are you OK?” he asked, urgent concern in his voice.

“Yes, .. .. better now .. .. stay there … just a moment …… ”

He lay there his cock deep inside the furnace of her cunt. It was a delicious moment.

“Now, .. go ahead, .. .. a little more …..”

They began moving together. He was so excited that he didn’t last long and she must have been disappointed, not satisfied; but they had lain happily snuggling together as his cock slipped wet from her ravished virginal pussy.

They couldn’t stop smiling.

Jack realized that the reminiscence and the sight of Joanne’s breast photographed for the first time in the open negligee had given him a semi-hard erection.

He examined the photo and reflected how many years of wheedling it had taken to get her to let him photograph her even in this modest photo. The photographer in him looked closely at the crisp image of the nipple, the man in him followed the beautiful sexy opulence of the curve of her breast.

On Thursday night, another mystery envelope stood against the door. He tore at the envelope as he walked through the garage. He couldn’t get through the tough material and found the knife from last night still lying on the table. He slashed it open and dumped out a single page for the photo album. This time the pockets were mostly full and he turned on the light over the table to examine it.

“Jeeze, I thought she burned them!”

The sheet held six photos of Joanne. The lighting came from a single candle in a tall holder. It gave the whole photo a golden cast and left the background in total darkness. She was standing in front of a dresser with a tall mirror reflecting a matching image. This was the first time she let him photograph her nude. Even these were pretty modest because of the low light level of the candlelit scene.

But the photos were sensuous in the graceful full slope of her breasts glowing in the candles warm light. They were moody in manner, as she stared off to the side, away from the camera. Her nipples looked hard and jutted from the round, lovely breasts.

“Great pictures,” he muttered, proud of his own photography.

Joanne had become angry with him a few years ago and told him she had destroyed all those “trashy” photos. Obviously she had saved them or the negatives. He was glad to have them and stared at the candlelit beauty of her breasts.

“God, but they are gorgeous!” His mouth watered slightly with the memory of suckling those nipples that night so long ago.

“Ohhhhhh, you are sooooo good with my breasts!” she would moan when he sucked the nipples into his mouth and nibbled gently, while his hands fondled the heavy globes.

Jack opened the album and inserted the new page into the book.

“Wonder where this is headed?” he mused. Over the years he had slowly weaned her around to letting him take more and more explicitly sexy photographs. She always worried someone would find them. He was pleased that she had not destroyed them. They were a pleasure to reminisce over. He was looking forward to more pages for the album.

He hadn’t smoked in ten years, but he opened the pack of cigarettes bought on the way home. He inhaled deeply the scent of fresh tobacco.

“”The smell of the tobacco is the best part of smoking,” he recalled.

He lit a cigarette, inhaled, then stared at the burning tip and the pretty blue smoke trailing up toward the ceiling. He lay back in the chair, put his feet on the marble table, and thought about his life.

The blues settled over him as the radio station played an old Sinatra recording:

“I dim all the lights and I sink in my chair. The smoke from my cigarette climbs through the air. The walls of my room fade away in the blue, And I’m deep in a dream of you. The smoke makes a stairway for you to descend; You come to my arms, may this bliss never end, For we love anew just as we used to do When I’m deep in a dream of you. Then from the ceiling, sweet music comes stealing; We glide through a lover’s refrain, you’re so appealing That I’m soon revealing my love for you over again. My cigarette burns me, I wake with a start; My hand isn’t hurt, but there’s pain in my heart. Awake or asleep, ev’ry mem’ry I’ll keep Deep in a dream of you. “

“Good grief! I’m going nuts! I’ve got cabin fever!” he snarled and headed for the car.

He had dinner in an old-fashioned diner serving good hamburgers and French fries made from fresh potatoes. Probably not good for his cholesterol battle, but satisfying. Waving to the waitress, he pushed through the stainless steel framed doors and into the light from the neon tubes in the window. He lit another cigarette and stood in the crisp, cold night air, staring off at the string of streetlights. “Uptown or home?”

He turned uptown instead of going home and drove to the club where Jolene danced. The manager waved him inside and he straddled the red plastic of the barstool and looked around for her through the dim lighting. Onstage, a tall blonde with big tits was twirling around the fire-pole, her long hair hung straight down, almost to the floor. Jack was disappointed not to see Jolene.

Another cigarette. The bartender was wearing only a lacy bra, panties and high heels. She brought him a scotch, and then switched her hips back to the other end of the bar. He stared at the crease of her ass, vaguely visible through the panties.

“Hello stranger!”

He started at the loud whisper behind his ear and turned to find Jolene smiling at him. Her dark lipstick was moist and inviting. His eyes quickly took in her cleavage, made even rounder and more inviting by the push-up bra of her costume.

“Yeah, I haven’t been around much, have I? Did you miss me?”

“Sure I did!” she grinned and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. “”How is my favorite married man?”

“Hmmfph!” he said with a small smile.

“Still the same – still haven’t taken that po’ girl back?” What are you waiting for? You know you want to!”

“Don’t be a smartass. You know too much. You know that?” he said.

“Mmmmmn hmmmmm!” she retorted.

“Come on, sell me a dance.”

“You don’t have to do that. Just buy me a drink.”

“Now how the hell are you going to earn tuition with such a lousy sales pitch?”

She rolled her eyes, picked up her drink and tugged on his hand.

Jolene sat on his lap like an old friend instead of stepping up on the table and beginning to gyrate for his eyes and his pleasure.

”I’ll wait till the next song starts and save you ten bucks, OK?”

Jack put his arms around her and pressed one hand against her breast.

“Just don’t let the boss see!” she said, looking around to see where he was. She relaxed against him as he softly squeezed her breast. “What’s been happening with you?”

He was enjoying the soft breast against the palm of his hands and the warm round bottom balanced on his lap.

“You are one gorgeous woman, you know that?’

“You keep telling me. Keep it up, I’ll start to believe!”

The music changed and Jolene stood up and climbed on the table, holding his hand for support. She was wearing bright red heels and black stockings held up by lacy garters hanging from a skimpy red bustier trimmed in black lace. Her panties were red satin and he stared with pleasure at the way it snuggly cupped her mound. He smiled up at her as she began her dance. The garish lights from the stage shown between her legs and Jack stared with lust at the way the folds of her pussy stood highlighted by the tight panties pressed snuggly between the large outer lips.

She stepped from the table and straddled him; putting her feet alongside the cushion of the seat and looked down at him over proud, firm breasts. Jack could smell the scent of her perfume nicely mingled with the natural scent of her body.

“Scoot down a little,” she said. Jack slid down in the seat and Jolene lowered that soft young pussy right on his semi-hard cock.

“Ï guess you did miss me! Or at least you’re glad to see me, huh?” she said.

“You feel wonderfully soft!” he said.

“”And you feel wonderfully hard, baby!” she replied with a laugh.

The song ended and he handed her a twenty.

“Thank you, sir!” she said and remained seated astride his lap. “Again?”

“Sure. But you can skip the dancing.”

She squirmed her pussy against his hardness. She scanned around the club and then fondled the end of his cock with her long fingers where it extended between her legs. Jolene smiled and looked deep in his eys, gently rocking on the hard ridge of his dick.

“Are we still going skiing?” he asked.

“I’m waxing my skis this weekend,” She said, her hips continuing the slow seductive rotation against him. “I’m looking forward!” she exclaimed.

‘’I’m going a couple days early to do some chores on the cabin. There’s a van to bring you up from the airport. I’ve stapled the name in the ticket folder. I’ve got your ticket in the car. I’ll get it before I leave.”

“It is so nice of you to let me use your airline miles. Thanks.”

She squirmed a little more against his dick, tickling the head with her nails.

“I feel terrible taking your money.” she said, as he slipped another twenty into her panties.

“Don’t worry about it. I like you!”

“I might be making a wet spot on your pants, you know. You excite me, too.” She pressed her lovely breasts against his face and Jack nuzzled them with pleasure.

“I might do that myself if you don’t go easy.”

“You want to?” she said in his ear. He felt her tense against his cock.

She moved quickly back and forth on the rigid length of him.

“Oh, shit! It’s OK. That did it!” He laughed at himself and leaned into the soft cushion of her breasts. “God. That felt good, though.”

Driving home with the sticky, cold cum in the hair of his stomach, he felt sheepishly adolescent. But on the other hand, the tension had gone right out of his body and mind.

There was another week before he would fly out to Denver for the ski trip. He was looking forward to it. He also looked forward to the next envelope from Joanne. He didn’t want to look forward to it, but he couldn’t avoid it.

The new pages came, day by day, and the album began to fill out. The photos got more and more explicit, including some of the two of them fucking. He remembered convincing her to let him put the remote trigger on the camera and take the photos. There were pictures of him kissing between her legs, of her with her legs widespread and her husband buried between them; even one of her giving him a blowjob. It was taken looking down across his hairy belly with her eyes were looking up at him while her lips curled around the head of his dick.

On Thursday, the doorbell rang as he finished packing his bag for the trip. Jack went down the stairs to find a flower delivery guy at the door. He was carrying a box of flowers and another of those big brown envelopes.

“Thanks!” he said, and fished out a tip.

“Good grief, what the hell is this?”

The card was from Joanne. A Valentine’s Day cupid was on the corner of the card. He shook his head and turned to the package.

The photos were a shock. No old photos! These were all new and there were several them. They also were professionally shot, he could see that immediately.

In the first one, a large 8 ½ X 11 inch photo showed a smiling Joanne in the same white lace negligee as she wore on their wedding night. She was posed on a photographer’s podium, looking primly seductive. The following pages were a series of progressively more revealing shots. They were well posed and well photographed to show her most beautiful features, The first leaning forward with the gown open and her breasts pushed up by the lacy bra. In the next she was removing the bra and holding it under her breasts.

In the final photo, she sat with one foot on the seat of the chair and the other foot on the floor; the gown down on her arms to bare her breasts and the triangle of hair between her legs was discreetly visible. He could just make out the beginning of her slit beneath the soft, curly thatch.

Jack thumbed through the entire album. It was cleverly done, he grudgingly admitted; he unzipped his bag and slipped it inside. Glancing at the clock, he hurried out the door and threw everything in the car. He was soon headed down the expressway to the airport. His skis poked through the passenger compartment and out the back window.

Six hours later he backed the rental car up to the porch of the cabin and stepped out into the invigorating mountain air and the bright sunlight of late afternoon. He unloaded the groceries and began looking around to plan the chores he needed to do.

At last he took the pleasure of sitting with a large scotch and water in the big chair in front of the fireplace. The fire crackled and snapped satisfyingly behind the screen and chased the chill of the empty cabin. He fell asleep in the chair like a large shaggy dog and woke when the fire died out and the chill returned. The album slipped from his lap and clunked onto the floor.