Knox County Ch. 03

It took her well over an hour to get into town, completely fill a shopping cart with foodstuffs and cleaning supplies, and get back to Sean's house. When she finished carrying in the groceries and placing them on the counter, she went in to check on him and found him much the way she'd left him. He was mumbling lightly, twitching with his dreams, his eyelids fluttering with the rapid movements from behind.

She put the groceries away, and still he slept. She decided not to wake him. It seemed he needed the sleep more than anything. He looked like hell, like he'd been awake for days and hadn't eaten for days. She'd let him sleep and feed him when he awoke. She decided to try to feed him a lot, hoping a full belly for the first time in weeks–maybe months, given how gaunt he looked–would put him right back to sleep.

She killed the time by going into his bedroom and getting to work. She tore off the bedding and threw the sheets in the laundry. The comforter, she realized, would need to be dry cleaned. Next, she gathered up the dirty clothes scattered throughout the bedroom and bathroom, sorted them into baskets, and carried them into the laundry room to await their turn. Then she slid the windows up to get rid of the smell and started on the bathroom, giving it a thorough scrubbing from top to bottom. Once that was clean, she dusted and polished the bedroom and went off in search of a vacuum. She passed him coming back from a closet, the vacuum gliding on the floor in front of her. He was still sleeping, and she didn't no whether to risk waking him. Then she saw the clock. It was nearly two; he'd been out for almost five hours. He'd be starving by now–looked like he'd been starving himself for months, actually–and she was feeling the emptiness in her belly that told her she'd also need to eat soon.

She took the vacuum to the bedroom. Before starting, she searched in the linen closet and pulled out some fresh sheets and a clean comforter, making the bed. Then she started vacuuming. As she nearly finished, she saw him standing in the door, staring at her.

She jumped at the sight and flipped off the vacuum. "You scared me," she said.

"Can I have me toast now?"

She left the vacuum where it was and walked to the kitchen. He followed and she waved her hand at a chair. "Sit," she said, turning on the flames under the tea kettle before turning her back and pulling food from the refrigerator.

"Really," he said, watching her pull out eggs, cheese, jam, butter, and juice. "Just some toast. And some tea."

"You need more than toast," she told him, cracking eggs into a bowl and whisking them around. She added some milk and poured it all into a hot pan sizzling with butter, slid down the toaster, and opened a packet of shredded cheese.

She saw him watching her, silent, his face void of expression but his eyes following her every movement. She slid a plate and silverware in front of him on the breakfast bar.

"Water's ready for the tea now," he said. "Careful not to let it boil."

She nodded. She had no idea how to make proper tea, thought it came in little packets by Lipton. He seemed to realize this and walked around the counter, pulling a two small, perforated silver balls from a drawer, pulling them apart at the circumference, and packing them full of loose tea leaves. He put them together again, placed them in the bottoms of a two mugs, and poured hot water over them.

"Let it sit for a few minutes," he said, placing a mug on the counter in front of her and taking his back to his chair.

She finished the meal and placed a plate of cheese omelette and buttered toast in front of him.

"May I have some jam?" he said. She grabbed a spoon and a jar of strawberry jam and put them in front of him. He smeared the toast and took a big bite, pulling the ball from his tea and stirring it as he chewed. "Milk," he said with a mouthful of food.

She poured some milk into his mug and watched him stir it as he took another bite, bigger than the first, from the toast. When he swallowed, a look of relief seemed to wash over his body, and she felt comfortable taking her first bite of toast, washing it down with a sip of tea.

She'd never much liked tea before, but she had to admit this wasn't bad.

"Put some milk in it," he suggested through his third mouthful of toast, so she did and sipped it again. Different, she thought, but not bad.

He polished off the toast in a few more bites and seemed content to stop there. "Eat the omelette," she said. He looked from his plate to hers. Her voice softened. "Listen, I'm supposed to be taking care of you, right?" He nodded. "You don't eat anything more than toast or jam, I'm going to get fired, okay?"

He picked up his fork and took a bite, chewing slowly. She watched him while eating her own plate. At first, he ate the omelette more slowly than the toast. When he got about halfway done, though, his pace increased and he soon had it all wolfed down. He burped loudly when finished and she looked at him.

"'Scuse me," he said.

"That's actually the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a long time." She grabbed his plate. "Still hungry?"

"No, thank you," he said through a wide yawn. "That was really good."

She scraped the rest of her lunch into the garbage can and placed the dishes in the dishwasher. "C'mon," she said, tilting her head behind her. "Let's get you in the tub. I'll draw you a bath, you can soak for awhile."

He said nothing, so she went to his bathroom and started filling the tub with warm water. When it was nearly full, she heard him enter behind her. "Really," he started, but she cut him off.

"You're taking a bath," she said. "It's pretty obvious you haven't had one in awhile." She reached over and started unbuttoning his shirt for him. "A good long soak will do you some good."

He watched her unbutton his shirt, his arms loose at his sides, yawning. She pulled his shirt from him, saw the pale skin stretched tight over his chest and ribs, patches of light brown fuzz streaked with gray on his sternum and around his sunken belly. She looked down. The waist of his jeans was loose, held in place only by his protruding hip bones. She could easily pull them down without unbuttoning them.

Still his hands hung at his sides. "C'mon," she said, "go ahead and get undressed and into the tub. I'll turn my back, okay?" She turned around for a minute, but when she turned back he was still standing there. She wasn't sure what to do, but then she saw his face and saw complete exhaustion. The food and full belly had worked better than she'd thought. She couldn't let him get into a clean bed like this, and she was afraid to leave him alone in a bathtub. So she made up her mind and tugged his pants downward.

She was right. The pants slid easily over his hipbones and to the floor. His briefs were nearly as baggy, and she easily slid them down, lifting his feet out of pants and underwear.

When she looked back up, she was face to face with the first uncircumcised penis she'd ever seen. Larger than she'd expected, she thought, and strange looking. The bulb was hidden behind a turtleneck sweater of foreskin. Curious, she thought, but I'm standing next to this naked man–too thin and frail, pale, overpowering body odor–but naked nonetheless, and I'm not turned on.

She stood and looked into his face, his eyes following her. They were innocent, tired, no arousal or lewd thoughts. My God, she realized for the first time in two days, I really am a care giver here. I'm responsible for a full-grown man with the emotional stability of a little boy and health as frail as Gandhi on his worst day.

She reached over and felt the bath water, satisfied that it wasn't too hot. "Get in," she said, and he turned and looked at the tub as if for the first time. "I can't lift you, so you're going to have to do this one for yourself."

She held his arm as he lifted his legs over and lowered himself into the water. He sighed as he sank into the waters, lowering his head underneath before emerging and leaning back against wall of the tub. His arms went to the sides of the tub and stayed there. He seemed content to soak without going further.

"Are you going to wash yourself?" she asked, but he didn't move.

Without a word, she grabbed a bottle of shampoo and squirted some into his hair. She rubbed it in gently, forming a solid lather and wiping away the suds as they ran down his forehead toward his closed eyes. She then turned and grabbed a bath sponge, squirting a healthy dose of body wash on it before rubbing it into his shoulders, arms, and chest.

She felt his body relax beneath her touch, all tension disappearing. His breathing went shallow, and she wondered if he was getting aroused. She half hoped he was, she realized.

"Dunk your head under so I can rinse out your hair," she said. Her voice was soft, barely a whisper. He did, and she swirled water through his hair until he pushed back up.

She squirted more body wash on and went to his feet, lifting them and scrubbing his feet and legs one after the other. There was no tension, and she had an easy time of it, going slowly and scrubbing the pine fragrance into him thoroughly.

"I need to let some water out now, okay?" she said, and he murmured his assent. She let some water drain, rubbing more wash into the bath sponge. "Do you want to do the rest by yourself?"

When he said nothing, she started scrubbing his belly, moving lower until she reached his thatch of tight, coarse pubic hair. She stopped and still he said nothing, so she continued lower. She lifted his prick in her hand, scrubbing it softly on top and bottom, reaching underneath and scrubbing his loose sac. Further down she went, and his hips lifted to make it easier for her. She scrubbed around his cheeks and deep into the crack of his ass, and she heard him murmur lightly. Then she went back to his prick, pulling the foreskin back and exposing the head fully.

She rubbed the sponge into her hands, lathering them with soap, and put the sponge aside. With one hand, she held the foreskin down and with the other she rubbed over and around his head. He started to react for the first time, a long breath escaping his lips and his cock beginning to harden in her hands. Surprised, she let go and looked at him. His head was turned, his eyes open and looking at her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I just . . . you know . . . I needed to get you. . . ."

His lips parted, his tongue licking them, then his eyes looking down at himself. Her eyes followed his and saw that he was almost fully hard. She turned back and watched his head lean back, eyes closing, and a low groan escape his lips.

Her eyes never left his face as she reached her hand back to touch him. Her fingernails brushed his hardening length and she felt it twitch. "Is this what you want?" she said, wrapping her hand around the base and feeling him swell in her hand.

She heard his breathing, low and shallow, heard him try to say something.

"I'll stop if you want me to," she said, loosening her grip. His hand shot from the edge of the tub and grabbed on hers, squeezing around her grip. She smiled, watching his face as her hand started moving slowly back and forth along his length.

There was only three or so inches of bathwater remaining in the tub, and she felt the slow waves of water splashing against her hand as his hips started to move with her. She kept a slow rhythm, feeling his veins, turning to watch the long foreskin slide back with her hand before going forward and covering the bulb of his head completely.

After a few minutes, she stood and leaned over the tub, her mouth lowering to him. She pulled the foreskin back and saw pre-cum slickening the head. She stuck out her tongue and licked the length of his head, tasting the salty-sweet cum and smelling the pine fragrance of his freshly scrubbed cock. His hips jerked back, and she heard a sharp intake of breath. She opened her mouth wide and lowered her lips over him, sucking gently and licking her tongue around the ridge of his head as she did so.

"Oh my God," he whispered. She started moving her mouth up and down over his cock, her hand grasping him firmly at the base and keeping him from bucking into her as his hips started pumping. His was the biggest cock she'd ever seen outside a magazine. He was bigger than David or Tim or any of the boys she'd dated in college or high school. Not freakishly so, mind you, but bigger. She was surprised given the size of the rest of him, and she knew she wouldn't be able to deep throat him without choking.

He seemed more than content, though, and she picked up the speed of her mouth. He quit moving his hips and just held them there, his body rigidly holding his ass a few inches out of the water, bracing his weight with his arms on the side of the tub.

"I'm going to cum," he panted, his voice little more than a whisper, and she stayed down on him a moment longer. Soon she felt the throbbing of his cock pick up and felt his head begin to twitch in her mouth. She pulled her head away and pumped him with her hand, watching his head erupt in geysers of thick, milky liquid as he moaned long and low. The first shot went over his shoulder, landing on the floor behind him, and she held his cock straight up. The rest erupted high above before arcing downward and gathering in a large pool in the middle of his belly.

She kept pumping after he had finished, feeling him go soft in her hands. The sticky liquid coated her hand, and she rinsed it through the remaining water before splashing some up and over his belly to wash him off as well.

He was watching her again, and she couldn't read his expression. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "Thank you," he said. A weak smile crossed his lips. "Looks like I needed that."

She smiled back. "Right then," she said, "let's get you to bed."

He stood and she dried him off from stem to stern. He again just stood there, watching her rub the towel over his body. When she finished, he followed her into the bedroom and slid naked beneath the blankets she held back for him. She heard his light snoring before she shut the door behind her.

Later, while folding his laundry, she replayed the scene in her mind. She was happy, but she wasn't aroused and hadn't been excited the whole time. She'd never felt this way before, not after doing that. But she felt that way now, like she'd helped someone who really needed it without taking anything in return.

* * *

David was hunched over his desk, flow charting a problem he was having with the new encryption software. He heard a knock and looked up to see his partner walk in.

"Hey Mike," he said, putting his pencil down and leaning back, stretching his neck to get the kinks out as he did so.

"Dave," he nodded, dropping into a chair across from him. "So what's up?"

"What d'ya mean?"

"You haven't been around much lately. Coming in late, leaving early." He wasn't complaining. No, it sounded like concern. David took a deep breath. "Having some problems at home."

"Wanna talk about it?"

David didn't, not really. He hadn't thought about it since he'd gotten to work that morning and started in on the software. Still, he could only bury himself in his work for so long, then he'd be consumed with his fucked up mess of a live again.

"We've separated."

Mike leaned forward, not surprised by the answer. "You or her?"

David raised an eyebrow, surprised he'd guessed it on the first try. Before he could answer, Mike guessed correctly again.

"When did you find out?"

"Last Tuesday."

"You know the guy?"

"Kind of . . . not really. I know who he is. Don't really know him, though."

Mike sat back in the chair. He was younger than David, maybe thirty-five, slim with blonde hair on the long side. God, David thought, he's a good looking guy, personable, smart, rich. He's probably never been through this in his life. Still, he was a good guesser, and he was easy to talk to. More importantly, he was unmarried and seemed to have no problems with women.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do."

Mike nodded, saying nothing.

"Been awhile, you know? The dating scene? Kind of scarey."

Mike nodded again. David didn't know what more to say. He was looking for words of wisdom here, some tips on how to play the field again. He didn't want another wife, or even anything that serious. Still, he realized he felt alone, and he wanted to have someone to spend some time with. Christ, he thought, she's barely gone and already I can't do without her.

Mike took a deep breath, hesitating before he spoke. "Okay, you know Justine, right?" David nodded. Mike had been seeing her pretty much exclusively for a little over a year now. They'd had dinner together a couple of times. "Ever tell you how we met? Where we met?"

Mike knew he hadn't. "There's this club I go to sometimes. It meets on Thursdays, at different people's houses. We all take turns having the party at our houses. Sort of an invitation only thing. Word of mouth, but you have to be invited by someone already in the group. Know what I mean?"

"Like a singles night out without the nightclub?"

Mike grinned. "You could say that. More like a . . . you won't tell anyone?" David twirled his hand, telling him to spit it out. "Well, more like a swingers night out. If you know what I mean."

David wasn't surprised. He'd heard of them, of course. Hell, who hadn't. He was just surprised they actually existed. In tiny little Armitage, Wisconsin, no less. He was uncomfortable, but intrigued.

"So when you say swingers, you mean, like, sharing wives, girlfriends, that sort of thing?"

"Sometimes. Some are married, a lot are single. Some like girl-girl stuff, sharing their mates, some don't. Really, it's a neat way–an awesome way, actually–to meet people. No strings attached."

"And you met Justine at one of these?" Mike nodded. "And you still go to them?" He nodded again.

Mike's grin got wider. "She likes girls sometimes. You gonna say no to something like that?"

David smiled and tilted his head. He, for one, would give his left nut to see Justine naked and with another woman.

Seeing the look on his face, Mike spoke. "So you wanna come or what? It's tonight, seven o'clock, at my house. You like it, hang around and see what happens. Don't like it, feel uncomfortable or anything, leave whenever you want. Just don't tell anyone, okay?"

David pondered this, running the possibilities through his mind. Then he thought of Cynthia, thought of how inexperienced he was, the things he'd never seen or done. "I won't be a third wheel? The only one coming alone?"

"Nah, there's always singles there. You'll come?"

David nodded.

* * *

Mike's house is perfect for something like this, he realized pulling into the driveway. It was well outside of town, well back from the road, the in ground pool and much of the back yard hidden from any nosy neighbors by a high stockade fence. He parked at the back, leaving plenty of room between cars in case he left early.

When he got out of the car, he heard voices around back and saw couples through the front bay windows standing around chatting and drinking. Everyone was dressed much the same as him, in jeans or shorts and polo shirts, sandals or loafers.

He went to the front door and knocked. Justine answered. "David," she said, pulling him in and hugging him. She was beautiful, he thought. Long, straight, dark hair falling to her tanned shoulders, tall and lanky, slim, straight hips, big breasts pressing into his chest. "Mike, look who's here," she called over her shoulder before turning back to him and squeezing herself to him again. "Mike told me," she whispered in his ear. "I'm so sorry."

He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder, and she let him go. "Hey Dave," Mike said. "Glad you could make it."