One Way or the Other

Lindy couldn't take her eyes off the child who was being introduced to a picture book in the bookstore front of her two-bedroom shotgun house in tiny Wallace, Kansas. Wallace was in "nowhere land" twenty-five flat and nearly tree-less miles east of the Colorado state line just off Interstate 40. She had no idea how old the little girl was. Lindy, twenty-four, hadn't paid any attention to children until recently. She hadn't thought about them at all until her husband, Arthur Brand, now fifty-six and considering his mortality after a brush with liver cancer, had revealed how much he ached for them to have a child. Now she felt so guilty that she was fully aware of every young child she saw and increasingly was pining for motherhood herself. Luckily, the population of Wallace, Kansas, was only sixty-three, and the child delighting over a picture book in Lindy's small bookstore was one of only three under the age of four living In Wallace at this moment.

The reason Lindy felt guilty was that they'd been married for five years—happily so, she thought—and she'd been taking precautions all this time. She liked sex; she'd been a little afraid of children and not at all interested in the process of birthing one. She and Arthur never discussed having children, but Arthur was more than twice her age. How did she know that he was so naïve about such things? It was true that he nominally was a Catholic, but out here in nowhere Kansas there wasn't a Catholic church anywhere close. They didn't go to church or talk religion. Lindy hadn't been brought up going to a church.

It had been having liver cancer and facing his own mortality at fifty-five that had started Arthur talking about having a family and about Catholics' attitude toward procreation. He didn't contemplate why they hadn't started one already—at least in the open. And there was no natural reason before he started treatments for the cancer that they didn't. They did it—a lot—up to that time, and he didn't wear protection. Before the cancer Arthur had liked to fuck. Lindy liked to be fucked. Despite the age difference, Arthur was very good at it. It hadn't come up that she was taking precautions—that they hadn't discussed having a family and she thought he was too old, marrying her at fifty, to be raising children. She'd just cut off that possibility in life when they married.

And now that Lindy knew that Arthur wanted to keep his line alive, it really was getting too late. They hadn't had sex for a year. That wasn't because they weren't sexually attracted to each other—Lindy knew she was still a looker and Arthur was a hunk of a man for his age, or she wouldn't have married him in the first place. It was because of what Arthur had gone through in the past year. The chemo and medicines and all had pretty much destroyed his libido. She didn't know if he even could get it up anymore. The few times he'd tried after the doctor said it was safe to start up again, he hadn't been able to get hard. He'd satisfied Lindy in other ways, but he hadn't gotten there for himself.

He hadn't had trouble getting it up at the start and she'd been flattered that the handsome and so intelligent English teacher at the Community College of Aurora, a section of Denver, Colorado, to the east of the central downtown area, had been interested in a student in her first year at the junior college. Lindy's interest had been English as well, and in addition to teaching the subject, Arthur was a novelist in his own right, albeit on a modest scale. Even that scale was urbane and fascinating to Lindy. He paid attention to her in class, commenting more than once how good her writing was—and her poems. They exchanged poems, which had become increasingly intimate as the semester progressed. And, ultimately, because of the incident, they hookup up and the romance became serious.

The romance became scandalous at the community college too, and, although they married, they thought it best to leave Denver. Arthur was from this small village, not really a town, in western Kansas, notable only as the location of an old fort museum, Fort Wallace, out south of town a quarter of a mile, on I-40. The value of the museum was more convenience than history. It was a place where those hurrying through Kansas as fast as they could either from or to Colorado made a pit stop and lingered for a couple of minutes for a brief history lesson. Where they'd set up a small bookstore on the large, glass-enclosed front porch of Arthur's dad's house on Clark Street in Wallace was where they lived. From the front door, when the hall door was open, you could look straight back down the length of the house. Beyond the bookstore room you entered the living room on the right, with the dining room on the left, with the kitchen behind it, and then you went straight back down a hall, with a bath on the left, a laundry room-storage room on the right and then bedrooms, one on the right and one on the left, and, at the end of the hall, the door into the backyard.

Arthur had inherited the house from his dad, without a mortgage, which was one reason they could live comfortably on just Arthur's partial pension from college teaching. His dad had owned a garage and gas pumps in Sharon Springs, a town on I-40 ten miles from Wallace and another fifteen miles to the Colorado boarder. That too had come to Arthur and he still owned it and realized supplemental income off it with others fully running the business. Arthur's mother had owned a bigger house in Sharon Springs, population 750, which Arthur also owned and where they had a larger bookstore that Arthur worked. Arthur's father and mother had never married, but both had done what they could for the son they shared. Lindy and Arthur had continued sharing a love for English and books and so they had the two small bookstores in two hamlets that really weren't large enough to support bookstores but that they could provide because income was coming in from elsewhere and living was cheap here in "nowhere" Kansas.

And everything had been just hunky-dory here until Arthur had gone through cancer and was now regretting that he and his pretty wife less than half his age hadn't started a family. Lindy hadn't even thought about having children until Arthur said something. Now, though, as she watched Ellen crouching down and showing her little daughter the pictures in a book they probably wouldn't buy and Lindy didn't really care whether they would or not as long as they were reading books, Lindy could feel her internal clock ticking.

And Arthur had been good to her—real good—she sure did wish she could give him a child to live on with his family name and who could inherit the family property.

* * *

The "incident" that had led Lindy and Arthur to the life they now shared in "nowhere" Kansas had occurred in a darkened and otherwise deserted classroom at the Community College of Aurora five and a half years earlier, shortly after Lindy turned nineteen, when another, a year older, student, Steve Sales, fucked her in the missionary position on the teacher's desk. It wasn't an assault. Lindy was quite willing in the coupling. She hadn't come to the community college virginal. Like many girls living in the Denver suburbs, she lost her virginity on high school senior prom night. That almost was the expected way to celebrate high school graduation. And like many, it wasn't taken from her by anyone who would be central to her subsequent life.

While Kyle Kendricks, king of the high school homecoming court to her queen, was fucking her awkwardly, in equally awkward positions, in the backseat of his father's 2012 Chrysler 300, Lindy's mind had been on the dark and handsome high school basketball star, Steve Sales, who had graduated the year before and who was the heartthrob of Lindy and so many of the other girls across classes while Steve was still in school. All the time that Kyle was inside her—painfully not only because it was her first time with anything other than a guy's tongue and fingers being there but also because there had been insufficient preparation for what they were doing and Kyle hardly knew what he was doing—Lindy's mind was on Steve Sales being on top of her and inside her.

She, like some of the other girls in her high school, had gotten looks of Steve in the altogether—and Kyle too for that matter—in the boy's locker room, thanks to a coach who was willing to give her a surreptitious view of the locker room while standing close behind her and feeling her up—too scared to go further with her and content to having his hands on her while she was in heat. Steve's body was divine. Kyles's was all right, but it was Steve, naked and on top of her, who Lindy had been thinking of on prom night. This was while a not-totally-naked Kyle was crushing her on the backseat of his father's Chrysler and doing grunting and groaning pushups on her, the skirt of her prom dress hiked up to her waist and her low-cut bodice pulled down to there as well. He kept slipping out of her and Lindy continually had to guide him back in. He was in when he released and only then did either of them realize that although Kyle had brought condoms, he hadn't used one. Luckily, nothing came of that.

What really drove Lindy to thinking of Steve in those moments was that he was in the front seat of the Chrysler that night, sitting in the passenger seat, and gripping Cindy Cane's bare buttocks in his hands, while, in his lap and facing him—and giving Lindy a triumphant look over the seat back—Cindy was rising and falling on his cock. That Cindy was alternating between smiling and grimacing just confirmed what Lindy already knew from her locker room peeks—the boy was hung. Cindy had had the brilliant idea of inviting Steve to the prom the year after his graduating and he had accepted. For this, Lindy would never forgive Cindy. Steve was obviously more cool, proficient, and experienced with sex from the way he was handling Cindy and the way Cindy was responding. And when he rolled down the car window and flipped his spent condom out, Lindy knew he wasn't one to forget using them.

And then, when Lindy matriculated at the Community College of Aurora, there he was. Steve Sales had entered the community college a year before her. They hooked up almost immediately. Lindy made no attempt to hide her interest in Steve once they'd found themselves in Dr. Brand's English class together, and Steve returned the interest. Lindy had been the Homecoming Queen at their high school the year before. She was gorgeous and obviously approachable—he'd been in the car with her when she'd lost her virginity four months earlier, which quite obviously had come easily for her, and from what Steve had heard, Lindy hadn't gone without it since then. Not completely satisfied with Kyles's cocking, she'd gone with—and under—a couple of more guys that summer. Several guys had told Steve how easy and good she was.

Steve was aroused by her. She was gorgeous, he could see she worshipped him, he knew she took cock just as she knew he gave it, and she obviously was available to him. He fucked her on Dr. Brand's desk in the dark an hour after they'll shared coffee and dirty conversation at a nearby Starbucks and returned to the college campus to do the deed.

"Are you doing it with Dr. Brand?" he'd asked over coffee.

"No, of course not," she'd answered indignantly. At the same time she was trembling, as it was becoming more evident that the magnificent stud was going to fuck her.

"You realize he wants you—badly—don't you?" Steve asked.

"I hadn't noticed," she said, but of course she had. And she'd entertained the idea of letting Brand fuck her. It was all so romantic. She had known she could turn on boys before—that her power over men was sex, them wanting to get insider her—but Brand was a fifty-year-old man, and an educated one—a college professor and novelist. He had shown interest in her for her mind—they'd even exchanged a few poems—not just her body, although she could tell he was interested in her body as well. She'd never felt power over an older, established man—one who was still quite handsome and trim—before. She'd found it exhilarating. "So, are we going to go someplace? I hope you have someplace we can go. I still live at home."

"You mean like the backseat of Kyle Kendricks's Chrysler?" he asked and then laughed. He added, though, "Prom night, with you and Kyle in the backseat and Cindy and me in the front. All of the time Cindy was pussy pumping me, I was thinking of you in the backseat with Kyle. I wanted it to be me back there with you."

"It's what I wanted too," Lindy said, almost breathless. "So, do you have a car?"

"I want to do it on Brand's desk."

"You what?"

"He wants to do it with you. I'll get a kick out of doing it with you where I bet he's dreaming of doing it with you."

And so he did. And he did it royally, hiking Lindy's skirt up to her waist and opening her blouse to pay proper homage to her ample breasts. No other guy had spent the time with his mouth on her tits and clit and fingers in her pussy like Steve did in the dark of the classroom, Lindy lying on her back on Brand's desk and Steve crouched between her open thighs, eating her out while his hands were busy alternating between working her breasts, rubbing her clit and pussy folds, and buried inside her, teasing her to open to him.

And then he was hovering over her, between her thighs. She gave a little yelp when he entered her—in her anal canal rather than her pussy. In explanation, he murmured, "I like it this way. Tighter. And no chance of nasty surprises. I don't like wearing a rubber." In the year since Lindy's high school senior prom, Steve had learned how to save on the price of condoms, to enjoy barebacking, and to avoid the fear of fatherhood.

She gasped and panted and grimaced as Steve fucked her in the ass, his hands squeezing and kneading her breasts while periodically going to her clit and pussy and finger fucking her cunt while he pumped away in her ass. He had a beautiful body, but he wasn't endowed greater than the average, so, after the initial shock was over, she was able to take him in her ass. He was doing a good job with her elsewhere, and Lindy orgasmed with him better than she'd done with anyone before.

It was exotic and forbidden and highly arousing and satisfying.

It wasn't so dark in the classroom, though, that Arthur Brand, standing in the corridor and watching them through the window in the classroom door, wasn't able to see them fucking on his desk, although he didn't catch on to the full extent of the nature of the fuck. The sighting didn't anger or disgust him. The sight of two beautiful young bodies moving in rhythm, coupling in motion aroused him, and he unzipped himself and released his erection. He beat himself off as he watched the young couple fuck, orgasming with them and splashing his cum against the tile corridor wall next to the classroom door before retiring to contemplate and scheme.

Steve had been quite right. Brand had dreamed of fucking Lindy on his desk. Two weeks later, after confronting Lindy, comforting her in her guilt and embarrassment, and maneuvering her into what she could do not to have her behavior become an official "thing" at the college, Brand fucked her on top of his desk in the darkened classroom, replicating as closely as he knew how the coupling between Steve and Lindy. One difference was that he fucked her in the pussy, not the ass. The other difference was that Arthur had a far longer and thicker cock than Steve did and he used a condom.

Once Arthur's big cock was inside her—in her pussy—and churning, Lindy forgot all about Steve. She hugged Arthur's hips close with her knees, grasped his firm biceps in her hands, and went with the ride, crying out and orgasming when she felt him tense and release, tense and release in the bulb of his condom deep inside her. Arthur had prepared her to sheath the cock as well as Steve had, though, and he fucked her twice—in a missionary, followed by a doggie—on his desk and did it so well that thoughts of Steve in Lindy's mind gave way to thoughts of this masterful, mature, hung English professor.

And Arthur wrote her love poems—which made a lot of difference to the love-starved young woman. With Steve it was sex; with Arthur it was romance, albeit with a bigger cock applied in a more satisfying passage.

Two months later, the two not being able to keep their hands off each other, which was becoming increasingly evident to all at the community college, including the administrators, Arthur and Lindy married, left school, and moved back to Arthur's home town area of Wallace and Sharon Springs, Kansas. There they established their two little bookstore outposts and, as far as Lindy knew, were leading a very satisfied, if humdrum, life together. Lindy, with an eye to Arthur's age and her own youth, had assumed they didn't want children and had taken precautions. She only five years later learned that Arthur had thought otherwise on that question. He had been plowing her regularly to the satisfaction of both—no condoms after they were married—and had anticipated "news" at any time during those five years—or at least up until he started chemo and, at least temporarily, lost the ability to gain and hold an erection.

* * *

Lindy moaned deeply, grasping Arthur's head of gray hair between her hands and grinding her hips up into her husband's face. Wave and wave of explosion came over her as he continued to suck on her clit and move two fingers between the folds of her wings and pump inside her. "Arthur. Arthur! ARTHUR! YES!" she cried out as he went up the knuckles inside her. She spasmed again and again and collapsed under him on their bed. Letting loose of his close embrace on her, Arthur moved up on the bed, hovering over her, his lips seeking out hers in a deep kiss. If he'd gotten hard, this is when he'd enter her, she knew. She'd seen the bottle of male enhancement pills in the medicine cabinet, giving her forewarning that he might have swallowed his pride and resorted to them tonight.

But he didn't penetrate her and when she surreptitiously reached down with a hand, she found that he was flaccid—long and thick, and a bit hard, but still too flaccid to enter her. He was slightly engorged but not hard enough for penetration. A flash of disappointment went through her, thinking that the pills hadn't worked. Later, when she went to the bathroom, though, she found that the seal on the bottle hadn't been broken yet. Why wouldn't he try? It seemed to mean too much to him. What was he waiting for?

Before they'd had sex, they'd had a deeper conversation than they'd ever had before of how much he regretted they hadn't had children and how he would have loved to have another generation to pass the houses and the garage on to. Lindy's thought that it would be a horror for another generation of Brands to be stuck in "nowhere" western Kansas, chained to deteriorating buildings, but she now understood how much Arthur had wanted to have children and regretted that she had made sure they didn't. Their conversation usually was more open than that, but she still hadn't owned up to having used preventative measures in their marriage. She knew now that she would stop using them if there was any hope of conceiving. In fact, she hadn't been using them since she realized what Arthur wanted. That wasn't until after the effects of the chemo treatments and medicines had taken their hold, though.

Now as he lay beside him, his arm resting on her torso, his fingers playing with her breasts, Lindy still panting lightly from Arthur having satisfied her need, he brushed aside her attempt to tell him how nice the sex had been and returned to their earlier discussion.

"That was nice, thanks," she had murmured to him.

"I'm sorry there wasn't more. You deserve to be fully satisfied."