The Fall Ch. 01

John and Carol were true baby boomers: they were married on the same day the Woodstock concert started, in August of 1969, a couple of months after the first moon landing. They honeymooned inexpensively in John's parent's travel trailer, which was parked on a wooded lot near a resort and lake in the high Rockies.

They had dated for over a year, but without explicitly stating it, they each declined to have sexual intercourse prior to marriage. In Carol's case, she didn't want John to get the RIGHT impression of her sexual history. In John's case, although he suspected that Carol had had some sexual experience before he met her (little did he know, then, the extent of it), he wanted to preserve their sense of the sanctity and seriousness of their lifelong commitment to one another.

After the ceremony, they had ten days before they had to be at the University for their final year of school. They would be moving into University married-student housing, and they were really excited about their good luck in getting that apartment. Colleges and universities all over the country, especially state-owned schools, were absolutely swamped with students as the baby boom just kept on swelling their student populations. Students were literally camping out on campus quadrangles before they could find housing on or near the campus. But the cost of married student housing hadn't been affected by the market forces that had driven other apartments around the campus ski-high. So their first home together was convenient to the campus, clean and safe, and most of all, cheap. They would just about be able to pay for their last year of college as a married couple, if they were careful with their money.

They had supplemented their finances by trading John's beloved Stingray in on a new VW beetle sedan. It had all the features they needed now, and John parted with his Vette with only minor pangs of regret. Carol would be traveling every day to a high school about thirty miles away to do her student teaching, and the VW would be a much better car for those trips ... cheaper to run and far better in the snow.

Many honeymoons are disasters, especially for couples who have not experienced the full range of sexual expression together. But, for Carol and John, their honeymoon was just about perfect. On the day of their ceremony, by the time they had arrived at the remote site, it was already evening. And, as usual in the high Rockies, even though the summer days were often uncomfortably hot, the nights would still routinely get below freezing, and the temperatures were already chilly when they were unpacking their little car to move into their first little home together.

Carol was not a little girl, but John was a strong, healthy young man. He always said he was descended from bears, not monkeys, because he was a big guy, shaped like a grizzly, very hairy, and had a deep resonating voice. He had worn glasses since he was thirteen (as had Carol, although she had used contact lenses for years, now), so he often scrunched up his nose to keep his glasses up where they belonged. As a result, he often looked like he was frowning. Together with his apparent frown, looming presence and deep voice, first impressions of John were often of an angry and dangerous young man. His actual personality was just the opposite, however. He had an engaging mind, and ready and silly sense of humor, and he was a very gentle, loving, and giving sort of guy. All the things that made him so precious to Carol. And, all the reasons she had pledged to herself that her wild, experimental days of frequent, unsafe, and often violent sex were over. She hoped ... she KNEW ... that her love life with John would easily compensate for whatever she was giving up.

John propped open the door of the little trailer, and hefted Carol up off of the ground, with a mock-serious "OOF!" to tease her about how very, very heavy she was. He managed to wobble up the rickety little metal step and into the one-room space without doing either of them major bodily harm, and put her down on the floor. Carol refused to release her arms from around his neck, and she gave him a heart-melting kiss which must have lasted for minutes.

They were far too eager to fulfill their love to unpack all their clothes, food, and supplies. John folded down the sofa toward the back of the trailer, and threw a blanket on it, then grabbed his new bride for another deep, romantic, yet also profoundly sexy kiss. They started tearing off each others' clothes, and soon, they were lying on what amounted to a double bed, stroking one another sensuously.

John's penis was painfully erect, and had been for at least an hour. He was sure that he wouldn't be able to last long when he finally penetrated Carol for the first time. For her part, Carol had started using the "pill" again, hoping that the newer, less potent formulations would allow her to use this most-transparent and dependable of birth-control methods. They were married, but they certainly didn't want to create any children yet.

John tried to restrain himself and to be considerate of his new bride, intending against his every animal urge to spend as long as it took to stimulate Carol with foreplay until she was fully ready to take him. His member wasn't the largest that Carol had seen, by a substantial margin, but it wasn't exactly the smallest, either. When he was erect, and she had seen many, many erect cocks by then, his cock was just a nice, adequate size that she knew would reach into her and would satisfy the urge she couldn't deny, to be well and truly fucked.

When he slid his hand down between her legs for the first time since they were man and wife, he discovered that she seemed very ready, indeed. She whispered in his ear, "Don't fool around, John! I've waited for a year and a half for this moment ... fuck me!"

John didn't have to told twice. He was no virgin, and not really the saint Carol thought he was, so he knew what to do. But he wanted her to guide him in, to take responsibility and an active part in their first full sexual experience. Carol needed no prompting. She reached down between them, and grasped his prick -- maybe not the biggest one she had ever held, but surely the most dangerously swollen -- and pulled him into to her dripping wet vagina.

John paused to enjoy the feeling of first contact between the tip of his penis and the enveloping folds of her inner lips, a feeling that literally dozens of men and boys before him had enjoyed, Carol couldn't help but think. Then he pushed in HARD, and plunged to his full depth in that single stroke. Carol knew immediately that this was going to be good, but also that it wasn't the same as some of the wild, degenerate sex she had had before. She had never before experienced loving sex, sex endorsed by church and family, what most people would call "normal" sex. For just an instant, as John paused, relishing the feeling of her tight, wet vagina clasping his engorged member, she wondered if she could ever be truly satisfied fully by this man.

But the moment passed as John began the ancient dance, plunging again and again into her, and her hips rose up to meet his as if of their own accord. Soon, they were both lost in the unrestrained joy of finally consummating their true love.

John surprised himself by lasting longer than he had expected ... he had expected to cum virtually as soon as he entered her ... but he found he couldn't prolong his explosion long enough for Carol to reach a climax, too. His final thrust before cumming actually reminded Carol of Terry London's violent thrusting into her (would she never be able to banish those memories?), it was so powerful, and then he remained embedded fully in her, his back arched, pressing his hairy stomach muscles against her taut, athletic tummy.

John's ejaculation was as fine, prolonged, and as rich as the long-delayed moment deserved. He literally growled out a loud and unrestrained howl, sounding every bit as if he were descended from bears. He pushed hard against Carol's shaven vulva, and without any withdrawal, tried to push his cock and his seed even deeper, deeper into her body. When the first mind-blowing spasms ended, but he felt himself still cumming, he resumed thrusting, as much to prolong his own pleasure as to ensure hers. Carol was fantastically excited to have finally felt his cock inside of her, and to have sensed him spurting his semen deep into her receptive vagina. And now that she was on the "pill", she imagined it squirting its way up further, through her cervix, into her womb. The idea brought her to her own climax, and she, too cried out, clutching John tightly to her body, wanting to feel every inch of him against her.

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The two of them fell apart from one another, laughing and panting deeply. They were wet with perspiration, and rolled apart, keeping touch only by holding hands. "Did you go?" John said.

"Are you kidding?" Carol answered, laughing. "I thought I was going to explode!"

After a few minutes lying there naked and sweaty, they became aware of how cold it was in the little trailer. They realized that they had left the door wide open in their haste to enjoy their first marital fuck. Not that it mattered ... the nearest other person was over a mile away. But the breeze coming in just sucked away the moisture off of their bodies, and soon, they went from being overheated to being freezing cold.

"Don't go away," John said, and he got up, his now-limp dick dripping semen all over the bedding and the floor, which Carol thought was just sexy as hell. John ducked outside, still nude, and opened the valves on the compressed natural gas bottles at the front of the trailer. He came back in, closed the door, and knelt down on the floor to light the little floor furnace there.

For the next half-an-hour, the two of them tried everything they could think of to get the little furnace lighted, even going so far as to read the instructions, and eventually throwing the two of them into laughing fits at its obstinance.

Finally, John gave up when his thumb lost feeling from holding down the little red button while trying to start the pilot light. "To hell with this," he said, "we've got better things to do!"

He got out a big soup kettle and filled it with water from the jugs they had brought with them, set it on the stove. He lit the burner there (successfully on the first attempt!) to boil the water, and climbed back under the blanket with Carol. "Ready again?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows comically.

She rolled him onto his back, and threw the cover off herself, kneeling up and straddling his hips. The chill in the air further stimulated her already-extended nipples, and she felt around underneath herself for John's new erection.

This time, he pushed his cock toward her opening with his own hand, their hands meeting there near their genitals. He used his hand to slide his cock up and down along her slit, both of them slimy with the fluids of their last effort. Carol hovered there above him, her consciousness entirely centered on the incredible sexy feelings he was producing in her. She felt herself secreting even more vaginal fluid, if that was possible. Before too long, she cried out quietly, "Stop!" She was being over-stimulated, and her vaginal lips couldn't stand any more erotic stimulation.

Carol lowered herself down, rolling her hips, at first to ensure that John's cock was properly aimed, but then to continue the sudden pleasure she was getting from grinding her pussy down onto him. From the noises John was making, he liked her coital dance, too.

Soon, Carol was bouncing up and down on John's cock. He was enjoying the view up at her bouncing breasts, and his opportunity to manipulate her breasts as much as he pleased in this position. Carol and John's eyes didn't meet romantically -- they had had over a year of romance with no sex, and now they were enjoying sex without much romance -- they were fucking, not making love. Carol's back was arched, her flat tummy thrust forward over John's hips, and he would occasionally slide his hands down from mauling her breasts to massage her incredibly sexy stomach muscles and tease at the sensitive apex of her vaginal lips. Carol's hair streamed down her back, tickling the top of her butt cheeks, making the moment even more erotic for her. John felt like an actor in a pornographic movie -- the fading light was ample to see every detail of Carol's amazing body, and he enjoyed the contrast between her sleek feminine skin and his hairy, brutish arms and hands squashing her ample breasts and squeezing her nipples as hard as he could while she moaned her approval and occasionally murmured," Harder!"

So soon after his first climax, John was able to sustain his erection and delay his orgasm plenty long enough for Carol to climax on top of him, crying out her sexual joy as if she were in terrible pain. She collapsed onto him, her fantastic breasts squashed between them, where he seemed to be able to feel every little bump on her areoles and her nipples drilling into his hairy chest. Carol was ready to collapse into a post-coital fugue again, but John was having none of that. He rolled the two of them over, getting perilously close to the edge of the little fold-out bed, and started to mercilessly pound himself into Carol's cunt again and again. His months of frustration and waiting were finding an expression in the violence with which he attacked his new wife.

Carol certainly didn't object. This was the way she liked it -- rough, and hard, and energetic, and selfish. She knew she wasn't being made love to, but being fucked, and fucked hard by a man she had thought she knew, but now marveled at, as if he were a stranger. Maybe there was more to this man than she had expected. The sudden uncertainty stirred that old, perverse feeling in her, a little doubt about her choice of life mate adding just the dash of spice she needed to really fully enjoy this wild fuck.

Before John could reach his second climax, Carol spiraled into hers, a sexual high composed of equal parts love, lust and the satisfaction of the craving she had been feeling to be abused again, sexually. She arched her back, actually lifting her much-larger husband off of the surface of the bed with her powerful back and leg muscles, her spasms so strong as to literally curl her toes. But, when her second orgasm since they had put the water on to boil had passed, Carol was drained, and her sensitive vaginal opening was sore and very sensitive. "Stop! Stop!" she cried out.

"No fucking way!" John shouted, and persisted pounding into her now-limp body. Carol was shocked at his action and his harsh reply. He was totally lost in fucking into the juicy twat of this sexy woman -- he didn't know or care at this point that she was his wife of only a few hours or maybe some old girlfriend or maybe a whore, or just some woman he picked up somewhere. His mind was devoted entirely to finding that incredible edge, that knife-point of passion that bordered on rape, that would lead to another crashing orgasm. Carol sensed this, and responded as she always had. She reawakened to the danger and power of this man thrusting above her, and she felt his burly hands writhing over her stomach and breasts freely, without regard for her feelings, his swollen cock repeatedly punching into her from below, and she loved it. She was transported to that other place that she had thought she might never again see, where she was the wanton slut she knew she had to be.

As Carol's brain exploded with her most powerful orgasm yet today, as the bear of a man slamming into her shouted out yet again, with a wordless, throaty scream of lustful fulfillment. Then, again, as he shot yet another stream of semen up into her shaven pussy, "Fuck!"

If their nearest neighbor had been any closer than a mile away, they would have wondered who was being murdered.

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At that altitude, water boils quite easily, and by the time they were back among the living, the pot had almost boiled dry. John poured some more water in the pot, poured some cold water into the all-purpose sink, and rooted around until he found some bar soap and a clean towel. He poured about half the heated water into the sink, resulting in a lukewarm pool suitable for a quick sponge-bath, and used the remainder of the hot water to make two cups of tea.

John lit the gas-burning wall lamp above the little kitchenette, slipped on his tennies without tying them, and left Carol to sip her tea and clean up if she wanted while he set out, still naked, to bring in the rest of their supplies.

Carol soon joined him. Running around the lot naked would be one of their favorite things to do on their honeymoon, and they extended the boundaries of their daring far enough to walk down the hill to their neighbor's lot (who John was PRETTY sure were not in residence) to pump water from their well. At least twice, they got hysterical with laughter from the shocked expressions of older men cutting though their property to get to the little stream nearby to fish.

The sex mellowed considerably over the next week, and they settled into a pattern more resembling love-making than pure fucking. Carol enjoyed this, too, It was a totally new experience for her, almost a wholly different thing from sex in her mind. In time, this distinction would haunt her.

For his part, John was blissfully happy. They went boating and pretended to fish. They picnicked on an island in the lake where bald eagles nested, and swam naked in the ice-cold water there. They laid out on blankets, naked in the hot middle of the day, and made love out in the open air, worrying a little and maybe hoping a little that some old, horny fishermen might come by.

Before too long, the time had come for them to return to John's parent's house and borrow his dad's truck to haul their few furnishings up to their new apartment on campus.

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Caro's student-teaching sponsor was a public high-school English teacher, a young-looking woman in maybe her mid-thirties whose class load made her hope that this new apprentice was more of a help than a burden. Jess Spinelli (Carol's sponsor) was completely delighted that Carol was not only smart and properly educated, but virtually ready from day one to take responsibility for a class on her own.

It took Carol a week or so, of course, to learn the ropes of the convoluted public-school administration, the rules, regulations, and pecking-order of the high school. But Carol and Jess soon became fast friends, and, when school let out at 2:30 in the afternoon, if Carol didn't have a class to get back to on campus, the two of them would go out together to get a soda or go to Jess's house to sit and chat and grade papers.

Jess's husband, Tony, was a fireman, and worked the usual fireman's two-days-on and two-days-off schedule. So he was usually either at the fire station or sleeping when Carol and Jess got to Jess's house, and it was several weeks before Carol met him. When she did, it was under really unusual circumstances and Carol would look back on that day as the start of her fall.

When Carol and Jess came in from school one fall afternoon, a man Carol assumed was Tony was busy setting up a 16mm film projector in the living room of the house. The Spinelli's house was a late 1950's period-piece, an open-plan modernist house with a very low-slope roof and one big room on the morning side of the building which comprised the kitchen (behind a breakfast bar / serving counter), the dining room, the living room, and the entry.

This was well before the days of VHS or Beta-Max VCRs, and way, way before laser discs or DVDs. They hadn't even really started showing movies on prime-time network TV yet. If you wanted to see a movie in the privacy of your own home, you had to own, rent, or borrow a film projector and actually show films.