You're Always 17 Ch. 01

So, I reached out to Chad, with whom I had maintained intermittent contact, my investment advisor, my realtor, my landman, and the attorney upon whom I had relied since I began branching out. Although none were what would be considered "good friends," they were young, single or divorced, and appreciative of the invite, for one (selfish) reason or another. Mostly they hoped to meet hot chicks and rich daddies who might become clients, but doing me a favor might pay off in the future, so why not.

As Dallasite Chad put it, the bachelor party, held at the mancamp so mis compadres could at least celebrate my marriage with me, was 'unbelievably lame.' For my crew at the mancamp, kegs of beer, barbequed cabrito, frijoles, arroz, and chewy brownies made with Mexican chocolate was a feast, and the foundation of a great party.

For Chad and the other sophisticates, a bachelor party was held in Las Vegas, and included strippers and whores. Or anywhere, as long as there were strippers and whores, but Las Vegas, where Julie's bachelorette party was being held, was favored.

Nonetheless, they woke up the next morning with splitting headaches from the mezcal shots, and a recollection that great stories had been told about the groom, even if they couldn't remember any.

Julies crew returned full of vim and vigor, but Julie was quieter and more reserved than usual during the week leading up to the wedding. Her crew returned to the ranch on Thursday, and everything was ready for the Friday rehearsal and Saturday wedding.

I marched straight ahead toward my fate, but Julie developed inexplicable reservations and 'cold feet' that her mom, aunt, and maid of honor had to help her through. On Friday, she put that behind her and soldiered ahead, looking gorgeous and frequently reassuring me of her love for me.

The rehearsal and rehearsal dinner went off flawlessly, although the toasts to the groom given by the Bean brothers and their wives pushed the limits of good taste for those visiting from afar, and the drunken toasts by Julie's girlfriends seemingly alluded to behavior in Las Vegas that should have stayed in Las Vegas - or never happened. My first moment of doubt clouded my mind.

Some things became clear over the evening: the west Texans/eastern New Mexicans and the New Englanders were not cut from the same cloth, and the easterners looked down on the westerners, who were amused by the airs and biases of the easterners. An anxious Julie was caught in the middle, and she was not having as much fun as she had expected at her own wedding.

I did my best to brace her up, but she seemed almost embarrassed by my support. New England feminism, I hoped, which would go away when the snooty bitches did. Out here, a man supports his woman, and she supports him.

The wedding went off smoothly, and, after the rehearsal debacle, access to the microphone at the reception was strictly limited to the parents, the maid of honor, and the best man - no drunken rants or shared secrets tonight! River went last, and there only a few dry eyes in the house when he finished his tale of the angry, defensive, and lost eighteen-year-old who offered to do whatever he needed to get a job, who had become a highly successful businessman, the pride of his and Katrina's lives, and Abe's brother in spirit.

The dry eyes that did remain were commonly rolled: people born of money who lived in old money enclaves and associated only with others like themselves were not as appreciative of rags to riches tales as Texans and New Mexicans of means, whose own stories, or those of their grandparents/ parents, were probably like mine. Those who had lived those ten years with me and helped shape my manhood, however, including Glenda and Cindy, were as proud as punch.

We honeymooned along the west coast of Mexico and Baja, where Julie learned that losing your inhibitions leads to more fun and better sex than she could have imagined, and that her husband had a bagful of tricks she could never have imagined. Whatever concerns or reservations she brought into the marriage seemed to die lying nude on the sands of the eastern Pacific, in our bed, or on our balcony.

Dr. Carr returned to Carlsbad a content and rejuvenated woman, ready to take on the challenge of caring for the poor, downtrodden, and rich alike, in the rural health clinics of New Mexico.

Julie and Theo were widely celebrated and invited to important social gatherings across the three cities she served. She was happy and content with our life together, even if her hours and travel schedules didn't always mesh with mine, and I was equally content, if unfulfilled.

We had planned to be a family with two or three kids, and we were closing in on thirty, but Julie wasn't ready yet, for reasons she couldn't explain to her husband, who was. For the second time, I had doubts.

It was just another innocuous envelope lying there on her desk, but an engraved invitation lying beside it caught my eye. I picked it up, read it, and learned she and plus 1 were invited to her 10th high school reunion in two weeks. She hadn't said word one, so I asked.

"I don't think I want to go, Theo," she replied to my query, "I don't know many of those people anymore, and I'm not sure I want to revisit my time in high school. I was the nerd who studied all the time, not the head cheerleader or most popular. I didn't even date that much, and what I remember of those dates I'd rather forget."

"Fuck the high school heroes, Honey. How many of them are doctors now? We can go or not, but I thought since two of your classmates were in the wedding, you'd want to go see them and show off a bit to the others. Whatever you were in high school, you're a stone fox now, and I'll wager none of them, including the head cheerleader or most popular girl, look as good as you look."

She brightened up a bit, said she'd talk to her friends about going together, and thanked me for making her rethink it. I walked away feeling good about myself; it wasn't often I changed her mind.

The kicker came two days later; how they got my address I have no idea, but I got a reunion invitation! Julie had opened it, and, knowing that, in spite of her best efforts, I never talked about my hometown, my school, or my family, she greeted me with glee! "So, if we're going to MY reunion, we're going to YOUR reunion too!"

I calmly explained that one had nothing to do with the other and reminded her that no one from my high school or family was in our wedding party, but she wasn't budging. Neither was I.

Julie can be persuasive. In fact, Dr. Carr is no more above using that lithe body to get her way than her mother, her aunt, or any other manipulative woman. And she's good at it. Even though I knew what she was doing, I reveled in blow jobs, doggie style, courtesan, and waking up with my cock buried in my cowgirl, or while spooning. That tight little ass was still off limits for my cock, but my finger being buried in her rosebud after a few minutes of rimming was no longer forbidden, so I'd get there soon enough.

That was one treat she tempted me with; the other was a much greater prize - not renewing her birth control pills after this cycle! That's the one that elicited an agreement I never thought I'd make. And so, we prepared for two reunions, five months apart.

After our dream honeymoon the sex stayed on a higher plateau for weeks, but her responsibilities to the ill and injured in three cities, the emotions she couldn't help but internalize, and the long hours beat her down. We settled in at a couple of urgent times a week when she used me to relax and forget, and a day of rest Saturday, with Saturday night/Sunday being our version of a fuckfest.

That schedule assumes she is home every night, but there were weeks when emergencies in Hobbs or, more commonly, Artesia, kept her away all night, or she drew the night shift at the ER. Then I was lucky to get lucky that week, and our sex / lovemaking took on a different character.

With my reunion on the line, the fuckfest lasted all week, which was both fulfilling and concerning. If she could put her duties and feelings aside when motivated to get what she wanted, why couldn't she do it other weeks? Of course, things tapered off a bit after I agreed, but it was still a period of enhanced sex that kept me happy and almost satisfied.

She and her girlfriends coordinated everything for her reunion, including the outfits she and I would wear to the meet and greet at noon the day of the reunion, the reunion that night, and the invitation-only after-reunion luncheon Sunday. I needed a new suit or two for business and a wardrobe update anyway, so I had no problem flying us from Midland Spaceport to Dallas Love Field for a shopping weekend.

My patience firmly in check, my happy face plastered on, I endured her haphazard decision-making process for eight hours on Saturday. For someone with a doctorate, she suffered mightily when faced with choices. Heading to her favorite store, I made her tell me exactly what she was looking for. She described the perfect meet and greet outfit, the ideal dress for the reunion, and the morning ensemble that would separate her from the others at the Sunday luncheon.

In my mind, I'm wondering what happened to the girl who didn't want to attend. That one now wants to outshine all others at every opportunity - even the perfect swimsuit in case we have time to go to the pool while we're at the hotel! So, and I'm not lying to you about this - I tell the salesgirl exactly what she has told me she wants to buy/ wear. The salesgirl brings the meet and greet jumpsuit, and it looks great on her! Color, size, fit - it's all perfect!

But she wants to try some more. We do, for hours, and none look as good as the first, which is exactly as she described. Two hours later, I quietly tell the girl to bring the first one back, we both highly complement her, a lady walking by with her husband tell her how good it looks on her, and her husband drools on himself, so she says to set that one aside and let's see if we can find the right dress.

Magically, Mandy our salesgirl, reappears from the back beaming, holding this tiny little LBD that looks like it was made for her, or spray painted on. It has a glittery sheen to it, like her raven-black hair, it's low cut in front and back with dainty little straps to hold it up, and it ends halfway down those long, slender, muscled, runner's thighs. Her slender neck and delicate shoulders and arms are on display, as are the swells of her breasts and the larger swells of her tight, high little butt!

She looks HOT! In fact, hotter than I've ever seen her look in clothing! Hell, I want to fuck her right now, and there are men walking our direction and/or stopping to stare from nearby aisles. Mandy hands her a set of open-toes black heels that shape her calves, and I REALLY want to fuck her right now! Me and the dozen guys watching, of whom she appears to be oblivious.

So, she makes half a dozen turns in front of the full-length mirror, strikes a few poses, and finally asks, "What do you think?" Before Mandy or I can answer, her admirers start clapping and yelling stuff like "Hell yes!" and "You are HOT, Baby!"

She smirks, and says, "Put it with the other set, and let me try on a few more for comparison!"

I'm considering committing hari-kari, but Mandy just says, "Yes, mam, I have several more pieces I think will look good on you."

Look good on her? Hell, she's 5'7" inches tall and wears a size 4; everything in this store is going to look good on her - surely, we aren't going to try them all on!

We came close and might have accomplished it, had I not mentioned that we needed to find something appropriate for the luncheon, and it was only a few hours until closing time. I also said I was going to buy the navy-blue jumpsuit with white trim and the LBD, whether she wanted them or not, and I was also going to buy the purple mini; did she want anything else? I got a big smile with, "No, those are my favorites too. Let's see if we can find something lighter that will look good on me the next morning."

I think Mandy's shift had changed, but she was as invested as I, so she stuck it out and I intended to give her a gigantic tip if she brought it home before closing time. Amazingly, the skimpy white floral sundress she brought out second "is just what I wanted!", and we were able to leave a whole hour before closing time! I slipped Mandy three Franklins in appreciation, and she slipped me her card with her cell number on the back, "In case I can ever be of further assistance."

I pocketed it. I'm not a cheater, but I do have a thing for red heads, and who knows what the future will bring? Besides, I might need a salesperson to expedite Julie's shopping again, and Mandy has experience.

I had almost an hour to do my buying, but it didn't take that long. Surprisingly, she agreed with all my choices, even the two suits I could pick up tomorrow afternoon after alternations.

She was so excited we went to a bar and grill near the hotel, ate, drank, danced, and then went up to practice making babies, for after she stops taking the pill. She's getting good at this; really, really good, and more creative! For some reason, the 'doggie' position she has always resisted seems to be becoming her favorite, which is alright as far as I'm concerned. I love holding her tight little ass in my hands while she works it back and forth, up and down, and all around, telling me how good my big cock feels in her little pussy!

A late breakfast, and our first stop was for a string bikini that would have been more appropriate for the nude beach on Baja. I tried on and picked up my suits, and we were on the scheduled plane home. That string bikini - my beautiful wife is evolving in surprising ways. That's pleasing, but also a bit disconcerting.

The "Preparatory Academy of Albuquerque Class of 2012" reunion kicked off at noon on Saturday in Ballroom A at the Marriott Hotel. We were among those who paid our dues ahead of time, so we had badges with our pictures on them. Julie chose a current photo, not one from high school, but senior pictures were posted on bulletin boards around the room, and, after seeing hers, I knew why.

She was nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, but I gave her a pep talk, held her arm or hand firmly, and guided her around until her two (bitchy) friends showed up with their (asshole) husbands. They greeted one another with hugs and kisses and went off to greet a few more friends, leaving me with her purse and yearbook.

That left me with the assholes, but they were only interested in mixing drinks and finding more assholes to reminisce with, which left me alone with Julie's yearbook to peruse. The yearbook was sophomoric at best - hell, our Roundup back at shitty Cowtown High was better than this - but I did find some interesting tidbits. Julie the head nerdette had a fling of sorts with the captain of the 1-9 football team, although it seemed to have ended rather ignominiously in spring, just before prom. She doesn't appear in prom photos, so I assume she didn't go.

Another was that there were several erasures, but I determined that a few boys who signed her yearbook, including the football captain - addressed her as BJJB. Given what I already knew about Cousin Shay Lynn, that gave me heartburn.

I spotted the big man as soon as he walked in; and I mean 'big man' descriptively. Captain Thom Rawlings was still the same 6' he appeared to be in the yearbook photos, but he would be playing defensive tackle now, not quarterback. His companion was difficult to recognize, since she looked more like the other defensive tackle than the head cheerleader, but I puzzled it out when their worshippers rushed over calling them by name.

I looked around to see where my 10x cuter wife was and found her hiding like a frightened two-year-old behind a trifold picture board. I sauntered over, took her by the arm, and asked her who the rhino and hippo were? She giggled, squeezed my arm against her perky boob, and led me in the opposite direction.

We looked at a few picture boards, and then made our way to a small concentration of CPAs, nurses, teachers, engineers, and scientists, based on appearances.

They were truly happy to see Julie Bean, now Dr. Julie Bean Carr, and pleased to meet me. Conversations broke out, credentials were shared, and they oohed and aahed at Julie's Johns Hopkins residency and her altruistic return to help those in need near her home. That I was a businessman was of little interest, but that we were helping clean up the spills and fluids from the old oil fields was, so I earned minor nerd credentials - maybe geek? I don't know how all that works.

We were having a nice time down on the end away from the pretty people, who were drinking and telling war stories they told every weekend down at Charlie's bar, or somewhere like it. In those stories they were trim, fit, not too bad looking, and able to tie their shoelaces and put on their boots without help, even if they did suck at every sport shown in the yearbook. I mean, it's hard to lose 30 straight basketball games, right? Takes a rare degree of ineptitude; especially sandwiched between a one-win football season and a two-win baseball season.

Meanwhile, my gorgeous wife looked hot as a brush fire in her form-fitting jumpsuit, with a waist smaller than the thighs - maybe calves - on the head cheerleader/football hero's wife. They had their booze and war stories, we had high-minded conversations, and everyone was happy.

But they just couldn't leave well enough alone.

I saw the look of exasperation on the face of the leading CPA in Santa Fe, and the look of horror on his wife's face, before I heard the booming voice and smelled the fat sweat.

"Well, well, well - what are all of you doing hiding down here? Don't you want to say hello to your old friends and remember old times?" That brought a roar from the sycophants, made Julie cringe, and forced me to turn and face them.

"Actually, we are with our old friends," the CPA, Arnold, said defiantly, "we are catching up, and we are having a good time. We wouldn't want to interfere with your fun, so how about we keep it segregated? Athletes and cheerleaders down there, nerds and geeks down here."

Cap'n Thom clearly took offense, but he chuckled and replied, "Oh, come on now. Some of you used to hang with the in crowd - you know, like old BJ - I mean JB, there."

Julie turned red at the reference and laughter. I took a step toward fat boy, frowned, and asked, "Did they not have a dyslexia program when you were in school here?"

He bowed up, sputtered, and said, "Who the hell are you, and what do you mean by that, Boy?"

"I'm Doctor Julie Bean Carr's husband, Theo. My question was simple: did they not have a dyslexia program at PAA when you were in school? You seem to have problems with getting initials straight, which is a sign of dyslexia."

"What?" he blustered, before catching on and laughing. "Oh, you mean BJ JB. Nah, that was just our nickname for her in high school!" More laughter from his crowd.

I stepped as close as I could with his belly protruding, and quietly warned, "Well, you aren't in high school anymore, Jelly Roll, and if it comes out backward again, she's going to be wearing a necklace of your teeth, and you're gonna be eating slop out of the trough with the other pigs because you can't chew!"

I'm pretty sure that wasn't the first time he'd been buffaloed, but it was the first time in front of his butt buddies, and he bowed up again. When he did, two of his fattest friends stepped up beside him, as if fat mattered in a fight. I looked at the three of them and laughed. "You fat fucks won't get but one chance each, so don't blow it. After that it's going to get bloody in here, and I'm not going to permit Doctor Carr or Nurse Cantu to staunch your bleeding!"