By Margo Perry  (margo707 AT rogers DOT com)
Copyright 2004 by Margo Perry, all rights reserved.

Frank sat shivering in his parked rental car. His head ached and he couldn’t remember when he’d last had a decent night’s sleep. He drew a deep breath, inhaling the smell of new leather mixed with traces of cigar smoke, a male scent that reminded him of a simpler time when he thought of himself as Kelly’s husband and Bob’s best friend; when almost every Friday night found those three musketeers playing pool and laughing it up at Mulroney’s, their favorite watering hole. Well, tonight was Friday, but there were no three musketeers and Frank wasn’t laughing.

He trained his tired eyes through the night fog to the picture window of the warmly lit living room of the house across the street, Bob’s house. His breath caught as he watched his wife cross the room. She was wearing his favorite dress, a smoky grey V-necked sheath that clung sensuously to the rounded curves of her body, its opaque quality dissolving into a diaphanous reveal in the romantic backlight. Midway, Kelly slipped into Bob’s waiting arms and the sight of them awakened the rage that had become Frank’s constant companion.

He squeezed his eyes shut and his mouth and cheeks stretched into a tense and ugly grimace. He felt disconnected as if her were watching a movie in which he’d been cast, without auditioning, as the tragic hero. The two relationships that anchored his life, wife and best friend had been severed from him; strewn like limbs about the battlefield without warning or anesthetic. His soul ached with phantom memories of love, but his gut blistered with the bilious need for revenge.

Frank checked the window again. Empty. They were probably sitting on the couch, Kelly sipping a glass of wine and Bob having a beer. He imagined Kelly, her legs curled comfortably under her, her large breasts rising and falling in waves, mesmerizing Bob as they did himself. Frank loved Kelly’s voluptuous body, her obvious sexuality, especially when she undressed. She knew her power and would perform for him, lifting her arms slowly to maximize the size of her breasts, grazing them casually with her hands to accentuate their shape. She’d make him wait, pant until her line of cleavage finally appeared, the fleshy mountains of her breasts threatening to overflow their lacy confines. Frank loved the feel of them pressed between them, arousing him even before they kissed.

He thought of Bob looking at them, touching them and jealousy coursed through his veins and into his cock. He couldn’t believe it, but he was horny, so horny that his cock tingled and throbbed. He reached down and fondled its growing girth and hardness. He stroked over and around its head, his excitement surging as pre-cum oozed out of him onto the fabric of his pants. Sweat dribbled from his armpits, tickling down his sides and staining his shirt. He felt dizzy. Some pressure inside was building to the point of explosion. He rubbed himself harder, chasing the blood rush, the mounting pleasure, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more.

He wanted his wife to walk out of Bob’s house, regret and repentance shadowing her the three blocks to her car, the three blocks that proved her intent to betray and deceive. (There were plenty of spots in front of Bob’s house.)

She had to come out of that house!
Frank was overcome by a fit of dry coughing. He was near hysteria and knew that he should go home, but that information came from too distant a place to be acted upon. The lights were still on which meant they were still there in the living room. Frank knew that because Bob was obsessive about putting lights out whenever he left a room. No, they were still there on that couch.

She had to come out of that house!
And before the lights went out because that darkness would eclipse all that was sane and righteous in him. If Kelly retired to Bob’s bedroom, Frank would shatter into jagged shards of himself and something would have to end. His left hand was clammy wet as it continued to stroke his rock-hard cock. His right hand was clammy against metal that was heavy and deathly cold.

If only he and Kelly hadn’t gone over to Bob’s for that pizza-poker night six weeks ago. It had started out innocently enough. They’d played for nickels and dimes and watched amused as Kelly’s stash grew. (She was not above using her feminine assets to distract them from the game, but both he and Bob considered it a very small price to pay for the enjoyment of her seductions.) They drank enough for Bob to insist that they stay over and, sometime during the early hours of Saturday morning, the talk had turned to sexual fantasies.

“My absolute favorite fantasy would be to have two men at the same time. I’ve been dreaming about that all my life,” Kelly said, “and you two hunks would be perfect. I already love you both.”

Frank and Bob were stunned into silence and the subject was dropped for the moment. But the seed had been planted and sexual tension and innuendo colored every word of their coffee banter the next morning. When they were leaving, Kelly hung onto Bob longer and closer than usual and Frank felt self-conscious when he casually embraced Bob.

On the way home, Kelly left no room for misunderstanding. She almost drooled when she told Frank that Bob’s cock had been hard when they hugged goodbye. She was sure Bob was up for it. She was up for it. “So, it’s up to you,” was her final comment to Frank. Although the idea frightened him to death, he agreed to give it a go to make her happy and they set boundaries: 1) there would be no sexual contact between the men and 2) there would be no sexual interaction between Kelly and Bob except in the context of the threesome.

The first thing Kelly did when she got in the house was call Bob.

Hey, Bobby, it’s me … Yeah, it was fun, but I’m calling about the other thing … Come on now Bob. I’m talking about getting my two boys in bed. Don’t tell me you don’t want to play … Of course, I’ve talked it over with Frank and he agreed. Next Friday. Okay.

“He wants to talk to you,” Kelly said, passing Frank the phone.

“Bob, what’s up? … Yeah, I guess, anything to make Kell happy … Yeah, I agree, it sure ain’t our thing … You know when Kelly wants something, it happens … Okay, our place. See you then.”

The week swirled around Frank with a humming, bustling Kelly in the eye of the hurricane. She seemed to have been infused with a vibrancy that overwhelmed him. She hated housework, but the house was tidied every morning before she went to work; and she returned home with shopping bags that she hurried into the bedroom to stash in secret places. She teased Frank constantly, but slid out of reach before things got too amorous. She was like a virgin bride preparing for her wedding day.

“Kelly, are we all right?” Frank asked across the huge divide that she now placed between them in their king-size bed.

“What do you mean? Of course we’re all right.”

“But you seem distant. We haven’t made love all week and . . . ”

“I love you, Frank, and nothing’s wrong. It’s just that I’m excited about Friday and I want us all to enjoy it. Want it to feel new, you know.”

Kelly reached for Frank and he crawled gratefully into her arms, snuggling into the pillows of breasts that had meant warmth and comfort ever since they first fell in love. He could feel his cock pumping to life. But she twisted away from him and he was forced to settle for the spongy softness of her tits in his hands and the warmth of his cock pressing into the crack of her ass as she spooned close into him. It wasn’t long before he heard the raspy gentle snore that came just before she fell asleep.

On Friday morning, Kelly asked Frank to pick up Chinese food on the way home.

“I’ll be too excited to cook,” she said, rushing out the door.

Bob called a few minutes later to ask if they were still on, sounding as nervous as Frank was.

Frank’s day disappeared in a haze of by nervous anticipation and soon it was quitting time. He stopped on the way home at their favorite Chinese restaurant and ordered too much food as though eating would keep them away from the thing he feared most – sharing his wife with his best friend. He’d often showered with Bob after playing squash and had noticed the coil of blonde curls that spread around the base of his penis, noticed how long and low it hung. Frank felt a chill imagining it engorged. Imagining . . . . He didn’t want to go home. He wanted to run away and take all the promised elements of tonight with him. But he couldn’t. He parked in his driveway and slowly gathered the warm food to his chest. Silence and the sight of Bob seated on their living room couch greeted him as he walked through the house.

“Hey man, the door was open,” Bob said, showing Frank a sticky note on which Kelly had scrawled, ‘Come in.’ “I see you’ve got Chinese,” he added, getting up and moving toward Frank.

“Yep,” Frank said.

The two men walked into the kitchen. Together they opened the bags and put the containers in the oven to stay warm.

“How are you doing?” Bob asked. “This feels real weird. We can call it off, you know.”

“Who says?” Kelly was lounging in the doorway dressed in a deep purple negligee set that screamed, ‘Let the games begin.’

She strolled into the kitchen, her high heeled slippers clinking a siren’s call. Kelly stood about five seven in her heels and had to reach up to place her arms around the men who were both six feet plus. She pulled them toward her, toward her plunging neckline.

“Hungry boys?” she asked, releasing them and stepping back. She folded her arms beneath her tits and rocked them back and forth, swaying seductively from one hip into the next.

The boys stared.

“Cat got your tongue?” she mocked. “My guess is that you’re hungry, but not for food. Turn it off,” she said, gesturing toward the stove. “We’ll warm that up later.” She turned and left and four eyes followed her out and down the small expanse of hallway toward the staircase that led up to the bedrooms. “I’ll be waiting,” she flung over her shoulder.

“This is it,” Frank said, turning the temperature gauge to ‘0’.

“Right,” Bob said.

Frank led the way, woodenly following in Kelly’s footsteps. He didn’t know how he felt except that his heart was in his throat. A voice in his head was assuring him that his marriage was safe, that Bob loved them both and that this was all about acting out Kelly’s fantasy and nothing more. But some part of him didn’t buy it and he felt more afraid and out of control than he ever had in his life.

Kelly was lying on her stomach on the bed, her breasts spilling onto the mattress, her feet dangling her slippers flirtatiously in the air. The bathroom door was open.

“Jump into the shower boys. Pretend it’s the locker room.”

Frank and Bob stood over the bed motionless.

“Am I going to have to undress you?” Kelly asked.

Frank and Bob hurried into the bathroom. Kelly climbed off the bed and moved toward them to get a better look. Bob pulled his golf shirt over his head, folded it and placed it on the whicker chair just inside the door. Frank unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it on the floor. A sort of tumbling ensued: pants dropping, underwear, watches, socks, shoes all being discarded somewhere in no particular order until two men climbed into the shower and shut the clear door. The only sound in the room was water running and a seductive chuckle as Kelly watched their naked bodies moving, cleaning themselves, as she pinched and twisted her nipple.

“Shall I get your back?” Bob laughed nervously.

“I think I can manage,” Frank laughed nervously.

They climbed out of the shower and dried themselves. Kelly had disappeared and so had their clothes. They could hear soft music as they returned to the bedroom.

“Sit,” Kelly said, gesturing to the bed.

She was dancing, turning in circles, her tits and ass and arms and legs an ever changing kaleidoscope of alluring, teasing parts. She moved directly in front of them and slipped gracefully to her knees, one hand on each of their thighs. She smiled devilishly, scratching their skin up toward their cocks and back down toward their knees. She giggled as their cocks rose up to be counted. She got up and slipped the robe from her shoulders, caressing her naked arms and then running her hands over her breasts and along her torso to her waist. She rested her hands on her thighs and pouting, leaned toward them, daring them not to watch her every move as she waltzed her breasts close to their faces. She laughed at Bob’s helplessness as pre-cum seeped out of his cock and dribbled down its sides.

Frank noticed and jumped up from the bed, lurching toward her. Kelly stepped away from him.

“Sit down,” she repeated.

Frank sat. He was exploding with horniness, jealousy and fear and he had never wanted Kelly more in his life. He glanced at the man beside him, the man with the raging hard-on and hungry eyes glinting at his wife and he didn’t know him. He was no longer his friend. They were primitive men on the hunt with only one female in sight and they’d both kill to have her.

Kelly stood in front of them laughing, mocking their hunger. She straddled Frank, her breasts squeezed between them. She looked deep in his eyes and then at his pole of a cock that stood at attention between them. She wiggled, pulling her gown up toward her waist. Frank could feel her wetness. Soon he would feel the warmth of her cave as she swallowed him up. She played her pussy against his rod, nudging and rubbing him as she ran her tongue over her lips, then his lips. She kissed him, devoured him and they were the only two people in the room, in the universe. Frank fell back on the bed, pulling Kelly onto him. Their lips parted in the fray and Kelly tossed her dark gypsy curls and, with a shake of her giant breasts, crawled away from him.

Frank could feel his cock and his heart reaching for her, but she was gone and he thought he would die. He watched her as she sat on Bob’s lap, her back to him. She circled her ass and twisted her shoulders, one of the moves that Frank loved most, that took him to the edge every time. Frank felt his cock filling with a passion that grew out of a cocktail of emotions – lust, jealousy, love, hate, fear – and he began to masturbate because he couldn’t help himself, because the sight of them was exciting him. He needed to touch himself, to feel pleasure. He needed to feel enough pleasure to stop the resentment that was brewing inside him.

Kelly leaned back against Bob and he put his arms around her and molded, squeezed and played with her tits and nipples. Frank watched as she used her weight to force Bob down on the bed. Frank stroked himself as he watched Kelly roll over and begin kissing Bob, her body covering his. Frank’s cock was a pleasure-giving faithful friend, and he stroked and pulled, needing to feel the way it made him feel.

Kelly’s pussy was pressed against Bob’s cock and she was still kissing him. They began grinding against each other.

“Put it in. Put it in, Kelly,” Bob grunted.

It was too much for Frank to handle. He sprung into action, falling onto Kelly, sandwiching her between himself and Bob. His cock was in the crack of her ass, the place he’d never entered and he thought of doing it, forcing it now. But Kelly managed to extricate herself from between them and left Frank and Bob in an embarrassing tangle as she circled the bed smiling down on them.

“Oh my,” she said, slipping the gown from her shoulders. “Get up,” commanded the naked goddess.

The two men with now wilting cocks struggled off the bed. Kelly lay down, one leg crooked and spread lewdly. “Watch,” she said.

She used one hand to spread her pussy lips and with the other began to circle her knob. She slipped a finger inside her pussy and it came out glistening wet. She patted her clit and groaned as she pleasured herself. She bucked and moaned as she slipped two fingers in and fucked herself.

“Come to me. Make me feel even better, bo. . . .”

Frank rushed to kiss her words away while Bob caressed her, from her feet to her waiting pussy. Kelly gasped loudly at the first flick of his tongue, or was it Frank’s teeth that bit her nipple with the exact degree of pain/pleasure that sent her into ecstasy? Frank licked and kissed every inch of her face and neck and breasts and down along her torso. Bob kissed and tongued her pussy until he felt a viscous fluid gush silently into his mouth. He lapped at her gently until she stopped quivering and then kissed gently up along her torso. The men were in an altered state when Frank felt Bob’s head butt gently against his own and they didn’t mind their closeness. It was all about the woman and her/their pleasure.

Kelly got on all fours and twisted around in the bed. “Fuck me, Frank,” she said, her ass stuck provocatively in his face. The heady musky smell of her pussy, their sex and sweat was all over the room. “Come here, Bob,” she said, taking his cock in her hands and feeding it into her mouth.

Frank fucked his wife with all the passion of the ages and she felt tighter that he remembered. The walls of her pussy seemed to have become electric as they contracted and released, pulling his flesh against her own. He’d never felt more in tune, more owned and owner, lost and found, fucked completely. He could see Bob’s face, distorted in lewd pleasure as Kelly sucked him up the erotic slopes from which he’d fall, and it fuelled Frank mightily. He would take Kelly, take himself onto that slope. He could feel Kelly’s fingers brushing his cock as she made her clit sing. And he pumped and groaned. And Bob groped Kelly’s tits as he fucked her mouth and groaned. And Kelly lost in the rhythm of Frank’s cock in her pussy and Bob’s cock in her mouth and her hand on her clit began to scream.

“Oh God, I’m commmmming . . .”

And Frank and Bob both made sounds that were hardly human, some primitive version of, “Yeeeeessssssss.”

And together they all tumbled over the edge and onto each other in one breathless collapse.

Frank had been so absorbed in the movie running in his head that he started when he noticed movement in the window. Bob walked across the room and disappeared into what Frank knew to be his kitchen. Where was Kelly? Had she gone upstairs? Frank felt like his stomach lining had been circled with a hot poker and the pain was excruciating. His cock had shriveled as though his orgasmic reminiscences had left him sexually impotent. He was glad. He didn’t want to feel sexual. It was the fulfillment of Kelly’s desires that had brought him to this mean and lonely place. Bob came back into the room carrying a mug. Kelly loves to go to bed with a cup of tea, a mocking voice whispered in his head. His balls felt tight, like tiny marbles, a child’s innocent but useless playthings.

His eyes welled up. He hated feeling this way. He remembered when he’d loved all three of them – himself, Kelly and Bob - and he knew that the love couldn’t have disappeared. It was too big. But it was inaccessible and therefore of no assistance. He smelled fear mixed with the sweat that was beading his forehead and chest. He felt an unholy alliance formed between the heavy black metal and the cold clammy flesh that held it. The lights were still on. There was still time. Frank willed his wife out of the house before the lights went out.

Frank began to hyperventilate. He felt fevered and desperate. There was a war of worlds going on inside him and he was helpless to stop it. He couldn’t stand being there and he couldn’t give up the watch. He couldn’t help himself remembering just how happy he’d been with Kelly and Bob and he couldn’t stop recalling the details of their treachery. He wanted them punished. He wanted them all saved. He wanted them all dead. Was he having a mental breakdown? He couldn’t keep up with his thoughts; there were no interstices between recollections. It was like reading a long book that had no punctuation, or watching a film that had no breaths between words and no space between the characters that delivered them. Frank didn’t have the energy to resist…anything. He relaxed back in the seat and waited for the next wave of bad memories to wash over him.

After their sexual adventure, the three of them had talked long into the night over Chinese food and beer, and things had seemed fine. In fact, Bob had stayed over in the guest bedroom and Frank and Kelly had gone to bed and made love until dawn. The trouble came after he’d been called out of town on business and returned to ten days later to a nervous Kelly and a conspicuously out of touch Bob. When Frank commented and suggested they get together, Kelly seemed reticent, leaving Frank uncomfortable and confused. So he called Bob and suggested they go play pool the following Friday night.

They did and that night Frank’s heart broke. Kelly and Bob had forged a fortress of a relationship and Frank was on the outside looking in. They treated him kindly as you would the dog who loved you, and Frank hated it, hated them.

That night in bed, Frank and Kelly lay apart and silent, lost in their own thoughts. Frank had only one question. Was this morphing of one set of relationships into another the result of that one night’s threesome? Frank curled himself in a ball, away from Kelly because he didn’t want her to see his pain, see the desperation with which he needed that to be true. If Kelly and Bob had broken the rules, taken the relationship further, Frank didn’t know what he would do. He eventually fell asleep after deciding to call Walter, a private detective friend, the very next morning.

He called explaining the circumstances and Walter was ready with the report a week later. They met at a diner and Walter spread the pictures out on the table: Kelly and Bob arriving in separate cars … Bob at the motel reservation desk … Kelly and Bob, arms around each other, entering the motel room in the dark of night … coming out in the light of day.

“Enough,” Bob told Walter.

Frank asked Kelly about the show she’d supposedly seen that night and she gave it a rave review, recounting so many details that Frank might as well have seen the show himself. There had never been room for lies in their relationship, but there were lies now and for Frank that meant that there was no relationship. Bob never called. He was buried under guilt, Frank figured.

And maybe that was Frank’s last rational thought because after that he did things as though he were a puppet on Revenge’s string. He didn’t mean to rent a car and stash it at the office, follow Kelly whenever he could. He asked her questions just to hear lies, just to fuel the hatred that was motivating him and he punctuated his workday with calls to Bob’s machine: What’s up, Bobby? Haven’t seen you for weeks? We miss you. Let’s get together. He called just to torture Bob because the pain he was feeling was too much to bear alone. And it grew bigger every day. He didn’t decide to apply for a permit and buy a gun. He just did.

The lights went out in Bob’s house and in Frank’s head. Bright white strobes of anger flashed inside him, fuelling motive, illuminating what had to be done. Frank squeezed the metal in his hand. He climbed out of the car. The fog had given way to a light drizzle and Frank crossed the street slowly, enjoying the wetness. He reached under the door mat for the spare key and unlocked the door. He felt light-headed and clear all at the same time. There was beauty in this madness as though the old threesome and the new threesome were in harmony, as though joy and sadness, good and evil, life and death were one. Frank crept through the familiar living room and checked the family room next door. He wanted to find Kelly there, curled up on the daybed. Somewhere inside there was still hope. He checked Bob’s study. He walked silently along the hall and up the stairs to the bedroom. Nobody was there. He checked every room upstairs. Again, he checked every room downstairs. He was alone in the house.

He went into the living room and sat down heavily on the couch. A wine glass, an empty beer bottle, a mug and an impressive mound of Kleenexes cluttered the coffee table. Somebody’s been crying, Frank thought. And then that somebody was him, heaving over his knees, the gun dropped to the floor. He heard animal sounds of grief and despair raging out of his chest and bowels. He felt desperation pouring out of him as relief and sadness and the mourning of love lost poured out of him. He blew into used Kleenexes to make room for more tears and it was more than an hour later that he dragged himself out of the house. A much older man, a relieved man, a devastated man who wanted love, not hatred in his life climbed into his car and set off for home.

He noticed that Kelly’s car was gone as he drove down the street. He stopped off at police station and turned in his gun and license.

“I just don’t need a gun,” he said to the sergeant at the desk. “Get rid of it for me.”

The sergeant looked at him curiously and with obvious concern.

“Will do,” he said, taking the gun and inspecting the permit. “You take care, Frank.”

Frank passed Bob’s car on the street just outside his house and parked behind Kelly’s which was in the driveway. The door opened before he could use his key.

“Just hold me,” Kelly pleaded, drawing him into her arms.

Frank felt her neediness but his arms were too heavy to lift, too tired to support her.

“I love you, Frank. I need you.” Kelly began to cry.

It wasn’t the tears that got to Frank, it was the love he heard and felt. He held her tight until his shoulder was damp with her tears and then led her into the living room where Bob sat looking small and afraid. Kelly sat beside Bob.

“We have something to tell you,” she said.

They spoke in spurts, a sea of words rising and falling on waves of emotion. Frank let them flow over and around him. He absorbed their pain, their regret, and the love of his wife and his best friend. He allowed it to go on for awhile, but suddenly he was tired. He didn’t want to hear anymore.

“We were all wrong. We took our love for granted and we shouldn’t have. It’ll be alright in time, but for now I need you to go home, Bob. I need some time alone with Kelly. I’ll call you soon.”

Frank walked Bob to the door. Tears spilled down Bob’s cheeks when Frank hugged him, but there was no awkwardness between them.

“I’m tired Kelly,” Frank said, moving along the hall toward the stairs. “No more talk tonight. We’ll have plenty of time for that.”

Frank fell into bed in his boxers and socks. Kelly stripped naked, eyes red from crying, her face beautiful in its childlike vulnerability. She removed Franks socks, with love and tenderness. She took lotion that smelled of cucumbers and green tea and massaged his feet and up along his thighs. Frank sighed, accepting the healing love that was radiating from her hands deep into his flesh. She rubbed his lower back before cajoling his hips upward and sliding his boxers down his legs. She kissed the cheeks of his ass and hugged them with her breasts. When she heard his moan of pleasure, she climbed onto him, massaging lotion over his back and along his sides. She kissed and kissed him, tiny kisses everywhere. When she got to his neck and shoulders she dug in like a professional, strong palms and fingers and hands, coaxing the fatigue, the pain and tension out of him. Then she smoothed his hair and tickled his scalp with her smooth nails.

“Turn over,” she whispered. “Just relax.”

Frank turned over with a husky grunt.

He looked up at Kelly and she looked soft and pliable. Love and lust gleamed from her wet eyes and Frank felt wanted and loved completely. She snuggled in between his legs, her breasts heavy on his thighs and took his engorged cock in her wet, warm mouth. The way her tongue licked over and around his cock and his balls, the pressure she applied with her cheeks, the liquid that swirled provided a smorgasbord of erotic sensations. I sure can’t make myself feel this way, Frank thought. The sensations seemed to spread outward until his whole body was one erotic circuit connected to her mouth. She was pressing herself, her pussy onto his thigh and he moved his leg to pleasure her clit, loving the heat and wet that poured out of her. She grasped him, encircling him tight at the base of his balls and blood surged upward, as she played a wet finger around that sensitive spot, licking the top of his cock head, driving him mad.

Finally, she straddled him. She sank down on his cock and rose up again. She sank down on his cock, further this time, and rose slowly up again. She leaned over him, her arms along his sides, her pendulous breasts slapping over his chest as she found a slow fucking rhythm and began to take him. Frank grabbed her tits, loving their weight against him, loving their sway. His hips reached up to meet her, joining her rhythm. But it wasn’t enough. Not tonight. He had to take her. He slipped from under her, rolling her onto her back a little more roughly than usual. He grabbed his cock and mashed it over her pussy lips and clit until she begged and begged.

“Fuck me Frank…please.” Frank knew what drove her wild and slapped her pussy just the way she liked it. Squeezed her clit just the way she liked it. Moved his leaking cock-head over the knob of her clit just the way she liked.

“Fuck me Frank. I’m gonna’ die. Fuck me,” she screamed into the night.

The time had come. Frank rammed into her with all the love and anger and disappointment and fear she’d made him feel. Frank withdrew and made her beg again before giving it to her again. And she promised never to deceive him again; begged him to fuck her harder. And he did.

“Thanks, Frank. That’s right, Fuck me Frank. It’s the best Frank”

And she wept and wailed and screamed her ecstasy. He felt her spasms. She could feel his. And he claimed her at the height of his passion, shooting wads of come into her juicy, coming pussy.

They lay in each others sweat and redemptive arms.

“This is all I need,” Kelly said, pulling Frank’s head to her breast, feeding him the nipple of unconditional love.

Frank fell asleep, Kelly’s hands smoothing his hair as he suckled.