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by C. K. Ralston
Category: Erotica/Classic Erotica
Description: Anne didn't know much about sex. But once she discovered it, she couldn't get enough. Anne's awakening to herself as a sexual being and a woman is the story of a journey through sensuality to fulfillment as only C. K. Ralston could tell it.
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions,
eBookwise Release Date: March 2010
7 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [328 KB]
Reading time: 213-299 min.
It was two-thirty on a Tuesday afternoon. Ann Cosgrove had just returned home from what was left of her teaching job at Linwood Junior High. She stood in her kitchen, seething.
Nine until two -- part of a bare-minimum, stripped-to-the-bone, twenty-five hour per week schedule for the whole school year! What sort of work schedule was that for a woman who had been at the school since 1995, she asked herself furiously. Fourteen years, and yet Principal Heymer had seen fit to cut her back from a full schedule to ... to ... this!
Anne paced up and down, her mind racing. She supposed she should feel lucky, in a way. Twenty-four hours per week was the minimum for a staff member to remain fully benefited. At least that bastard, Heymer had left her a bit of medical insurance and meager retirement coverage when he had chopped her back to the absolute minimum hours.
"Now, Anne," the man had given her his smarmiest smile a week ago, when school had been a few days short of starting and he had called her into his office to discuss her class schedule and the upcoming school year. "Tough times call for tough measures. You're one of our finest teachers, so we don't want to lose you. But there are so many others here who have been here even longer, and who have served the district with so much distinction as well."
He had grinned, letting her know without saying a word, that if she had accepted one of his numerous invitations for dinner or a long weekend somewhere, or one of his other faintly disguised ploys to get her into bed, she could have been one of the more fortunate ones whose hours weren't curtailed quite so sharply, whose careers weren't so strongly impacted by the recent budget cut-backs. She might have even had tenure by now. She might have been safe.
"Son of a bitch." Anne cursed aloud, a rare, rare occurrence for her.
She was angry as she had ever been in her entire life. With her father in the shape he was now, and the family estate dwindling almost daily from the ongoing cost of his care as an Alzheimer's patient, her teacher's salary was suddenly more important than ever to her ... and it just wasn't there anymore.
Anne stalked over to the refrigerator and opened the freezer. She never had a drink before five in the afternoon at the earliest but that was back in the days when she worked a full schedule, when she was at school by eight and got off at three then dealt with parent conferences, helping students, and prepping for class the next day. Back when she was a real, full-time teacher ... not some part-time, barely-better-than-a-substitute, babysitter who filled in for people and who worked a bare twenty-five hours a week!
"Maybe I should have ... done it ... with Heymer!" she whispered under her breath, getting out a handful of ice and dumping it into a tall glass. "At least I'd still have a full time job, even if I didn't have my dignity."
Anne closed the freezer door and got out a big jug of gin. She poured it over the ice then opened the refrigerator, took out a bottle of tonic and splashed it over the top of the glass, stirring it with her finger. She was too angry and impatient to get a spoon out of the nearby silverware drawer.
She thought of Jules Heymer, a true Ichabod Crane type, tall and thin, with long, wispy gray hair, a big Adams apple, small pot gut, and his lecher's smile. She shuddered at the notion of ever letting such an ugly, obviously debauched, middle-aged libertine ... mount her body for his obscene pleasure.
"I'd rather die first," Anne said aloud, taking a gulp of her gin and tonic.
She went into the living room and sat down, her mind still reeling. To make things even more depressing, when she had checked her mail, Anne had discovered a letter from her oldest friend, Lynette Hastings, going on and on about their projected trip to Spain next summer. It was all she could do not to break down into tears when she thought of having to call or write Lynette and tell her there would be no sight-seeing excursion to Spain during next summer's break. She'd be lucky if she could afford not to work during summer vacation this year, if she could get the work -- and the price of a ticket to Spain, plus her half of the hotel rooms, food, sight-seeing expenses...
"There's no way!" Anne sighed, drinking more of her gin and tonic. "There's just no damned way."
The phone in the kitchen rang. She sat motionless for long moments, then dutifully heaved herself up onto her feet and moved into the other room to answer the phone on the fifth ring. She read the caller ID. Bob Caldwell.
"Hey, Annie! I was afraid you weren't home." Bob's boisterous, youthful voice came over the line as she picked it up, and she knew immediately he'd been drinking already, even though it was barely two-thirty in the afternoon.
She looked back into the living room at her half empty gin and tonic and decided she'd have to give Bob a pass on that one today. She held the phone closer to her mouth. "Hi, Bob, how have you been?"
"Mostly alone, Annie," he laughed into the phone. "So, I thought I'd call and see what you were up to tonight?"
Anne paused. She remembered all the recent the pep talks she'd had with herself about Bob, how she'd vowed mentally not to encourage him the next time he called. She had made herself promise not to invite him over, to be strong and break it off with him once and for all this time.
After al l... it's not like he's really interested in you, she told herself sternly. He just wants sex tonight.
"School has started, Bob, so I'm pretty busy right now," she said into the receiver, fully intending to keep her word to herself.
"Jeez! It seems to start earlier every year, Annie, don't it," Bob answered back in that affected, semi-illiterate, good-old-boy voice of his that never failed to raise the hair on the back of her English teacher's neck. "Its only August. Didn't school used to start right after Labor Day?"
Anne found herself smiling at his easy charm, despite herself. "Yes, it always used to start right after the holiday weekend. It certainly does seem as if it starts earlier every year now."
Bob waited for a long moment. He spoke in a low, eager voice. "The thing is, Annie ... I'm off already today. The job I was on finished up early so I went down to Louie's and had a beer or two, and I got to thinking about you!"
There was dead silence on the phone for a moment. "What would you say to some steaks, a bottle of wine and some company tonight, babe? I haven't gotten together with you for a while, and I've missed the hell out of you, Annie."
Anne agonized. She'd rented a sexy movie on cable two weeks ago and used her vibrator as she watched it. Other than that, and a brief, quick interlude in the shower the other morning, where she'd brought herself to a rapid, somewhat shallow orgasm, just for some instant relief ... there hadn't been any sex in her life since Bob had called her last month from out of the blue and wanted to ... "get together."
I said I wasn't going to do this anymore. Anne scolded herself for even thinking about accepting Bob's offer. No sex is better than this kind of sex.
She hesitated a few seconds, took the remote phone back into the living room and picked up her gin and tonic for another large sip. She abruptly made up her mind.
The hell it is, she told herself. I've had a lousy, frustrating, awful day so far, and no sex is pretty much exactly like what it purported to be -- no sex!
"What kind of steaks did you have in mind, Bob?" she heard herself asking moments later.
Anne Cosgrove was thirty-eight years old, tall and willowy, with shoulder length lovely, sandy-blonde hair, light-colored, washed-out blue eyes, long, attractive legs, a bottom that was still very round and firm through some miracle of genetics. Anne swam in the school pool when she had the opportunity and walked and hiked during the long summer break. She didn't really work out or diet to keep herself in shape, the way so many people she knew did. A bulging pair of thirty-four "C" cup breasts that were quite unexpected, sat high and firm on her lithe frame in a way that made men look twice.
She stood in her backyard with Bob Caldwell, a strappingly handsome young man of twenty-nine who was a roofer and general construction handyman by trade. She looked summery and fresh in her snug white shorts, the red and gold patterned blouse with the shirttails knotted together just below her filmy red bra, showing off a flat midriff of tanned skin. She had on a pair of flip-flops and had a third gin and tonic of the afternoon in the tall glass in her hand as she watched Bob grilling a pair of small T-bone steaks on her gas grill.
Bob had a beer in his hand, as usual. He had laughing green eyes and curly black hair, worn in long, beguiling ringlets that fell all the way down onto his broad, very tan shoulders. Since most of his life was spent outside in the bright southern California sunshine -- and cut off jean shorts worn with no shirt were his preferred work uniform -- he was mahogany brown all over. Tight, bulging muscles rippled under the dark skin beneath the baggy tank top he now wore with the shorts as he turned the steaks and sipped more beer.
"Is everything else ready, Annie?" Bob asked with a big smile, his sexy eyes hidden behind the dark plastic sunglasses he wore.
"Yes, I made a big green salad and have six or seven kinds of dressing in the refrigerator for you to choose from. I baked a couple of nice potatoes that should be done when the steaks are." She smiled back at him, admiring his body and darkly handsome face the way she always did when she saw him.
He's so gorgeous he's almost pretty. She sighed to herself, remembering how astonished she'd been when he had first showed up at her door last year, to offer a bid on fixing a problem with her roof. He had looked like a young Adonis, standing so politely on her front porch, an estimate pad on his clipboard, his sunglasses on, and that big, infectious smile playing across his face.
After she had accepted his bid over several other contractors and turned him loose on her roof, her breath had stopped in her lungs that first afternoon, when she had driven into her driveway. She had first seen him up on the roof, dressed in just his cut off shorts, sunglasses, and a pair of heavy work boots, swinging a hammer, his tight, muscular, spectacularly tanned body sweaty and gleaming in the afternoon sun.
Anne recalled thinking what a work of art that body was, as she looked up at the young laborer. He looked like one of Michelangelo's sculptures come to life. It was too bad he was so uneducated and too young for her.
Bob, of course, had had other ideas about being too young for Anne. He knew full well he was walking eye-candy for lonely women such as her and had also proved to be adept at using that knowledge shamelessly.
Ten minutes after Annie had offered him the use of her bathroom to clean up a bit, after he had finished her roofing repair job late that second afternoon -- along with a friendly glass of wine -- had emerged from her shower with just a towel wrapped around his freshly washed, just dried body. His black hair still hung in half-wet ringlets down to his heart-stoppingly broad, tanned shoulders. The hair on his muscular chest was curly black and thick. He padded barefoot into Anne's living room, empty wineglass in his hand and found her walking into the darkened room from the kitchen.
Moving closer to her, he had thanked her for the wine and the shower and she had smiled awkwardly, her eyes moving nervously from his smiling face down to the towel around his rock-hard midsection and back again. Clearly she was comfortable being alone with such a nearly-naked young man. As she stood smiling nervously at him, the towel had suddenly given way and dropped to the floor, leaving his long, thick, naked penis dangling in the open right in front of her suddenly wide eyes.
"Damn! I thought I had that tied better than that." Bob had grinned at her, seeing that her eyes were focused and unmoving on his exposed member.
He had stepped in so close that only inches separated the two of them, his face right in front of hers, his green eyes sparkling with amusement at her obvious unease. He had whispered, "See anything you like, Annie?"
An hour later, after he had come inside her for the second time, Anne had found herself lying snuggled against his big, hairy chest, her fingers running through the thick fur, her body sated. Shame at her recent actions had begun creeping into her consciousness. She had enjoyed the sex immensely. Bob had proven to be a wonderful lover. His ... member was strong and hard and certainly big enough to give her tremendous pleasure as it slid in and out of her wetness, nudging her sensitive clitoris so skillfully, making all her orgasms long, and intense, and very satisfying.
But he was so incredibly shallow, she had admonished herself, lying there in the dark with him. He didn't seem to have ever read a book in his life and he was blissfully happy about the fact. He liked sports and NASCAR racing -- whatever that was -- and he did not even attempt to hold up his end of the conversation when she endeavored to make a little small talk, a bit of pillow conversation after that first exciting, kiss-filled, grabbing, touching, gasping-for-breath sweaty union had been completed.
"Aw, Annie, I don't pay much attention to what them idiot politicians say or do," he had grinned at her and offered as an answer to her comment on current political developments.
Instead, her new lover had focused on her exposed nipples, which had been peeking up just above the sheet that lay across her chest as she tried to interest him in contemporary events. "Damn, Annie! You've got about the prettiest, pinkest nipples I think I've ever seen. I bet those little rascals of yours would like a good, slow, loving suck from a guy who just loves a big, sweet set of tits like those."
As it turned out ... her rascals had enjoyed it immensely. He had taken his time, that second time, sucking and kissing and licking her sensitive breast tips until she had been absolutely panting with desire. He had then used his teeth on them, so lightly and maddeningly that she had practically begged him to bite them a little harder as she squirmed beneath his expert attention to them.
He had slid downward on her writhing, excited body, so slowly and sensually that just the languid movement of his incredible body soon had her quivering once again, on the brink of climax. Then he had licked her. He had both shocked and delighted her by ignoring the fact she was still oozing semen from his first exquisitely satisfying penetration of her and had eagerly licked and lapped at her clitoris until she was frantically tugging at his hair, pleading for him to finish her with his tongue.
He hadn't, of course. He had instead gotten up onto his hands and knees, his long erection throbbing hard once more just above her glistening folds and slowly pushed himself into her again. Their second union had been much longer than the first, and Anne had felt herself spinning into that glorious, heart-pounding state of orgasm not just once, but three times before Bob had finally thrown back his head and roared out his own pleasure...
"I think these are done just right, Annie!" his low, rumbling baritone broke into her lewd memories of their very first time together.
She glanced down at the steaks then smiled up at him. He was so gorgeous, and such a nice, simplistic, uncomplicated young man. There was no future for them as a couple, of course, other than another long, sweaty, incredibly satisfying night in her bed after they finished dinner tonight. But Anne was forced to admit even that was better than nothing.