Somewhere along the line of life, the clouds open up and a person can see forever - perhaps into infinity. Sally, short for Salamandra, Prescott now knows that a blue sky is a keyhole to god. Well, she didn't always know that until this morning. Up until now she kept thinking, Maybe. Oddly it was a gray, overcast day as she rolled left, over a hairy fat corpus, to pull open the bedroom window lavelette. She saw all fifty shades of gray and her life in bas relief.
Nonetheless, murky dull as the sky was, she could see, feel, taste and smell like she hadn't in 24 years. Twenty-three years old then, she shut down her senses, married Bill, bore two and died. It was for no particular reason that today was different, just like there is no particular reason for almost everything that happens in a well planned life. Well plann-e--!
There are only a few notable high points in anyone's life and Sally nee Alberici was no different than most of us. For her, the big four were high school graduation, marrying Bill Prescott and bearing #1 and #2. The filler events and years were mostly contemplative, repetitive, meandering and biologic.
Her thoughts were interupted by Bill's beefy hand on her ass. The lummoxian proportioned Drake High football lineman had gone to seed twenty-two years ago. Somehow, he still thought himself to be a 220 pound stud. Good for him. Sally knew he wanted IT. Sunday morning was his time to nookie up. Damn, she thought.
His heft, his smell, his breath, his hairiness, indeed, his being were sour bromides for the still trim and still fertile bella donna. Luckily, he pops within two minutes, so that the agony was usually brief. He had expanded so much that she couldn't feel him penetrate as much as she felt him envelope her. For herself, she could find release with her Roger and occasionally with a supermarket pick-up. Roger is a dildo.
Today as he began his rutual of two or three mouth passes, followed by a few breast squeezes, left then right, then a spate of rough clitoral back and forths, she mused about the guy, John, she fucked last week in his BMW X5. Just as Bill index fingered her pussy, she was lost in the Winn Dixie parking lot. The fingering lasted between 10-15 seconds and then the stallion inserted his weiner and thence took his money shot.
Through the years, a lot of the supermarket wing dings were named John or Jim or Bob or Bill. Motel names... probably they were all Smiths, too, but she never asked. Guys, who food shop alone, often had the look of de-sex-dration. Married, but getting not enough, this subset represented an opportunity for Sally. She, like them, suffered the same desexdration.
Supermarket trysts were like insured annuities. The benefits roll in with no significant risk to the investor. Married, responsible milquetoasts are useful as long as they provide a flat belly, some vitality and some some passion. With the ordeal of the hunt, the take down and the newness, Sally usually orgasmed. Perhaps the wrongness of it all made it so satisfying?
Both kids were in college, Nova. A senior and a junior respectively, they were sensible and would be graduating in four years, not five or six like most American students.. Sally felt her job was done, at least in terms of raising Fred and Eleuthra. For her, the sun was shining and there was plenty of life...
"Was it good for you?"
Such a dumb question, thought she. The fool had no idea! "Oh my god. You were so hard." Men like to hear that. She couldn't tell him he was sooo big. Limits...
"Yeah, Papa can still bring it home..."
What an idiot, thought Sally. "I'll say."
One good thing about Bill is that he fucked like a small forebrained creature. Once he comes, he is done and he usually wants to eat. True to his habit, he rolled out of bed. As he stood full frontal, he posed as if he was cock hung rather than gut draped. "Gonna get some cereal... want a bowl?"
"No thanks. Gonna shower (your stink off of me.)"
As she prolonged her ablutions, she made THE decision. It had been a long time coming. Tomorrow, after her hubby leaves for work, she will go to the bank and withdraw half of their savings. He could send her the proceeds from the house later. A note for him and calls to the kids will be all she can muster. She always liked Sante Fe... any time of the year.