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Archive name: ex5.txt
Authors name: Homer Vargas
Story title : Personal Examination
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(c) Copyright Homer Vargas - 1998 - This work is
copyrighted to the author, with all rights reserved.
This story may be archived and displayed on non-
commercial web sites without permission, but please
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Although this story is somewhat self contained, it
basically ties up loose ends from earlier stories,
of the "Examination" series. So far as I know my
own mind, it will be the last of the "Examination"
stories (although a wave of adulation could turn
my head). If you have not read the others, you
will probably want to postpone this one until you
have read, preferably in order, "The
Examination," "On Further Examination," "Wonder
Woman's Examination," and "Examination of a NAG".
Personal Examination
by Homer Vargas
Dr. James Bock moped about the clinic, making
everyone feel even worse than they did anyway.
All the women had loved Janet. Long after she
withdrew from the practice to bear and care for
her and James's four children, she remained a
mother hen to the women of clinic staff. No one
could understand why Janet allowed herself to
become obese; it seemed beyond even James's
ability to control. Thin before her first
pregnancy, she added more and more weight as James
Jr., Clive, Sophia, and Susana arrived in quick
succession. With increasing weight came less
activity leading to still more weight gain.
A heart attack, unexpected, massive,
definitive had taken her. James's sadness
affected Amaka most of all. As her culture and
human feeling directed, she had stepped in to see
to James's and Janet's children. The house Mamma
kept for her and her brood was small, but Mamma's
heart was large and she smothered the little
orphans with affection. They would be OK. It was
James that worried Amaka.
The relation between a man and woman is
mysterious, Amaka thought. "Good" marriages
sometimes are hell from the inside. Men and women
cling to partners that "everyone" knows are wrong
for them, bound by love, desire, custom, who knows
what? Amaka did not pretend to know what had gone
on between James and Janet. I was another
universe from the one she and James inhabited. In
theirs, James was her master, as he was Janet's,
but they were also friends, business partners,
lovers and parents of her children. Amaka felt
herself married to James even though he went home
to Janet every night and was married to neither.
James made love to Amaka at the office frequently,
usually more than once daily, more frequently,
Amaka believed, than he made love to Janet,
especially after she grew fat. In a way it was
like the culture of her childhood homeland in
which James had Janet as his Senior wife and she
was his Junior. wife. The passion had gone from
his relationship with Janet, only love, duty, or
whatever it was that bound him, lingered.
Amaka was, therefore, surprised that Janet's
death had so devastated James. Only with immense
will did he attend to clients, leaving Amaka to do
virtually all of the seduction and conditioning of
the women who continued to be sent to the clinic
in increasing numbers. Certainly it affected
their love making. The joy, the passion on the
infrequent occasions was gone. Amaka felt James
had transferred to her the obligatory sex he had
with his deceased partner.
James stopped having sex with the other women
of the clinic completely. It hurt them all, but
especially Suzie and Megan, the youngest women who
were highly sexed. Amaka made a few adjustments
in James's conditioning of them so that they could
at least find some release in sex with each other,
but she could not erase their desire for James
himself.
This could not go on. It would not be easy.
She might not succeed. But she had to try.
When James halfheartedly suggested sex with
her in the office the next Friday evening, Amaka
for the first time said no. She waited to see if
he would take her. If he wished, he could fill
her with an overpowering desire that would make
refusal unthinkable. He could make her body move
at his pleasure even if her mind remained
unconvinced. His did neither, but only looked at
her, puzzled.
"Pick me up at my house Saturday night at
8:00, darling. I've made plans for dinner. It's
rather formal" Again Amaka waited to see if he
would go along. If he didn't want to, he could
just make her forget all about the arrangements.
She had guessed right.
"OK. Why not?" James grinned almost shyly.
It was the first smile of any kind Amaka had seen
since Janet's death.
Saturday was a busy day. A lot was riding on
this night, the happiness not only of her and
James, but of many others. James could make many
things right, or, if she failed, leave dozens of
people, himself included, in misery. Amaka was
glad she was a woman. She had the insight and,
she hoped, the charms to make it happen.
Amaka had concluded that James felt guilty
about Janet's death, but perhaps even more about
her life. He had used his powers, not
maliciously, but irresponsibly. He had only just
stumbled onto his strange ability when he met
Janet. She was the first woman whose life he had
remade. Although Janet must have loved James over
and above his power over her and though she had
lived for the children she had with him, her life
had been wrenched too far from her own goals.
James probably never thought he would fall in love
with the woman whose life he had turned upside
down. James could give her unbelievable pleasure,
but he could not make her totally happy. Now he
never could.
Most of James clients were probably happier
for his interventions in their lives, but there
were a few who had also suffered from James's use
of his powers. Amaka suspected that Janet's death
had reminded James of his culpability in those
cases, too. He needed to face what he had done,
but he had to get beyond it without hating
himself. That was her task.
The element of surprise would be important.
Fortunately, James knew Amaka only as a beautiful,
if exotic, woman who had fallen somewhat
accidentally into his power. Typically for a man,
he had not been too curious about the woman who
had shared her body with him for the last four
years. It was time he learned some things.
"I want him to fall in love me, Mamma," Amaka
explained.
"He already loves you, child."
"That's what he thinks, too, but not totally.
I want it all. Give me juju, Mamma."
"It's dangerous girl. Juju could make you
evil and manipulative."
"No, Mamma. Just give me the good juju"
"Juju isn't good or bad, Amaka. It draws its
power from what is in your heart. If your motives
are even a little bad, the juju will be evil and
that evil will be multiplied many fold."
"I have to try, Mamma."
"Oh, Amaka! Are you sure?"
"I'm sure, Mamma."
"Amaka you are my first born daughter. I
can't believe anything bad of you. If you want to
use juju, I will do as you say."
Mamma went to the corner and pulled a key
from her bosom to unlock the ancient chest.
Carefully she withdrew several small carved wooden
objects. Amaka knew what she had to do and had
brought out candles, arranging them in an ellipse
with a mat in the center. Amaka stripped and lay
naked, perfectly still on the mat, waiting. Mamma
went round the ring of candles, lighting each and
repeating a chant. Then she danced around the
circle of burning tapers, rolling her ample hips
and singing softly, before stepping across the
invisible threshold. With great precision, Mamma
passed one and another of the idols over Amaka's
body. The final one she passed three times around
each breast and three times around Amaka's mound,
intoning the age-old ritual. When she finished
Amaka was deeply entranced.
Mamma smiled down at her sleeping daughter,
the mother of her four grandchildren, still her
little girl. "Time to get up, honey. Let's do
something with that hair. You need some practical
juju, too."
It hurt when Mamma knotted her hair into
scores of tight plaits. Into each she wove in a
piece or two of tinsel. It was a five hour job,
but when she finished, both women were pleased
with the results. Amaka went to her bath and
soaked a long while, allowing the oils and
unguents to be absorbed by her soft skin. When
she emerged, she shown.
Naked, Amaka went to her closet and removed a
garment from a back shelf where it had remained
for years, awaiting such an occasion. The noble
fabric responded to the touch of an iron and
became as new. Amaka slipped on a diaphanous blue
brassiere and a pair of navy thong panties and
began to dress. Carefully she wound the Ukmoh
around her shapely hips and drew the top in the
same fabric over her breasts and shoulders. It
took several adjustments to get the scalloped hem
even with her ankle bones as Mamma had taught her.
Mamma helped coil the matching Ubaletu around her
shining black plaits and fluffed it until it added
four or five inches to her height. Amaka examined
herself in the mirror approvingly while Mamma
looked on with pride. The craft of five hundred
generations of African women had perfected this
look. She would be irresistible
Mamma opened the door for James and ushered
him to the living room to wait. Perhaps she was
unaware of the psychology of making a man a little
impatient before Amaka made a dramatic entrance.
James was just slightly startled when Amaka
greeted him from the doorway, "Good evening,
darling."
James was stunned. Amaka had been working
for him over four years. He had been fucking her
exactly as long, although they had been making
love for a shorter period. He had seem her daily.
He had seen her in cute mini skirts, in elegant
tailored suits, in the sexy smocks she wore around
the office, in hot pants and bikinis, and of
course in nothing at all. Now as looked at her,
it was if he had never seen her before, never.
Could this be the woman he worked with every
day? Standing before him was a princess or a
queen. An empress or a goddess! James could not
take his eyes off the vision that had addressed
him. Speech was impossible. His eyes caressed
her from head to foot. The garment she wore was a
deep yet somehow brilliant blue, a blue of sky
that can only be seen from high mountains at
twilight. Unsurprisingly, in that crepuscular
background, gold studs and inlays sparkled like
the first stars in the firmament when the sum has
not yet yielded his dominion to night. A
headdress of the same resplendent cloth adorned
her head. The light caught and thrown back by the
inlays made it a diadem.
James scarcely heard as Mamma told the
elegant couple to have fun, that the children
would be fine and ushered them out. As she closed
the door, she said silent prayer to Ussa, et
Fillis, and the Holy Spirit.
Amaka took James's arm and allowed him to
escort her to the car, open the door for her, and
see that she was seated. Hardly daring to look at
his beautiful companion, James was heading in the
direction of the city before he remembered to ask
where they were going. Amaka told him to drive to
the river front. James was puzzled, knowing there
were no restaurants in that area. Nevertheless,
he let Amaka direct him to park and lead him to
the wharf.
A long ramp led to a brightly lighted deck of
a dinner cruse ship. Amaka had timed their
arrival well and only minutes later the vessel
weighed anchor and eased into the deeper waters of
mid river, quickly leaving behind the built-up
parts of the city. Cocktails and canap‚s soon
gave way to a full dinner with dozens of other
couples.
James and Amaka didn't talk much over dinner;
James because he couldn't; Amaka because it wasn't
necessary. As he gazed at her, not able to get
his fill of looking, the words and images of the
classic music video came back to him. Like
Whitney Houston, Amaka could say, "I'm every
woman; it's all in me." It was an epiphany; it
was time to dance.
The band struck up a Latin beat and James and
Amaka took center stage on the floor. As the
combo pumped out the Salsas and Meringues of
Carlos Vives and Niche, James marveled at his
partner. Of course her dancing was superb. But
Amaka put a wiggle in her hips and a subtle
contortion into the movements of her belly that
reminded everyone of the Afro-Caribbean origins of
this music.
The panting couples were taking a break from
hard driving techno-rock when the ship reached its
southernmost point and swung round, allowing those
on both sides to view the long incline up on the
Virginia side towards Mt. Vernon, brilliantly
illuminated for the benefit of the dinner dancers.
On the way back, the orchestra wisely
switched to ballads of the `60s and `70s that put
everyone in a mellower mood. As the liner pulled
to within sight of the Washington Monument, the
music had drifted farther back to Hoagie
Carmichael and Cole Porter. James was holding
Amaka very close and they swayed, almost asleep in
each other's arms, to the magical old lyrics.
It was well past midnight when the last of
the happy couples descended the gangplank, most
looking more at each other than at where they were
going. James thought Amaka had never felt softer,
had never fit more perfectly into his arms, as if
she had always been there. If, that is, the world
had even *existed* before. Was this not the first
night of a newly created Earth, a terrestrial
paradise that might be lost, but never again
equaled? James dreaded for this night to end.
Reluctantly he pointed the car toward Amaka's
house in upper Northeast.
"Not that way, darling," she smiled.
James looked at the lovely woman at his side,
not knowing how to believe his good fortune. He
started to ask her something, but Amaka stopped
his lips with a kiss.
"Home, James," she ordered.
Amaka seemed to have no shyness, walking into
the stately home James had shared with Janet.
Without having to ask, she led James to the
bedroom. She allowed him to watch as she removed
the Ubaletu and shook her plaits free. He stared
in fascination as she untied the Ukmoh and let it
drop to the floor. He didn't have to wait long
before she shed the bra and panties and began
undressing him.
They made love. James had believed he had
made love to Amaka many times. He now realized
that he was wrong. They had only had loving,
tender sex. It had been wonderful sex, but
nothing like this. "James, James, oh my love, Oh
James, James" Amaka sobbed between orgasms.
James could only repeat her name like a
mantra, "Amaka, Amaka, Amaka, Amaka" his voice,
too, broken with feeling as he thrust himself deep
into the woman clinging to him. "One flesh" The
old Biblical phrase flashed into James's mind. It
had always struck him as material and crude. Now
he knew it was but a literal description of what
his and Amaka's bodies sought -- coupling,
joining, fusion, a melting together, a perfect
union.
A terrible tenderness came over James as he
felt Amaka drift off to sleep. She lay cradled in
his arms, so perfectly trusting, snuggling closer
as her breathing grew soft. Did any man deserve
this trust; did he; could he earn it? He never
wanted her to leave his side. As James drowsily
held the now sleeping woman, he realized that not
only had he and Amaka never made love before, they
had never slept together. "Sleep together." It
was much so much more than a euphemism for having
sex. It was a totally different way of making
love, one in which the elbows and the backs of the
legs, the knees and the shoulder blades, could
participate for hour after hour, long after the
genitals no longer touched.
The last thing James remembered before going
to sleep was Amaka's hair tickling his nose. He
could have flicked it aside, but decided he would
rather just fold her into the crook of his body.
The first thing he saw in the next morning was
Amaka's smiling face. Compared to this moment, he
had never been happy before. Tears filled his
eyes. "I love you so much, Amaka."
"And I love you," she replied. "You are a
good man, James, worthy of a woman's love. You
must believe that and not keep torturing yourself
over Janet."
"But I ..." Amaka stifled his protest with a
kiss.
"Whatever you did, Love, is done. Janet left
you four children whom she loved above anything.
The best thing you can do is give them their daddy
back. Look,"
Amaka clapped her hands and two by two the
children filed in. Amaka's children, being used
to constant coming and goings since they were
babies, were more outgoing than Janet's. Ifi led
James Jr. by the hand even though he was several
months her
senior. Efe tugged at the shy Clive. Little
Jerome and Sophia were already best friends and
playmates and followed their brothers and sisters
in without coaxing. Mamma entered last holding
the babies, Leroy and Susana.
As James looked from one to the other, he was
consumed by love for them all. He knew that he
had to remake a life for them as well as for the
wonderful creature lying at his side.
"They're all *here*" James stated, somewhat
foolishly, but Amaka understood what he meant.
"Of course, darling. Mamma brought them last
night. This is their home. It's our home. They
have a wonderful Mamma, but they need mother and
father."
It took a few days to work out the sleeping
arrangements and a routine to get everyone bathed
and fed in the mornings and still permit James and
Amaka to get to the clinic by 10:00 AM or so. The
nature of the practice changed. James and Amaka
became even more equal partners. Now they never
took a client just because his or her partner
wanted a subservient sex maniac. They interviewed
the couple carefully and made the adjustments
necessary, usually to both.
Amaka did not need to tell James what to do
about the ex-clients. Over many weeks and months
he made calls, tracking down people and getting
them into the clinic for business, but within a
year things were falling into place.
*****
It had not been easy to locate Kathy Black.
James was appalled at finding her in a housing
project struggling to support six children by four
different men. When they heard her story,
however, Kate and Bill Jenkins of NAP (National
Association of People) had no trouble deciding
they wanted Kathy to head up their legal staff.
Kathy was surprised how old Bill Atturbury had
changed and after making him court her assiduously
for several months agreed to marry him.
Bill Atturbury could have been their
grandfather, but Pauline, Carlitos, Chun and Chan
, and Malcolm Jr. couldn't have been more
delighted. He read them stories, and played
horsy, and could make an elephant sound that never
failed to set them giggling hilariously. This was
so much more fun than running a conglomerate, Bill
turned his remaining interests over to Trent. He
took Pauline and Carlitos to pre-school and even
found changing the diapers of Susana and Martin
Luther hugely satisfying.
As much as he adored these children, however,
Bill begged Kathy to let him get her pregnant just
one more time so they could have one baby of their
own. Kathy told him he must be out of his mind.
It could have been cause for a row, but they loved
each other too much to argue over numbers.
Eventually Kathy compromised on three.
*****
When James called, Angelica supposed that he
had decided it was time to give her another child.
She was puzzled when, instead, he asked her to
send Robert to the clinic for another visit.
Wonderful "after sales service," she laughed to
herself in the days and nights that followed .
Angelica loved the improvements in Robert. He was
as sweet as ever, but seemed somehow more
imaginative in his lovemaking. He no longer just
waited around to please his ever-horny wife, but
took more initiative, fucking her at times and in
places that Angelica wouldn't have thought of.
Angelica would have to thank James personally when
she saw him next.
Another motive for seeing James intervened.
"What's going on, James? I've missed my period."
Angelica demanded, more than a little annoyed.
"Do you need to ask what that means?" James
replied, amused.
"It's not funny, James" Angelica snapped.
"Why treat me like that? I never deny you. I
enjoy letting you get me pregnant. There was no
reason to get me down to the clinic, impregnate me
and then make me forget the whole thing!"
"You haven't been to the clinic, Angelica and
I didn't get you pregnant.
"Then who did?"
"How should I know?" James teased. "Have you
been sleeping around?"
"No, you bastard, only with ..." She stopped
and rapidly counted the days. She had been
ovulating soon after Robert's visit to James's
clinic. A look of consternation spread over her
face. "But that's impossible."
"I reversed Robert's vasectomy, Angelica, and
told him about our now defunct arrangement. I'm
sure Robert will be very happy to find he's going
to be a father for the first time."
"My god! I'm as horny as ever. So from now
on I'll have to take precautions?"
"That's up to you, but don't expect too much
help from Robert. Under the circumstances I can
bet he will be wanting to make up for lost time."
*****
Malcolm Foster was mad as hell. He had been
waiting in this damned doctor's office for forty
five minutes. He could be out on the street
dealing. This delay was costing him money over
$1500, but it couldn't be helped. He wasn't here
of his own free will.
Everything had started going wrong for
Malcolm several months ago when his favorite
woman, that horny white bitch named Kathy had been
snatched out of his life. He had had made with
her. She craved sex and by giving or withholding
his woman pleaser, he had made her a virtual sex
slave. The oversexed slut had learned to cook for
him better than any of his black girlfriends and
she had let him make her pregnant twice. Malcolm
had been thinking it was time she started working
on another little bastard when everything changed.
He didn't underhand how she suddenly was able to
laugh off his bullying and then get some rich
white man screwing her. Even before the old
bastard married her, he installed Kathy in a fancy
apartment with security that didn't let Malcolm
in.
Malcolm though his luck had turned when Horse
Jones and the other four Wizards starters showed
up at his house one day. He quickly learned his
mistake. It was funny, they seemed to know all
about him. "Kathy tells me you like white girls,"
Horse said a little menacingly.
"Sure, Bro'," Malcolm replied nervously.
"Them white bitches really likes a nice big piece
of black meat."
"And I believe you've said that you like to
`get a horny a white woman so addicted to my cock
she'll let me make her pregnant,' or word to that
effect?" asked "Jumper" Bradford
"Uh ... sure," Malcolm answered truthfully,
but growing apprehensive about this line of
questioning.
"Well, that real convenient," remarked Rufus
Prescott
"Because we've got just the girl for you."
continued "Apple" Appleby
"Drop those pants, my friend. Let's see if
you've got what it takes to keep a hungry woman
satisfied," Jumper ordered. Malcolm was a big
man, but no more than any one of these five LARGE
black men. He decided to comply. The team made a
quick assessment of Malcolm's crotch assets and
went into a huddle.
"It's worth asking her, I guess," said Rufus.
"Come in here, Ethel, baby," Apple called.
"What do you think?"
A thin redhead in hot pants appeared in the
door. Ethel Patterson appraised Malcolm
carefully, paying especially close attention to
the zone between his legs, then grinned. "I'll
take him."
"Looks like you've got yourself a new
girlfriend," smiled Horse.
"What are you talking about, man?" Malcolm
objected, looking over the woman who was looking
him over. "That ain't no woman. that's a
scarecrow! Look at her! Hell, I've seen bigger
tits on a gnat. And her rear end! There ain't
enough meat on her scrawny ass for a man to sink
his teeth into." Malcolm protested.
"Sorry you feel that way," Rufus frowned.
"We were hoping to find someone to take a very
enthusiastic lady off our hands. Coach says she's
wearing us out." The others nodded in agreement.
"What's going on?" Ethel objected. "You told
me you knew someone who could keep me happy."
"He will, baby. He will," Apple reassured
her. "Just be patient.
"You obviously don't know a good thing when
it looks you in the eye, my friend," Horse
lectured with the full support of his team mates.
"I guess you'd better go talk to a friend or ours.
Here's the telephone number. Ask for an
appointment with Dr. Bock and tell them Horse sent
you." Malcolm had understood that he was not free
to ignore the suggestion. That's why he was
sitting here, in this funny looking room, waiting
to see some dumb *women's* doctor.
"You can come in now, Mr. Foster." said a
tall beautiful back woman. Malcolm again thought
his luck was about to change. This time, he was
right.
Several weeks later Malcolm was lying
somewhat dazed and exhausted, looking up into the
shining eyes of the lithe redhead who straddled
him. It always amazed him that a woman who
weighed no more than Ethel could *drain* him the
way she did. No matter how many times he made her
cum, she kept demanding more and more until he was
a noodle. "Oh, is that all?" Ethel asked, never
able to hide completely her disappointment when
Malcolm petered out. "Is my `tweet chocolate
popcicle all tired-y poo?" she continued, slipping
into baby talk. Malcolm was drifting off.
"Tweetie," she asked pensively. "How would `ou
wike doing me doggie?"
It was like mentioning food to someone after
a big meal. Malcolm groaned. The woman was
insatiable! "Oh, baby, I'd love to, but not right
*now*."
"Oh, I know `at. Wight now my widdle boy is
going to take a wong nappy so tomowow he will be
big and twong again," Ethel reassured, obviously
referring more to Malcolm's limp cock than to him.
"Mamma Ethel means would `ou wike to do her the
doggie way all the time for the last month or
two?"
Malcolm had been having trouble paying
attention. Even when she didn't have him fucked
him out, Ethel's baby talk made him sleepy, but
the implication of her question suddenly brought
him fully awake. He looked up at her, his eyes
wide with surprise. If she weren't a proper wife
and mother, the expression on Mrs. Ethel Foster's
face would have to be called a shit eating grin.
"`At's wight, `ou naughty boy. `Ou put that
bid old bwack baby-maker in a bewey of `ou's bwand
new widdle white bwide once too often duwing our
honeymoon. Now `ou'll just have to suffer the
consequences!" she teased.
Malcolm was too happy to say anything as
Ethel looked down at him, as if awaiting his
reply. "Ouuuh!" she brightened. "I'll take that
as `yes,'" she said and began to hump up and down
again on Malcolm's reviving cock.
*****
"Hell, no I'm not paying more than 6 cents a
MCF for Bangladeshi gas. If they don't want to
sell at that price, tell them *they* can build the
damned pipeline!" Trent Atturbury snapped,
punching off his cellular so hard it might be
damaged. Life was funny , he thought. The last
thing he ever expected in life was being saddled
with his father's business. Unless it was
enjoying the hell out of it! Trent had wanted to
be a writer, moving words around on paper. Moving
men and money around the world turned out to be
much more fun!
The turn of events in Trent's life was almost
unbelievable. First his father had gone off the
deep end over Kathy, an old girlfriend of his, a
welfare mother with a houseful of children. Then
Daddy decided to chuck the business and turn
everything over to him so he could play daddy to
Kathy's kids and a growing number of his own rug
rats. The horny old goat had just gotten Kathy
pregnant again.
As a condition of giving Trent control of a
multi-billion dollar empire, however, Daddy had
insisted Trent see some kind of psychologist, a
Ms. Amaka Ebe, to "put some spine" in his formerly
wishy-washy personality. Well, wishy-washy he was
no longer, at least not in the office. Better
still, however, through Amaka, Trent had met an
incredible woman!
Ayo was a member of Amaka's family. Trent
didn't understand exactly what the relationship
was. Months ago he had accepted Ayo's advice
that their liaison remain a secret among his
business colleagues. "I'm not a woman you take
out," she had told him with a grin. "I'm a woman
to come home to." He knew what she meant. Not
that she was black and he was white; he would have
killed anyone who made *that* an issue, but the
difference in their ages and her girth would have
raised some eyebrows. Ayo had the body of a woman
who had lived and loved quite a few years longer
than Trent. She was built on the "Aunt Jemima"
model -- the original, not the Naomi Campbell
look-alike.
No one knew it, but Ayo was his other half.
Outgoing where Trent was withdrawn, passionate
when he was too analytic, patient when he would
jump to conclusions, keeping in mind the big
picture where he could be lost in detail. Ayo
knew nothing about the oil and gas business, but
she had saved his company from several big
mistakes with her insights.
Most important, Ayo loved Trent. She loved
him enough to make him tell her everything. When
she asked, "How was work?" she expected, and got,
a full, blow by blow recounting. She beamed with
pride at Trent's triumphs, grew angry or
dismissive of his conflicts, comforted him in
occasional failures. Whatever happened, she was
on his side, encouraging him, having more faith in
him than he sometimes had in himself. Whether in
happiness or despair, Ayo always told him he was
wonderful and made him believe it by making love
to him. hot, heavy, passionate love.
Nothing ever seemed to dampen Ayo's spirits,
so when Trent found her crying one evening, he was
more than surprised, he was alarmed. He had never
needed to comfort her before. It was not easy to
take the large woman into his arms, but her
consternation made her slip into his embrace. She
lay her head on his chest and sobbed. "Oh, Trent,
darling, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I
didn't intend for it to happen; you've got to
believe me. I'm afraid of what you'll say and
I'll do it if you tell me to, but it's wrong and I
don't want to."
"Ayo, Ayo. What's wrong? What could you
possible have done to need my forgiveness? Did
you damage something? That Bukara in the living
room? Don't be silly. This is now your house as
much as mine."
"No Trent, it's not the carpet; it's ... it's
everything. I've messed up. I just didn't think
it could still happen; I thought I was too old."
"Ayo, honey, you're not making sense. What
do you mean you thought you were too old, that
you've messed up everything?"
"Our life, Trent. I messed it up by getting
pregnant and its yours and I don't want to get an
abortion. Please let me keep it. I'll move out
and never bother you about it, but please let me
keep your baby." Her words poured out in a single
breath.
"Oh, Ayo, honey! Trent almost shouted.
"This is the most wonderful news you could have
given me. I was worried something was wrong with
me. You don't know how jealous I've been of James
and your niece or whatever she is. They've got
four already and she expecting again. Now we are
going to have a baby, too."
Ayo looked up at Trent, relief and adoration
in her still tear-filled eyes. "You mean it? You
want to have a baby? With a big old woman like
me? You want to make me fatter?
"You are not `fat,' Ayo. You're round, and
every pound you've put on since you were Amaka's
age had gone to places men like to see them. If
the baby takes after you, we're going to have the
handsomest boy or the most gorgeous little girl
imaginable. Who have you told?"
"Nobody, I was afraid you'd make me ..."
"You don't know me as well as you think, if
you believed I would let you, much less make you
abort a baby, even if the baby were not mine.
Case closed. Get up and call Amaka to tell her
she's going to have a new little cousin."
"What do you mean, `cousin?'" Don't you
know, Trent? Amaka's not my niece, she's my
daughter. She's going to have a new little
brother or sister."
"Ayo, this is so wonderful! Yesterday I was
an unattached though spoken for male; now I'm
going to be a father. And I guess I'm Amaka's
father in law and I've got grandchildren! There's
just one more thing I need."
"What are you talking about?" Ayo asked,
amused by Trent's strange, expansive ideas of
family.
"I need a wife."
*****
Bloody inconvenient, Col. Steve Trevor
thought. Not that he was unhappy that his wife
had let him make her pregnant again. He loved
seeing Diana, who was so active and trim,
gradually slow down and plump up when she was
having a baby. He even loved making love to her
when she was pregnant, at least he supposed he
did. All he could actually remember from their
nights together was lying at her side, stroking
her swollen belly, gently sucking and kissing her
laden tits and sometimes tonguing her to one
orgasm after another. But they must make love.
Steve Jr., two, Drucilla, one, and Diana's
expanding belly was proof of that.
Still it was bloody inconvenient. Why did it
have to happen that every time he got Wonder Woman
pregnant, Diana turned up pregnant, too?
*****
Paul Graves was surprised to get a call from
a Dr. James Bock. It took him a minute to recall
the strange doctor who a few years ago had fixed
that junior partner in his firm so she would fuck
him. Kathy, he seemed to remember her name. She
had really been hot, couldn't get enough of him.
He had enjoyed her until he got her pregnant and
he had moved on. That was about the time that
Betty had found out about his affairs. She had
walked into Paul's office one afternoon to find
his secretary carefully positioned over an arm
chair with Paul fucking her like blazes.
Funny, after Betty had divorced him and he
was free to screw any woman he wanted to, it
turned into a bore. Finding them, telling them
the same damned funny stories, taking them to the
same restaurants and back to his apartment,
fucking them for a few weeks and then getting rid
of them -- always the most difficult part. Where
was the fun in that?. Sometime he even missed
Betty. She was certainly a lot more interesting
to talk to that the bimbos he picked up.
This was pretty strange. The doctor
suggested they meet at a downtown club. Paul was
inclined to say no, but James suggested he had a
new woman he wanted to introduce to Paul. What
the hell? Paul agreed. He had never been very
good at guy-to-guy talk, but he found that after a
few beers, it was really easy to open up to Dr.
Bock. Paul was telling the doctor things he never
had really thought of before -- how tired he was
of the meaningless conquests of airheads, how he
missed his children, how he even missed having a
woman who was his equal, who looked out for his
interests, who would tell him he was full of shit
when he was, who didn't think his beer belly "was
cute."
"I've got just the woman for you" James said.
Perhaps there was some surreptitious signal
or perhaps it was Kismet. Just them Paul Graves
glanced over towards the entrance of the club and
saw her standing there. At first he didn't
recognize her. His eyes met hers and his mouth
dropped. Slowly she walked toward him. It was
Betty, but ... but .... Paul had never seen her
like this, at least not for years. She had on a
tight-fitting off-white dress cut five or six
inches above her knee. The matching heels gave a
roll to her hips that drove him crazy. As she
drew closer he noticed the kind of large, flashy
earrings he had wanted her to wear for years.
Since the last time he had seen her, she had lost
inches around the waist without reducing her ample
hips and eye-popping boobs. If "babe" could be
applied to a woman almost fifty, Betty was a babe.
Paul was so struck by seeing Betty again he
hadn't noticed she wasn't alone. "Good evening,
Paul, James. May I introduce my friend, Arnold."
A tall muscular blonde stuck out his had to
shake. "Hi." he smiled.
Paul was struck silent again. As he shook
hands with the young man he tried to place the
face. He had seen it before. My god! This was
the himbo that had appeared on TV with Sen.
Finger. Instantly everything was clear. Betty
had gotten herself sexy as hell again and now had
this hunk fucking her lights out.
"Hello, Arnold. What is your line of
endeavor?" Paul said, trying to be civil.
The smile faded from the young man's face and
he looked at Betty for help. "Arnold is a handy
man," Betty explained. "At least *I* find him
very handy. Hope you're keeping well, Paul. Now
if you'll excuse us ...." Betty took Arnold's
hand and led him away to a corner booth.
"Amaka is bringing your date. I can't
imagine what is keeping them," James remarked.
Paul wasn't listening. He was staring through the
dim light to see what his wife, well, his ex-wife
was doing with the young man. They had been
kissing for about two minutes non stop and Betty
was starting to squirm. Paul thought he could see
Betty's short skirt rucked up closer to her crotch
as she spread her legs. From her movements it was
pretty evident where Arnold's hand had gone and
what *it's* line of endeavor was. Presently,
several other patrons glanced over at the moans
and grunts coming from the couple in the corner
booth where a woman in a short white dress
appeared to be having an orgasm.
"Ah, here they are," James boomed, not
seeming to pay attention to the spectacle over in
the corner. Reluctantly Paul turned his attention
to James and the two women who had just walked in.
One was tall, black, and .very beautiful. The
other was a shorter cute blonde about 25.
"Sorry we're late, darling," said the taller
woman as she kissed James.
"Paul, this is my wife, Amaka and Megan.
Megan works in our office.
"I answer the `phones for Dr. Bock." Megan
put in.
Drinks arrived and James inched close to
Amaka. The lovers began whispering softly to each
other. Paul was left to pretend to listen to
Megan's chatter as he tried to see the action in
the corner booth. James, Amaka, and Megan were
the only people in the club who seemed oblivious
to what was going on. Betty had thrown her head
back on the seat. Her eyes were closed and sheer
ecstasy rippled across her face. Her blouse was
open and Arnold's face was buried in her well
endowed bosom. If Betty had come with a bra, it
was no longer extant. From the way her tits had
jiggled as she walked in, Paul was convinced she
hadn't worn one. Arnold appeared to be sucking
one tit and them the other without removing his
hand from between Betty's legs. She was whinnying
in rut.
"You wanna dance?" Megan asked her distracted
partner. He didn't, of course, but anything was
better than the torture of watching his wife,
well, his ex wife, getting fondled and finger
fucked. The music was some strange mixture of
keyboard with lots of electronic rhythm, far too
fast. Paul didn't really know what to do out on
the floor. The other dancers were just gyrating.
Paul tried to gyrate, too, but didn't do it as
well as Megan.
Objectively speaking, Megan was a sexy little
thing. She had big boobs that bounced in
syncopation to the music. Paul didn't understand
how she could dance like that in what must have
been five inch heels, but supposed she had had
lots of practice. The provocative way her hips
wiggled ought to have had him plotting how to get
her out of that red miniskirt and his prick into
her no doubt juicy little cunt. She was pretty,
sexy, and not too bright -- just his type. But
for some reason Paul felt no attraction to her at
all. He would have been worried about his age and
hormone levels had he not realized he still had an
erection from watching Arnold orgasm his wife,
well, his ex-wife.
Because he wasn't good at this ridiculous
excuse for dancing, Paul was tiring rapidly just
as Megan seemed to be getting warmed up. She was
flinging one arm and then the other into the air
and letting out intermittent jungle-like cries.
Soon every man in the club except James was
staring. Even Arnold took a break from working on
Betty's twat to look. Betty, too, sat up to see
what had caused the interruption in Arnold's
wonderful service and grinned at the sight.
Recovering rapidly from twenty or more
minutes of uninterrupted foreplay, Betty nudged
Arnold to lead her to the floor. Arnold was happy
to comply as this brought him closer to the wild
little blonde. If having trouble keeping up with
the contortions of his partner was humbling for
Paul, seeing his wife, well, his ex-wife, start
performing an only slightly less frenetic version
of whatever Megan was doing, was acutely
embarrassing. Where the hell had the woman
learned to dance like that? When Betty ground her
hips and jiggled her tits, she had a lot more to
grind and jiggle than the girl.
Perhaps sensing that a riot might break out
if the hot little blonde's and her older
companion's display of blatant sexuality wasn't
curbed, the band switched to a `70s ballad. Megan
deflated like an untied balloon, disoriented by
the slower 4/6 beat. Paul tried to lead, but
Megan was hopeless. Glancing over, Paul saw that
Betty was in the same predicament.
"Do you mind?" Paul asked smoothly, dropping
Megan's hand and tapping the young man on the
shoulder. Neither Arnold or Megan had ever heard
of "cutting in" but the maneuver went off without
a hitch. Arnold and Megan were left staring at
each other, not knowing what to do, as Paul swept
off with his wife, well, his ex-wife.
"My god what a spectacle you were making of
yourself!" Paul whispered between clenched teeth,
hiding his ire from the other dancers behind a
broad smile.
"What about yourself, *darling*?" Betty
hissed. "You were perfectly ridiculous clomping
around to a techno-beat."
"I mean over at the booth! At least she
wasn't giving me a blow job in public."
"Don't complain to me. *You* were the one
who had the way with the ladies all these years."
"If you'd dressed and looked as hot as you do
tonight, I wouldn't have been chasing skirts."
"When did you ever invite me to a place like
this, where a woman who looks like a woman is
appreciated? The only place you ever took me was
to those damned cocktail parties with your
corporate clients," Betty shot back. "Well, looks
like you have a woman with the proportions you
like."
"What do you mean? You've got the
proportions I like, babe."
"I mean the little blonde. Looks like her
bust size exceeds her age which exceeds her IQ."
The other dancers marveled as the suave
gentleman and his elegantly sexy dance partner
glided around the floor, unaware of the exchange
of vituperation passing between the smiling
couple.
"But I'll take that as a compliment, anyway.
Thank you." Betty continued, slightly mollified.
"I mean it, babe. I've never seen you
looking so good."
"Not having to put up with *you* had given me
more time to spend on myself," Betty explained,
icily.
"Well, what can I say? Did you had to leave
me to become the woman I've always wanted?"
"Why didn't you tell me what you wanted?
"Well, I did, didn't I? I'm sure I told you
I liked a woman in heels and earrings and you
don't need to be told men like to see a woman's
legs."
"You told me how you liked `a woman' to
dress. You never told me that you'd love to see
`me' dressed that way. I wanted to be your wife,
Paul, not your whore. Why didn't you ever send me
any of those flowers I kept finding receipts for?"
Betty was sobbing softly now and had snuggled into
Paul's arms.
"Oh baby! I was so stupid running after sex
from all those chicks, but I never loved anyone
but you."
"Paul, darling, I want to believe that so
much."
"Elizabeth, my love. Please come back to me.
Give me a change to prove I love you every day for
the rest of my life."
James and Amaka like everyone else in the
club were riveted on the couple standing in the
middle of the dance floor, no longer moving,
crying into each other's arms. Amaka leaned over
and kissed James approvingly. Then she noticed
Arnold and Megan over in the corner booth. Arnold
appeared to be sucking one tit and them the other
without removing his hand from between Megan's
legs. She was whinnying in rut. Amaka leaned
over and kissed James again.
The End
Comments, please, to:
Homer Vargas
the_story_writer@yahoo.com
I wish to acknowledge inspiration from
"Downing Street" and someone else who does not
wish to be acknowledged without blaming them for
the execution.
_________________________________________________
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex
with strangers. But it isn't okay to *HAVE*
unprotected sex with strangers!! You only have
one body per lifetime, so take good care of it.