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Subject: [rae archive] Pushing the Envelope {mf group series}
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Archive-name: envelope

From: anansi!jordan@watserv1.uwaterloo.ca

Subject: Pushing the Envelope

Keywords: mf group series

X-Moderator-Review: 10: flawless -- should satisfy even the most jaded
readers

Here's something for rec.arts.erotica. It is, alas, part of a
projected longer work, but I think it stands reasonably well on its
own. I'm not certain that it can be called "erotica" at this point but
it does contain sex.

Copyright 1993 Jordan Shelbourne All permissions reserved except for
the right to distribute in electronic text form across computer
networks.
_________________________________________________________________

Jordan Shelbourne

Chapter One: A Question of Etiquette

Murdock was drunk, and I was listening patiently as he berated himself
for going to a strip club. "Kim wouldn' understand, y'know? She was
pure when I married her. I mean, we were *both* virgins, but.... She's
a hell of a woman, Kim is, a hell of a woman. Takin' care of the kids,
y'know, and the home." He looked around at the bored factory workers
and the equally bored stripper, then leaned forward conspiratorially.
The effect was ruined when he nearly fell over. "Only woman I've ever,
y'know." He got his elbow on the table to support himself. "I mean,
you've probably been around, but me, I'm, well, I'm a small town guy.
Y'know."

I nodded.

"I've never cheated on her, but...well, all I'm saying is, sometimes a
guy gets the urge to look. Kim wouldn' look. I'm the only man she's
ever...y'know?" He sat there, blinking. He looked like he was about to
weep from the beauty of his wife's purity.

"Why don't we go?" I suggested.

"One more drink," he insisted. "It's a big deal. This' firs' time
Murdock signed with an outta-state comp'ny."

"Why don't we have that drink at home?" I suggested.

"Good idea! Y'meet Kim. Meet the little woman. She's salt of the
earth. Y'r salt of the earth." I flagged down our waitress before
everyone in the bar became salt of the earth. Murdock tried to pay,
but I waved him off. He was the client, and I didn't mind. It wasn't
my money.

We'd come to the bar in his car, and I drove, handling the big Cutlass
clumsily at first. Murdock fell asleep giving me directions, but I
found his home without much trouble.

When I woke him, he made me promise not to tell his wife where we'd
been. He actually refused to get out of the car until I promised; I
wanted to spit twice and cross my heart. I helped him stumble across
the lawn with only a minor mishap--he whacked his toe on a sprinkler
head--and I rang the doorbell. He kept repeating, "Sh! Shhh!" while he
sorted through his keys, leaning against the door.

He pitched forward when his wife opened the door, and I wasn't quick
enough to grab him. He looked up glassily from the floor and said,
"Kim, this's Gil Freeman. Gil, it's my wife, Kim."

She sighed and then she looked up at me and the sigh caught in her
throat. "Hello," she said carefully.

I felt the weight of twenty years, but all I said was, "Hello." Miss
Manners, what should I do when I meet a former lover this way?
_________________________________________________________________

Back in the seventies, during that time after the gas crisis and
before AIDS, there had been a group of us--Meyer, Apple Brown Betty,
the Swordfish, and me--sprinting around the edges of society in
Meyer's beat-up microbus. It was our own portable commune, our shelter
against the Me Decade. Meyer was the philosophizer and the glue, Betty
was the perception, the Swordfish was the driving ambition, and I was
the teddy bear. We travelled place to place, setting up for a few
months while Meyer and Betty created sexual performance art in their
own ways, and the Swordfish and I hung around for reasons of our own.

I remember we were in a park the first time I saw Kim. The Swordfish's
appetite for carnal matters was legendary, and his taste ran to women
built on the Playboy model, like Kim: large-breasted, cute, corn-fed.
The only reason I noticed Kim before the Swordfish was because he had
a woman on his lap who had just discovered that his fly was not
closed. (The Swordfish liked to do it in public places.)

I thought of Kim as a girl when I saw her, since I pegged her age at
eighteen or nineteen (I was all of twenty-one, legal wherever they
could sell you booze)--and she was walking an Irish setter. I like
Irish setters. I left the Swordfish to his tumblebunny and made the
dog's acquaintance. The girl told me his name was Zeke and hers was
Kim. I told her mine and we chatted.

Kim was eighteen then, fresh from a small city in Iowa, I don't
remember the name, but she was just starting whatever the local
college was. She was seething with hormones, a sexual cornucopia
waiting to happen. I brought her back to meet everyone else, and we
waited to see how she'd get along with Betty. Betty approved, and Kim
stayed with us (or we stayed near Kim) for five or six months, until
we were forced onward by the February blahs and the Swordfish's quest
to fuck a woman whose middle name started with Q (he'd already run the
alphabet through first and last names).
_________________________________________________________________

It took both of us to get Murdock upstairs and stripped for bed. He
was charmingly shy when it came time to remove his trousers, and
refused to let either of us watch. Finally he was asleep and we were
downstairs in the kitchen drinking instant coffee.

"Well," Kim said.

"Well," I replied.

"It's been a long time," she said.

"Almost twenty years."

We sat silently, and I compared her with the lithe teenager I'd known
twenty years earlier. A little thicker and graying, yes. Still pretty
damned attractive. She'd changed her hair to a walnut brown; I
rememembered it as chestnut. She wore it short; that looked nicer on
her than the standard-issue Farrah-Fawcett-do of the mid-seventies.

"Do you still talk to them? I mean, how are Meyer and the Swordfish
and Betty, and all of them?"

I shrugged and smiled. "Older. Meyer's still Meyer. Betty got
everything lifted and went to Cancun to live the professional Club Med
life. The Swordfish finally got married, six--no, seven years ago."

She laughed. "The Swordfish? My God, I thought he'd never get
married."

"Neither did he. I was his best man, and he kept turning back to me
while she walked up the aisle. He looked like he'd been gaffed." Kim
laughed again. She still had that nice laugh, from deep in the throat.

"What do you do, now?"

"Sales, of all the damned things. Envelopes."

"Oh, God."

I spread my hands. "Everybody needs them. Everybody uses them. You
can't kill people with an envelope." I shrugged. "It's a living."

She nodded. "And the bills have to be paid."

"It's shameful," I said, "but I like three squares a day. Not like it
used to be."

"God, those were the days."

"Weren't they, though?"
_________________________________________________________________

I don't always remember the last time with someone, but I remembered
the last time with Kim: She'd participated in one of Meyer's
orchestrated orgies, and she was wrecked, exhausted. I think she'd
just finished four essays or something; it was February. I rescued her
when I discovered she'd fainted under two other girls and the man they
were blowing. I carried her up to the loft where the bath and the
sleeping bed were and I laid her in the tub. I tried to undo the
nipple clamps, but they were too slippery with come. Finally I took
the plastic showerhead for washing hair and hosed her down.

I unfastened all the clamps--nipples, labia, elbows, ears--and
stripped off her rubber gloves and boots. I checked her for dildoes
and other insertions, anal and vaginal, and filled the tub with warm
water and bath oil. Threads of semen floated off her as the water
rose.

After a half hour, she was just asleep. I woke her enough to dry her
and put her in the big sleeping bed. The sleeping bed was my rule; I
insisted that everyone had to have a place to go where there was no
pressure to perform.

I tucked her in and she took hold of my arm. "Don't go," she murmured.
I stripped to my underwear and lay beside her, and she moulded herself
to me. We both fell asleep. I woke in the night to find that my shorts
were gone and she was astride me, flopped forward against my chest,
her head nuzzled against mine. Her hips moved up and down, riding me
gently. I don't know how long we performed like that, but she slowed
and shuddered several times. Downstairs, I could hear the susurrus of
orgy.

At last Kim pushed herself upright and tossed back her head. She
pumped up and down the full length of my cock, keeping me in only by
my foreskin. Unlike every other time we'd had sex, she was silent; we
made no sound except for the whispering of moist skin against skin. I
was almost detached from what was going on, just the instrument of her
pleasure; I watched her breasts move as she rode me. She gave a long
sigh, and I thought we were finished when she lay down on me. Her
nipples were cool and soft against my chest.

Instead, she tugged gently, and we both rolled over, keeping my cock
inside her, and settled into the old-fashioned missionary position.
"Hold me," she whispered. "Come inside me."

I didn't last very long; after only a couple of dozen strokes I came
with surprising force.

We lay there for some time, listening to our heartbeats. Finally she
kissed me and asked me to be a dear and fetch her clothes. She was
still wobbly when she tried to dress, so I drove her back to her
residence in her car.

Once there, I had no way home but to walk. Kim invited me to spend the
night, but I sensed that her time with us had ended, and I'm no good
with good-byes. I scratched Zeke behind the ears and walked back to
the loft.

Betty noticed Kim was gone, but she said nothing. Betty knew when to
be quiet.
_________________________________________________________________

"Thank you," Kim said. "For helping with George." She played with her
coffee spoon. "He doesn't drink that much, normally. Only when he goes
off to the strip clubs."

I smiled. "He doesn't think you know about that."

She shrugged. "You learn things about your husband, and one of the
things you learn is which lies are important."

"Like your virginity," I said.

"What?"

"He said you were a virgin when you got married."

"Oh. I hoped--" She started again, explaining: "I didn't mean to lie.
It just seemed so important to him, and it didn't matter to me--"

I held up my hands. "I wasn't criticising." I stood up. I had barely
touched my coffee. "I should go. It's late, and I've got clients to
see in the morning.

She seemed grateful, and nervous, and she walked me to the door. I
stopped after I put on my jacket and asked her, "Whatever happened to
Zeke, anyway?"

She laughed. "Zeke! Oh my God, I'd forgotten about Zeke!" Her hand
went to her cheek. "He died in his sleep. He lived a long, good life.
I miss him still sometimes."

"He was one of the good ones."

She said quietly, "So were you." I was embarrassed, I don't know why.

We looked at each other for a long time. A lot of things flashed into
my mind: the solid rhythmic weight of Kim on my hips; Meyer's fussy
voice as he directed someone; the sound of Kim's laugh; the musty
smell of the tarps in the back of the microbus; all the time on the
road and all the strangers, all the time; how Kim had said good-bye
and I hadn't, and how cold it had been walking home; and her husband,
sleeping upstairs. Part of me said, What the hell, so I leaned forward
and kissed her good-bye.

She returned the kiss, staying with me when I pulled back, pressing
her body against mine. We didn't break the kiss but stayed like that.
Her tongue was urgent, forceful. I could taste coffee and Amaretto in
her mouth. There was that stirring of my cock, that awareness, that
hadn't been present for the strippers or (it seemed) for a long time.
I wrapped my arms around her, the warm solid sweetness of her, and
hugged her tightly. She bit gently on my tongue, and I withdrew it,
her tongue following mine. I heard, or thought I heard, a sound from
upstairs. I pulled my head back; she leaned hers forward to follow but
I broke free.

I tried a smile. "Whew."

She moved away from me and sat on the edge of an end table by the coat
rack. "How long are you in town?"

"All month," I told her. "I'm using this as my base for the month."

"Maybe we could have coffee. A breakfast or lunch or something."

"Maybe." I could see the clean line of her neck and shoulders, the
weight of her breasts under her blouse, the curve of her calves. I
wondered what she looked like naked, now. "Kim," I said.

"Yes?" she asked.

I paused. To be honest, I was listening for noises from upstairs. She
uncrossed her legs, and I wanted to tear her clothes off. Instead, I
said, "Kim, I don't play with clients' wives. It's a fairness thing."

"I don't cheat on my husband. We'll have coffee." She grinned. "It's
an old times thing."

I nodded and I left. I didn't even shake her hand.
_________________________________________________________________

I didn't expect her to call me for coffee, and if she did, I wasn't
going to accept. Playing around with a client or a client's wife is
trouble. But in my hotel room the next night, I found myself thinking
about her. I flipped through channels on the television, discovered I
was seriously thinking about the porn movies, and grabbed the Yellow
Pages phone book off the nightstand. I opened it to the Escorts
section, then shut it again.

Damn it, I didn't want a pro. And I didn't want to go to the bar and
sift through the teases and the tarts.

Finally, I picked up the phone and called Betty in Cancun; I didn't
know what time it was there. She picked up the phone on the fourth
ring.

"Hey, Betty," I said.

"Gil?" Nice to know she still recognized my voice. "Where are you?"

I told her. "Betts, I hate to do this, but I need a favor."

I heard her murmuring to someone at her end, and there was a rustling
sound. I heard a door shut. "I sent Marco to get some K-Y. He's been
desperate to get into my ass."

"Hope I'm not causing any problems."

"No, it was time I said yes anyway. What's your problem, sweetie?"

I told her about Kim, and said, "Betts, I'm lonely. Who do we know in
town?"

"For a good therapeutic fuck?" Long silence. "You can't glue a broken
heart with jism, Gil. You just can't."

"My heart's not broken, Betts. I just don't have the patience for the
bar scene tonight, and I can't put a hooker on the company card." She
sighed. "Please," I said.

She sighed again. "Renee Parks. You be nice to her," Betty told me.
"Remember there's two of you in bed."

"You're starting to talk in platitudes, Betts." She grumbled and gave
me Renee's phone number. "Thanks," I told her. "And hey--don't be a
tight-ass."

"That'd spoil Marco's fun."
_________________________________________________________________

Renee was blonde and slim and handsome in blue stretch pullover and
black denims. After we ate at a nice Thai place, we went back to her
place and chatted. She worked as a property assessor and taught
fitness classes three times a week. She'd met Betty at Club Med a few
years earlier. "I still write Betty sometimes," she said. "Well, I
haven't written for a year I guess, but it still counts if I mean to,
doesn't it?"

"I think so," I told her. "I don't see Betty very often, but I think
of us as friends."

"Uh-huh. Some people, you know them for years but you never know them.
Others, you meet them and you've known them all your life." I agreed.
Renee made a toast--"To friends"--and we drained our glasses. She got
up to pour more drinks: another daquiri for her and another club soda
for me.

"How come you don't drink?" she asked.

I shrugged and brushed my fingers against hers as I took the glass
from her. Her fingers were startlingly warm; the glass was cold and
slick with condensation. "Used to have a problem with it. So I gave it
up."

Renee sat next to me. "I know how that goes. I had a boyfriend for a
while, claimed I was a sex addict. So I gave it up."

"Really?"

"Yes," Renee said. "I gave him up right then." She had a big wide
smile, lots of teeth. "My problem with booze," she said, "is the
calories. You know how many calories there are in three daquiris?" She
paused meaningfully.

"No," I told her. "How many?" Her leg was firm and muscular, solid
against mine. I could still leave; I didn't have to sleep with this
woman. On the other hand, that was why I was here.

"A lot," she said, still smiling. "Thousands." And that was the cue.

"Thousands?" I gave her a grin and a wink. "You'll have to work that
off."

Renee's smile got bigger and she leaned forward. "I thought you'd
never ask." Her eyes were mismatched, I noticed: one blue and one
hazel. She closed her eyes to kiss me. I leaned into the kiss, ran my
fingers along her spine to the nape of her neck, stroked her behind
the ears. She moaned softly into my mouth as her tongue explored. I
liked the way she smelled.

Renee shifted her weight and pressed against me. I fell backwards onto
the couch. "That's okay," she said. She scraped a fingernail along my
fly before opening my pants. My cock was starting to swell, and with
one warm finger she pulled it free.

Her mouth was warm and liquid over the head. She sucked my cock into
her mouth, playing with the foreskin until my cock was too large and
too stiff for that. She bobbed up and down, not deep-throating me but
tasting me and exploring my cock with her tongue. I fumbled with her
top, pulling it up but not pulling it off, unwilling to break the
marvellous connection between her mouth and my cock.

"My God...." I murmured.

She lifted up her head and smiled at me. "You like?"

I brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen across her eyes. "I
like very much."

"Never had a guy who wasn't circumcised, before. I like it." She
wrapped her small hard hand around my cock and pumped slowly a couple
of times. She bent down again and licked the tip. "I hope you don't
come too soon."

"I'll do what I can," I told her, and pulled off her top. Her breasts
were small and conical with dark and compact nipples. I cupped one
breast in my hand; the nipple slipped between two fingers and I
squeezed it gently. She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, then
tugged on my pants. We spent a moment sorting out clothing, and
suddenly I was naked and Renee was wearing only her jeans.

I stood with her and we embraced, touching each other along the
lengths of our bodies, the head of my cock pressed against the base of
her sternum, and we kissed some more. I traced her jawline with my
tongue, sucked her earlobe, and blew in her ear. She shivered and
reached for my nipples. She pinched and fondled them until they were
as hard as her own.

Still holding her tightly against me, I slid down her body, kissing
and nipping warm tender flesh. I took one hard nipple into my mouth
and swirled my tongue around it, then licked the pebbled tip of the
other, then blew gently on the first one again. I nipped at the
underside of one breast and circled her navel with my tongue.

I undid the button of her jeans and pulled; there was a loud tearing
noise. "Sorry," Renee said. "Velcro. My zipper broke, and I thought
I'd try--"

"I like it," I told her. "It lets me get"--I pulled down her
jeans--"*here* that much faster." Her underpants had a floral pattern,
and her pubic hair had been trimmed short and shaved to a narrow
strip. I mouthed her mound, tasting her through the cotton.

"Don't," she said, and skinned off her panties. "Don't eat me yet,
Gil. I come so hard I'm no good for anything else. I want you to fuck
me first, then you can make me come." She took hold of my cock and
began to walk backwards, pulling me towards her bedroom. "I want this
cock in my cunt. I want you to fuck me hard with this lovely stiff
cock." She giggled as she fell backwards onto the bed, her legs
spread. "Or you could fuck me stiff with this lovely hard cock."

I shuffled forward on my knees. "I'm going to fuck you, lovely, with
this stiff hard cock." I placed the head of my cock between her
swollen lips and thrust forward, sliding my cock along the length of
her lips, wetting it. She was very wet. I thrust again, and again; she
moaned each time my cock rubbed her clit.

"Fuck me," she said.

I pushed the head down so it was at her entrance and I thrust again.
She was so wet the head popped in easily. She gasped. I pulled back
slightly, feeling my foreskin slide, and thrust again, pushing myself
halfway into her.

"Oh god," she said. "Oh god oh god." She was panting, and her eyebrows
were knit together. "Fuck me--" She squeezed her eyes shut.

I pushed a third time and sank my cock almost all the way in. With the
last thrust, I was buried in her, my pubic bone pressed heavily
against her clit, my cock engulfed in her warmth and wetness.

And a funny thing happened: Renee came. She gasped and then forgot to
breathe; her arms and legs spasmed and her hips thrashed once, twice,
sliding down and up my cock. I froze. I'd never had a woman come with
so little cause before.

Renee tried to speak but all that came out was a little mewling sound.
I adjusted my weight and stroked my cock in and out. She gave a few
gasping breaths and then opened her eyes. After another moment, she
focussed on me. "Oh Jesus. Oh, Gil...I've never...your cock is
just.... Oh God."

I withdrew almost all the way; she grabbed my ass and tried to keep me
in. I began to tease her with just the head, in-out-in-out-in-out and
she gave a little grunt each time the head popped in, a little catch
each time it pulled out. Her fingers clamped tightly on my ass and I
suddenly drove my full length into her, then all the way out, long
hard fast strokes. She rotated her hips, thrusting back at me, and
suddenly she came again.

We tried a half-dozen positions before she was too exhausted to move,
and finally she just lay there and moaned, "Please...I can't...." She
looked so weak and spent that I didn't have the heart to just keep
pumping until I came.

I lay beside her while she dozed. I felt tired. Unsatisfied.
Frustrated and used. Distantly amused that she had used me instead of
the other way around. After an hour she woke up and traced a finger
along the side of my face. "Hi there," she said.

"Hi."

"That was...incredible. I mean, it was never like that before. Not
even on drugs or anything."

"I'm glad."

She reached down for my cock and began to play with it. "It's not even
that *big*. Sorry, I don't mean that the way it sounds, it's not
small, it's even bigger than average, but it's not huge. I've had
really big cocks and I didn't come like *that*." She cupped my balls
in her hand and gently probed my asshole with one finger. "I don't
suppose you could leave it when you go?"

My cock was starting to get hard again; after all, I hadn't come yet.
"I don't think so. You'll just have to take advantage of it while it's
here."
_________________________________________________________________

Renee was all lean body and eager flexibility. I went back to the
hotel at dawn, exhausted and still frustrated.

When Kim phoned two nights later, I said yes.
_________________________________________________________________

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