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John and Barbara were minor characters that appeared in another Literotica submission I wrote called “Sixty Seconds over Laura”. In that telling, they were pretty much glossy cartoon figures that showed up in a flashback and were there to provide some context to the depravity of the main story line. However something weird happened over time. Every time I re-read that story they seemed to get into my head and ask, maybe demand might be a better description, for their back stories to be fleshed out. Not an easy task… they were meant to be disposable characters and coming up with believable story lines that didn’t bog down in details wasn’t easy. What I’ve done is to rewrite the scene that they appeared in and do it from their perspective. And did my best to keep it interesting and at least, mildly lewd. Did I hit the mark?
I met John in grammar school when we were 13. We both lived on the Upper West Side of Manhattan in apartments that were roughly the same size. The difference was that in my place, there were 3 of us (parents and myself) with a big living room, walk in closets and multiple bathrooms to use. John lived in a similar apartment a few blocks north but shared it with 25 to 30 room mates, mostly undocumented immigrants from the Caribbean and Central America.
For personal space, he still shared a bed with his mother, set off in a far corner of what would have been the living room. There were beds lining the entire perimeter of the room with each one hosting at least two or three people, occasionally an entire family. It was common for them to sleep in shifts with the parents holding down one or two jobs and the nights set aside for the kids to sleep so that they could be available to go to school the next day.
His father had left long before he was born. His mother, quite beautiful back in her day, had been worn down by years of scraping by cleaning other people’s houses. Turning tricks when things got really desperate. Staying a step ahead of immigration and relying on shamans and Santeria to take care of her declining health. Unfortunately, the votive candles, incantations and chicken blood didn’t have much effect on the glucose levels that were ravaging her body and now, diabetic with failing eyesight, she was more often trading sex for money just to keep food on the table.
There wasn’t much room for privacy. John learned about the birds and the bees from all the random fucking that went on in a place like that. In another, slightly different time line, all those bad influences might have conspired to steer him into joining a gang or becoming a drug addict and be lost to the world before he reached his twenties. Fortunately, he liked to read and found refuge at the library and classrooms of our grammar school. By the time he was 17, he was a straight A student and qualified for enough scholarships and financial aid to put himself through college.
He met Barbara in his freshman year at City College. At a mixer for incoming freshmen she spotted him from clear across the room. Drawn to his finely chiseled features and the wavy jet black hair that framed his face, he was “pretty” she thought. So much so that she had to think for a moment to accurately gauge what gender he might be. Most days, it wouldn’t matter. She would have been fine with either but tonight, she was hungry to feel a big, hard cock inside her.
After some small talk to qualify him as the next notch on her bedpost, she took him by the hand and lead him into an empty bedroom. She’d been a shameless slut (or for you PC types, sexually adventurous) in high school. She’d done this enough times to know exactly what she was doing. For John though, this was going to be his first time with a woman. He was lucky that he matched with someone as experienced as Barbara. The bed was piled high with coats from all the guests. She swept them aside and fumbled to pull his cock out of his pants. Sucked him until he was hard. Pushed him down onto the bed and lowered herself onto his unexpectedly large cock.
At that point, his own sexual history had been entirely in service to older men. From as early as he could remember, sharing a bed with his mother meant a front row seat to the men who would come to visit her at night. Someone had thought to string up a clothesline around the room and hanging a bedsheet from it granted the residents just enough privacy from prying eyes to get on with the business of life. John had no idea what sex was of course so other than the annoyance of being rudely woken up from a sound sleep, the action was just something he watched unfold in discrete steps.
Men would show up, quietly draw the bedsheet aside and gently nudge his mother to wake her up. She would put their penises in her mouth. Sometimes they’d climb on top and rock their hips into her. On a good night there might be some giggling. Hushed moaning and heavy breathing. Then they’d give her some money, which she never failed to put under her pillow escort izmir and quickly fade off to sleep. He noticed that on nights when this happened, she fell asleep faster and tended to wake up smiling and in a better mood. She needed the money of course but the truth was her life had been hard. She probably craved their attention just as much as the cash. Not sure which of the two made the bigger difference in making her happy.
When he was older he asked her about what it all meant but she hushed all his questions.
“I can’t tell you what you want to know when you won’t understand the answers…” was her usual reply.
Around the time he hit puberty he started to notice a change. Instead of getting annoyed at the noise and commotion of the disruptions of his mother’s visitors, his own cock started to take on a life of its own… it grew bigger and harder just like the ones on the men who came to see her. He began to be more and more fascinated with everything that went on until his mother, noticing that he wasn’t a child any more and a bit more flush with money, was able to pay enough to get John his own room.
She had the best of intentions of course but John alone in his own room meant that he was now open for visitors too. Instead of money, men would bring him little presents… baseballs, t-shirts, converse sneakers. He’d watched his own mother enough times to have an idea of what they wanted and was curious to try on his own. Like her, he was happy for the gifts and absent a father in his life, grateful for the attention they’d bring. This arrangement finally came to an end only when he started college and moved into a dorm.
Barbara, with her pale skin, ice blue eyes and hair cut to a spiky bob presented a brand new gender that he had no experience with. For him to be the one on his back as she used him to fuck herself to multiple orgasms was a dream come true. When he finally came, Barbara was shocked by the force and quantity of the semen spurting inside of her.
“How long have you been saving that up?” she asked breathless as she collapsed onto his chest, the fluids from her pussy spilling thoughtlessly onto someone’s fine leather coat.
The younger Barbara had been diligent about using condoms but the sheer amount of sex she was having started to reduce her sense of urgency. From using them every single time, to just the first few times, to occasionally, to now… mostly as an afterthought. If she was going to get pregnant she would have by now she thought. She hadn’t counted on John’s athletic sperm to do its job as well as it did. Almost nine months to the day, John and Barbara introduced Xavier into the world and their identity as a family was sealed.
Their first 10 years together were close to perfect. Advanced degrees for both of them. Another child on the way. Making enough money to move into an upscale apartment and having enough room to take care of John’s mother who was now in the early stages of dementia. He was able to buy the drugstore that he’d worked at since he was a teen. By all accounts, an American dream come true. They turned out to be unexpectedly well matched. John was calm. Submissive by nature. Dedicated to doing whatever he could to make his wife happy. Barbara was passionate and fiery and even the occasional rages that would flare up with her started to fade as the idea of being happy as a family gave them a common cause to work towards.
In their first year together Barbara had secretly fucked a few guys on the side. They were mostly exes who showed up unexpectedly and maybe out of habit and some misguided sense of obligation, she went through the rituals of sucking, fucking and briefly reveling in the familiar feeling of being a whore. At some point she realized what she was doing could put everything in jeopardy and decided to be as faithful and honest as she could. Her wild oats were sown already.
Ironically, it was John who had a much harder time being faithful. He did have a lot to deal with. He’d just brought a business and was obsessing with the million details needed to keep it running. There was a son and another on the way now and determined not to repeat the neglect of his own experience, he was as attentive and devoted a father as he could be. But some part of him missed his early life when he was easily, openly sexually available for use. No one was as surprised as he was when he decided to revisit his old apartment. Most of the guys who had taken advantage of him when he was younger were still there. Older, fatter, slower but no less predatory.
This time though it was John that made the moves. There was a temporarily empty room and once word got out that John was back, his old lovers cued up to have a turn with him. When he was younger, it was always one on one. Now older and pressed for time, they came in groups of 2 or 3 and he was eager and happy to service them all. To suck their cocks, swallow their cum and lose himself in the bliss and mindless izmir escort bayan effort of being used.
When he got home that night, he collapsed into his chair and quickly fell asleep. Woke up to find Barbara glaring at him. Six months pregnant, her belly swollen and hard, she’d reached the waddling stage of getting around and was sensitive that her looks, her persona, once as a ravishing vixen was now reduced to a mom for the second time around.
“What’s her name?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Whoever you fucked today.”
“That’s crazy, why would you even think that?”
“You’ve been depressed and tense for months now. Tonight was the first time you actually smiled at me when you got home and passed out for a nap like a normal person. Look, I’m not sure if I’m even pissed off or just want to send her a thank you note but I know you did something today you don’t want to talk about.”
For the first time in a very long while he had this feeling that his world might fall apart any minute. He remembered that feeling well… it was like that almost every day growing up. He knew he’d broken her trust but found himself in an impossible place, wedged in between an arousal he couldn’t ignore and the woman who provided all the missing pieces to making his life complete.
James Francis Spinelli was an only child. A product of a misbegotten marriage between two rabidly self absorbed narcissists. Other than obsessions with themselves or their careers, neither was particularly kind or available or generous with their time. Once the afterglow of a new baby had worn off, young James was promptly shuttled off to boarding schools. Later, a religious conversion on his mother’s part sent him to a seminary where he was fast tracked to becoming a priest. By the time he was 25, now Father Spinelli had accumulated an impressive collection of degrees in theology, social work and psychology. He was ecstatic to be in a job where he could apply what he’d learned but miserable that the same position relied so heavily on a faith he didn’t have or even understand. Like a lot of people, he had just kept on doing the same thing over and over without really thinking through where it was leading him.
At this point in his life, his parents were gone and the only friends and relations he had were those he’d accumulated through the church. He set his sights on quitting the priesthood but the prospect of starting from scratch… a new job, a new house, new friends, all to be started from absolute zero made him stop and consider if a move that drastic was really something he wanted.
Like a lot of people who stall in making important life decisions, this one was made for him. He was coaching a youth league basketball game when a tiny blob of calcified fat broke off from an artery and cut off the circulation to a key muscle in his heart. What started out as a perceived case of indigestion turned into a dull ache that spread to his jaw and chest and upper arm. Deprived of blood, his lungs couldn’t function properly and to the horrified look of the students, he turned blue, grabbed desperately at his chest and passed out on the spot.
Some people say that in near death experiences, there’s a light at the end of a tunnel. You get to feel the presence of god as a warm, enveloping glow that validates your life and welcomes you to the next one.
For James there was only blackness.
He woke up in an ER a few hours later. Some concerned looking nurses and doctors hovering over him through a forest of IV lines.
“Thought we were going to lose you there… you had a classic widow maker of a heart attack!”
If Saul had his epiphany on his way to Jerusalem, James had it in the ER of Roosevelt Hospital.
This is it he thought. No heaven or hell. No judgement. Just a few years to figure out what you wanted your life to be and get it right. Even the phrase the doctor used… “widow maker” gnawed at him. If he’d died there would have been no wife or lover left to mourn him.
“Am I going to be OK?”
“I think so. You’ve come through the worst of it. There’s a bit of damage to your heart tissue but a better diet and some exercise should set you straight.”
For the moment his rehabilitation and recovery edged out any ideas he had about striking out on his own. In between doctor visits and the now limited duties as a parish priest, he determined to live a life that was more authentic. Sex was on the agenda now. He was still a virgin, barely even had any experience with masturbation. In spite of all the letters from the degrees that decorated his name, he had the sexual sophistication of someone who had just hit puberty.
Adolescents have a chance to embrace their sexuality in opportunistic bits and pieces. They take what they can when they can get it. As a 25 year old virgin, Jim had a lot of ground to cover. His virginity disappeared in an afternoon with a hooker he met on 8th Avenue. Nervous and fumbling, izmir escortlar she was kind enough to take charge and patiently show what to do. In exchange, he kept her employed all night and through the next day and paid her accordingly.
“I think I’m going to take the rest of the week off after this…” were her parting words.
The very next week, he found a bath house through the Village Voice. It didn’t matter that it was gay… at this point, he craved physical human contact… gender was almost an afterthought.
Without any prohibitions limiting his behavior, he had the time of his life having sex with anyone who might be the least bit interested in him. On one level this was just the fullest expression of a long suppressed lust. Maybe more than that, it was pure research. His own exploration of a basic part of the human experience that had alway been denied to him. Of course he knew the mechanics of sex. The names of the body parts. Stages of arousal. A textbook overview of how everything worked. The reality was something else altogether. No textbook could explain the extra dimensions of attraction. Dominance and submission. Tease and denial. Lust.
With women, he assumed he was supposed to be in charge, impose his desire onto a willing partner. When men were involved, it was much more fluid. Almost a negotiation to determine who would be the top and bottom. He became aware that often, arousal came from nuances that lived only in his head and had little to do with actual sex.
On one occasion he was drowsily falling asleep in a steam room. He’d lost count of how many times and people he’d had sex with and was thinking of calling it a day with a shower and a dinner out when one of his regular partners showed up. Jim started to wave him off and explain he was tired but almost as a joke, his friend just stuck his cock in his mouth in mid sentence. In a few moments, half a dozen other guys had joined in and Jim was reduced to a mindless cum bucket as each of them had a turn fucking him and letting him suck their cocks. Initially he’d had a thought to struggle and fight back but somehow with the intensity of the attention and stimulation, he was hard all over again and found his helpless submission to be more arousing than anything he’d ever experienced.
John went to see Father Spinelli as a last resort. He’d been back to his old apartment a number of times and Barbara seemed to know instinctually, every time he did.
He was a troubled parishioner seeing his priest for counseling. There was a crucifix on the wall and a framed photo of the pope. Light streaming through faux stained glass windows. If it looked like a common scene, nothing about it was ordinary.
“My wife thinks I’m having an affair. The truth is I think I might be gay… I can’t seem to stop myself from going back. Every time I do, I’m helpless to resist.”
Father Spinelli knew John very well. He’d been his pastor growing up and knew what it was like for him and what he had to do to claw his way out of his circumstances.
“I’m going to ask a stupid question… do you love your wife? I mean are you still attracted to her sexually?”
“Of course… Barbara is…”
Spinelli interrupted, “Do you still want to fuck her?”
The directness shocked him. “Well yes, we’re great together.”
“So maybe you’re bisexual and not gay? You might as well apologize for having brown eyes instead of blue.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“What I’m saying is, you’re as guilty as someone who likes chocolate more than vanilla. For whatever reasons, we have preferences. It would be insane to think that everyone’s would be the same.”
“But our relationship? Where does that leave me with my wife?”
“Why don’t you tell her what you want? She may have a secret life too. There may even be an overlap between the the deep dark fantasies she has and yours. In any event, life is short and long before it’s over, sex will stop being a concern. But your bond, your relationship can last forever if you can just figure out how to do it right.”
“This isn’t what I was expecting from a priest.”
“I’m talking to you as a friend. To hell with all that other nonsense. If you want, I’d be happy to talk to Barbara too.”
It was a week later when he came to dinner at their apartment. Barbara was late getting in from work, the full size of her belly obvious even from under her overcoat. Father James or Jim as he now liked to be called, was already there when she got home. Profusely apologizing as she walked through the door, Jim was about to hand her a martini but noticing her baby bump he thought better of it and just helped ease her out of her coat.
“I didn’t realize you were expecting… congratulations! That’s great news.
John beamed a proud smile as he left the room to put together some appetizers.
She waited until he was out of earshot. “I think I know what he’s been doing.” she said unexpectedly.
“At first, I thought he was seeing someone else but that didn’t make sense… he’s actually pretty shy and I know a little bit about what it was like for him growing up. When I asked him if he was gay he couldn’t so much as look at me.”
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