by Jamie Knight
Logan lay me out on the bed, quickly taking down his pants. I was still wearing my bra, so I took it off and threw it aside, unleashing my tits. Logan couldn’t have been more delighted, taking both of my breasts in his warm, strong hands, giving each of my nipples love in their own turn.
He then moved down to my belly. I lay back and enjoyed the feeling as he worked his way down to my pelvis on the way to my eagerly waiting pussy.
He licked more gently than usual, taking his time to work my clit with his finger while he lapped at my pussy lips. Usually he would start off soft and then get harder, stopping and massaging my pussy as I orgasmed. This time he licked and teased and caressed me until he had coaxed me to a lower lever but still very pleasurable orgasm. Not screaming and squirting but still shaking and moaning.
When I had come down, while he was still massaging my pussy lips with his thumb, Logan got on top of me, stoking his cock against my pussy. It was the first time we had done it that way, Logan no doubt usually figuring that the difference in our height would pose a problem. Now that he was liquored up, though, there seemed to be nothing he wouldn’t try.
It was a bit odd, looking at Logan's neck while he fucked me, I won't lie, but it still felt amazingly good, his cock going deeper inside me than it ever had before, bringing me to the kind of screaming, squirting, body shaking orgasm I had come to expect whenever I was with Logan.
I had wanted to do anal and I guessed Logan probably did, too, as he seemed to like fucking me in the ass as much as I liked to get fucked. We never got there, though.
I hadn’t gotten to his house until late and Kristen's drugs worked quicker than I imaged. Without really meaning to or in anyway planning it, Logan lay down next to me after we had both cum and we fell asleep in each other's arms.
Before I knew it, I heard Logan's alarm clock screaming in unearthly shriek, likely intentionally designed so that no mortal soul could possibly ignore it.
"Wake up; you have to go!" Logan said, shaking me roughly as though the alarm wouldn’t have woken me.
"Wha-" I started to ask.
"You have to go," he said, cutting me off, as he was picking up my bra from where it had landed and throwing it at me.
I was about to ask what was happening but he had run out of the room before I could. No sooner did I get my bra fastened than Logan returned with my panties, dress and shoes, all of which I had left in the parlor the night before. Throwing these on the bed, he turned his attention to getting his pants on and calling Timothy to tell him to bring the limo around.
As the limo headed to the road, I saw another one come in. It was a bit shorter than the one I was in, looking closer to a long sedan but with dark, probably bulletproof windows letting everyone know someone important was inside, without letting anyone see who they were.
And that was the pressing question running through my mind.
Who was coming to visit Logan?
Was it his girlfriend?
His wife? I wondered, with a lump in my throat.
I tried my best to process it all, not an easy task in my sleep addled state. In the end I just gave up and cried.
I didn’t know what was going on but I did know that I had been rushed out of his house and now someone else was being brought there.
How could I have been so stupid?
Chapter Sixteen- Logan
It had only been a week and I already missed her.
I really didn’t understand at first.
Why would Kora be so sweet and then cut me off like that?
I'd never imaged she would sleep with me. I mean, literally sleep with me, like cuddled up warm all night, but we had and it was incredible. Especially in the morning, feeling her warmth against me, seeing the rising sun cast its ray though her hair. I had dreamt of it but never really thought it would come true.
And then it had.
Briefly.
Then she was gone, and at first I told myself it was just the way she normally acted, running away after we were intimate.
But then it hit me. I could have sworn that I actually heard music. Just one peek out from behind my ego, not an easy task considering the size of it sometimes, I knew exactly what I had done. Or, rather, what I hadn't.
I had really wanted to explain. Only looking back did I realize what a jerk I had been. I'd basically thrown her out after we had had awesome sex and literally slept together. To make matters worse, my manner of goodbye had many things in common with the infamous college break pool party many years ago.
Jesus, I had talked the way characters in cheesy action movies do about impending nuclear strikes from Russia or whoever the fuck we were fighting with at the time. Lengthy explanations really weren't in the cards right then. I had to get her out before my appointment.
No wonder she didn't want to talk to me. I really wished I could just take time to at least tell her what was going on. Who was coming. Surely there would have been time for that as I threw her clothes at her and pulled my pants on. But in the heat of the moment, I was just surprised I had fallen asleep the night before, and in a rush to get ready for the day.
Making matters worse, I think she might have seen the car come in. The big sedan that looked like a small limo, especially with the darkened windows. I couldn't even imagine who she might have thought was in there. Some hidden underworld figure, perhaps, or maybe even the wife that I didn't actually have.
I didn’t have anyone else since Kora and never had, ever since way back when. Since that night on the mountain, my sex life had really been all about her, pathetic as that fucking sounds, since there hadn’t been any of it between the pool party and now. Though, to be fair, she had no real way of knowing that.
Like when I called her that first night, a few lines of text on the way home not being nearly enough for me, I had a tumbler in one hand and my phone in the other. Only now the tumbler had vodka with the added danger of an energy drink. A glowing green cocktail called Vodka Gears that my friend had introduced me to in college. I tried not to drink it much these days, it being bad for my health and all, but I saved it for when I really needed it, and now was one of those times.
I took another sip, continually hitting redial with my nearly cramped finger.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
Four.
And then I heard, for what seemed like the millionth time, Kora's beautiful voice telling me she can't answer the phone and to please leave a message and she would get right back to me. If I had been able to talk to her, I'd have suggested that she rethink that last part of the message, since it clearly wasn’t something she intended to do.
I’d also let her know that I loved her madly and would never let her go. Or at least never get over her.
It had taken a while to come to that realization, but it was true. I had looked at it every possible way and there was no real alternative. I was with Kora or I suffered from terminal heartbreak.
I dialed again, killing the call almost immediately, remembering that I had just called literally seconds before. I guess some things really can't change. No matter how much you might wish they could.
I took another sip of Vodka Gears and tried to relax. It wouldn't do anyone any good if I'd had a heart attack. Most people would have said I was too young, with my whole life ahead of me, but bad tickers ran in my dad's side of the family as much as towering height and dashing good looks.
My Uncle Rory, who actually drank less than I did, went through a massive coronary embolism when he was 26. He never touched alcohol again. In some ways I wished I shared his discipline. Not the belts to the bare ass I later discovered grandpa had handed out to his kids like candy mints but the willpower to break a habit you've carried for eleven years. I raised a toast to Uncle Rory, wherever he may be. We had lost touch over the years.
The phone rang suddenly and I jerked in surprise. Part of me, the eternal optimist part that all the other parts wanted to beat up, really hoped that it was Kora.
"Dad?" I said, that being almost as much of a surprise.
"Hey, son," dad said, seeming slightly surprised that I had picked up.
"How are you?" I asked, not expecting him to call.
He had never been one to like talking on the phone, and I wasn’t exactly that type either, I suppose getting that from him. But we had been making some in roads lately due to dealing with grandpa’s estate and our business plans. It had helped us to form a closer bond.
"Better than expected, honestly. All I need is for your mother to come back and I will have life back exactly the way I like it."
I hadn't really thought about that. I thought I was upset about Kora. Dad had actually found the love of his life, even married her and still lost her and not just because she was mad about something he had done. I could still hope that Kora would call. He had no such hope with mom.
"How are things with you?" he asked, after I didn’t respond to what he had said.
I tried to never encourage his false delusions about my mom returning from the grave. I knew that logically he knew it couldn’t happen. But it seemed to make him feel better to pretend or hope.
"Wow, let's see," I said, looking for a good place to start. "I have billions of dollars I never asked for and never really earned, a house so big you need a map and compass to get from the bedrooms to the kitchen and giant hole where my heart should be. On the upside, I still have my record collection and this sweet record player grandpa left me. Lou, Steven and Robert are really helping me through."
"Lou, Steven and Robert?"
"Reed, Morrissey and Smith," I said.
"Well, now, there's a supergroup!" dad said, with a laugh.
I had forgotten how funny he could be.
"I can't disagree," I said.
"What have you got on now?"
"Emperor," I said.
"Can't say I'm familiar," dad said, trying to be nice.
I held the phone out towards the speaker so he could hear a bit.
"The track is called 'With Strength I Burn,'" I said.
"Are you feeling okay, son?" dad asked, sounding concerned.
"Do you remember Kora?" I asked.
"Kora Evans, from your school? Pretty girl, kinda curvy, bright red hair?"
"Wow, if you had to give a description to a sketch artist the guy would be caught in a day," I said.
"I do my best. What about her?"
"We, er, made contact recently," I said.
"In the, um, biblical sense?" dad asked, the southern gentleman not fully pulled out of him yet.
"Yeah, well, to be accurate it was Kristen who made first contact. It was an accident, as I understand it. Kristen just sort of walked in to where Kora worked and they seem to have struck things up again. Kristen, bless her heart, more or less ambushed us by inviting both Kora and me to a dinner party without telling us."
"And awkwardness ensued?" dad guessed.
"Surprisingly no. We kind of flirted. It was a bit acid tinged but mostly friendly. I really thought she would throw some wine at me and storm off and I wouldn't blame her if she did."
"Is there something I should know?" dad asked.
It was even less comfortable talking about sex with dad than with Kristen, but I figured it couldn't hurt. I needed to talk to someone and neither Kora nor Kristen were available right then. And Kora might not ever be available for me again.
"There was a misunderstanding, a couple misunderstandings, when we were all younger that left both Kora and me with hurt feelings and bruised egos and made Kora and Kristen drift apart. Mixed signals, let's say, but when we saw each other again, Kora and me that is, not Kristen and me; this isn't a John Ford play."
"Who?" Dad interrupted.
"Playwright? Writing around the same time as Shakespeare. Wrote 'Tis Pity She's
a - never mind. We just didn't seem to be able to keep away from each other. Texting, calling, a date and, well, relations, all within a day. I thought it would be one time thing. Sort of satisfying our curiosity. Finally doing what had never happened before. Then it happened again, sort of out of the blue. Both times she left before breakfast. Before daybreak, actually. And then, with nothing particular seeming to change, she did. Stay the night, that is. Now she won't talk to me. Though she and Kristen seem to still be friends."
"That makes sense. In my experience women tend to form a different sort of bond with each other."
"Make sense," I said.
At first it sounded a bit sexist, but he wasn't wrong. I had noticed how sad Kora's absence had made Kristen. As much as I had wanted to be in contact with Kora during all those years we weren’t, I was also somewhat aware that it was our failed attempt at a relationship that had pushed Kristen and her apart in the first place. At least I suspected it was. Brother's intuition and all that.
"I remember Kora being a really sweet girl," dad said.
"She is," I admitted, mostly to myself.
"I'm glad Kristen is friends with her again."
"She does seem happier now," I said.
"Good friends can be hard to find," dad said.
I figured he would know as well as anyone.
"Don't I know it," I said.
I wasn't still in contact with any from my "friends" from high school or even college, when I managed to balance a bit more and go out a bit. Most of them were really just hang a rounds. Probably hoping some of my popularity would rub off on them.
There was really no one I trusted, except for Kristen of course. I didn't realize it at the time but in a lot of ways, though she was pretty young, she was there for me when things got dark. It was morbid to think, but if I was really honest with myself, it was unlikely I would still be alive if it weren't for her.
"Sometimes, when things are complex, it is best to leave them in the past," dad said.
"Yeah," I said, feeling a weight in my chest.
Dad and I may be talking now, trying to patch things up, but that is something he would also never be able to do with grandpa. I really was in awe of his strength and determination to keep going.
"Best not to risk things for your sister," dad said.
"You’re right," I agreed.
"Haven't heard that in a while," dad said with a chuckle.
"Well, you're going to be hearing it a lot more. I mean, you did run the business for nearly twenty years. That gives you what? Sixteen years more experience than me?"
"Fourteen, but who’s counting?" Dad said, good humored as usual.
"Right, well, the point is, I'm mostly going to be the captain of the ship. I learned a lot but I also know enough to defer to those with more experience."
"Good to know," dad said.
"Kristen should get a say-so, though, too. I gave her a lot more shares of the business than Grandpa had left her. Honestly, I think she was kind of short-changed in that respect. Yeah, she got the nice stuff but she worked on the sailing business too. Sure, she's not working anymore but she should get something."
"That's my boy! How much did you give her?"
"Twenty-five percent of my fifty. You get back the other fifty. It is truly a family business now."
"I think I'm gonna cry," dad said.
"Please do," I said. “It would make me feel like less of a loser for doing it sometimes myself.”
"What would your grandpa say about that?"
"Something stupid and retrograde, I suspect," I said.
That made dad laugh his full belly laugh that always reminded me of Santa Clause.
"It's not good to speak ill of the dead, son."
"Even when I only speak the truth?" I asked.
"Especially then," dad joked.
"Oh no!" I exclaimed in faux horror.
"Don't worry, kid. I'll keep you on the straight and narrow," dad said.
"And help the business, too," I said.
"We’ll see."
"I call poo-poo on your 'we'll see'; you've got good ideas and it is high time you got a chance to put t
hem into action."
"It's nice someone thinks so," dad said.
I didn't think this was directed at me, but I still felt bad. I might not have given him shit back in the day, but I had sided with grandpa, tacitly supporting his point of view, back when I was too young and ignorant to see what bullshit it was.
"Hard to disagree with facts, dad. Without looking like an idiot."
"You know, traditionally, it is meant to be the parent encouraging the child. Not the other way around," dad said.
"I'm beginning to question tradition," I said
"I can't say that's a bad idea. Tradition did lead Europe into two world wars."
"Not that we should entirely dismiss the past," I said.
"No," dad agreed, "just look at it critically. Taking the good ideas and leaving the bad."
"I really should have listened to you more," I said.
"Sounds like a bit got through," dad said.
"Yeah," I said.
"It's also not too late to start," dad offered.
"Let's hope not," I said, "we'll see what happens over the next week."
"I can't wait; thanks for letting me back into the company. I know you didn't have to."
"Yes, I did."
"I’ll see you tomorrow, hey?" dad said, actually sounding like he might cry.
"Keep your stick on the ice," I said, quoting one of dad's favorite phrases.
Chapter Seventeen- Kora
I had always loved eggs. Anyway they could be made, I would eat them. By the plate full, if I could.
Apparently most people got sick when they ate too many eggs. Of course, "too many" is a relative concept. And I knew of no such thing, when it came to egg.
One of my favorite things in the world, along with silk panties and having my asshole pounded by Logan’s huge cock, as I had recently found out, but could no longer have so I try to forget about that, was a cheese omelet with lots of salt and ketchup. If I was ever feeling sad, or was just looking for a good start to my day, I would make myself one.
It came as a surprise, then, that while cooking what I thought to be a well-made cheese omelet, I started to lose my appetite for it. It was almost as if I hated my formerly favorite food and wanted nothing to do with it.