Greg and Rebecca were both starving, so they went to lunch. They ate at a place called Shorty's, a specialty sandwich shop. Greg ordered the "Dundee". It was a Hamburger made with all the fixings, as well as an egg on top. Greg was doubtful, but it turned out to be one of the best sandwiches he ever ate. Rebecca had the Dagwood, a mixed combination of various meats. It was hearty and delectable.
    As they ate, they talked more.
"you really hurt me with what you said about my schooling," Rebecca confides, "I"m trying to get smarter, and I need to work on my reading and writing first. Most people who don't get jobs can't write well, or convey their thoughts."
    "I'm sorry to talk down about your education," Greg retracts.
" I started writing after my husband cheated, to express my emotions," she says, "At first, the paper just stayed blank. I started to notice that I didn't really have a single thought in my head. I used to be a real ditz. You were right in a way, Greg. Everyone made it easy for me. Life was a cakewalk."
    She wipes a few scraps of loose meat from her lips with a napkin, then shakes her head in a wild refute. "Then, to be attacked and injured, it made me see how violent and isolated the world can become. That started to get me thinking, what would happen if I lost my looks? Where would I be without a pair of tits to shake?"
    "Stop, you're being foolish," Greg says, "you've got a helluva personality. YOu're one of the kindest human beings I've ever met."
    "I'm a dumbass," She says, as if not hearing what he said.
"What did I tell you about fishing for compliments?" Greg asks, "Only sad sacks do that. You just have more interest in people than things. That's all."
    She looked like she was gonna burst into tears. Greg reaches underneath the table and caresses her legs, one hand on each thigh.
    "What's wrong?" He asks, "Are you still mad? You're not still sore about what I said, are you? Really???"
    she shrugs. Yes, she is still upset.
"Is there anyway I can make it up to you?" Greg beseeches. His hand drapes between her legs and probes. She grabs his wrist and pushes him away.
"Please don't," she requests. Greg immediately pulls back.
"I'm sorry. I guess we are in public."
"No, I've got a tampon in right now. I started my period this morning."
"Oh"
    Greg recited his old sex-ed knowledge mentally. Most girls' cycles were between five days to a week in length. Now he would have to wait even longer for another shot at her twat. Greg kept viewing windows of opportunity, from the outside looking in, without granting access.
    "I'm emotional because I'm PMSing like nobody's business," Rebecca explains, "Maybe that's why I set up the glass installers. I get pretty bad mood swings when the crimson tide comes in. Ups and downs, peaks and valleys."
    She's surprisingly candid about her menses. After seeing Greg's blood-spattered body that one time, talking about her own slow trickle must seem blase. It seemed remarkable that Rebecca understood her feelings could ebb and flow. Her current mood wasn't the final summation of everything. She would be mellow again in a few days, no biggie. Some girls couldn't make that distinction, so everyone else had to pay for cramps and discomfort as the uterine walls were shed.
    Greg rode with her to pick up Ju-Ju from daycare. Julie actually clapped in delight when she saw Greg. It reshaped his earlier judgement on his fatherhood abilities. Julie was growing more and more accustomed to Greg, depending on him even.
"Hey, it's your daddy!!" the daycare provider says to Julie as Greg and Rebecca approach. She was a short, older lady with glasses and greying blonde hair.
"Actually, this is my boyfriend," Rebecca corrects. Greg feels chills as Rebecca affirms his relationship with this stranger, as well as the mistake of identification.
    The lady nods a certain way. She is older, and most likely has her preconceived views of what marriage and child-rearing must be. But the daycare provider also seemed to understand the modern world they were living in, and the potential for divorce and new ties. Her aged face shows a complex understanding of this current age.
    Greg secured Julie into the carseat in back of the Maxima, and they were off to Rebecca's house. Greg stayed the entire night. They watched a computer-animated children's movie on DVD. Rebecca had an elaborate home theater system, complete with projector and multi-channel speakers.
    "I used to love watching movies with my ex," Rebecca said nerdily, as she switched on the receiver, and changed video inputs, "But I guess he wanted to live the party life. It wasn't enough to spend time with his family. He wanted to fuck around, and live it up like he was a college frat jerk again."
    Greg realized she had never even spoken her ex's name. That was fine. Greg didn't want to know the douche bag, in any way, shape, or form. Rebecca shared a similar desire to have the dude stricken from her life.
    At first, Greg didn't think the movie would be appealing. But as he watched, he suddenly understood the subtext of the movie. There were constant double-entendres, sexual innuendoes and even drug references, albeit very vague ones. It was genius. The movie producers finally discovered that if they made these movies enjoyable for the adults as well as the kids, the parents would be more likely to sit through a 90 minute feature. Meanwhile, Julie was enraptured by the colorful lights, constant motion, and funny voices. Genius.
    They huddled together, on the expensive leather couch procured for just such a purpose. Julie fell asleep on Greg's lap halfway through. Rebecca tilted her head into his neck and kept it there for the majority of the film. Greg felt like a ladies man, with his beautiful belles surrounding him. Rebecca had made kettle corn, and a delicious home-brewed soda, with specialty syrup. Greg knew it wasn't good for his expanding waistline, but he still devoured the popcorn, and slurped down the drink. As the credits rolled on the flickering strobe of the projector's light, Greg felt content. This was definitely doable. He could play husband. His bachelor days were hardly the party that her ex had evidently experienced, and would not be missed.
    Greg took over bedding down Julie for the night. She stirred only once, when Greg lifted himself up from the couch, still cradling Julie. No bedtime story was required this night. Greg laid her down gently, then tucked her in mildly.
"Are you going home now?" Rebecca asks.
"I thought I'd stay, if that's okay," Greg said. Rebecca lead him upstairs. They wore the same clothes to bed, sans pants for Greg. IT was difficult to cuddle with Rebecca, knowing nothing would come of it. Her bloodiness wouldn't allow intercourse. They spooned, her tight rear end nestled right up against his crotch. After awhile, it was torture to have a constant boner that he couldn't utilize. Thankfully, he fell asleep within 15 minutes or so. His hard-on lingered, but at least he wasn't consciously aware of it once in REM.
    She awoke first. He groggily came to, and felt the emptiness of space where her butt once occupied. His cock arose with him, giving new meaning to "top of the morning." It was usually a pleasant thing to attain morning wood, but it proved unbearable for him right then. The accumulative arousal he felt last night had followed him through time.
    He didn't intend to start masturbating, but he arranged his junk inside the boxers, and his hand just kinda stayed there. Her perfume coated the pillow, and that's what got him rubbing. Deep inhalations of her scent made him giddy, and he pulled harder. She was in the shower, which he figured would give him 15 minutes or so. It never occurred to him where or how to perform cleanup. He just started. Greg chided himself that this was a pervo thing to do, but his expertly-honed motions continued. Every guy had his own preferred dynamics, and Greg knew it by muscle-memory.
    He was almost ready to shoot when she came back into the bedroom. Greg was so wrapped up in his extracurricular activity that he hadn't even noticed the shower shut off. Rebecca had a fan blowing on the bed, which muffled some of the noise from the bathroom. She said she could never sleep without a fan on her.  That steady air also proved to be conducive to jerkin' his gherkin. (spanking his monkey?)
    He hurriedly turned onto his side, away from her, but she knew what he was doing. She stood there positioned like some dripping lynx, a shaggy towel draped across her midsection. Her brown hair was a clotted mess of dampness.
"Greg, what were you doing?"
"Hmm? Nothing, whattya mean?" Greg said ashamedly. He had been caught red-handed. Women didn't seem to dig the whole beating off activity. Greg had been caught by his ex-wife Diane several times while mid-thumping, and it was never a pleasant encounter.
    But Rebecca was not Diane.
    As Greg craned his neck to look at her, she dropped her towel. Beads of water dripped down her sublime stomach, catching on her dark short and curlies. Her nipples were puffy and swollen as the cold air met them. Casually walking across the bedroom, she picked up a bottle of lotion. Watching her succulent ass ripple with muscle made Greg resume his prior actions. His hand undulated beneath the covers rapidly. She was still acting like it was only natural to walk around buck ass naked. She squirted a mess of the slippery stuff into her hand using the white dispenser top. Throwing the bottle onto the bed, Rebecca began massaging it all over her body. Greg quickly got a share of the lotion, and lubricated his cock generously.
    Rebecca was lost in lust. It excited her to feel wanted again. Every woman has an exhibitionist in them. She knew that blank and vacant stare Greg had in his eyes as he pleasured himself. He was overpowered by her, and had little will to resist. She kept cupping her breasts, lifting them, and dropping them like loaves of doughy bread. She bent over, applying the slippery cream onto her thighs. Her breasts flopped and swung as she shifted to cover every inch. Greg hand was moving so fast it was merely a blur. Drops of lotion broke free and speckled his stomach. He was almost there. The vas deferens leading from his testicles into his urethra began to fill. His nuts were shrunken into his body, a fraction of their normal size. He was on the verge.
    Greg threw back the covers, revealing his veiny prick. He felt like he had something to prove here. No softness this time, m'lady. His eyes fell to her vagina, sorrowful that he couldn't split that fissure for a week. The thready white string of her tampon trailed out from her orifice, and that's what made Greg cum. The unexpectedness of seeing it made him feel like a voyeur. It conjured up a fevered fantasy of being a peeping tom, and catching a glimpse of a girl changing. Guys were gross in their thoughts, especially when close to ejaculation. It seemed intimate that he was seeing her in this new light. His horniness was out of sync with her monthly routine, but she was still willing to let him get his cheap thrills.
    His cock went off like a gun in his hand, contracting so hard that it struck against his bladder again and again. WIth each spasm, he felt his load fly a futile arc, and splat against his chest and belly. He looked into her frigidly blue eyes as he blew his wad, and it pushed him into the redline. Without hyperbole, he could honestly say he never came so hard in his life. She watched with fascination as he expelled his thick, hot fluid. She licked her lips obscenely, and Greg felt the world swim as he ejected the last few drops with even more velocity.
    Once finished, Greg sat on the bed dazed, and puffing for oxygen. Little black sunspots floated briefly in his vision and he wondered if his heart would give out. Thankfully, his eyesight cleared, and the dizziness left with it. He was bathed in sweat, and covered in jizz. A shower seemed appropriate. He tried to scoot to the edge of the bed, his legs rubbery and useless.
"Wait, please don't make a mess!!" rebecca says with horror, "These are my new sheets. Over 700 thread-count!!"
    She departed, and quickly returned with a towel, her tits jostling around dandily.  But Greg had already mopped up with his dingy boxers.
"Ew, Greg," she said with distaste, "that's nasty!!"
"You're nasty," Greg says windily, "a nasty, sexy lady!!"
He tossed the boxers indifferently into her wastebasket. No use trying to salvage them.
"Please take that trash bag out, and take a shower while you're at it," She commanded. As she spoke, she dressed in front of him. Watching her slip on a pair of pink plain-Jane brief panties made him semi-hard again. He shouldn't push his luck. Once was a spur of the moment, twice was getting obsessive.
    Still, it was an enormous turn-on to walk past her naked while she was only in her undies. As she secured her dangling tits behind a bra, Greg hopped in the shower, watching her from behind adamantly as he twisted the faucet handle. the back of her underwear tucked into the crevice between her cheeks, and threatened to drive Greg up the wall.
    He waited till she shut the bathroom door, than he yanked his noodle again. In a rare feat of showmanship, Greg managed to do it a second time, within minutes, while standing; although he felt as though he would collapse as he climaxed. While in the midst of el dos orgasm, he knew that he loved her. He even spoke it aloud, in a harsh and cracked voice.
"I love you so much, Rebecca," He groaned, the notion lost in the roar of the showerhead. Despite what he told her during the heated argument in the Maxima, he really was head-over-heels. He made sure to point the shower nozzle at the offending jizzum, washing it  down the drain like a wavy snake.
    Greg stepped out of the bathroom feeling refreshed. The shower water in Greg's loft above the Pawn and Payday was rusted, and tasted of lime. Rebecca's fresh water was a welcome relief from his customary dilapidated surroundings.
He threw on his pants, commando style, without underwear. He would be leaving soon anyway, so he'd just grab a new pair when he got back, as well as a change of outfit. Rebecca made him breakfast. Scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. A tall glass pitcher of orange juice kept him sufficiently hydrated. That frenzied "five finger shuffle" he had just undergone made Greg ravenous. His appetite was second only to his hunger for rebecca. He wanted her so bad. Being familiar with her inside texture, it was overtaking his thoughts. It was just a little blood, who cares? Maybe she'd be willing to give it a go.
    rebecca nabbed Julie and put her in a high chair. That halted Greg's sex drive. In fact, Greg began to feel vaguely guilty for having performed a lewd act in the same house as Julie. That thought might be overboard, but Greg would have to compartmentalize his sex life from everything else.
    Rebecca was in mother mode now. Greg pondered the depths of female love and compassion. Rebecca was a hell cat in bed, but tended to Julie dotingly as well. It was a complex task to try to encompass all that rebecca was from one perspective. He bit down on a stray egg shell, and picked it from his teeth. Complex, indeed...

LINK TO PART 62: http://www.ebaumsworld.com/blogs/view/82489844/