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Mark M Lichterman

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B.O.W.108:Three Times XXX
By Mark M Lichterman
Posted: Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Last edited: Friday, September 24, 2010
This short story is rated "PG13" by the Author.

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Knowing where he was going. Wanting him to do what she knew he was about to do. Wanting him to, wanting him do that which her husband would never do, moving downward on the mattress, making room for Mitchell to lay lengthwise alongside of her… Spreading her legs from side to side, opening her thighs…


Elizabeth’s thighs looked to be a bit chubby also, but imagining his head between those comfortable looking thighs, to Mitchell Lipensky, Elizabeth’s “bit on the chubby side” thighs were just fine! Though having more definition if wearing a pair of moderately heeled shoes, barefooted now, her calves and ankles were also a bit on the thick side.

No problem what­so­ever with anything about Elizabeth.

Often wondering what he’d seen in the perpetually thin woman he married, he’d analysed the reasons he and Marsha had married at least a million times and come to the conclusion, I was lonely and horny and she wanted to get away from her mother.

Because Mitchell’s taste in girls, and later women, had always leaned towards the more zaftig, the more well rounded, the more curvaceous girl and later woman. As far as Mitchell Lipensky was concerned, everything about Elizabeth Herzon/Lipshitz was absolutely beautifully perfect.

Shame they weren’t both single.

Chicago, Illinois

February 27, 1963

Opening a cabinet, removing a bath towel, “For you,” Elizabeth put it on the toilet lid.

Pulling the shower curtain on the bathtub, turning the handles, waiting for the hot and cold water to meld, no shyness here, going to Mitchell, putting both arms over his shoulders, no false modesty here, Elizabeth kissed him.

His hands going to her buttocks, feeling the length of her nude, standing body tightly against the length of his nude, standing body, forcing her closer, Elizabeth’s light kiss became a hard, passionate kiss.

The water melding, the kiss lengthening, his fingers tightening…

Did I really come?

“Did you really come?” Brazenly asked, “Mitchie, did you really come?”

Backing away, looking down, “Yeah, I did!”

Stepping into the shower, “Not too bad for an old guy.”

Stepping into the warm, streaming water. “Old guy, huh?”

Facing each other, “Yeah,” scrubbing liquid soap over his shoulders, his back and buttocks, “not bad for a thirty­ year ­old guy.”

Scrubbing liquid soap over her breasts, her back and buttocks. “Not yet; not for six months.”

Streaming warm water and soap slathered bodies not exactly a deterrence to passion…

Kissing again…

Him knowing they could do it.

Held tight again

Her wondering, Can we do it again? Here? So soon?

Breast to chest, Elizabeth manoeuvring her body to accept

Pelvis to pelvis, Mitchell angled his body to thrust

Standing, in the warm cascading water, Mitchell thrust… and Elizabeth accepted.


In bed again, lying closely together, Elizabeth, on her back with the light blanket to below her chest. Mitchell, his hand cupping his head, on his left side with the blanket to his hip, looking at her face, just looking at her face… and marveling at the unbelievable fact that he was there, really there, lying nude alongside Elizabeth.

Her pageboy haircut, though towel dried was still damp; the blonde hair a bit darker than when dry and the honey­ colored streaks a bit lighter when wet. Her high hairline smoothly following the contour of her forehead, Elizabeth had an oval shaped face with almond shaped—much more vivid than his—green eyes. Her eyebrows, though shaped, were thick and arched. Elizabeth had a small, straight nose with moderately flaring nostrils, a sensuous mouth—that Mitchell thought was made for kissing—and her breasts! Elizabeth’s beautiful breasts, Oh, God!

Lying on her back, the weight causing her breasts to flatten and lay to the sides of her chest…

Translucent stretch marks wholly inconsequential, the tip of his finger lightly circling the circle of erectile flesh, watching as Elizabeth’s tuberous nipple arose again from the now tightening, light pink erogenous tissue.

Mitchell’s sensibilities once again engulfed by the improbability of here and now and by the improbability of actually lying alongside this “living dream” that lay beside him…

All makeup washed away, absolutely overwhelmed by the fresh faced beauty of this young woman, his heart thumping, his head lowering…

Their mouths together, barely touching, feeling the touch of her tongue on his lips, his lips parted and the tip, the very tips of their tongues caressed…

When he made a motion to move from the light drawing pressure, her lips said, No, don’t move; don’t go yet! Mitchell’s mouth stayed against Elizabeth’s mouth…

Tongue touching tongue…

As the kiss lengthened, his hand moved beneath the blanket, onto Elizabeth’s soft stomach…

Wincing slightly at the feel of Mitchell’s hand onto, in her opinion, mushy stomach that, try as she had, try as her husband had forced her, still remained, in her opinion, “mushy.” However, no longer caring, at least no longer caring with this young man, relaxing now. Fully relaxed now…

His penis twitching, loving the soft feel of Elizabeth, being a number of pounds more than he wanted himself, the soft feel of Elizabeth’s stomach bothering him not in the slightest. His hand moving lower, past her deeply inset navel onto—causing a spasm in his rectum—the silky fine floss of Elizabeth’s hair. Stopping the progression of his hand long enough to throw the blanket back.

Her eyes closed, her hand encircling his once again resurrected penis, widening her thighs as…

Two fingers rubbing along the moist fissure, parting the overlapping labia, feeling the heat, feeling the wetness… “Slide down, baby.” Urging her lower onto the bed…

Knowing where he was going. Wanting him to do what she knew he was about to do. Wanting him to, wanting him do that which her husband would never do, moving downward on the mattress, making room for Mitchell to lay lengthwise alongside of her… Spreading her legs from side to side, opening her thighs…

Changing positions…

Now facing the widened juncture of Elizabeth’s thighs, looking at the lightly covered triangle of dark blonde hair, parting the overlapping lips, caressing the length of her vagina, rubbing the tip of his finger along the now hardened ridge of Elizabeth’s sheathed clitoris, sensing the tickle within his urethra…

Mitchell’s penis now inches from her face, watching as…

Seeing the crystalline droplet…

Drawing the overlapping lips into his mouth…

Her body tensing, then relaxing…

His tongue parting the overlapping lips…

Sensing his tongue there, arching her hips upward…

The wet warmth pushing against his mouth…

Tasting the fluid of Elizabeth’s passion,

Wanting… Having an urge to do that which Elizabeth had never before wanted or had an urge to do…

The crystalline droplet of semen bothering her not at all…

Feeling the warmth. Glancing over his shoulder to be sure. Oh, God! Causing another contraction, the sense of her mouth as a jolt of sexual electricity, drawing him inward, filling her mouth…

Knowing this was something Elizabeth wanted to do, not something she was doing because she knew he wanted her to…

Although, yes, he sure did!

Instinctively knowing what to do! Her eyes closed, floating within her sea of eroticism, passion dictating what she wanted to do, and doing it!

Loving the erotically delicious draw and release pressure of her mouth. Loving the slight sea tang scent of Elizabeth. Loving the taste of Elizabeth

Loving the sensation of his gliding tongue, unaware that she’d tightened her thighs…

The warmth of Elizabeth’s no ­longer­ merely imagined, comfortable looking thighs, the warmth of her thighs on the sides of his face, the motion of his tongue matching the draw and release of her mouth…

The scent…

The taste…

The warm feel of Elizabeth’s soft thighs…

Having no idea if Elizabeth did this with her husband, nonetheless, unwilling to ejaculate this way, pulling away, forcing his head from her soft thighs and his penis from the deliciously erotic sensation of the pull of her mouth, rapidly changing positions… head to head now… back in the warmth.

Oh, my God!

“Oh, my God!”

Speaking into his ear, “Holy cow, Mitchie,” attempting to catch her breath, “three times!”

His cheek against her ear, breathing deeply, taking a moment to catch his breath, “Yeah!”

Tightening her thighs about his waist, wanting him there, “I didn’t think that was even possible.”

His flattened body held off hers only by his forearms. “You or me?”

“Both of us, baby!” Her breathing evening. “Both of us.”

Sensing himself slipping away, “Not too bad for an old guy, huh?”

Relaxing her thighs, “Jeeze, Mitchie,” the tips of their noises touching, “you’re only twenty-nine!”

Knowing where his mouth had been, not knowing how she would react to a deep kiss, planting a light, soft kiss onto the tip of her nose, “Yeah, for another six months.”

“Tell you what, then, mister,” said in a mock serious tone, “we’ll have to try this again in six months.”

“Three times in…” glancing at the Baby Ben on the nightstand, “about two hours?”


“We gotta wait six months to do this again?”

“No, Mitchie,” she said seriously. “This we can do anytime you want!”

“How’s about this time next month?”

“On the twenty-seventh?”

“Tell you what, Liz; today’s Wednesday…. What if we meet at Harding’s the last Wednesday of each month…”

“Same time?”

“Yeah: between twelve and twelve-thirty.”

Laying quietly a few seconds, each enjoying the soft warmth of the others body.

“I want to tell you something, just in case you’re worried: I’m not the motherly type and really do not want to have a baby!”

“Well, the thought had crossed my mind and, the way we’re going, I hope you’ve got really good birth control pills!”

“I do, honey. I do!”

Rolling off now, sitting on the edge of the bed, “If something comes up and we can’t make it next month,” Mitchell said, “how’s about some kind of signal we can use to let each other know.”

“Hope that doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, me, too. But if we have to… What if we call the office in the morning and leave a message saying that you or me have spoken to Mister, uh… Murphy, and thanks for the lead.”

“Murphy?” Elizabeth questioned. “Like in Murphy’s law that says ‘if anything can go wrong, it will’?”

“Hmmm, considering this,” his hand motioning about the room, “maybe Murphy isn’t such a good idea.”

“Nah, it’s a name we won’t forget.”

“We’ll just make sure nothing does go wrong.”

“A whole month!” Her arms about his waist, kissing his back, “I can’t wait, baby.”

Glancing at the Baby Ben: 4:20. Reluctantly leaving the comfort of Elizabeth’s arms. “Think I better get going.”

Thinking it best to remove whatever scent of Elizabeth might be on his body, “How’s about another quick shower?”

“Love to!”


Driving home, away from Elizabeth, considering the consequences, feeling guilt, a lot of guilt. Feeling fear, a lot of fear at the thought of being discovered.

But she told me to! Mitchell rationalized If she wasn’t so damn bitchie all the time, and so fuckin’ cold all the time… She told me to! Marsha said she wanted me to go find someone to fuck… She wanted me to! She told me to!

Knowing what he had just done under any circumstance was wrong! And his children! What happens to my kids when… if she finds out? The thought of discovery, the consequence of discovery terrifying!

So I did it once; so I don’t have to do it again! I won’t do it again.

Sexually satiated, an easy vow to make after three orgasms…

Oh, yeah! A very easy vow to make after three mind blowing orgasms within two and a half hours.

However not such an easy vow to keep considering that Elizabeth Herzon/Lipshitz was the most beautiful woman Mitchell Lipensky had ever personally known, and—in his opinion—had the most perfect body of any woman he’d ever known! And, so he knew, liked him, really liked him… maybe, even loved him.

Indeed not such an easy vow to keep for a—in his opinion—love­ sex­ and affection starved young man considering the fact that this young man liked… that this young man indeed loved Elizabeth Herzon/Lipshitz.

In reality, to give up that which he had just found? To give up this beautiful, self assured woman with a sexual appetite matching his own? To give up this literal girl of his dreams? For what? A shrew that hated him? To give up this beautiful, self assured, sexual woman for a—in his opinion—frigid, sexless, hateful shrew?

His children, however

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Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado 9/22/2010
Mitchie is gonna be in a world of hurt if Marcie finds out what he's been doing ... As always, a great story!

(((HUGS))) and much love, your frien din Tx., Karen Lynn. :)

Books by
Mark M Lichterman

For Better or Worse

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The Climbing Boy

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