A FBOW excerpt in sequence “Peoria”

Caution destcriptive sex between husband and wife in this excerpt!

 January 5 Through Spring, 1959 —

“Hang down your head Tom Doo-ley, hang down your head and cry.

Hang down your head, Tom Doo-ley poor boy you’re bound to die.”

“For those of you driving into the Loop this morning, you’ll find the streets dry. The sky is clear and the temperature stands at comfortable thirty two degrees. ” Reported ‘Howard Miller’, the morning announcer/disk jockey at WGN Radio

***

Leaving the apartment at 8:30 AM catching US 55 in LaGrange on the far west side of Chicago.

The Ford convertible followed US 55 through the south central part of the state of Illinois for approximately 122 miles. Picking up Interstate 126 in Pontiac, where Mitchell headed west for about 65 miles to...

With the radio droning within the background of Mitchell Lipensky’s mind, driving mile after mile, thoughts inundated the mind of Mitchell also…

Thoughts of…

Mentally replaying the Transco Christmas dinner and the conversation between the… ‘his’ two women over and over in his mind and wondering if Marsha had detected his true feelings for Elizabeth…

She does know that Elizabeth likes me because, when we were dancing Marsha told me so. How much, though?

And me? Does Marsha have any idea of my feeling towards Elizabeth, other than a co-worker, of course?

If so, she had shown nothing and once home could barely wait until he and she had undressed and prepared themselves for their newly discovered hyper sexual activity…

Due to their near daily sexual interludes the husband’s premature ejaculation problem no longer a problem and so far as the wife…

‘Pretending’ no longer a problem due to Marsha seemingly wanting control — which was absolutely fine with Mitchell…

Besides each taking an untimely shower, their extremely obvious signal to each other: ‘Want to eat my pussy’?… ‘Want to suck my cock?’ Their forthcoming sessions always began and ended with Marsha laying atop her husband, head to toes, and vice-versa in the other direction…

Marsha on top controlling the depth she would allow ‘him’ before reaching her ‘gagging’ point’.

Whereas in the other direction, Mitchell’s face wet with his saliva and the secretion of his wife’s vaginal fluid…

Each knowing when the others orgasm began, because...

Marsha knowing that the stretching of his legs and the outstretching of his toes, always signalled…

Mitchell knowing by the sudden hauling of all pelvic gyrations...With his tongue planted as deeply as it could stretch when a gentle flow of fluid would over flow his mouth.

The wife taking the first two strong ejaculations within her mouth then, retracting his penis, would aim at her chest taking the next four or five weakening spurts on her breasts.

All of which…

His hands on the steering wheel, his eyes and concentration upon the road...

Mentally replaying these thoughts as the miles rolled on taking the Mitchell Lipensky family further from their old life into their new life.

Two thoughts remained static in the mind of Mitchell Lipensky….

That he now felt a deeper love for his wife… For ‘his’ Marsha than ‘ever’ in the past.

And glad… ‘So’ glad to be heading away from Elizabeth Hurzon into this new life.

Crossing the Illinois River on the McClugage bridge, entering the city of Peoria and following the directions given him by Gene Tarnowski. Driving slowly Mitchell Lipensky got his first sight of the business area of the ‘Caterpillar Tractor’ dominated city that would be his family’s home for…? Possibly forever.

****

Calling from the phone in the lobby, “Hi, baby, I’m here.”

“Mitchie! Really?” Speaking while changing a wet diaper. “You’re there ‘already’?”

“Yeah! It’s a snap once you get out of Chicago… It’s a pretty boring drive, but it’s a snap.”

“So, you’re at the ‘Y’?”

“Yeah. I called as soon as I got my stuff up to the room. And soon as we’re off the phone, I’m going to drive around to see if I can figure out where the hell I’m at.”

“You get a paper yet?”

“They have ‘em in the lobby here, and I miss you’n’Mikey already, so ‘believe’ me, I’m going to do that, too!”

****

“Honey!”

“Hi, Mitchie! ‘ She and Michael sitting on the floor rolling a tennis ball back and forth. “So, you have dinner yet?”

“Yeah. Found a place not too far from here, on ‘Main Street’.”

“ ‘Main Street’?” Picking Michael up and putting him in the play pen. “ There’s actually a street named ‘Main Street’?”

“Yeah. If this is the second largest city in the state, I can hardly wait to see the third.”

Used to the noise bustle of downtown business areas like New York City and Chicago where a trip by car— from one side of downtown to the other could easily take about a half hour, Mitchell found that the downtown business area in Peoria—consisting of four square blocks of older one, two and three story, store-front structures intermixed with newer, ten to fifteen story office buildings— could be traversed from one end to the other in less than three minutes.

“Downtown here is really pretty small, but guess what?” Not waiting for a response. “I have my lead and customer files in the car with me and while driving around the name of one of the downtown streets looked familiar, so I looked through my files and found five customers on that street, so I stopped into all five to introduce myself and guess what?”

“What, Mitchie?”

“One of the guys was out, but the other four were around and guess what? I got orders from three of ’em!”

“ ‘Really’?” Remembering how long he’d gone before receiving his first order— and how frustrated he’d become.

“Yeah...” he said excitedly, “...I think I’m ‘really’ going to like it here.”

“That’s great, Mitchie!” Extremely anxious to pull their lives together. “But did you have a chance to look for a place?”

“I didn’t see ‘em, but found a few ads that look interesting and have an appointment with a real estate lady to look at them tomorrow morning.”

January 6, 1959

“Morning, baby!”

Michael fed and now seeping.

“Good morning to you, too… ‘So’?”

“I looked at three houses, and…”

“Really! Already?”

“Yeah. Like we thought, things are much cheaper here than…”

“And you were looking at houses?”

“Well, yeah. But two of ‘em were really dumpy and the third was in a shitty neighbourhood. But I did see a… She, the real estate lady called it a ‘townhouse’, and…”

“A ‘townhouse’?”

“Yeah. A townhouse has, uh, she called ‘em common walls. In other words, once you’re inside it seems just like a house, except that it’s attached to another townhouse.”

“Seems like a fancy word for an apartment.”

“No, really! Once you’re inside it ‘does’ seem like a house. Matter of fact, it’s got a second floor with…”

“Really?” Becoming excited. “Two floors! How many bedrooms?”

“Two. There’s two nice sized bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs and ‘get this’, another toilet downstairs and a kitchen big enough for us to eat in. And a living room with a ‘dining area’.

“The one I looked at is on the end, so we’re only attached on one side so we’ve got a yard for Mikey…”

“A yard! Is it fenced?”

“No, but there’s plenty of room for a swing set and there’s swing sets and sandboxes all over the place, so there’s got to be lots of kids around, and it’s…”

“How much is it?”

“You’ll never believe it!”

“ ‘Yeah’...” Marsha asked excitedly, “...so how much is it?”

“Seventy-five a month.”

“ ‘Really’? What did you tell the real estate lady?”

“We’ll take it!”

“I’m glad!”

Chicago, Illinois

Saturday January 10, 1959

“Hi!”

“ ‘Jesus, Mitchell’...” startled when the door was unexpectedly opened. “...you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry, honey.”

Glancing at the clock, rubbing her eyes, “I didn’t expect you till later.”

“Yeah, I know, but...” noting that the top buttons of her flannel pyjama top was unbuttoned and her right breast was fully exposed, “...we’ve so much to do, thought it would be a good idea to come in early this morning to get started.”

“Yeah, but it’s not even eight...” noting his eyes were not on her face. “...when’d you leave?”

“ ‘Bout five-thirty…” Knowing sh knew he was looking at her exposed breast, but doing nothing to un-expose it. “... Mikey’s still at my mom’s, huh?”

Throwing the cover off. “She wants to spend as much time as possible with him before we leave.” Adding, “Also, it gets him out of our hair.”

“Hmmm!” His right eyebrow going u. “So we’re alone, huh?”

“Thought you said, ‘we’ve so much to do’?”

“Yeah...” sitting on the edge of the bed, kicking his shoes off, nuzzling her neck — enjoying the warm, soft feel of Marsha’s sleep warmed flesh.

“A quickie?” Marsha asked. “You want a ‘quickie’?”

“Yeah...” looking at his watch, ‘quickies’ are a good thing… ‘sometimes’.”

“ ‘Sometimes’? Oh, ‘really’!” Laughing. “My, how things have changed!”

“Oh, baby...” pushing his jeans and underpants off, “...not ‘that’ much!”

Not taking time to unbutton the remaining buttons, pulling the pyjama top over her head — the comparatively cool air tightening her nipples. Wiggling out of her bottoms. “How was the drive in?” Bringing the blanket to beneath her chin, moving to the side, she made room for him.

“Okay.” Crawling beneath the blanket, “It was… Mmmm.” His lips closing around a nipple, her hand closing around his penis, “…fine.”

... “That was pretty fast, Mister.”

“That’s why it’s called a quickie.”

Tugging the hair of both armpits.

“Hey, that tickles!” Rolling off, laying on his back, Mitchell watched as Marsha’s nipples flattened, and Marsha watched the reversal of Mitchell’s erection, along with the dangling reservoir of latex that held his semen.

“Okay!” Bounding off the bed. “They’re predicting snow flurries this afternoon, so better get the ‘U-Hall’ and hall ass.”

The buggy, highchair and four cartons cartons loaded with breakables and what might be needed until the arrival of the moving van that was promised to arive no later than eight that night were loaded into the U-Hall, then a drive to Skokie for a speedy family breakfast, and to retrieve their baby.

****

           “Heartaches by the number, trouble by the score,

Every day you love me less, each day I love you more.”

On the outskirts of Pontiac, Illinois, Chicago’s ‘WGN’ fading, switching to Peoria’s, ‘WHIP’...

...“This is Jay Stanley, the ‘old Jay bird’...” the announcer said, “...and for those of you driving the central plain today, better keep an eye out for snow flurries.”

“Yeah, pal,” Mitchell said. “I am!”

****

The wipers leaving streaky, crescent shaped wet swatches on the dirty windshield. Melting as they landed, heavy flakes of snow blew onto and swirled past the windows.

“Mommy!”

Turning, “Hi, baby.” Lifting Michael from the back seat, Marsha held him on her lap. “You hungry?”

Two months short of two, “Snowing!” Almost always willing to eat something, vigorously nodding his head in the affirmative, “Yeah!” Michael said.

Reaching between the seats, taking a box of ‘Nabisco Vanilla Wafers’ from the bag on the floor— glancing at the straining top and tensing as a gust of wind buffeted the Ford convertible rocking the U-Haul trailer.

“How much further, Mitchie?” Opening the box, Marsha gave her son a cookie.

Slowing even further, doing his best to show indifference to the snow and wind…

“We’re coming to ‘Metamora’. So, I’d say about another ten, twelve miles.”

The frightening, yawing sensation repeated as the car and trailer were buffeted once again.

Next FBOW excerpt in sequence: “Wisconsin Villas”