PIT 4/2: A New Life

Points In Time

Westlake Village, California

Friday, March 19, 2010

7:12 AM

Noting a belly that hadn’t been there twenty-four years earlier. “Okay…” her fingers entwined in his hair. “...you got everything?”

“I’ve been a bachelor for twenty-four years…” pressing Marsha’s warm breasts tight against either side of his face “...so. yeah, I’ve got everything.”

Pulling away. “I’m going to take a quick shower, then I’ll get our breakfast going.”

“You want company?”

“Yeah. But I said it’ll be a ‘quick’ shower, so next time.”

Standing, walking the few feet into the bathroom. “I might as well take one also, then.”

Smiling as she watched the wiggle of Mitchell’s ‘old mans ass’.

“With this hair..” ruffling the fringe of her thick white curls “...you’ll probably be out before me, so do me a favour.”

“Sure…” turning, looking at her “...what’s that?”

“Find me one of your really old T-shirts.”

7:55 AM

Four slices of buttered toast on a plate reaming warm beneath a heavy napkin on the second snack table.

Marsha at the stove carefully turning the five frying eggs in the large pan, while rolling the eight frying pork sausage links in a smaller frying pan.

Oh, he supposed, a guy thirty years younger might not appreciate how Marsha looked.

Wearing old, ragged cut, crotch hugging Levi shorts that she’d thrown into her bag on a whim, Marsha’s back to him, the ancient, ratty T-shirt he’d dug to the bottom of his underwear drawer to find, hanging to mid-thigh.

Her ass not discernible beneath the baggy, extra large T-shirt. Marsha’s knees had always been a bit knobby and her calves on the thin side which, throughout the years of their marriage he’d become used to no longer bothered him – nor do they now.

Marsha’s naturally curly hair – that she’d fought all of her life to control and contain, now allowed freedom to circle her head forming a tightly curled halo of white which Mitchell thought beautiful.

Turning both burners off. “Here you go, baby.”

Tilting the frying pan over one of the two platters along side the stove allowing three of the five fried eggs to slide from the pan. Adding five of the eight sausage links, turning from the stove…

Wearing a pair of white, knee length shorts, Mitchell’s cock twitching as, having the affect he’d erotically imagined...

The thin cotton T-shirt having no shape from the rear, from the front, though…

Facing Marsha as she came to one of the two side by side snack tables with his breakfast, his cock twitching as, having the affect he’d imagined, Marsha’s free hanging tits and thick, now, for some reason excited nipples clearly embossed upon the thin cotton marital of the old T-shirt.

Sitting. “Can’t wait ill my table gets here.”

“Me, too. Rather be looking at you forward than sideways.”

“My tits, you mean.”

“Won’t lie to you, baby…” cutting through a sausages with the edge of his fork “...your tits are really turning me on. But still, I’d rather be sitting across from you than alongside.”

Dabbing a yoke with the crust of a piece of toast.

“Mitchie…” becoming reflective “... do you realise this is the first breakfast we’re eating together in more than twenty-four years.”

“What I realise, Marcie…” seriously spoken “... is that you and me together like this seems a miracle.”

“Me, too, Mitchie…” putting her had onto his bare knee “...that’s exactly how I feel.”And I can’t believe it was only yesterday…” glancing at her watch “...not even twenty-four hours ago that I flew here, and all that’s happened since.”

Both quiet as they finished their breakfast.

“You want to have coffee on the deck?”

Helping with the dishes. “See…” Mitchell said “...it’s much easier cleaning up this way then f we sat at a table.”

“I said it before and I’m saying it again, ‘you’re nuts’.”

8:40 AM

A beautiful Southern California spring morning with the temperature here at the lake standing at Seventy-four degrees.

Patio chairs pulled to the railing, their feet propped onto the lower rail.

Sipping the hot coffee. “So how do you want to do it?”

“If you’re sure you want me…”

“Marsha, I’ve never been surer of anything.”

“Then I’ll call Marty and have him… I tell you, he’s a real estate broker?”

“No, but let him know I’m an associate and we expect a break on the commission.”

“So I’ll have him list my place..”

“Unless you want a Chicago home and a California home.”

Coming to a quick decision. “No, baby…” her coffee cup on the deck. Standing, lifting the T-shirt allowing both hanging tits freedom “….what I want is for you and me…” cocking her head to the side “...to go back to bed.”

Having their old ‘eat my pussy’, ‘suck my cock’ episode last night, both knowing the tie that really binds is when they are together… Truly together in a mental and physical sense –both knowing that once they fuck, whatever lose ties there might have been, would then become as spliced as the line that held fast the boat to the dock.

8:48 AM

“….what I want is for you and me to go back to bed.”

Standing, the bulge in his shorts prominent. “That’s what I was kind of thinking, Marcie.”

His shorts and shirt, Marsha’s shorts and T-shirt on the floor within the seconds it took from the patio deck to the bed in the bedroom.

The night before considered as foreplay, both ‘wanting’, both ‘needing’ whatever lose strands there still might be cinched into a never to be loosened knot.

Morning daylight flooding the room – different from evening daylight?

Marsha lay fully nude upon the bed.

Upon her back, the flesh of her face youthfully taut. The flesh of her chest pulled taut by the weight of her breasts.

Upon his knees between the juncture of Marsha’s open thighs.

In this mornings daylight, different than last evenings daylight–possibly because he wants to– flooding his senses, this new Marsha before him appears as the nineteen year old Marsha of those fifty-five years past and wanting to… ‘needing’ to, shifting slightly forward, his cock making the barest contact…

Both aware, Marsha’s hips shifting forward, Mitchell’s cock shifting forward.

Grasping! Urgently grasping, Marsha’s pussy taking hold, Mitchell’s cock holding warmly, holding closely within.

Marsha’s thighs and legs now held stiffly forward and from side of Mitchell’s head…

Mitchell’s cock spontaneously pressing inward, deeply inward… And outward.

His head held tightly within Marsha’s hands. Marsha’s thighs draped onto Mitchell’s shoulders urging…

The pulsing movement of Marsha’s thighs urgently tightening and loosening within the mutual cadence of the insertion and retraction of Mitchell’s cock within the now overflow of the creamy substance of Marsha’s internal passion…

So much so that…

Feeling Mitchell’s body tense…

Feeling Marsha’s vagina tighten...

Breath of both now coming quickly as hard gasps...

Tense again and again causing Marsha’s hips to meet the force of Mitchells deeply felt ejaculations, causing spasms within Marsha’s uterus to meld within the creamy fluid emanating from within Marsha’s vagina – so much so that the semen of Mitchell’s ejaculations became indistinguishable within the flow of creamy fluid.

Dropping onto Marsha’s chest a moment, then – not wanting to hurt her, rolling to his right…

9:22 AM

Both bringing their breathing under control…

A past remembrance coming to Marsha: ‘When I would fuck you, Mitchell, I’d pretend I was fucking Stanley’.

Afraid he might possibly be thinking this same thought.

“You know, baby, just then I was with you! ‘Only’ with you!”

When I would fuck you, Mitchell, I’d pretend I was fucking Stanley’. This thought never entering his mind, and having no idea why she’d made such a strong statement, Mitchell made no reply...

Causing Marsha to think he ‘might’ be remembering, and having an overpowering need to prove everything in her past was no longer a part of her, or their lives.

“Mitch, hand me the phone, will you.”

On the bed stand alongside the bed, “Why?” he questioned as handing her the phone.

Dialling the long sequence of a long distance call and putting the phone on ‘speaker’.

“ ‘North Chicago Federal’. ”

“Good morning…” Marsha said “...Can I please speak to Mister Katz.”

The connection made within moments: “ ‘Jim Katz’.”

“Jim, good morning, this is Marsha Lipensky.”

“Marsha, good morning! How can I help you?”

“Jim, could you please look up the balance in my savings and checking accounts.”

“Any problems here?”

“No, of course not, but I have to make a change.”

“Okay, hold on.”

Both still in bed. Both still naked. The moistness within and on Marsha’s thighs becoming cold and sticky and uncomfortable.

This call though, something Marsha felt she ‘had’ to… something she ‘must’ do.

“Marsha?”

“Yes, Jim.”

You’ve thirty-one thousand, three hundred, fifty-two dollars and seventeen cents ($31,352,17) in savings and Five thousand, forty-five dollars and twenty cents ($5,045.20) in checking.”

“Thank’s, Jim. Could you please transfer the savings…”

“All of it?”

“Yes. Could you please transfer all of the savings to… Hold on.”

Shutting the speaker. “What’s your account number?”

Still unable to fathom what Marsha was doing. “My bank account number?”

“Yes. Do you know your account number?”

Shrugging his shoulders. “No.”

“Where’s your check book?”

Cocking his head towards the wall. “In my desk.”

“Get it, will you.”

Phone back on speaker. “Jim?”

“Yeah, Marsha.”

“Hold on another minute.”

Coming back into the bedroom.

“What’s the number?” Marsha asked, motioning to the check book.”

“Don’t know. Cant read those squiggly numbers.”

Holding her hand forward...

Placing his check book in Marsha’s hand, he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Ready, Jim?”

“Yes.”

Reading off the list of routing and account numbers.

“What’s the name on this account.”

Looking at Mitchell. “ ‘Mitchell Lipensky’,” Marsha said.

Marsha having the same last name. “Your husband?” The banker questioned.

Looking at Mitchell questioningly. Intently.

Realising… His heart quickening– having absolutely nothing to do with the money– nodding his head affirmatively, “Yes!”he said.

“Yes...” Marsha said “...my husband.”

Waiting.– both hearts racing, looking at each other.

Marsha, her legs crossed, her body open to full view.

Within the drama of this ‘truly’ life changing moment, sitting on the edge of the bed, Mitchell did not notice.

“Okay…” the voice of James Katz coming over the phone “...Just got the acknowledgement from Mister Lipensky’s bank. Anything else I can do for you Marsha?”

“No. Not today, Jim. Thank you.”

Both silent…

Before, up to now it was all talk.

Both did want a life together, but It would take time. Marsha would have to return to Chicago to close her life there and Mitchell would have time for adjustment. For the adjustment of having a women in his constant life.

For having Marsha.

For having– and he believed this with all his heart – for having the new Marsha in his life.

Contemplating the emotional, physical and financial commitment the two had made to sink in, then…”

Standing. “Feeling icky… Marsha said “...got to take a shower.”

“Okay if I join you this time?”

“Yeah, baby, please!”

As it had happened so quickly with no questioning conversation between himself and Marsha– still unable to process the forthcoming results. For the moment, neither speaking of their life turning commitment.

No thought of sex. Just the comfort of running water and bodily warmth.

10:20 AM

The suitcase with her clothing still in the small bedroom.

Coming into the larger bedroom wearing nothing but loose fitting slacks and a light weight jacket.. “Know what I’d like to do today?”

Still in the process of dressing. Still in the process of processing.“What’s that, baby?”’

“I think I’d like to drive by Elysium to see what the Village of Topanga’s done to it. Then head to the beach and maybe go for a swim.”

Still reluctant – or actually not even knowing how to speak of their spontaneous commitment.

Finally, making a decision. “We can do that, Marcie, but first thing, I want us to get to the bank so we can put you on our account.”

Our account!

Next: PIT 4/3: Pacific Ocean