Writing It Down

Becky Brown and Daryn left shortly after wolfing down their plates of spaghetti and meatballs. Becky made sure to tell everyone that her future sister in law, Layla Greene, a recent graduate of a Cordon Bleu school had given her the recipe.

"House is beautiful," Todd said as the last guest left.

"Thank you," Becky smiled. "You've seen it all?"

"I, yeah, I guess so," Todd said. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I did."

"Oh, bet you haven't seen the back yard," Becky smiled, pulling him to the atrium doors.

"Becky, shit! It's like what, ten degrees out here," Todd complained as Becky pushed him onto a chaise lounge.

"Don't worry," Becky smiled and lighted the fire pit. "Be plenty warm in a minute."

She pulled a heavy fleece blanket from the small outside storage closet and draped it over the chaise lounge. She then made Todd lay down and pulled the blanket over the two of them. She wiggled her butt back until she was mashed against his crotch.

"Still cold?" Becky asked, small hand rubbing lightly over his hard cock.

"I uh, no," Todd moaned as her hand rubbed him through his jeans and briefs.

"You ARE?" Becky squealed. "Aw, poor baby, you're frozen solid. Here, let me warm you up."

Becky deftly unzipped Todd's jeans and fished his hard cock out of his briefs. The angle wasn't comfortable, but Becky managed to wrap her small hand around his fat cock.

"How about now? Still cold?" Becky asked, giving him a slow hand job.

"Freezing to death," Todd agreed, hunching his cock against her hand.

"Oh, poor baby," Becky clucked. "Well..."

She unzipped her jeans and pushed them down to her knees. She wiggled slightly and Todd's hard cock began to slide into her wet pussy.

"Oh, yes," Becky sighed as Todd's hands massaged her breasts through sweater and bra.

"God, yes," Todd moaned as he pushed himself into her.

"Still cold?" Becky whispered.

"I'm, um, I'm warming up here," Todd moaned.

A moment later, Todd stiffened. Becky sighed with contentment as she felt his semen spurt into her. She'd not achieved orgasm; the position was awkward. But she was pleased that she could bring her man to orgasm.

"Damn, it, Becky, its cold out here," Todd's complaint woke Becky from her light slumber.

"Shit! Yeah, it is," Becky giggled, looking at the dying embers of her fire pit.

She dumped some water onto the pile of embers and pulled Todd inside. Both let out a sigh as the warm air greeted them.

In her bedroom, Becky stripped out of heavy sweater and bra, boots and jeans, then assisted Todd out of his clothing. She lay on her bed and spread her legs wide.

"Come on, baby, use that magic tongue on me," Becky ordered.

Todd obviously did not remember, he had ejaculated into her pussy just an hour earlier. He licked sucked and fingered Becky to a grunting, thrashing orgasm. She then rolled him onto his back, straddled him, and started to ride him hard.

"Yes!" she hissed as Todd began to play with her swinging breasts.

In the morning, after omelets made with some cheese and a few meatballs from the previous evening's meal, Becky pulled Todd into the bedroom again. Todd was an anal virgin but Becky walked him through getting her tight rectum ready for his fat meat.

"Ugh!" they both cried out as he pushed into her.

Todd looked down and his eyes rolled back in his head for a moment. Her bubble butt was in front of him, two pale hillocks of flesh. There was a shallow furrow bisecting the two sweet globes of flesh. In that narrow furrow was a light brown ring of flesh, shiny with lubrication and the head of his cock was pushing upward into that tight ring of flesh.

"Ugh!" Todd grunted.

"Oh yes," Becky hissed.

She loved that first stab, when her lover was entering her. The only time she had not liked it was when she'd had Daryn's immense bulk invading her. Todd was fat, almost too fat for her tiny rosebud. That stab of pain was followed by a delicious warmth in her guts.

"Aiee!" Becky screamed out when Todd's hands found her hanging breasts.

"Oh God yes, oh yes Todd," Becky gurgled as Todd's cock was entirely inside of her, filling her up.

Within minutes, Todd was hammering Becky's ass hard. She grunted, screamed, and shuddered in orgasm. A moment later, Todd stiffened and blasted his load into her guts, triggering a second mild orgasm within Becky's guts.

They showered together, but didn't get very clean. Becky's breasts did get quite soapy, though and she knelt and gave Todd a boob job, masturbating his cock between her breasts. When he blasted his load, she opened her mouth wide and tried to catch all of his cream.

Sunday morning, Becky woke Todd with a blow job, fed him breakfast, then told him she had a mountain of homework. He admitted he too had a mountain of homework to catch up on. She pulled on a bra and a long U.L.D. tee shirt and drove them to the campus.

"I uh, I love you," Todd said when Becky pulled in front of Sharp Shire dorm.

"Aw! Thank you; that's sweet," Becky said and kissed him.

"I, you not going say it?" Todd asked, hurt.

"Hmm? Todd, I'm not sure, I'm not sure I love you," Becky said honestly. "Got to remember; thought I loved you once before and you kind of shit on that."

Todd didn't answer; just jerked on the door handle and let himself out. Becky sighed when he slammed her truck's door.

"Shit! Jesus, I said I'm sorry," Todd yelled.

"Yeah, well sometimes sorry just don't cut it, Todd," Becky said, turning up an old Mindy McCready song. "Yeah, tell 'em, Mindy. Guys do it all the time, right?"

Becky was enraged with Jude and Candy when their Business Principles & Applications project received a grade of 79. She saw she would have to make a 100 on the mid-term and a 100 on the final exams if she wanted to maintain her 4.0 GPA. For Jude and Candy, though, a '79' was a great grade.

Two hours later, Becky was still angry with Candy and Jude. The sound of the steady rain drowned out the lecture of Early European History. Finally the professor waved the students out of the hall forty minutes before the class was to end; he was tired of repeating himself, tired of trying to be heard over the rain.

Marching out of Gilbert Hall, even with her umbrella, Becky was drenched. That morning, it had been fifty degrees, so Becky had worn a light sweater. Now, the air was a very chilly thirty eight degrees and the gusts of wind made it seem much colder.

The early March air was cold, the rain was cold. But the air underneath the umbrella was warm and Becky's glasses fogged over, making it difficult to find her truck.

Once safely inside of her truck, Becky cranked the heater to full blast. She then carefully backed out of her space; there were other students racing about on foot and in cars and on bicycles. She sighed with some relief when she managed to leave the U.L.D. parking lot without incident.

The rain fell in sheets; visibility was minimal. Becky crawled through the streets of DeGarde, Louisiana, ignoring the one or two idiots that bleated their horns at her slow progress.

Turning onto Charles Lane, Becky had to brake when a yellow Smart car nearly came to a stop in front of her. The small car turned on Oak Park and Becky continued. Another gust blew the driving wind sideways and Becky slowed to a crawl again.

She almost didn't see the girl. The girl's sweater was dark gray and her skirt was dark gray. Fortunately, the headlights picked up the white knee socks and black and white saddle oxfords the girl wore.

As Becky slowly passed the girl, she vaguely recognized the forlorn figure. The girl was a neighbor, living two houses down Tallow Road from Becky's own home. She did not know the girl's name but the girl waved to her whenever they saw one another.

"Hey!" Becky called out, rolling the passenger window down. "Hey, get in."

Montana 'Monty' Gardner stopped walking, wondering if she should run. The Baylor Lake High School student knew better than to get into a stranger's car. But she was cold, wet, miserable.

"Thanks," Monty said, scampering into the truck and closing the door.

"The bus lets you off this far from your house?" Becky asked as she resumed her slow progress.

"Huh? No, oh hey, you're the woman moved into that house!" Monty said, recognizing the woman, now recognizing the truck.

"Yeah, right down the street from you and your mom," Becky agreed.

"Not my mom," Monty actually giggled, holding out her dark hand.

Monty's father was a Pakistani. He was actually a second generation Pakistani-American; his grandparents had immigrated to America in 1961. His grandparents acclimated themselves to American culture. His parents acclimated themselves to the American way of life; they called themselves Americans. But James Carter Ahjib was radicalized in college. He called himself Amir Mohammed Ahjib and identified himself as Pakistani, disassociating himself from the Great Satan, America.

Radicalized or not, Amir did like blondes with big tits and had impregnated Chloe Kennedy, a fellow college student. Upon her birth, the baby was named Coltoom Ahjib. She was female, therefore, Amir disavowed any parentage. So, Chloe took him to court.

Enraged that the infidel Chloe Kennedy would dare bring dishonor to him, Amir vowed to murder her. He also vowed to murder the judge, an infidel who had no right to pass any judgement against him. After all, he followed the teachings of the Prophet Mohammed and this judge did not follow the teachings of the Prophet Mohammed. For that little threat, Amir was given jail time.

Upon his release, Amir did make good on his promise; he did behead Chloe Kennedy. He was captured as he attempted to enter the courthouse, searching for the judge who dared sentence him.

Political correctness being what it is, and fearing that the few Muslims in the community would make Amir Mohammed Ahjib some sort of martyr, it was almost three years before Amir was finally brought to trial for Chloe Kennedy's murder. At his trial, Amir vowed to slaughter his daughter, the cursed dog Coltoom Ahjib.

Fearing their son's threats, Amir's parents sadly gave custody of the girl to Chloe's half-sister, Margaret Gardner. Margaret Gardner first moved from Benhurst, Colorado to Lowridge, Texas. She also had Coltoom's name changed so that Amir or Amir's friends could not easily find them.

Hannah Montana," Coltoom said when she was asked what name she'd like; she was a huge fan of the Disney Channel's hit show.

"Oh, that's nice, but how about just Montana?" Margaret suggested.

One morning, Margaret woke up to find two of her tires slashed. It was just a random act of juvenile vandalism, but Margaret was sure it was a warning from Amir's friends so she and Monty moved to Colfax, Missouri.

One winter morning, a rat froze to death. Unfortunately, it had frozen to death on Margaret's doorstep. Margaret was sure it was another warning so they moved again. Another incident, another move. Another incident, another move. Margaret grew to resent the caramel skinned girl that had brought so much hardship upon her.

This last move had been to Baylor Lake, Louisiana. Margaret vowed it would be the last move; Montana was now eighteen. The next move, Monty would be undertaking that move on her own.

The rain did not let up as Becky continued to drive along Charles Lane. From behind them, an impatient driver swerved around them, jammed his accelerator and spun his tires for a moment before fishtailing nearly 180 degrees.

"See, ass hole? That's why I'm crawling here," Becky said to the other car.

She smiled and shook her head. Monty smiled and agreed.

"So, why did the bus let you out so far away?" Becky asked again.

"Bus didn't. I had to walk home from school," Monty sniffled, then started to cry.

The eighteen year old girl told Becky that she had planned to spend the night with Candy Thibodeaux, a friend that also attended Baylor Lake High School. She had planned to ride on bus number 83 with Candy to Candy's house.

"Bus one forty three leaves and I'm waiting and I'm waiting, and then Candy comes up and says she's real sorry; she forgot all about it," Monty sobbed. "She forgot all about it and she's going go to Chris's house but we'll do it next weekend and they just leave me there."

"And they couldn't just bring you home?" Becky asked.

"Chris Breaux? Calls me a 'Sand N*gger.' No way he'd ever let me get in his car," Monty said bitterly.

"And this Candy just... Monty, that don't sound like no friend to me," Becky said. "A friend wouldn't just up and leave you like that. A friend wouldn't ever go out with some guy says such hateful stuff about a friend."

"Know what? You're right," Monty agreed, fresh tears coming to her eyes.

Becky sighed with real relief when she saw the windmill in front of the white and light blue house; this landmark let her know this was her street. She put on her blinker and made the turn. The driver behind her jammed his hand on his horn and did not let up until he was a block further up Charles Lane.

"What. Ever, jerk face," Becky said to the irate driver.

"I will be so glad to get out of these wet things," Becky said to Monty as she pulled underneath the carport in front of Monty's house. "You need take a hot shower so you don't catch your death of cold."

"Thanks so much, Miss Becky," Monty said, opening the door of the truck.

"Of course. We're neighbors," Becky smiled. "And, don't call me 'Miss Becky,' that makes me sound so old."

Monty didn't say anything, just closed the door. Becky backed out into the downpour and turned back up Tallow, then turned left and into her own driveway. The garage door went up and she pulled her truck into the garage.

"Whew! Thank you God!" Becky enthused, thoroughly relieved to be home.

She unlocked the door and let herself into the warm home. She flicked the kitchen light on and slipped her feet out of her dripping wet tennis shoes. She pulled the sodden socks from her feet and closed the garage door.

Barefoot now, she walked through to the living room. The small lamp was on, casting a soft, welcoming glow about the comfortable room.

As she passed the hall bathroom, Becky reached in and flicked the heater on. She then shut the door to keep the warmth in the room.

In her bedroom, Becky selected her short flannel top and her flannel shorts. She slipped her feet into her fuzzy Panda Bear slippers and returned to the hall bathroom.

Becky still adored her Panda Bear slippers; her mother's father had given her a pair of the black and white slippers when she had been a little girl of four years old. Sixteen years later, Becky continued to wear Panda Bear slippers, even though Pop-pop had been gone for ten years now.

When she reached the bathroom door, the doorbell gave a hearty chime. A split second later, there was a rapping on her front door.

Becky cautiously made her way to the front door; she was not expecting company. Todd had called her the other day and had attempted to keep his tone cheerful, but Becky could tell that Todd was still upset from the perceived slight; she had not told him she loved him when he had told her he loved her. Upon reflection, Becky was still convinced she'd been right; she wasn't sure of her feeling for Todd Moore, and saw no benefit in saying something she might not feel.

Becky peered through the side peephole Paul Robichaux had installed for her. There was a peephole installed in the door itself, but Becky would have had to pull a stool in front of the door to use the standard peephole. Paul installed one in the door jamb itself, at an angle that looked out onto the small front porch.

"My wife's four foot five," Paul smiled when Becky had squealed in delight.

"Ask him how tall his other wife is," one of Paul's crew called out.

"I pay you run your mouth?" Paul called back. "Huh? Or I pay you keep your melon head down and do your work?"

"Melon head," another crew member laughed.

"You too, Flap Ears," Paul said as Becky looked through the peephole, marveling at the view.

"Flap ears," 'Melon Head' laughed.

Now Becky peered and saw Monty standing at the door, looking absolutely miserable. Becky unlocked the door and swung it open.

"Forgot my Aunt Margaret needed my keys; she left hers at work, but since I was supposed go to Candy's it wasn't no big deal," Monty sobbed out. "And after work she and Miss Louise was going go to the casino so ain't no telling when she'll be back."

"Oh you poor girl! Come on, get in here," Becky urged, taking Monty's hand.

From across the street, Becky could tell that the dark skinned girl was a beauty, with her waist length brown and blonde hair. In the truck, Becky had been too focused on driving safely, despite the horse's ass behind her to pay any attention to Montana's looks.

Here, face to face in her living room, Becky could see that Montana Gardner was stunning. Her brown hair had streaks of blonde woven in. Her head was square with large golden eyes underneath a heavy brow. Her nose was slender, leading to full lips. Her jaw and chin were square, strong.

The sweater and white blouse were drenched, so stuck to Monty's figure. Becky saw a white lace bra and Monty's caramel colored skin through the translucent blouse. The skirt also clung to Monty, showing well-formed hips and muscular legs.

"Come on; I'm already getting the bathroom warm," Becky insisted, pulling Monty to the hall bathroom.

"Whew!" Monty sighed as the warm air of the bathroom wrapped around her in a cocoon of warmth.

"You can use the shower, or if you want, there's the bath," Becky said, putting her flannel sleepwear onto the counter. "You want to do that? Soak in a nice hot bath?"

"Can I?" Monty sobbed.

"Oh, absolutely!" Becky enthused, hugging the crying girl. "Day like you've had? Bet a nice bath's just what you need."

"Thank you, Miss Becky," Monty cried, clinging onto Becky.

Aunt Margaret wasn't hostile to Montana. But, because she resented Monty, blamed the girl for their numerous moves, Aunt Margaret was not affectionate. She didn't hug or kiss the girl.

"And, come on. I'll put these into the wash, I'll get you something wear while these get cleaned," Becky said and began to unbutton Monty's sweater.

Monty did not object to being undressed by another woman. She docilely allowed Becky to unbutton sweater and blouse, allowed Becky to unzip her skirt.

Becky had that odd, slightly uncomfortable feeling in her belly. As her fingers worked the buttons through the wet material, she felt that strange sensation, the same sensation she had whenever she and Becky Brown would kiss. She had that same feeling she'd had when Coach Smith would touch her thighs, her waist.

Becky showed Monty how to adjust the temperature of the water, showed Monty where the controls for the whirlpool jets were located and waited. Monty shrugged out of her bra, exposing her 30C cone shaped breasts. Becky's eyes focused on Monty's dark brown half-dollar sized areoles, crinkled from wearing a cold, wet bra, focused on Monty's hard, fat nipples. That feeling of being off-balance was strong in Becky's guts as she stared at Monty's flesh.

Monty's navel was a tiny dent in her flat belly. Becky smiled, thinking of her own nub of a belly button; she had an 'outtie' belly button.

Monty's white cotton panties were also translucent and Becky could see the dark triangle of fur capping Monty's prominent pubic mound. Monty wiggled out of her wet panties, then turned to adjust the water temperature. She held her hand underneath the running water and Becky looked at Monty's sweetly rounded buttocks.

"How tall are you?" Becky asked, turning to leave the bathroom.

"Four eleven. Tell people I'm five even, but I'm really not," Monty admitted, sinking into the nearly scalding water.