Kindling and Tears

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

*****

Yvonne Roberts carefully applied her make-up, going slowly, methodically. Unless she used two pounds of pancake make-up and a trowel, there was no way to cover up her freckles. But she could at least even out her skin tone, make it less splotchy looking, less pasty looking.

She'd had her hair done yesterday. Brian Roberts, her loving husband, had sprung for her to go to T. Dayton's, the exclusive, expensive hair salon in Bender, Louisiana.

"Hey, ten years reunion only comes around, what, um, once in ten years?" he joked.

"Plus that," he said, hugging her, squeezing her. "You're worth it."

She had to agree, looking in the mirror, Marlene, the girl that had worked on her, had done an amazing job. She'd taken Yvonne's lifeless carrot orange hair and given it life, bounce. The girl had also combed in some light blonde streaks, making the orange hair look lighter.

Make-up complete, Yvonne dropped her robe to the bedroom floor. And inspected her outfit.

Roy had requested she wear black. Yvonne had gone out to Babbage's, the expensive department store in Bender, and bought a black lace bra, a half-cup style. Her thirty four DD breasts sat very nicely on the shelf the underwire bra provided. The half cups left a good portion of her areolae visible, left her fat little nipples bare.

The matching thong panties had just a thin lace string across her thirty two inch hips, and a lace line that went from her crotch between her luscious butt cheeks.

Brian was always asking her to wear some thong panties for him. And Yvonne always flatly refused.

"What? Run around with a string up my ass?" she snapped. "God, always digging my underwear out of there and you want me to put something up there on purpose?"

The hem of her black dress ended about three inches above her knees. Since Yvonne was only four foot eleven, she insisted she was five feet, but at four foot eleven, she'd have to be careful about how she sat or people would be able to see the crotch of her black panties.

"Well, we're not going out anyway," Yvonne told herself and shivered at the thought.

She looked at the smoke colored stockings. Brian was always asking her to wear stockings and garter belts for him.

"Why? SO I can look like a cheap ass slut?" Yvonne had snapped.

The truth was, she had always thought her legs were just a little too chubby for stockings.

But looking in the mirror, admiring the line that ran up the backs of her legs, Yvonne decided, she rather liked the way they made her legs look.

She stepped into her four inch black patent leather pumps, the pumps she'd bought for the reunion. The shoes would go very nicely with the smoke grey dress she'd bought for the reunion.

She again admired herself in the full length mirror. The four inch heels did give her a little more height, but she had to smirk. Roy Richardson was six foot three. She'd have to stand on stilts to be eye to eye with him.

Brian, her husband, was five foot seven. These shoes put her a little closer to his height. He said he was really looking forward to dancing with her, his wife, at the reunion.

She grabbed her purse, made sure she had the five condoms Roy had asked that she bring. She had wondered at the odd amount of condoms, and had even suggested that they forego condoms, but Roy had insisted.

Stepping from her bedroom, she could hear Julia, the next door neighbor that occasionally baby-sat for them. The girl was reading nursery rhymes to Delilah, their baby, the apple of Brian's eye.

"Wow, Mrs. Roberts, you look nice!" Julia commented.

"Thank you, dear," Yvonne said, almost dismissively to the girl.

The poor girl was a porker, short, fat, with stringy blonde hair and face little more than a mass of pimples.

She said her father had harbored a major crush on Julia Roberts in the movie 'Pretty Woman' and when he'd found out his girlfriend was expecting a girl, had begged that they name her Julia.

Paige did name the girl Julia, but Julia Nicholls bore absolutely no resemblance to the beautiful actress.

"My dad says if I marry Mr. Brian, then I'll be Julia Roberts," Julia had laughed the first time she'd babysat for the Roberts.

Yvonne had laughed, almost mockingly, but Brian had smiled gently as he paid the girl.

"Okay, I should be home before Buddy and Connor get home," Yvonne said, checking again that she had everything.

"How long does five condoms take?" she asked herself, then shrugged.

"But if I'm not, there are P-O-P-T-A-R-T-S in the pantry; they can have two each, with a glass of milk, okay?" she said to the seventeen year old girl.

"Yes ma'am," Julia smiled, revealing the only pretty thing about her.

Yvonne stepped out of the house, neglecting to kiss her baby girl. It was not a forgetful thing; she did not want Delilah to put her sticky hands on her outfit.

As she climbed into her minivan, Yvonne pursed her lips in distaste.

"A minivan," she said out loud. "Bet if I had married Roy Richardson, I'd be driving a Lexus. Or a BMW. But Nnoooo..."

Short, fat, pimple faced Yvonne Davidson had been among the many that pined after Roy Richardson, the handsome, out-going king of Kimble Academy. The star athlete roamed the halls of Kimble Academy with a perpetual smile on his handsome, tanned face.

Unlike most jocks that roamed the halls of the high school, Roy was never mean, never demeaning to those beneath him. When a new student entered the halls, Roy was usually the first to welcome the new kid.

But in high school, Yvonne Davidson weighed one hundred and seventy nine pounds, had long stringy red, orange hair, and a face that was a life support system for severe acne.

So, Yvonne would stare longingly at Roy Richardson and sigh over what might have been, had she only been born to look like Wendy Marshall, Roy's girlfriend.

"Hey uh, um, Yvonne, hi um, I uh, you wouldn't want to go to the Homecoming dance huh?" Brian Roberts, a short, chubby little nerd asked, pushing his coke bottle glasses up his nose.

Yvonne smiled tightly. Brian Roberts was one of the sweetest boys at the school. But like her, he'd been cursed with extra pounds, and exploding skin and stringy hair.

"Sure," she finally agreed and Brian Roberts' whole face lit up like a Christmas tree.

Brian's uncle let Brian borrow his Lincoln Town car for the date (with many threats of death should anything happen to the car) and Brian picked her up. They went to Bombay Café for dinner, then to the Homecoming Dance.

Brian still had a copy of that picture, on his keychain. On one side of the laminated cube was that picture, of two fat, pimple faced nerds in ill-fitting clothing. The other three sides of the small plastic cube had pictures of Brian Roberts, Jr, Buddy as they called him, Connor, and Delilah.

They'd danced, both pretty clumsy at it, as neither had much practice, then drove out to behind the football stadium, the local make-out spot.

"You uh, you sure? I mean, we uh we don't have to," Brian had stammered when Yvonne had suggested they go there.

"You don't want to make out?" Yvonne asked, genuinely hurt. "I'm that ugly?"

"No, uh, Yvonne, I think you're the prettiest girl at Kimble," Brian had protested. "You got the most beautiful eyes ever!"

They parked and swapped spit, Brian even got bold enough to heft one of Yvonne's massive breasts before Officer Dan Nguyen rapped smartly on the car window.

"Go on home, son," the police officer suggested.

"Yes sir," Brian stammered, eyes wide, sweating in fear.

But once they pulled up to Yvonne's house, they both collapsed in a fit of giggling.

From that make-out session forward, they were a couple.

"Hey Brian," Dean Danitoro, one of the athletes taunted. "So what y'all do? Get together and see who's got the most zits?"

Brian's punch toppled the boy over. Coach Nunez stepped in and broke it up before it went any further. But from that moment on, no one mocked Yvonne.

And Yvonne never stopped pining over Roy Richardson, or Dean Danitoro, or Chad Wellesley.

After the Spring Prom, Yvonne had encouraged Brian to take her to the Acadiana Motel.

She'd been on a severe diet, whittling almost twenty pounds of bulk. The more nutritious foods also helped with the severe acne.

"Now, you got condoms, right?" she again demanded as Brian pulled up to the cheap motel on Highway 19.

"Yeah, they uh, I got a twelve pack," Brian admitted, showing Yvonne the box.

They went into Room 102 and Yvonne went into the bathroom.

In the room itself, Brian first pulled up the motel's television; the Latin woman behind the counter had giggled when she told him the room came with dirty movies.

"Amateur, Anal, Asian..." Brian read aloud as he nervously wiggled out of his clothing.

"What are you talking about?" Yvonne yelled through the door.

"Just reading what they got on the television," Brian admitted.

"Red heads," he said and hit 'enter.'

The television showed a toothpick thin girl with surgically enhanced breasts being roughly sodomized by a large black cock.

The next scene wasn't much better and Brian switched the selection over to 'Shaved,' which was another curiosity for him.

"Hey, Lover," Yvonne said as she flung open the door.

Brian turned, saw the nude Yvonne, and blasted a thick stream of semen, splattering the wall next to the television.

Yvonne saw a chubby and pasty body, an unattractive face, and a disgusting display of lack of control. She wanted to slam the bathroom door shut again, get dressed, and demand that Brian take her home.

Instead, she sighed, walked to the now chastened Brian, hugged him tightly, and pulled his face down for a kiss.

"There's um, there's something I've always wanted to do," Brian stammered as the two eighteen year olds sat on the bed.

"What?" Yvonne asked, stomach knotting.

In the bathroom at the prom, she'd overheard Wendy and Tiffany giggling; Roy wanted anal sex, had been pressuring Wendy for this last vestige of her virginity.

"So you going let him?" Tiffany asked.

"No!" Wendy said. "Mariella said she and Dean did that and messed her up bad!"

"I'd let him," Yvonne said to herself as she flushed her commode.

When Wendy and Tiffany saw it was just Yvonne Davidson, an absolute nobody, they continued giggling over Mariella's misfortune.

"Didn't even use lube, just shoved it in," Wendy laughed so hard she started coughing.

"Hope you choke to death, bitch," Yvonne thought as she left the bathroom.

Yvonne would let Roy jam his cock into her back door. She'd let Dean do it, or Kahmall Wooten, even if he was black.

But now in the motel room, with Brian Roberts, Yvonne wasn't about to let Brian do such a vulgar, painful thing to her.

Brian lay Yvonne back on the flimsy mattress, gently kissed her lips, and then kissed her on her neck.

He knew her shoulders were a sensitive, erogenous zone for her, so he nibbled along her broad shoulders.

She sighed; it was very pleasant.

He then licked, sucked, nibbled and stroked each large breast.

When he began kissing her pudgy belly, Yvonne began to cool. Up to now, his attentions had been pleasing. But even touching her flabby belly was a huge turn-off for her.

But then his mouth glued itself to her damp pussy and Yvonne nearly screamed.

Within moments of putting his mouth to her pussy, Brian's face was drenched from her orgasm. And his head was nearly crushed by her massive thighs.

He licked and sucked her to two more orgasms before finally rolling a condom onto his throbbing erection.

He made sure to coat his latex covered cock with her juices before slowly pushing into her.

Yvonne had heard horror stories about how painful losing virginity could be. There was a slight pressure, a slight pinch, and then Brian was pushing all six inches of himself into her.

And with a grunt, he shuddered and filled his condom.

They used four condoms before Yvonne finally said, "Take me home, Lover."

And that night, as she drifted off to sleep, she wondered how Roy would be as a lover.

Or Dean, or Chad, or John Taylor; his father was a stock broker so John always had nice clothes and drove a bright red Corvette.

Then, even though Yvonne stuck to her diet, continued to exercise, her weight loss decreased, then she began to gain weight.

"You stupid ass mother fucker," she hissed hatefully to Brian. "Now I'll never be pretty."

Brian did the right thing, the honorable thing. He had wanted to marry Yvonne anyway, had wanted to have children with Yvonne anyway. Of course, he had wanted to go to college, get a degree in whatever, be established and financially secure before all of that happened.

Offshore work is grueling, difficult work. Brian was sure he would not survive the first seven on/seven off shift. But he persevered and did his best for Bowman Engineering.

One day, four months into his employment with Bowman, seven months into Yvonne's pregnancy, a pump went down.

The roughnecks were happy. As long as the pump was down, they were paid to stand around, scratch themselves, and fart.

Kendricks Engineering let Shorty know it would be at least three, four hours before they could send a guy out; the lead mechanic was on Platform number twelve in Lowridge, Texas.

"Can I take a look?" Brian asked Shorty, the six foot, seven inch tall foreman.

"Knock yourself out," Shorty shrugged.

Then he bent and whispered in Brian's ear, "And you get that mother fucker working? I guarantee you, your ass will be dead before nightfall."

Brian took the plate off, looked, tinkered with this and that, and then nodded.

"Need a number nine flange and a quarter inch spring," he whispered to Shorty as he put the plate back on.

Shorty radioed that news in and Kendricks made sure their mechanic had the parts on hand.

Shorty pointed Brian out to the Kendricks man and Brian was pulled off the rig.

Kendricks Engineering paid a dollar fifty more an hour than Bowman, and paid for Brian to go to their school.

Brian Jr, Buddy as everyone in his family and Yvonne's family christened the baby, was a healthy baby boy. As soon as she was able to, Yvonne began a strenuous exercise and diet program.

She was doing good, had firmed up her belly, firmed up her buttocks, had weaned Buddy from her breasts.

"Damn, Honey, you're gorgeous," Brian had said when he saw Yvonne examining herself in the full length mirror.

Yvonne smiled at the compliment.

"You're not too bad yourself," she agreed.

And Brian wasn't too bad. He'd lost the extra weight; hard physical labor will whittle pounds and inches off a body quickly.

His skin had cleared, his hair was now in a severe buzz cut, and his glasses were much more stylish.

Two months later, Yvonne was in no complimentary mood when Dr. Farbacher confirmed that she was pregnant.

After Conner's birth, Yvonne had even inquired about stomach stapling, or gastric bypass surgery, but Dr. Farbacher refused to do these procedures.

"You're a healthy young woman," he said. "Simple diet and exercise will do the job just fine."

Yvonne overheard Brian telling a relative that a pregnant Yvonne was the sexiest sight he'd ever seen. Her anger flared hotly and it was nearly three months after the birth of Connor before he got between his wife's legs again.

She insisted that Brian look into vasectomy options, or let her get her tubes tied.

But before either one could commit; these procedures were very difficult to reverse, should they ever decide to have more children (Yvonne knew for certain she'd not change her mind) they discovered that his condoms and her birth control pills had yet again failed.

"God damn, really?" Yvonne screamed hatefully. "I get down to almost one oh five and this?"

Brian wanted to tell her, at a hundred and five pounds, Yvonne had looked unhealthy. Her skin had not receded at the same rate as her fat and had sagged horribly.

But he kept his mouth shut.

Now, a few years after giving birth to Brian's precious Delilah, Yvonne was struggling with those last ten, fifteen pounds. But had to admit, she did look pretty sexy since the ten, fifteen pounds had stayed in her breasts and backside.

The announcement for their Tenth Year High School Reunion had come in the mail and Yvonne had become obsessed with losing that little bit of weight. But her body stubbornly refused to give it up.

The announcement had email addresses, and even Facebook links for many of their classmates. One day, when Delilah was down for her nap, instead of putting on her exercise video, Yvonne went on Brian's computer, logged onto the Internet, and created her own Facebook page.

She was delighted when Roy Richardson accepted her 'Friends' request.

Just as he had been in school, Roy was outgoing, friendly, charming. He complimented her on her three children, complimented her on how good she looked, complimented her on how good Brian looked.

Yvonne scrolled through Brian's photo files and found one of her, in black baby doll nightie, just before conceiving Delilah, and posted that photograph as well.

"Wow; you're a knockout," Roy responded.

Over the next two months, they chatted on-line, nearly every day.

Yvonne found out Roy Richardson was not married, was living in Oakleaf, Texas, and was working as a police officer.

"Yeah, after leaving the Marines, seemed to be the perfect job for me," Roy said.

He and Wendy had split up just after he joined the Marines; she'd fallen in love with a football player on the campus of Connelly College in, of all places, Oakleaf.

"Got four kids, big as a house," Roy typed.

His Facebook page had a picture of Roy with Wendy and Wendy's husband, a fellow police officer, a State Trooper. Yvonne felt a gleam of satisfaction; Wendy was indeed as big as a house, probably close to two hundred pounds.

They both admitted they were looking forward to the reunion, catching up with old friends.

Her suggestion that they do a little catching up before the reunion did not get an immediate response. Yvonne was a little upset by his apparent rejection and again cursed Brian, cursed Delilah for those ten, fifteen pounds of flab.

Dean Danitoro had seen Yvonne's Facebook page, had sent a 'Friends' invitation and had wasted no time in suggesting that they 'catch up' at the Acadiana Motel. John Taylor had likewise suggested a little 'catching up' at his Baylor Lake home.

But Roy obviously was not about to lower his standards for a lard ass, for a freckled faced blob. Brian was mystified at the cold, almost hateful treatment he got that night.

Nearly thirty hours after her suggestion that they 'catch up' with each other, Roy responded. He was sorry, how had he missed that message? He would love to 'catch up' and requested that she wear something black for their 'catching up.'

In the days that followed, Roy's suggestions for how they could 'catch up' grew more explicit and did include anal sex, as well as oral sex.

"But only if you swallow," Roy had stated. "Nothing's a bigger turn off than listening to someone spitting out your jizz."

Yvonne bit down her first response. She did not care for performing oral sex, found it slightly off-putting, the taste, the work involved, and then the taste and texture of Brian's ejaculate. They usually only had oral sex on those occasions when she'd had a little too much to drink.

"Well, this is a special occasion," she coyly said to Roy.

Her experience with anal sex had been limited to Brian jamming a finger into her sweaty anus while feasting on her pussy. And she did enjoy that, so she was sure she'd enjoy Roy's cock working into her rectum.

Then Roy demanded that she bring five condoms. Not three, not six, five.