The Cross Ch. 02

Chapter 02: Second Coming

A warm summer wind blew through the tall maples and taller hemlocks of the undeveloped wood that stood amidst the quiet suburbs where Andrew lived. It had been a good, hot summer, but the evenings were beginning to cool off a bit. Andrew stood amongst the trees, waiting. His brother Mark would be arriving later that evening to visit him and their parents. Andrew was excited about this, excited to hear all about Mark's adventures at college. What really thrilled him, though, as he stood waiting in the woods that stood the better part of a mile away from his house, was the fact that today he was scheduled to do yard work for the Wilsons.

He had been a bit hasty, though, skipping breakfast against his mother's reasonable request that he get something inside him before all that yard work. As a result, Andrew discovered Mr. Wilson's car was still in the drive at 1221 Quail Drive this early in the AM. Rather than having yet another awkward conversation with Mr. Wilson, Andrew decided to wait it out in the woods a few blocks away. He just wasn't in the mood for a conversation with Mr. Wilson this morning. Andrew had arrived too early once before, and the resulting encounter with Mr. Wilson was just too awkward. Oh sure, Mr. Wilson was perfectly friendly and full of sporting admiration for the young man, but for Andrew it was a bitter way to start an otherwise dynamite day. For Andrew, it was just too uncomfortable bidding the man a good day mere minutes before standing in the Wilson's kitchen getting a superb blowjob from Mrs. Wilson.

He looked at his watch once after willing himself not to look for what seemed an eternity of standing peacefully among the trees. It was a quarter to nine; late enough. Andrew left the wood and found the end of the sidewalk that lead to the Wilson's house and beyond. The neighborhood was quiet. He turned the corner of Maple and Quail where he almost leapt for joy at the absence of Mr. Wilson's car in the driveway. This morning he felt especially eager to avail himself to Mrs. Wilson.

It had been weeks since their first secret encounter; the night Andrew had gambled and won. Since that evening, Andrew had been with Doreen six times, each under the guise of Andrew doing yard work for the Wilson's. Sure, he did a great job working in the Wilson's back yard, but not before working on Doreen. It was usually fairly quick, but Doreen responded to Andrew's affections with such white hot zeal that Andrew felt it was almost his duty to please her. Andrew found his heaven in their affair. Some nights he lay awake in bed imagining where this whole thing would lead him. Today would mark a new chapter in Andrew's secret life.

Andrew knocked on the Wilson's front door. Doreen answered after a few moments, holding the door wide and bidding him enter. Andrew entered and stood in the foyer with his hands tucked innocently in his pockets. Doreen closed the door and locked it. She turned to him, hands still on the door behind her as if to keep it closed.

"Andrew..." Doreen beamed uncontrollably at some thought that she just had to share. Her eyes twinkled and her cheeks blushed slightly, giving her that beautiful polished glow that only older women can achieve. Her hair was shorter now, with some highlights of lighter blonde amidst the light ash brown of her natural hair color. The Doreen Andrew knew from the past had successfully kept her figure a secret; wearing lose fitting flannel and denim, button up shirts and skirt suits fit for grandma when the occasion demanded it. Now though, Doreen playfully took to wearing things that would let Andrew know full well what her intentions were. Today she wore a black wool sweater, jeans and slip on shoes. Nothing provocative if worn by anyone else, but on Doreen that sweater looked completely sinful. Her immense bosom stretched the fabric taut across her chest and back. The graceful swell of her hips was completely given away by the jeans she now wore.

Hanging from a gold chain around her neck was the cross she always wore. It seemed now to emit its own light against the black of her sweater, reminding Andrew of his folly. He would go gladly into that dark pit of lust any time she bid him. Andrew yearned to hold her close and feel her body press into his more than anything he had ever known. Doreen was now Andrew's one wish, his only true desire.

Andrew asked her what was on her mind, smiling at her reaction. She did a little side-step jump while clasping her hands together in a gesture of supplication. "Well... I was wondering if we could wait on today's... activities." Her voice was full of excitement. Andrew's curiosity was piqued. He marveled at the way she remained the proper, dignified Doreen that he had always known, more or less, even after they had acquired carnal knowledge of one another. He loved that about her; it kept him wanting more.

"I am having a friend over today for our monthly gab session. We usually go shopping or have our hair done, you know, like women do. Today I thought we could stay here and have brunch and, well..." Doreen's speech wavered for a moment. "Come, sit down Andrew." Doreen gestured towards the living room.

Andrew took a seat in the great armchair at the head of the coffee table while Doreen perched on the sofa, near him. "Andrew, I have something to confess." Her big, pretty brown eyes searched Andrew's face for a mark of forgiveness. She edged nearer to him on her seat and put a hand on his. Her touch was so soft and loving that Andrew almost threw himself on her in his passion, but of course he listened to the woman instead. Doreen seemed worried, almost afraid...

"Andrew, I told my friend Clara about us." She paused then, letting the information take its place in Andrew's mind. "I told her that we have had sex numerous times, and that you made me extremely happy. Andrew... Clara is a very wonderful person and I don't think you have any need for worry about her telling anyone that-"

Andrew interrupted her "No, no. Really, it's OK, I trust you," he said, smiling at her polite concern for his feelings. "I'm not worried."

Doreen squeezed his hand and cocked her head to one side before speaking again. "Oh, Andrew, you are so good to me." She held there for a moment of blissful tension before continuing. "I wonder though, if you wouldn't mind meeting Clara. She lives in Allerton, and we get together at least once a month so she'll be here today. It would be very good of you to stay and meet her. She'll be here in another twenty minutes or so."

Andrew assured Doreen that he didn't mind a bit. "Well," Doreen said, hands slapping her knees, "I'm making brunch. Come keep me company in the kitchen and I'll get you some orange juice."

Andrew sat at the breakfast bar at the kitchen island as Doreen prepared a few things for brunch. They flirted, laughed, spoke like old friends. Then, Doreen went quiet. There was a small, secret smile on her face and a coy look in her eye as she opened a cupboard above her. She produced three large wine glasses, one of which she set in front of Andrew.

"What are you..." Andrew was cut off by Doreen's look, which said plainly "Shut your mouth, silly boy."

Doreen filled the glass half-full of orange juice from the large pitcher she had made. Eyeing Andrew menacingly to be sure he did not speak out of turn, she produced a large, ice cold bottle of champagne from the refrigerator. Andrew smiled, enchanted by the spirit of fun that had descended upon the woman. Doreen was not finished.

Removing the foil from the top of the bottle, Doreen proceeded to open the bottle with experienced hands. Playfully, she let the cork fly and the foam run a little. She brought the bottle to her mouth as it erupted softly, catching a good bit of the foam in her mouth. She swallowed, then licked the bottle neck clear of any excess in a bewitching act of suggestion that sent a chill down Andrew's back and a fire blazing deep inside him. Doreen poured a generous amount of the champagne into Andrew's glass, completing the drink.

"It's called," Doreen said in a matter-of-fact tone, "a mimosa. We drink them with brunch." She then proceeded to make one for herself and another for the guest yet to arrive.

Andrew drank deeply from his glass. It was cool, refreshing as orange juice always was, but there was a hint of excitement, a whiff of levity about the drink. It was, Andrew had to admit, the drink for that moment. Perfect. He hadn't had much experience with alcohol aside from what his brother had shared with him, but he hoped that all of it was as delightful as this.

Doreen continued setting the little kitchen table, moving quickly, singing lightly to herself. Andrew's eyes stalked their prey. The breasts that he had come to crave, to ache for, beckoned him like sirens so near to him. Like the sirens from myth, they would call him to his unrestraint; turn him to a slave in his own fascination. Still he sat; drinking his first champagne and watching this creature of lust go about her business.

She knew he watched her, knew he would have her sprawled across the table with her insides crammed full of him until he cried out in ecstasy, but she had him waiting. She had him in a hell so delicious that she knew he would come when she called him. The certainty of his need for her surrender was the surest thing she had known in so many years. She savored the feeling like that of a hot bath. She was in no hurry to end it before she'd had enough.

"Andrew, you answer the door if you hear the doorbell ring." Doreen requested. "I'm going upstairs for a minute."

Andrew waited at the bar, sipping his drink. It seemed that he had felt nervous at the thought of meeting this person, the only person who knew of his affair with Doreen, but now the feeling had lifted. No, anxiety had subsided, leaving him feeling warm and secure. After a time the doorbell did ring. Andrew rose from his seat, noticed an odd sensation as he passed from the kitchen to the hallway, and went for the door. He opened it.

There, standing on the front porch was Clara. Recognition dawned on her pretty, plump face as she greeted Andrew. "You must be the landscaper!" Clara said as Andrew took her hand.

"Andrew." He said, noticing how supple her handshake was. "And you must be Clara I suppose."

"That I am," Clara announced as Andrew motioned her inside and shut the door behind her. "Andrew it's lovely to meet you, but where's my Doreen? We were going to have brunch this morning."

"She's upstairs I think." Andrew stated. "But the kitchen is right this way."

Clara laughed and proceeded in the direction of the kitchen. Click, click, click. Andrew suddenly felt his head go slightly swimmy. It was as if he was back on that night, weeks ago, when Doreen had invited him in to her home. The sound of Clara's heels on the hallway floor was enough to trigger that blissful memory, and suddenly Clara had all of Andrew's attention. He followed into the kitchen. Once there, Clara took the drink that she knew was hers and turned to Andrew who had taken up his seat at the bar once again.

"So Doreen tells me you're doing great work out there." Clara sipped at her mimosa, and seemed completely at ease. Her squarish jaw and button nose might have been at odds with each other if it weren't for her beautiful blue eyes and smiling lips. Andrew spoke with her, finding it in himself to laugh and even flirt with this near stranger. He found this to be surprisingly easy.

Then it hit Andrew: Clara, after milling around the kitchen a little, showed one striking similarity to Doreen. Under the black sport coat and white silk shirt Clara wore were a pair of breasts that, after catching their profile, made Andrew's heart skip a beat. She was a bit thicker than Doreen, but not at all unappealing. Her breasts were huge. She was beaming at him.

"...well?" She looked amused, expectant. She had just asked Andrew a question and he hadn't the slightest idea what it was.

As if to save Andrew from certain embarrassment, Doreen clicked down the hall and into the kitchen. She was now wearing the sinister black high heels she had worn on that fateful night weeks before. The two women greeted each other with a good amount of laughter and boisterous babble. They hugged each other, exchanged jokes and laughed together until Andrew thought he was safely forgotten.

Friends though they were, the bodies of the two women faced each other as if on the field of battle; fighting a silent war for dominance. Andrew could sense this tension. From his solitary perch he eyed both women, drawing unavoidable comparisons.

Clara was perhaps a bit younger than Doreen. She was clad in a black wool skirt and black nylons which suited her legs very well, tidy as they were. She had a bit of a rump to her, which was in glorious proportion to her impressive upper-half. She stood shorter than Doreen even with her heels on. Her hair made her a true brunette; deep, dark and wavy. Her smile was honest and very infectious. Clara was a charmer.

"Andrew," Doreen pulled herself away from their conversation, while snapping Andrew out of his quiet musings, "Would you like to join us for brunch?"

Clara smiled at him. "You look hungry, Andrew." She nearly chided, "I'm sure the yard can wait."

"You've done so much work for me as it is." Doreen argued erroneously. "I think you deserve a bit of a reprieve. Join us."

Andrew sat with the two women and ate merrily. He feasted upon cantaloupe and waffles while his eyes feasted upon Clara. Her suit jacket now removed, the white silk shirt rendered her breasts even more captivating than before. The buttons were all done up to her collar, removing any chance Andrew might have had of seeing any cleavage. Still, the sheer size and prime shape of the ravishing busts had him at full mast. The resulting erection was safely hidden below the table, allowing Andrew to bask in the fit of lust that had taken him.

Doreen suddenly expressed a need for music, and dashed to the living room to put something on. Clara smiled at Andrew, and it was all Andrew could do not to blush. This reaction made Clara giggle, as she reached for the bottle of champagne to refill her glass. Without provocation, she poured a bit more into Andrew's glass.

"Why don't we join Doreen in the living room?" Clara stood, without waiting for Andrew's reply. She picked up Doreen's glass and walked away, towards the living room and the source of the jazz that began to play. Click, click, click, went Clara's heels. Her skirt swayed with the movement of her knees, commanding Andrew to obey. He rose, despite his condition, and followed.

As he entered the hallway, the effects of this unexpected amount of alcohol began to manifest. When he was seated at the table he felt fine, but walking was a different story. Clara's body moved before him, intensifying the effect. It was as if he was on a ship at sea, and her hips controlled the motion. He made it to the chair at the coffee table, and found himself in need of another sip.

Doreen and Clara sat on the sofa, legs crossed, spirits high. Andrew drank his champagne slowly all the while, happily observing the two women in their revelry. The music massaged his mind while the champagne bewitched his heart. Though nothing could mesmerize him like the two absolutely imposing sets of breasts that contested for his adoration. He found it easy to amuse himself with the idea that this was all a show for his pleasure. He imagined that he was a king sitting on his throne. Another sip might help...

As if from nowhere, Doreen's hand snatched Andrew's glass from him. She stood, smiling down at him. "Oh I think that's quite enough, dear." She quipped as she drank what remained in Andrew's glass. Clara laughed, tossing her head back in delight. Andrew had unwittingly become the subject of their fun.

Andrew stood from his chair, suddenly worried that he'd overstayed his welcome and that Doreen probably wanted him to get something done in the back yard. Just as quickly, he found himself seated again. He was quite drunk. This resulted in another burst of uproarious laughter from Doreen and Clara. Doreen collected herself politely, and asked if Andrew felt OK.

"I... I don't know. I think I may be drunk..." Andrew answered through the haze that seemed to surround him. Clara giggled at his callowness. Doreen reached down to him and took his hand.

"Come on, Andrew. I think you had better go lay down. Come with me." Doreen steadied him as he rose. She led him gingerly to the stairs, smiling warmly. "Can you make it up the stairs?"

Andrew felt like he could have done anything, if the room would simply stop spinning. He climbed the stairs, with Doreen close behind him. Doreen guided him across the landing to the guest bedroom, with which Andrew was actually quite familiar. Once there, he fell headlong onto the welcoming guest bed. The room was blessedly dark, but even with his eyes closed the spinning continued. He could hear music from the living room below, had it gotten louder? It resonated in the guest room, and lulled him deeper into the state of lethargy that overcame him. The door to the room clicked shut, banishing much of the din from the stereo below. Andrew became aware of a stirring in the room, sobering him momentarily. He turned.

Looking back towards the door, Andrew almost felt as if he were looking down on himself and the rest of the room. There, inside the room with him, stood Doreen. Next to her stood Clara. They returned his surprised stare with hunted, apprehensive looks that betrayed their hunger. Doreen moved first, knowing her place. She approached the bed and began to remove Andrew's shoes. Andrew was completely immobilized by the excitement that he felt then, and it was as if he was tied to the bed by Doreen's will.

"Let's get you more comfortable, dear." Doreen proposed. With his shoes and socks off, Doreen then moved around the bed to Andrew's side. She tugged at his shirt and he cooperated. Doreen smiled down at him over her huge breasts. The cross glinted in the small light that came from the curtained window. Doreen looked up at Clara. "Clara, would you help the lad get his pants off?"

Clara moved, finally, and raised herself onto the king size bed. She crawled the short distance up his legs and stopped before his middle. There, as she held herself above his body, a gold chain freed itself from beneath the white silk shirt and there hung a cross; identical to the one that Doreen wore. It hung proudly between the massive breasts that bulged magnificently above Andrew's body. Clara unfastened Andrew's pants with slow, deliberate motion.

Doreen stood by in contemplative silence as Clara dragged Andrew's pants off of him. There, resting hotly atop Andrew's stomach and waist laid his great and ungodly penis. Clara knelt then, righting herself above his body, never taking her eyes off of the uncanny organ. "My god..." She uttered, licking her deep red lips.

"Yes." Doreen mused, "Have you ever seen such a gorgeous cock?"

Clara swallowed hard. "No. It's absolutely astounding."

Doreen walked around the bed, watching the two of them. "Well, go ahead Andrew. Give her what she wants." Then, without warning, Doreen reached around the front of Clara and tore her shirt open violently. Clara's breasts burst from the confines of the cloth, one even wrenching free of the black lace bra that barely held the two glands in place. Clara gasped, shocked at her sudden nakedness. There was an eternity then, where Andrew's naked cock and Clara's bawdy breasts stood in the cool air of the same room. The air was ripe with lust.

Clara bent down, shifting her hips to lower her body upon him. She grasped his middle with her pretty hands and looked up, as if needing reassurance before she continued. His expression was almost that of fear, but a mad desire was behind his eyes, and she could not mistake his wanting. She paid homage to his great phallus, gazing on it with nothing short of reverence. She cocked her head to one side, lowered her head and closed her lips about the shaft of his penis.