Homecoming - The Epilogue

We'd seen it several times as we drove down the freeway to Portland. It looks exactly like pictures of the big stern wheelers on the Mississippi. We'd both commented that it'd be fun to take one of their cruises sometime. It looked like the time had come.

A few minutes later we'd been marked off the guest list and were walking down the gangplank. A photographer asked us to stop for a picture. Michelle took off her jacket, laid it across the handrail, took my arm, and snuggled up close with that captivating, sexy smile that can light up a room.

The stern wheeler sailed at four-thirty and it was a quarter-after when we got there, so we wandered around the boat while we waited, our fingers interlaced the whole time. There were several other people, mostly couples, none dressed quite like Michelle and me, certainly none who looked anything at all as gorgeous as her.

At four-thirty-five the boat started vibrating with the low growl from the big diesel engine and a moment later the big wheel started to move. We'd made it a point to be at the back to watch. The boat gradually moved away from the pier and a few minutes later we were moving up the river. We found a stair up to the second level, wandering up there for a better view of the scenery.

On the outside, for all the world, I was fascinated with the big boat. I'd never been on anything like it before. But inside... inside, my pulse was pounding with an adrenaline rush. My cock was hard and the only thing I could think about was... well, pretty sure I don't need to spell it out. The fact that every guy we passed raked Michelle's body over with his eyes wasn't helping my libido, either. And I wasn't the least self-conscious with my constant hard-on, especially with no underwear to rein it in. No, not at all, ha!

Michelle told me that this was a dinner cruise. We had an hour before we needed to be in the dining room. We pointed out things on the shore that looked so different from this view; a beautiful house sitting on a bluff overlooking the river that we'd never seen before. A beautiful waterfall on the Washington side right into the river. You can't see it from the Washington highway and it's too far from Oregon.

But still, my mind was on one track only. What was still to come that night? I'd wondered about that night the whole time Michelle was gone and then the seven weeks since. Now that the time was finally here, I had what I could only describe as a major adrenaline rush going on.

At twenty-five after, we made our way back down to the first level and the dining room. When we got there, just before going through the door, Michelle gave me a short peck on my cheek and told me, "He told me to 'not let them know'. I had no idea what he meant." I looked at her with what must have shown my befuddlement, as I sure didn't know what it might have meant, either.

There were probably fifty people already in the dining room, a steady stream still coming in, several hosts and hostesses seating everyone. A pretty, young lady took our names and noted them on her tablet before escorting us to a table for two. It had a white tablecloth, two sets of silverware, and a candle in the center, all very formal, including her long, flowing skirt. I was surprised, Michelle and I weren't overdressed at all, although none of the other women even came close. Maybe I was a bit prejudiced, but I thought, just being honest.

Our table was situated along the outside of the room with a beautiful view of the Washington side of the river. She told us that her name was Marianne and she'd be our server, asking what we'd like to drink and Michelle quickly spoke, "I'll have a gin and tonic, Bombay."

I looked at her with a surprised look. What the hell was that about? First; she doesn't drink, second; what the hell is it?

I started to order something I'd had once a long time ago, a Singapore Sling, but Michelle interrupted, "Remember, sweet, you're driving."

Okay, I looked at Marianne, "Ice tea," I guess. She thanked us and said she'd be back shortly.

I watched her for a moment, seating another couple, then back to Michelle, "What the heck was that, Bombay?" I asked Michelle, soon as the girl was gone.

"It's what I drank a lot of with Brett," she explained, then very quietly, "makes me sooo horny!"

As if to prove her point, her right hand slipped underneath the table. I didn't think too much of it at that instant until I felt it on my thigh, then a little more centered. It was hidden as the tablecloth draped over the edge of the table hiding what went on underneath, Michelle's fingers tracing little circles on my hardened 'junk', while at the same time, giving me that seductive smile.

"We were sitting at the Captain's table, along with his wife, just the four of us," she started to tell me when Marianne brought our drinks, and Michelle took a long, slow drink, looking straight into my eyes the whole time.

As she was setting her drink back down, still watching me, I felt her hand that had been tracing the circles on my cock begin to slowly pull my zipper down. I wasn't breathing, couldn't; my cock, unrestrained by any underwear emerged from its hiding place, proud and tall, anticipating what my wife was about to do.

But she didn't. her hand arose above the table, bringing her glass to her lips once more. Another long, slow sip of her aphrodisiac drink, looking into my eyes once again. Right or wrong, I took that as a signal, my hand finding its way to her leg, feeling her heat through her silky stocking.

"I was already so horny. He ordered me the drink. He leaned over and whispered to me again, 'Don't let them know,' then his fingers... on my thigh... then..."

My hand crept up her leg, pushing her dress along with it. Remembering again that it had been five long weeks that night with Brett, not just the two we'd just had. And how she'd told me the night she came home how she'd been sexually tormented with massages, shopping, trying on sexy clothes.

My hand crept higher, to the soft skin of the inside of her thigh. I felt Michelle's body begin to tremble. She took another drink of her Bombay, letting her legs spread slightly apart.

She'd freed my cock a moment ago. We've had erotic dinners before, ever since that New Year's Eve, where she told me about her college time with Mike. But never quite like this, where she'd...

Good thing, the pants I was wearing might have been torn by my hardness. I watched Michelle's face as my fingertips brushed slightly for the first time against her soaking panties. She was trying to show a calm demeanor to the people at the adjacent tables, and the wait staff. But I knew better; her pursed lips, the heat emanating through her panties, like she was reliving that night with Brett.

"So fuckin' horny!" I heard very quietly under her breath. I didn't know if she meant now or that night with Brett, but if wet panties were any indication... "His fingers felt like... like they were on fire... so hot!"

And those wet panties barely covered her sex. When I hooked a finger underneath them, feeling her baby-smooth, bare skin, how wet and slippery she was and worked slowly up and down her slit before pressing inside her, she had a sharp intake of her breath, momentarily closed her eyes, and squeezed her legs together. I immediately thought of another time she'd squeezed her legs together just like that, in Kodiak when we were entertaining my Coast Guard friend, Alec, just before the night ascended into what was still one of the most erotic of our lives.

Michelle was more than a little aroused; like she had been that other night so long ago, like she had undoubtedly been that night with Brett. Little moans were emanating from her mouth

That was the moment that Marianne brought us two small dinner salads. Michelle's body was vibrating with excitement, trying to act normal. I pulled my hand from underneath the table and noted that one finger was glistening with moisture. I don't know if Marianne noticed, but when she winked and said, "Enjoy," I wondered if she was talking about the salad, or something else.

Michelle is right-handed. She always eats with her right hand, but that night she picked up her fork with her left and her right disappeared under the table once again, wrapping around my cock and squeezing. "I think he liked it," was all she said, before a forkful of salad found its way into her mouth. I don't think she was talking about his salad. I sure as hell wasn't!

A few minutes later, Marianne brought our main courses; grilled salmon for Michelle, and several slices of rare prime rib for me. I was having a very hard time keeping a straight face when Michelle intentionally squeezed and pumped her hand a little when she was leaving the plates.

Over the next half-hour, while trying to eat, we took turns tormenting each other hidden under the table, exactly like I imagined Michelle and Brett that night, his words 'Don't let them know' resounding in my mind. Even after the two weeks, we were both so on the edge that I couldn't even begin to imagine what it must have been like that other night.

Michelle ordered a second gin and tonic, "I like how it makes me feel," she told me.

Even with the extracurricular activities, the food was incredible. Then the small bowl of spumoni ice cream. But all I wanted was to get my wife back to our hotel room. And it seemed she wanted the same thing.

When we stood, Michelle first pulled her dress down. Good thing, too, as it had been pretty much bunched up around her waist. We still had another hour, an excruciating hour, before the boat was scheduled to dock.

It was cooler outside on the water, so she put on her jacket. It was disappointing as I liked how men... and women had been looking at her, their eyes hungry, like I was the luckiest guy on earth to be with this woman. And I was; it was hard to not be thinking about a little later when I'd truly be 'with' her in our hotel room.

We walked up to the third deck, the top of the boat, arms around each other, standing at the guardrail watching the beautiful shore go past as the powerful engine pushed us back down the river. We walked from one side to the other, first the Washington side, then Oregon. Like I said, it all looks so different and beautiful from the river, like the freeway on the Oregon side at that point, how it's built out over the river supported on columns down into the river. You never notice that driving down the highway.

The boat turned around right above Bonneville Dam. We were at the front of the boat, still on the third deck, watching the water rushing underneath the boat when Michelle turned to me, gave me a hug, whispering, "I love you," and smiled at me, that smile that has captivated so many in her lifetime, "I never said those words to Brett... only to you," but then added, "everything else, though, I didn't hold anything else back."

I didn't know what to say. I'd seen how she had, that weekend in Chicago, been his woman, totally, enthusiastically, enjoying every second; that morning out by the pool, making love with him while Kristen and I watched. Not fucking, but making love, his cock sliding in and out of her. I hadn't ever been so damned jealous in my life... and so fuckin' turned on! I shook my head, trying to shake the image out of my mind, not succeeding.

It was a quarter after eight when we disembarked off the boat. They had given us our picture ('gave' it to us for another forty bucks!) and we were back in the Miata heading toward the hotel, finally! The closer it came, the harder my cock seemed to get. I didn't think it could get harder, but what can I say.

In the lobby, I started to head straight for the stair, but Michelle held me back, said, "He wanted to dance after dinner," and pulled me toward a room.

I hadn't realized the hotel had a bar. Of course, it would have been empty when we were here earlier. There was a stage and a guy singing, some kind of light rock I guess. I'm not a music expert by any means, unless it's country. And not an expert then, either, just a little more familiar since it's what I like. But this guy sounded pretty decent, too.

We sat at a little table for two and a guy came over, asked if we'd like anything to drink. I started to speak when Michelle broke in, "I'd like a gin and tonic, Bombay," she said.

The guy looked toward me. I didn't have to drive now, so, "The same, please."

While we waited, she started, "Brett ordered me the drink," Michelle said, "I'd told him earlier how horny it was making me... I could have told him I didn't need another drink," she looked straight into my eyes, "I was already so turned on that I could barely stand it. The only thing I wanted then was for him to take me to our cabin."

I glanced down. Her nipples were a pretty good indication, and they were poking holes through her dress. She saw where I was looking and looked down herself, "Like now," she said, "it's what I want."

I started to get up, "Then let's..."

She put her hand on mine, "No, not yet, we're... not ready."

The waiter brought our drinks and I gave him my card. Michelle took a sip and I followed suit. It wasn't half bad, kind of enjoyed it. She put hers back down and leaned over to kiss me, soft, sensual, her lips melting into mine, tasting like the 'Bombay', her tongue probing, then back just beyond touching. I still felt her breath. "It was our first kiss... and it was electric... so good." And her lips were back on mine, this time more urgent, like we hadn't kissed for two long weeks. Which we hadn't.

After breaking that kiss, she told me, "We weren't just on the ship the whole time, you know, there's a little island, Antigua, in the Caribbean. We stayed at a resort there for two weeks." Her fingers were tickling the back of my hand as she was telling me this, "I don't know how many times we made love... in our suite, the balcony, on little beaches we found..."

I pictured my wife on the beach making love. And the thought briefly went through my mind, being home... alone. But that thought quickly dissipated. I'd encouraged that trip, knowing full well. And besides, it was hot as hell!

"... show you the bikinis I wore."

My mind had left the premises shortly, "What? Your bikinis?" I asked her, hoping to not sound too loopy. I'd been drinking that gin and tonic and not exactly used to it.

"When we get home, I'll show you my bikinis. Maybe even model them for you," she smiled, obviously enjoying what she was doing to my libido.

"Let's dance," she suggested, responding to the first slow song the singer did, getting up from her chair and tugging my hand along with her. There were only two other couples dancing. Michelle wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her cheek against mine. I wrapped my arms around her, rubbing my hands against the bare skin of her back. Her perfumed scent flooding my senses.

"He's a really good dancer... but we didn't actually dance very long. We..."

And her lips were on mine, her tongue between my lips, oblivious to the other couples dancing and the people sitting around at tables. She pulled my head tighter and her soft lips stiffened, pressing against mine. Our feet were no longer moving and I wasn't even hearing the music, just feeling.

I pulled her tighter, crushing her breasts against my chest, hands reaching lower on her back. I know her dress had to have been pulled up, how high I had no idea but no doubt high enough to give a good show to onlookers.

Pretty much all the blood in my body appeared to have congregated in a single location. I know she was feeling it pressed against her abdomen. She would have been feeling his, too, that night.

"I think it's time to go upstairs," I heard from somewhere off in the distance. It was Michelle's voice.

I paid the tab for our drinks. What was in my thoughts was images. Images of my wife with Brett and feeling the fear, remembering the panic of that first night after she'd left, the agony and the jealousy toward the man who had taken my Michelle to his room that night while I was home alone, maybe the night I'd discovered the 'game' in her lingerie drawer.

But that was then, this was now. And I was about to relive that first night with my beautiful wife.

Inside our room, we kissed. I'd taken off my jacket and felt the hard nubbins of her nipples against my shirt. I was so fuckin' ready for more!

She directed me to sit on the couch, loveseat, actually. She went to her suitcase, pulled out a couple small, portable speakers and connected them to her phone, turning on some music, "He asked me to dance for him, this was the song he put on." It was soft, slow, seductive. No idea what or who, but it sure as hell matched the mood.

She began a slow, seductive dance in front of me, rubbing her hands against the silky material of her dress, occasionally pulling the hem up a few inches; her eyes closed, a look of pure lust on her face, moving gracefully on her heels. She used to rarely wear them, before that night she told me about Mike. Now, they're a staple, seemingly, every pair sexier than the last.

She turned, facing the opposite wall, pulling her dress up a little higher -- showing the lace at the top of her stockings. "I felt so... can't even describe it... turned on, sexy, so... like a teenage virgin taking her clothes off for her first lover."

One hand reached behind her, found the top of a zipper that I hadn't even realized was there, pulled it down slowly, so slowly, inch by agonizing inch. Her dress opened, the back of her panties coming into view, her sexy ass. My cock was so friggin' hard! She'd been teasing and tormenting me all evening. I ached to wrap my hand around myself and relieve the glorious agony.

She turned back toward me, her face flushed with desire, breasts and nipples straining at her dress, eyes open and watching me as she slipped the strap off her shoulder. I sat there, transfixed, turned on beyond all imagination, as she slipped her dress down -- first one breast, then the other; nipples hard and swollen, for her lover to see.

"He told me how beautiful I was. I could see it in his face."

Then the dress fell to the floor and she stood, inches away. Her black panties, totally sheer. "I wore the panties, because... I knew how much he'd enjoy taking them off. I knew because of that other night, in Seattle. You'll enjoy, too. I did... and will."

She stood, waiting. My fingers were shaking as I reached up, felt the soft skin of her hips. "His fingers were shaking, too. I knew... how much he wanted me, and I realized... the power I had."

I worked my fingers underneath the satiny material of her panties and pulled them down, feeling that my cock might explode at any instant. If not the cum, simply unable to contain the ever-expanding steel rod.

Michelle was panting as I peeled her soaked panties down her stocking-clad legs. She lifted each foot, pushing both the dress and panties aside. "You can touch," was all she said.

I did, running my hands up her hips, over her taut tummy, to the soft, bare skin of her wet pussy lips. Michelle groaned as I parted them just slightly and ran my forefinger between them. Her face was a study in concentration; eyes closed, mouth in an 'O'.

I started to pull her forward, intending on a nipple in my lips when she stepped up on the couch and said, "Told me... not to come... wanted first time... with him inside me," as she gripped my head and leaned her pussy into my mouth.

This time it was the scent of her sex that filled my senses, much more powerful than the perfume. And I swear, I'll never get used to those baby-smooth, bare pussy lips!

My hands were around her butt cheeks, her legs spread apart, bent knees on the couch's cushion on either side of my head. She let out a loud groan when my tongue pressed inside her lips. I was having my own hard time with my cock still constrained inside my slacks. I hadn't dared to take it out because I knew what would happen if I had.