JUST TO SAY I'VE BEEN THERE

Her name was Charlene, and from the first instant I laid eyes on her all I could think of was how much I wanted to fuck her... Just once... Just to say I'd been there.

At the time, I was 20 and she was 27. A classic case of being smitten with an "older" woman. A country girl from southern Mississippi, she had the face of an angel, the body of a goddess, and the brains of an Ellie May. From her platinum hair down to her polished toenails, she the epitome of a hot hick chick. Her Mississippi accent was thick and a bit husky.

The first time I saw her, she was wearing a white midriff exposing blouse, red short-shorts and some white strappy sandals... God those legs... Those incomparable legs. I had a hard time keeping my eyes off of them.

Charlene was married to her cultural and psychological equal, a regular Jethro. So that is what I'll call him. He was a house painter by trade. They had a son who had just turned 13. So of course any real world notions of ever being able to get in those shorts were a fantasy. There was one other obstacle. It was also the reason I met Charlene in the first place. The "it" was her sister Debbie, who happened to be my girlfriend, and would later become my first wife.

Whenever we would all get together, I had to force myself not to stare at Charlene. But sometimes I would find myself standing behind her, admiring her tight, curvy ass. On one occasion, she was wearing a two-piece bathing suit, and as I stood behind her, I could help but venture a flick of my tongue.

There was one thing about her that, for me, was and still is, a turn off. She smoked... a lot. Maybe that was good in a way. Maybe that put a limit on how much I might be inclined to obsess over her. But not enough to keep me, in moments of solitude, from masturbating very feverishly fantasizing about her. In fact, part of the fantasy was that she let me fuck her if I let her blow smoke in my face before getting after it.

To keep the money coming in, Jethro would often have to travel out of state to find paper hanging jobs. When possible, he would take the boy along, leaving Charlene home...alone.

In the steamy summer of 1971, "home" was a rented house in Oak Cliff, a suburb of Dallas. Some may know of it for its associations with Lee Harvey Oswald. Charlene was alone now too, as Jethro and son were out of state.

At the time, I was in the military, stationed in San Antonio, about a 4-5 hour drive up I-35 from Dallas. Debbie worked a job at a small tractor equipment company.

One Thursday afternoon, she called me to say that Charlene wanted to come down from Dallas and stay for a week. Sitting around that house in Oak Cliff was getting old.

The plan was for us to leave out mid-afternoon the next day, pick up Charlene and immediately turn around and come back, getting in late Friday evening.

I was off that Friday, and got the car ready. I was set to pick Debbie when up when she called, a bit upset. She was going to have to stay the afternoon at work. It seemed that "small" company was about to close a "big" deal, and needed her to stay. The trip would have to be canceled. I had to work an evening shift at my military job on Saturday and Sunday. So it was today or not at all.

I then said "Well hell, I'll go get her. She can help drive back. Can you catch a ride home with somebody?"

Eager not to let Charlene down, she agreed to "let" me do this. Besides, there is no reason for her to worry about anything else other than Charlene and I getting back okay, right? There was NO WAY that anything... taboo... might occur.

The car we had at the time had no air conditioning. It figured to be a miserable drive up, and maybe it would be a little better on the return after dark.

So into the steamy afternoon Sun I drove, thinking at least I"ll have an excuse to sit close to Charlene for a few hours...

Charlene must have seen me pull up in the driveway, because by the time I got out of the car, she was standing in the doorway smiling, one of her ubiquitous cigarettes in her right hand.

She was dressed "safely" enough. Jeans and a short sleeve plaid blouse. But she still looked good enough to eat.

Upon stepping inside the house, she noticed that I was sweating from the drive in the heat. "Boy, it looks like you need a shower... Take one, and I have some of Jethro's clothes you can change into. You're about his size". I wondered to myself if I was his size in another aspect of male anatomy.

After I had locked the door to the bathroom, turned on the shower and stripped, I was tempted to sit on the floor of the shower stall and masturbate, thinking about how she and I were alone, all alone in the house. I was so hard I could have hung a bath towel on my cock. But I just went on with the process of showering, running my hand up and down on my cock from time to time.

After a few minutes I was done with the shower. I got out, dried off and put on Jethro's jeans and shirt, then stepped out of the steamy bathroom and into the nice, cool, air conditioning. Now ready to get out in the heat again, and begin the drive back, I walked down the hall towards the little living room in the house.

From behind me I hear her voice "Hey, are you ready?"

"Yes, are you? Where are you?" I asked.

"In my bedroom, could you come here a minute?"

"Sure... Here I come."

When I got to her bedroom door, her back was turned away from me, facing an old fireplace like you tend to see in bedrooms of old houses. She was smoking. Her and Jethro's queen size bed was between us. I was puzzled, first by her actually asking me to come into THEIR bedroom, and then REALLY puzzled by something else. For some reason, she had put on a pink terry cloth bath robe over her clothes... or so I thought.

She takes one final puff, crushes out the cig in an ashtray on the fireplace mantle, and turns around...

"That ol' shower feel good, hon?" she said, smiling.

"Y...Yes it ... was". Not sure what, if anything, was about to happen, I instantly got a little "nervous".

"Well, that's good... We have a long drive back, and you needed that shower to relax you. Look, I was thinking. Maybe we both could use one more thing to get us ready for the trip."

She then proceeds to loosen the belt on the robe and lets it drop to the floor. Standing before me, totally naked, is my Number One Masturbatory Fantasy Woman! Little old me almost fainted on the spot!

She then gets in the bed and up on her knees. She extends her arms towards me, smiles and says "C'mon. Let's relax a bit."

Talk about senses on overload. Here is this woman, this beautiful, sexy, hot, mature woman without a stitch of clothing on. My sister-in-law for crying out loud. She's holding her hands out and inviting me to get in bed with her!!

She kept smiling and says "Nobody will ever find out. What happens here will never leave here. C'mon.

Still smiling, she says "I know you've wanted me. I"ve seen you eying me up from behind. Even saw that bad boy tongue of yours. Remember the patio of that apartment

Jethro and I had? The sliding glass door? They reflect better than you think. And oh, don"t worry. I got "fixed" a few years back.

I guess you might say that I went over the edge when she said she had been "fixed", or "fee-yuxed" as her accent forced her to pronounce it.

I never knew that I could rip clothes off so fast. Once in the bed and on my knees, I paused just a second about a foot from her. In an instant we were locked in embrace. It was one of those times when I wish I had an extra pair of hands. The two that I did have seemed to be everywhere at once, feeling, squeezing, caressing, fondling. She felt awesome! Jethro was the luckiest dumb bastard alive, and so was his cock!

I was like a kid who wins a contest where you grab a shopping cart in a toy store and have 2 minutes to grab anything you want and throw it in the cart.

And that bit about her smoking being a turn off? You would never know it from the way our tongues were entwined.

The first few minutes were a blur. I'm thinking I'm going to wake up and realize this was just a wonderful wet dream, but one I didn't want to end. My mouth traveled to her nipples, rough and darkened by pregnancy. I covered each one completely with my mouth and sucked them hungrily and rolled my tongue all over them.

I was just about out of my mind with arousal. I knew if I dare plunge my cock in her at that point, it would be over in an instant. I think she sensed that too, and after those first few mind blowing minutes she coaxed me to lay down on my back. She then climbs on top of me in the "69" position, seals her lips over the head of my cock and begins to swirl her tongue all over it. Grabbing her wonderful ass cheeks, one in each hand, I buried my face in her freshly shaven pussy and plunged my tongue inside it. Besides being raw and wild, you might say my mind was so involved with eating her it shifted my attention from my cock to her pussy, and helped prevent me from blowing my load too quickly.

With my tongue working her clit and my nose buried inside her, she began to press her pussy harder and harder into my face. Her pelvis began to make little movements as if she was trying to find just the right sweet spot to trigger an orgasm, even as her mouth and tongue continued to give my cock head the ice cream cone treatment.

Her pelvic movements increased in frequency and sharpness. She was getting close, oh so close, and my tongue was loving every second of it. It was no longer a case of a mature woman seducing her younger, somewhat nervous brother in law. In a matter of a few minutes, such "roles" and "definitions" melted away, and we were now just two consenting adults taking advantage of each other's bodies, fucking for all we were worth.

Finally she was at the brink. She abandoned my cock, pushed herself up on the palms of her hands, and in one final flurry of pelvic thrusts, began to cum.

The primal language of orgasm, well known to anyone who has ever had one, began to explode spontaneously from her sultry lips.

"Oh!... Oh that feels good! Oooooh! Awwwwwwww! Fuck! Aww! Oh! Aww! Fuck me! Uh! UH! ooh! oh Fuck! oh shit! oh! Oh! oh!"

Gradually her words slow in frequency as the waves of pleasure and relief flow through her. Finally, her orgasmic fury spent, she goes limp, panting as she catches her breath.

After a few moments, she rolls off of me, gives me a look that is a combination of pleasure and amazement, then smiles and says "I guess it"s your turn."

Now, having somehow had just enough to satisfy her, I am suddenly comfortable and confident, and shoot back playfully "I was hoping you wouldn't forget me."

"Take me the way you desire." she says.

"The old fashioned missionary style works for me. Just wrap those sexy legs around me and push your heels into my ass cheeks!"

In an instant, my still aroused beyond belief cock plunges between her legs, and the masturbatory fantasy finally becomes reality. Freed from any need for restraint by her own orgasm, my own relief is quick, powerful and wonderfully selfish. Given the power of her orgasm and the way it was achieved, mine seems almost an "anticlimax". But make no mistake about it, I DRAINED myself in her.

For a couple of minutes we lay there holding each other. Nothing was said until she brought us back to reality with "We better get dressed and get going".

In all, we had been in bed for about 30 minutes. Not enough to result in us being suspiciously late in our return to San Antonio, but Charlene still called Debbie to explain about my having to take a shower and change.

It was just about dark by the time we headed south on I-35. Because it was still a bit warm, she decides to wear a pair of shorts, but tells me she has a pair of jeans and wants to stop somewhere and change into them just before we get back. "Don"t want any doubts about anything" she said.

Not much was said between us as we drove through the night. It was as we were both in our little worlds, thinking about what had gone on between us. Sitting so close to me in those shorts, I would occasionally steal a quick glance at her legs, quietly amazed at thinking how I had been between them just a short while ago. Those legs I had lusted for so many times.

About two hours from Dallas we began to see flashes in the distance ahead of us. Lightning.Looks like there may be a thunderstorm up ahead.

Never a good thing to drive through such weather, it was a bit worse for us. Since the car had no air conditioning, the only way we could stand to ride in it was to keep the windows down.

If rain were to come, we would have to roll them up.

The flashes grew more frequent, and were getting closer. Finally a few drops began to hit the windshield.

On I-35, near a little Texas town named Salado, there is a typical Interstate Highway rest stop. Were you to look up information on it, you would be of the belief that it did not open until 2008. Truth be told, it has been there almost from the time the road was opened. The thing that was opened in 2008 was an upgrade to its facilities. But in 1971 it was a simple road side rest stop, built to the standards of the times. There weren't even any lights there at the time.

Funny how timing works. When the rain began pounding the car in earnest, I saw a sign for it as we rolled up the windows, and slipped off the highway to ride out the rain.

Well you know where this is headed. While the rain battered the car outside, we climbed into the back seat and made love again. Of course, it wasn't really "love making". It was simple, impulse of the moment fucking. We didn't even get undressed. Off came her shorts, down dropped my jeans, and our hormones took over.

By the time my load leaped from me and into her, we were both drenched, not from rain, but from our own sweat. It was a classic, steamy hot fuck. There is something about sex between two people sweating profusely that makes, to the man, his cum shot really have that laser hot feel. This one was not exempt from that sensation.

Mercifully, once the thunderstorm had passed and the windows were rolled down, the rain had flushed out the heat, and replaced it with cool air. Since we had no towels to "clean up" with, Charlene did what she could with her shorts to wipe my load off her. "Well, I guess I should change to the jeans now" she smiled and said.

It was just past midnight when we pulled into the driveway of my also rented house. By the time we got there, our clothes had dried enough, but after hastily hugging Debbie, I said "I need another shower".

The next morning was normal in every way. Since I had that evening shift to do, I slept in a bit. By the time I got up, Charlene and Debbie were sitting at the kitchen table. The dishes that held the sausage and eggs they had were still in front of them. Charlene, predictably, was puffing away. Considering what had happened a little over 12 hours ago, there was no feeling of unease I could sense in either of us.

I walked over to Debbie, pecked her on the cheek, and she asked me if I wanted breakfast. Charlene and I made small talk about the drive down and having to fight that thunderstorm.

I began this story by saying of Charlene "all I could think of was how much I wanted to fuck her. Just once. Just to say I'd been there." Yet I wondered "Would there be more?" After all, we HAD done it twice just yesterday.

Well, any thoughts of that were, you might say, quickly "put to bed". While Debbie was in the bathroom, I walked by Charlene and lightly patted her ass. Her reaction was immediate and visceral. Grabbing my arm, she spun me around, and gritting her teeth said "If you ever touch me like that again I"m going to yell rape! Do you understand?!" And she took a strong puff of her cig, and blew the smoke in my face. Looks like it would be just once, or at least just one encounter, after all.

Looking back on it, this should not have been surprising. If I had asked her why she seduced me, she probably could not have given an answer that was honest, least of all, honest to herself. I suspect it was just an impulse, and in the light of the next day, guilt had swept over her. Funny, but I never had any feeling of guilt about what happened at all. I wonder what that says about me.

Several years later Debbie and I divorced. The best thing you could say about it was there were no kids involved. We divided up our things in classic "community property" fashion. I moved to a town over a thousand miles away and eventually began a new life with a new love. I never saw Debbie or Charlene again.

One day not long after I moved, I found one of the possessions I ended up with in the divorce. It was a box of pictures. Family pictures of presumably happier times.

My sifting through them suddenly stopped at this one picture. It instantly became a priceless possession. One that I protected. One that I kept carefully hidden when I remarried. It was only when scanners became available, and I made a high quality scan, that I threw it in a roaring fireplace.

So what made this picture a "keeper"? A keeper worthy of protection and preservation? It was a picture of Debbie and I, along with Jethro and Charlene.

I remembered well when it was taken. It was at a family 4th of July barbecue two years after our encounter. Taken with a good 35mm camera, it was crisp and clear. It would turn out to be the only picture in that box in which Charlene appeared. While her "Summer attire" had become more "modest", she still wore fairly "short" shorts, and had not lost her taste for those little strap sandals.

And then there were those legs, still incredibly luscious, still shapely as ever. Every once in a while, when I am alone, I steal a look at the picture. I look at those legs and think to myself "By the time this picture had been taken, I had been there". And more than just once.

Though I left Texas long ago, there still have been a number of times in four plus decades that I've driven I-35 between Dallas and San Antonio. And every time I pass that rest stop, I smile to myself.

A few years ago word filtered back to me that Charlene was gone. In the end, it was not the smoking that got her, but another vice - alcohol.