Position Switch

Despite our constant sexual encounters, because of the circumstances we never had the opportunity to spend the night together until she sold her house just before I had to leave for college and I helped her move to an apartment in a city where she had family, more than two hundred miles away.

Before the three nights that we spent together in her new apartment, Betty made it clear what would happen in the future.

"Jeremy; I love you, and I know that you love me. However, I'm twenty six years older than you are, and you need an age appropriate girlfriend. Also, I need to move on with my life and though old by your standards I have a lot to offer a man and need to find one who is age appropriate for me. Therefore, when you leave here Saturday, we won't be together sexually ever again."

She gave her little speech - which I could tell was hard for her to get through - with a few tears in her eyes. I knew that she was right, but it still made my heart ache.

"I don't think that I'll ever find anyone that I'm as sexually compatible with as I am with you," I replied, tears forming in my eyes.

"What a dear thing to say," she smiled while stroking the side of my face. "My sincere hope is that you will - but we are good together, aren't we?" she laughed.

That was the understatement of the decade, as far as I was concerned. Up until our first tit fuck she spent a lot of time building up my confidence and alleviating the initial clumsiness on my part - especially when eating her pussy, or fucking in some positions. After that we seemed to meld our bodies together during sex, and instinctively knew what the other wanted. We both were more interested in pleasing the other person than ourselves, and as a result we both succeeded in spades.

After Betty's little speech and my reply, she wiped away her tears and my own and said "Now that that's settled, let's see if we can fuck each other comatose the next three nights!"

That was the first time she had used the word "fuck" in her relationship with me. That opened the floodgates, however, and the next three days we both talked dirty as we fucked each other into oblivion three times a day. When that was combined with the times that I ate her out or moved a vibrator into her ass, it seemed that we were doing something sexual at least ten hours a day. When we finally did go to bed with the purpose of recharging rather than fucking, we passed out more than fell asleep.

Betty and I thanked each other profusely when we kissed goodbye and promised to email each other regularly. By the time that I got home from the two hundred mile drive I was ready to face college, with the knowledge that I could handle myself in any sexual situation.

*****************

As Betty had predicted, I did become successful in life because I was smart, industrious, and kind to everyone - unless they demonstrated that they weren't worthy of my kindness. By the time that I was twenty eight I had my own company headquartered in the city that I grew up in, for fun (and to stay in shape myself) taught cross training for runners at a local fitness facility two nights a week and on Saturday morning, and had a good cadre of friends.

The only area where my life was not a success was in the long-standing-relationship-with-a-female department. While I had had a number of relationships, starting my sophomore year in college, that lasted about six months or longer, I never found anyone that I was completely compatible with. I never consciously "blamed" that on Betty, but I'm sure that deep down inside I was comparing my girlfriends to Betty and they were coming up short. Betty and I had communicated by email for three years, until she found a guy who was crazy about her and much nicer than her old husband Mitch, and thought it best to end our communications; I agreed with her at the time, so we hadn't had any further contact.

While I had always tried to be sweet to and considerate with girlfriends, eventually I would convince myself that the girlfriend de jour was not right for me, and would terminate the relationship as kindly as possible. When at twenty eight I broke up with a woman who the rest of the world considered eminently compatible with me I finally admitted to myself that I needed help and went to see a shrink. It was after two sessions with the shrink that something happened to change my life.

I was just doing some shopping at a food store that I rarely frequented but wasn't too far from my house when I heard "Jeremy; Jeremy Watson; is that you?"

I turned to see what appeared to be a beer-bellied and balding version of Will Simpson. I primarily recognized him because of the cock-sure smirk on his face, one that I had often seen before.

"Hi, Will," I replied, once that I was sure that it was him. "I didn't know that you lived nearby."

"Yeah, me and the missus have lived in the neighborhood for about three years. How have you been? I can see that you're certainly no scrawny kid anymore!" he responded.

Of course I wasn't a scrawny kid anymore the last time that he saw me either - now ten years ago - but that was only once, and I'm sure that in his mind I was still the 95 pound weakling that lived next door, and not someone six two, 220 pounds, with bulging calf and arm muscles.

I was surprised at how friendly that Will was toward me. Apparently he had forgotten the Amy incident - but he had done so many miserable things to many people in the past, that likely was no longer in his memory banks. He even invited me to a party at his house the next weekend. I was looking for a subtle way to decline and figure out what food store I should patronize in the future so as not to run into him again when he said "Marcia would love to have someone from our old High School days over."

"Could he possibly be referring to Marcia Briggs?" flashed through my mind, remembering the Kate Upton clone who had been his on-again off-again girlfriend in High School and my fantasy woman.

"Are you and Marcia Briggs married?" I asked, trying to hide the incredulity in my voice since I always assumed that someone as beautiful and with-it as Marcia would eventually realize what an ass Will was and distance herself from him.

"Sure am; she made an honest man out of me shortly after college," Will grinned.

Suddenly curiosity overwhelmed me. I wondered if a girl that was so fantastic that I never even harbored any thought that she would date someone like me had changed. I wondered if she was still the nicest and sexiest - aside from Betty - woman that I had ever seen, or if she was now a dissipated hag after being married to Will for five or six years. So I cheerily replied "Uh, sure - that is real nice of you, Will. When next weekend and what's the address?"

*******************

I showed up the next Saturday night at Will and Marcia's house with an expensive bottle of Cabernet, dressed smart casual. With a streak of vanity that I found disconcerting, I made sure that my biceps were very visible bulging out of the tight shirt that I wore.

Marcia Simpson, nee Briggs, answered the door. "Hi," she said, with a perplexed look on her face. She clearly didn't recognize me.

"Hi, I'm Jeremy Watson," I replied with a smile. "I used to be Will's next door neighbor growing up, and ran into him last weekend at the Kroger on Jackson Street and he invited me to your party - I hope that I'm not intruding."

"Jeremy? You're not pulling my leg?" she responded with a tone of skepticism. "Will told me that he had invited you but I truly do not recognize you."

"Yeah," I laughed, "the last time that you saw me I was probably five three and weighed a hundred pounds. I had a growth spurt."

"I'll say," she chuckled, "well come on in, and welcome."

I handed her the bottle of Cabernet which she profusely thanked me for - I think that she was sophisticated enough to know that it likely cost the $80 that I had paid for it. She still seemed to have a slight degree of doubt about who I was as she introduced me to the other party goers. That is until Will came bounding in from the back yard, a twenty ounce plastic cup full of beer in hand, slapped me on the back and said "Nice of you to come, Jeremy; you remember Jeremy, don't you Marcia? The scrawny kid next door."

I don't know what made me do it, but I laughed - maybe sneered, I can't be sure - and then picked Will up in my arms, spun him around, and said "Scrawny no more!" I wanted Will to know that I would not be taking shit from him, even if it was his party. Fortunately, for the tranquility of the evening Will laughed it off, even though the rotation had caused a small amount of beer to spill on his shirt.

After getting a token beer myself, which I intended to nurse all night since I don't really drink alcohol, I mingled with the guests always trying to watch Marcia out of the corner of my eye. Her face was just about as lovely as I remembered it - maybe she had put on a few pounds that showed on it, but she was definitely a beautiful woman. I couldn't tell about her body, however, since strangely to me her outfit was very conservative. She had on pants and a long sleeve blouse that wasn't tucked in, and flat shoes.

I got the impression that of the twenty five or so guests about two thirds were married, and the other third single, both men and women. Most, even though in their late twenties or early thirties, seemed to be on a quest to get drunk, something that I thought that they would have given up after college.

Pursuant to my plan to see what Marcia was like I took every opportunity to interact with her, without being obvious. I think that I made a big hit on her when I was the only person to offer to help with some of the food she was preparing and serving, and worked with her alone in the kitchen for a good twenty minutes getting things ready. I made sure to compliment her culinary treats - which actually were pretty good - and got a big smile from her in return.

I talked with Marcia more than with anyone else for most of the night. She still seemed as sweet as she was in High School, while Will as really being loud and obnoxious most of the time; even more so than in High School. At some point Will decided that some of the guys needed to play poker, despite Marcia's protests, and he went with a cadre of his drunk buddies onto a back porch area that had a gaming table and started dealing.

One of the single card players passed out shortly after the game started, which caused Will to come into the living room where the remaining guests were congregating and insist that I take his place. I resisted at first, but seeing his continually ramping up obnoxiousness and the concern that that was causing Marcia I relented.

Since I was stone-cold sober and a decent poker player, and since the others, especially Will, were drunk and probably not that great even if sober, it wasn't long before I was way up. Will kept on raising the antes and stakes, including emptying his wallet, as the others at the table were eliminated. That left him and me. I tried to cash out - even offering to return everyone's money by lying that I was a card shark - to no avail. Since by then all but the passed out guests had left, Marcia came into the room and tried to get Will to call it quits. Instead he went all in during Texas Holdem when there was a two, four, five, six and Queen, in a rainbow (at least one card of each suit), on the board and I had a seven and eight in my hand. In other words, I couldn't lose. I tried to cajole him out of going all in since it was the 200+ ounces of beer that he had consumed that was clouding his judgment, but he just thought that I had a losing hand. So I reluctantly called him.

Will had two Queens in his hand, but of course three-of-a-kind doesn't beat a straight, so I started collecting all of the money on the table, as Marcia sighed in the background.

"Let's go one more hand for everything that you've won," Will snarled and then burped.

"Will you're out of money," I said as kindly as possible.

"Look, if I lose you can fuck Marcia - I know that you've always wanted to since High School," he blubbered out.

Marcia started crying. For some reason the Amy incident from High School rushed into my mind, and I became enraged. "How dare you think that you can use your wife as a poker chip, you pompous ass," I screamed. "You obviously don't deserve her, and you need to apologize to her right now."

"Fuck you," Will bellowed as he stood up and a wide-eyed Marcia obviously cringed. "Now take my offer and deal out another hand or I'll smack you upside the head."

"That boat sailed ten years ago asshole," I shouted right back as I also stood.

The drunken jerk took two steps toward me then swung. I easily blocked his pathetic attempt, hit him once in his beer belly as hard as I could, and when he bent over with the wind knocked out of him hit him on the chin with an uppercut.

After he hit the floor he was just shy of unconscious and puking his guts out. I was afraid - only because I didn't want some legal entanglement - that he was going to suffocate himself, so I yelled for Marcia to get some dish towels and a turkey baster.

I sat him up, avoiding his puke the best that I could, and gave him some stiff slaps on his back. Marcia soon returned with what I asked for, and together we used the dish towels to get the puke away from his mouth, and I held him upright while Marcia aspirated him with the turkey baster.

When we were done, I still wasn't sure that Will's life wasn't in danger, because he kept on gagging, and once Marcia was alone with him I knew that she couldn't handle his bulk by herself - he had to weigh 260 pounds, fifty more than his playing weight. So I convinced Marcia to call 911 and helped the paramedics load Will onto a stretcher. As Marcia got in the ambulance with Will I told her that I'd clean up inside and gave her my cell phone number to call if she needed a ride from the hospital, "Regardless of what time it is, Marcia."

She looked at me wide-eyed then said "Thanks," and the ambulance door closed.

I did as promised. I didn't just clean up the puke - a very unpleasant task, but I had worked a board job during college so I knew what to do - but cleaned up everything from the party. I had done two loads in the dishwasher, washed the serving pieces by hand, cleaned up the whole house, and had gotten cabs for the three passed-out drunks when they awoke, before Marcia called. It was 3:30 a. m.

"Hi, Jeremy?"

"Hi, Marcia; I'm glad that you called. Do you need a ride?"

"Well, uh, yes, if it's not too much trouble. They're keeping Will overnight because they think that he has alcohol poisoning. He drank some hard liquor in addition to what must have been a quarter keg of beer, and he's not real responsive. Plus when he hit his head on the floor he might have gotten a concussion so they're afraid to not monitor him," Marcia replied, obviously exhausted.

"OK - are you at the hospital on Twenty Third and Chambers?"

"Yes."

"OK, I'll see you at the emergency entrance in fifteen minutes."

When I picked Marcia up she looked tired - but to my surprise also had put on new makeup. We were mostly silent until we got to her house. She thanked me and then said "There's one thing that I need you to help me with. Could you come in for a second?"

"Sure," I replied.

When we got into her house and she saw that everything was cleaned up she was bowled over. "I can't believe that you did all this? My house has never looked so good. Why did you do it?"

"I promised that I would help clean up and I got carried away. Plus I figured after the night you had - your husband disrespecting you and then me getting carried away and hurting him, and you having to go to the hospital, and all - that you could use a break," I replied.

Marcia stood there staring at me for a good thirty seconds.

"I feel guilty about asking you to do something else after all you did, but could you help me load the keg and related paraphernalia from the back yard into Will's pickup truck?"

"Sure," I replied. "I can do it alone. Why don't you relax?"

"OK," she replied. "But don't leave before you've answered a couple of questions for me."

That statement confused me, but I smiled in response, and then went into the back yard. I took the tap off the keg, emptied the large pan of melting ice that the keg was sitting in, then carried - one at a time - the keg, pan, and tap with tubing, into the garage, loaded them into the pickup truck, and strapped them in. When I returned to the living room Marcia was in different attire. Daisy Duke shorts, a short sleeve top and bare midriff, and three inch heels. The body mystery was now solved - she looked as good as she did in High School - maybe better since she had matured. I hoped that my eyes hadn't frogged on me!

"Thanks again, Jeremy," she said in a seductive voice. "Before you go, though, please answer a few questions honestly for me."

Before I could reply she hit me with the first one: "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Uh, no... not right now," I mumbled, still awed by her appearance.

"Do you remember Will's mother Betty?"

"Where in the fuck is this going?" I asked myself. "Uh, yes, I certainly do. A wonderful woman."

"Why would she say that you were the greatest guy in the world?" Marcia asked, now with her hands on her hips and a playfully stern look on her face.

"Uh,..., well,... when did you talk to her?" I stuttered.

"To night when Will was in the hospital. I wanted to inform her of the situation and also ask her what she remembered about you."

"Oh," was my intelligent, obviously frog-eyed reply.

"Well?"

'Uh, well, Betty and I always liked each other; when I was a teenager she was probably my best friend."

"She liked you more than she did Will, didn't she?"

"Uh,..., maybe; if that's what she said."

"Have you wanted to fuck me since High School?"

"Marcia - I,...uh, I don't think that's an appropriate question," I replied after a pregnant pause, certain that I was turning bright crimson.

"Under the right circumstances?" she barked more than queried, still with that playfully stern look on her face.

"Yeah; I guess, under the right circumstances," was my halting, embarrassed reply.

"Such as if I wasn't married to Will?"

"Uh,...yeah, I guess."

Marcia broke into a big smile, walked to the front door, opened it and said "Thanks for coming and for all your help and for being honest with me," she chortled.

As I walked out the door she pulled my shirt so that my mouth was even with hers, gave me a five second long kiss on the lips, and while she did that ran her hand over my pants at my crotch - which obviously had been tented. Then she playfully pushed me out and closed the door, and I heard the lock click.

"What the fuck was that about?" I asked myself a million times in the short drive back to my house.

****************

For a good two weeks I had a hard time concentrating on anything else except the vision of Marcia in the Daisy Duke shorts and revealing top, and her kiss and hand pass over my crotch as I left. Sometimes I fantasized about fucking her brains out in front of a tied-up Will, and then posting photos of me doing that all over the Internet to ruin both of their reputations. "What a position switch that would be from the Amy incident, huh?" I would chuckle to myself.

Much more often than that fantasy, however, was one where I ran into Marcia at an out-of-town conference and we fucked each other senseless, just like Betty and I did the last three days of our relationship.

After two more sessions with the shrink, I finally got my act together, again, however, and actually went on a couple of uninspiring dates trying not to compare them to Marcia. I even had a one night stand with a woman that I picked up at a bar - a very slutty and less endowed and good-looking version of Marcia.