Colleen – chapter 03 – part-07

“Hey Chris, who is your best friend?”

He didn’t even bother to look up when he answered.

“Patricia.”

Patricia? Mike’s daughter?

Chris raised his head to look at me and his expression told me that was the dumbest question he had ever heard.

Patricia.

As soon as I thought about it, it made sense. From the very moment they first met, they insisted on being together as often as they could. When the family would get together, Chris would run to Patricia first before acknowledging the existence of anyone else. They would play together and tune everyone else out. Many times Mike or Sharon would bring Patricia to San Miguel to be with Christopher just so that she would smile again. It was not uncommon for her to spend a week or more at our house in the summer and literally became a sixth child for us.

Truth be told, there were times when Colleen and I were not at all sure how many kids actually lived in our house. Frank and Linda Martin were our close friends that lived next door. Their daughters were the same age as Meghan and Molly and their son Keith had been born a couple of weeks before Christopher. The back and forth traffic between the two houses became so constant that Frank and I finally took down the fence between the two backyards. This gave the kids a much larger area to play in and we didn’t have to constantly nag them about closing the front door.

Somewhere along the way our two houses became neighborhood central for every kid in a ten block radius. Down to the very last one, they were unfailingly polite and well mannered although at times the decibel level was excruciatingly high. God only knows how many kids were in this group, a number that was constantly fluctuating, with an age span of about ten years. Colleen and I loved the commotion these kids created but it also meant that we had to pay special attention to the task of finding time just for ourselves, time for just the two of us to remind ourselves why we love each other so much. We had to be imaginative in ways to create these moments.

One morning about 10:30 I was sitting in my office when my phone rang. When I answered, all I heard was Colleen’s voice.

“I’m lying on the bed and I don’t have any clothes on…don’t make me start without you.”

And then a dial tone.

By the time I walked through the bedroom door, I had already taken off my shirt and was working to get my pants off. Colleen was lying on the bed with her legs parted and a look of frustration on her face.

“Jesus Bobby, what took you so long?”

“I got a speeding ticket over on Balboa Avenue. I’ve never seen a cop write so slow in my life.”

As I lay on top of her and my hips fell between her thighs, Colleen lightly held my face between the palms of her hands and gently kissed me on the lips. She smiled and whispered, “I’m glad you could make it.”

I will agree that being married to your sister is not the conventional approach to marriage. But in the end, it makes no difference if you are married to your sister, the girl next door or the woman you met at the bar last night. The marriage is doomed to failure if both of you don’t work together and individually to keep the love alive, the love that made you want to get married in the first place. A good marriage is a lot of hard work.

Colleen and I make love to each other twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Please note that I said that we make love, not have sex. We make love to each other in little tiny ways all the time that does not involve sex.

We are not embarrassed to express genuine affection for each other. We hold hands in public. Our shoulders touch when we sit in the pew Sunday mornings. At neighborhood parties Colleen stands next to me with her arm around my waist, my arm around her shoulders. It is against the laws of nature for Colleen and I to walk past each other without stopping for a quick kiss or a gentle touch and then continue on our way. One of our favorite ways to tease the kids is to wait until we are all in the same room together. Colleen will sit in my lap and we start kissing and hugging until the kids run from the room screaming, “Oh gross!” When she got older Meghan’s comment as she left the room was always, “Would you two just go to a motel…PLEASE!”

I suppose that the frequency of our sexual encounters is higher than the national average, but we are not constantly tearing at each other’s clothes every moment of the day. Nothing could be further from the truth. We were forced to slow down considerably out of necessity when the kids were young. When you have three children under the age of two and a half, exhaustion is a way of life. The only thought that sits there in your head all day is knowing that at the end of the day you will crawl into bed with your lover and then sweet, delicious, glorious sleep.

One occasion sticks out in my memory and I will never forget it.

Colleen and I had not had sex for over two weeks. Meghan and Molly were squabbling about something and for the first and only time the bad feelings had spilled over to a second day. Christopher was teething and both Noelle and Brigid had killer ear infections. The constant bickering and crying from all five of the kids had us completely frazzled. Just as we were starting to get them down for the night, Colleen pulled me aside out the kid’s range of hearing. She gave a quick kiss and whispered in my ear.

“You better get yourself ready because in exactly twenty minutes you are going to crawl between my legs and do what you do best.”

It was actually two hours before we finally got into bed. Colleen wrapped her legs around my waist and sighed, “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

I could tell that this moment had been on her mind as soon as I slid into her. I had missed this as much as she. That velvet feeling of being inside of her only increased the flow of blood to my cock. She moaned deliriously as I felt her pubic hair begin to caress my balls. I slowly pulled my hips back and then reversed direction as we began the journey to our ultimate pleasure. As I began to pick up speed, I realized that something didn’t feel quite right. I heard a sound escape from Colleen’s mouth and I looked down into her face.

Colleen’s eyes were closed and she was snoring.

My only thought at that moment as I rolled us over onto our sides was, “Oh thank you God! I don’t think I have the strength to finish this.”

Life is not, as they say, “just a bowl of cherries.” You can’t live with someone as long as we have and not get on each others nerves at least once and a while. But Colleen and I are luckier than most married couples. Any arguments that we’ve had have always been the simple little ones that usually began with statements like, “How could you forget to pick up the dry cleaning? It’s right next door to the hardware store.” Or “I told you two weeks ago I had this meeting. I even wrote it on the calendar.” Or more frequently, “Could you PLEASE keep the kids quiet. I have to get this done by tomorrow morning.”

But these flare ups are very infrequent and so minor that within the hour we are hugging and doing what we need to do to make sure that we are back on track with each other. I firmly believe that these types of incidents are necessary to remind ourselves that if we are not diligent about keeping the love alive, it can all turn into a living hell overnight.

I pulled the minivan into the driveway and turned the engine off. I can’t remember what started it but for the last five minutes Colleen and I had been snapping at each other over something that was of absolutely no importance in the grand scheme of things. Colleen and I turned toward each other, mouths open, ready to speak the words that would begin World War III when a tiny voice drifted up from the back of the minivan.

“All right children, let’s all go to our happy place”

Our heads snapped around and we stared at the back of the van. There we saw five innocent, expressionless faces staring back at us. Colleen began to giggle and soon we were all roaring with laughter. I had no other option but to start the car and drive to our favorite burger joint.

There was only one time when things came close to getting out of hand.

I will admit that draining the oil out of the lawnmower into Colleen’s favorite casserole dish was not the smartest decision I have ever made. But I felt that her reaction was way out of line when I told her that yes, I did in fact know it was something that she cooked food in and I had every intention of rinsing it out before I put it back. I then calmly informed her that the lawnmower would not fit where she told me to put it…no matter how far I bent over. I also knew that it was going to take me all afternoon to replace the porch light that fell off when she slammed the back door.

I stared at the door for a minute then turned around to find all five kids lined up in stair step fashion looking at me, faces devoid of any expression. You don’t know true humiliation until your five year old son looks you directly in the eye and says, “Gee dad, that was really dumb.”

The kids did a right face and marched off. As they were leaving, Meghan turned and looked over her shoulder at me and said, “You know dad, this is really going to cost you.”

When I slid into bed that night, Colleen was lying with her back to me. For the only time in our lives, when I placed my hand on her hip she shoved my arm away. I don’t know about Colleen but I didn’t get much sleep that night. In the morning I woke to find Colleen staring at me with tears in her eyes. Her lip was trembling as she spoke.

“Who was that crazy woman you let get into our bed last night?”

“I don’t know but her brother is a complete imbecile.”

Colleen wiped her eyes and sniffed as she asked, “Are we ok now?”

I pulled her close and held tight as I whispered into her ear, “Yeah, we’re good.”

Meghan was right, it did cost me. That afternoon I bought Colleen a brand new set of gourmet cookware, a very small price to pay to make the woman I love happy.

Meghan and Molly invented a game we all love to play that they named Dog Pile on Daddy. In this game Colleen would surprise me by leading a gang of five screaming and squealing kids, chasing me around the house or yard until I was gang tackled. The winner was the first person to steal my shoe. The winner also got to choose what we would have for dinner that night.

There is a variation of this game that Colleen and I play in the bedroom late at night after the kids are asleep. The name of this game is Dog Pile on Mommy. The rules of this game are that I chase Colleen around the bedroom until someone steals her panties.

I am always the winner.

Then one day it happened.

Dad had told my brothers and I to expect it, it happens to all men. But being forewarned did nothing to lessen the panic that I felt.

It was a Saturday morning and the kids were out somewhere which left Colleen and I alone in the house. I was standing in the dining room going through the mail that had just arrived when Colleen walked in from the bedroom, turned her back to me, looked over her shoulder and asked “THE QUESTION.”

“Does this dress make my ass look fat?”

There is no correct answer to this question. If you answer “yes,” you’re a dead man. If you answer “no,” you’re immediately called a liar and your parents’ marriage is questioned. This is typically followed by a long series of slamming doors. If you try to waffle and resort to vague and ambiguous comments, she turns into a starving wolf and you are the wounded lamb. She will be relentless until you collapse from exhaustion and give an answer.

This question is the root cause of 90 % of all the divorces in America today. (Ok, I made up that statistic, but I am dead certain the number is at least 80 %.) Dad had also given the twins and I the key to survival in this situation. The secret had been passed down to him from his father and from his father before him going back thousands of generations. There is only one thing that can save both your marriage and your life.

Distraction.

Many men have faked a heart attack at this point. But that is only good for one time and after you return from the hospital with a clean bill of health, she will be standing there in the same dress, asking the same damn question.

“Does this dress make my ass look fat?”

I turned Colleen around to face me and pulled her close. When she opened her mouth to speak I immediately shoved my tongue in as far as it could go. My hands slid down and started to caress her ass. When I pulled my tongue away from her tonsils she asked, “Bobby! What are you doing?”

I continued stroking and squeezing her ass. Colleen moaned “that feels good,” and began to kiss me along the side of my neck. I slowly pulled up her dress up until I could feel the silkiness of her panties and slid both hands down inside, stroking the satin smooth skin of her cheeks. I pulled her closer to me until we were rubbing our groins together and Colleen softly whispered as she nibbled in my ear.

“Are you trying to start something here? Because it’s working.”

I pushed her panties down her legs then lifted her up and sat her ass on the edge to the dining table, spreading her knees apart and standing between her thighs. Colleen put her arms around my neck and then it was her turn to slide her tongue down my throat. At the same time I was undoing my belt and shoving my pants down to my ankles. I pulled her dress up further until it was above her waist letting me see and feel the thick fur of her pussy. With one hand I was running my fingers through her pubic hair and the other hand was on my cock, lining it up with the opening between her legs.

“Baby, you have the most delicious ass in the world. Every time I see it or even think about it, I can’t control myself.”

My brain was screaming “MAY-DAY, MAY-DAY” to my dick. If I didn’t give a world class performance, my testicles would be separated from the rest of my body without the use of anesthesia or surgical tools. But that has never been a problem for me. Everytime I see the dark forest of hair between Colleen’s legs, my cock is as hard as a concrete pillar. As soon as the tip of my dick touched the lips of her cunt, Colleen moaned and put her hands on my hips to pull me deep into her. When I was completely inside of her, she gave a big sigh and lay back on the table. She was breathing heavily and groaned out, “Don’t stop now.”

I put my hands under Colleen’s thighs and lifted them until they were around my hips. She crossed her calves behind my ass and tried to pull me in even deeper. I began to work my hips, sliding in out of Colleen. As I started to pick up speed, I leaned over and braced myself with both arms on either side of her head. Colleen’s mouth was open and her eyes rolled back in her head. My hips were doing 100 RPM’s as Colleen was slapping her palms on the tabletop. Within minutes Colleen and I both screamed “OH DEAR GOD” and went into convulsions as semen shot out the end of my cock.

We were both gasping for air as the tremors of our orgasms began to fade away. I leaned down and quickly kissed Colleen on the lips. As I pulled my head back she whispered, “I love you husband.”

“I love you wife.”

I paused, my mind scrambling. “Listen, I have to…uh…go to…um…go to the hardware store. I need to…need to get some…uh…nails. I need to get some nails for…the thing. I’ll be back later.” As I was talking I was pulling up my pants and moving towards the front door.

Colleen was still lying on the table, completely relaxed and panting heavily with her panties dangling off one of her ankles. She was smiling as she spoke.

“Ok, don’t be long.”

It was less than fifteen minutes from the time Colleen asked the question to the moment I exited out the front door. As I stepped out onto the front porch and closed the door behind me, I was still fastening my belt and zipping up my pants. I flew down the steps towards the car. By the time the car door was closed and the seat belt was buckled, I was already turning the corner at the end of the block.

I actually did go to the hardware store and bought the first bag of nails that I saw on the shelf. Now I was going to have to remember where I left the hammer in the garage the last time I used it, probably sometime last year. After the hardware store I stopped at the bakery, got a Danish and café mocha to go then wandered across the street to the park and watched a little league game for a while. After a couple of hours had passed I decided it was time to go home.

When I walked back into the house I was a little apprehensive about what the fallout might be from what had happened that morning. I was standing in the middle of the livingroom nervously looking around when I heard Colleen come down the hall from the bedroom and step into the livingroom.

She was as naked as the day she was born.

Wordlessly she walked up to me and began to unbutton my shirt. She gave me little bites on my nipples as she slid the shirt off my shoulders and down my arms. Next she unbuckled my belt, lowered the zipper on my pants and pushed them to the floor. When she had me completely undressed, she took my hand and led me down the hall to the bedroom. At the door she stopped and gave me a gentle kiss then whispered in my ear.

“The kids are spending the night with Connie and Ray. We don’t have to pick them up until ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

With that she gently pulled me into the bedroom and closed the door behind us.

We were late picking up the kids.

After thirty-five years, Mom decided that it was time for the next generation to take over the responsibility for teaching the second grade. There were seven teachers retiring that year so a large banquet was held at the Santa Teresa County Club. All the friends from San Miguel were invited but Harold was the only one who could make it to help Mom celebrate.

The food was superb, the speeches were dreary, the music was smooth, the dancing was good and the bar was open. There were tears and laughter from co-workers who would no longer be seeing each other on a daily basis.

Late in the evening Harold pulled me aside and said, “I was just talking to your mother about her trip…”

For years before he passed away, Mom and Dad had talked about visiting Alaska and now she was going to fulfill that dream. She was leaving next month for a cruise that started in San Francisco and sailed up the coast stopping in Vancouver and several other spots in Canada and then Alaska, returning two weeks later. As soon as she returned Mom was traveling back east to visit an old friend from college.

“…and it got me to thinking. I’ve been in San Miguel for thirty years and built up more vacation time than God himself. I think it’s time that I get the hell out of Dodge for a while.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, travel I guess, definitely go visit John Gordon and give him some golf lessons. Mostly relax and not think about the office.”

“I’m envious, that sounds fantastic.”

“Anyway, that means that you will be in charge of the office while I’m gone but don’t go crazy. I don’t want to have to re-train everyone when I get back.” It was a rare moment, Harold was smiling.

“When are you going?”

“First I want to make sure that the Gibson nonsense is taken care of and then tie up some other loose ends. I don’t know, three…four weeks maybe.”

Harold had an odd look on his face. I just chalked it up to anticipation about getting away.

So on a Friday afternoon, Harold shook my hand, said, “Good luck, don’t call. If anything happens I don’t want to hear about it.” And headed out the door.

It seemed like the second that Harold left the building, every conceivable crisis scenario mankind could possibly envision popped up. But with everyone in the office functioning like the precision machine that Harold had built over the years, everything was running smoothly when he returned.

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