— BREAKING THE DOLDRUMS A Serialized Erotic Story, in Several Volumes — Summary: — A young man whos experiencing a doldrum in his life meets an older woman, whos sense of spontaneity and whimsy allows him to shake of his Winter blues. Though it is written from a male perspective, this story is intended for female audiences that are 25+. — A link to volume four will be provided in the comments, once I finish it. — VOLUME THREE: HOME SWEET HOME — CHAPTER ONE: RED LIGHT — I watched the street-light go from green to red, as Christina’s finger-tips traced up and down my shaft, leaving trails of smeared pre-cum behind. "You have a nice cock…" By the time the street-light above the intersection turned green again, Christina’s mouth was wrapped firmly around my cock and her big, unimaginably full breasts were pressing against my leg, nearly spilling out of her skirt. I could feel her nipples through my jeans... I looked above her head and checked to see if any traffic had pulled up to the intersection, just it was still empty. Between mouthfuls of my throbbing cock, Christina glanced up at me and said: "Tell me when the light’s green, sweetie. Okay?" With every word she spoke, I could see the street-lights glinting of her wet lips. "It’s already green", I said, but Christina buried my cock back inside her mouth again anyway. Just as I leaned back against the passenger’s-seat and placed my flat palm against her lower-back, I heard a car-horn honking behind us. Then it honked again, in rapid succession. Christina pulled her mouth away from my cock suddenly and grabbed hold of the steering-wheel, leaving behind a long, gloriously messy trail of spit. "Fuck", she abby winters 2012 (find more info) said, just as the light became red again. "Shit!", she belted out. Then she realized the mess she’d made and wiped her lips, looking throughly embarrassed. "It’s okay", I said, then I glanced down into my lap. Her lip-stick had smeared over my cock. Now, it abby winters 2012 looked as red as the street-light above. — CHAPTER TWO: SERIOUS QUESTIONS — Christina parked the taxi inside her garage, then turned to look at me. Her face was stern, serious. We had talked since the embarrassing situation at the intersection, but it was clear she was still a little gun-shy. Our conversation had immediately returned to sarah b abby winters winters browse more trivial matters, like the burdens of the holiday season and why Chinese food is never good unless you have it delivered (I disagreed on that account, but I kept it to myself). But now, Christina’s gaze seemed to signal the small talk was over. Her eyes were big, anxious, and her hands gripped the brim of her shirt so tightly, I could see her knuckles turn pale ivory. "So, Nick… I’ve got to ask you…" "Yes?", I said. I reached to plant my hand on her knee, then retracted my arm, rather awkwardly. "What is it?" "The Noodle House or Beijing Express, which do you like better?" The vaguely serious expression never left her face. I felt a rush of noelle abby winters torrents winters relief, followed by a wave hermione abby winters indiana winters of giggles. She smiled and looked back at me, a little bewildered. "What?", she said. "I think The Noodle House delivers quicker, ironically. But Express tastes better." I stopped giggling, then said: "Okay, Beijing Express it is. We have time to wait for quality, right?" "Do you want to sleep over tonight?" Her expression turned to something I thought was vulnerability, with a little uncertainty mixed into it. I found I had no voice to reply at first. The answer had never been in doubt for me, I just couldnt force my mouth to say the words. Christina looked into my eyes, as if scanning me, then turned away. "Sorry... Look, I didn’t mean to be overly…" "I’d love to", I said, cutting her off. "Yeah. I’d love to spend the night, Christina. Thank you." She turned to look at me again. "Sure." A smile. "I’ll finish what I started before we got honked at, then we’ll order food, maybe watch a movie and…" "Do you smoke pot?", I blurted out, cutting her off again. "I’ve got some in my back-pack, if you’re into…" This time, it was Christina’s turn to interrupt me: "Shit, not since high-school. I’m afraid I’ll be a drooling mess. Its been decades." I reached into the backseat and grabbed my backpack. I set it down on my lap and un-zipped the top. "Even before I asked about the pot, you were kinda a drooling mess." Christina smiled back at me, equally embarrassed and flattered. Then, she got very quiet. "What’s wrong?", I asked, a little bemused. She stayed silent, only now her head was bowed down toward her lap. "Is everything okay, Christina?" "Before, when I said I had something to ask you, it wasn’t really about Chinese food… I just don’t know how to say it." "Then just say it", I said. "Whatever it is, it’ll be okay." Christina reached into her pocket and pulled a wedding-ring out. "I took it off when you weren’t looking. I didn’t know why. I just… Didnt want you to see it. Then you came home with me and now I feel like a liar. Or something worse." "Where is he?", I asked, trying to conceal my instantaneous instinct for self-preservation. "Moved out, couple weeks ago; ah, I guess, a month ago. But we’re still married." A long silence passed, one full go unspoken thoughts that weighed heavy in the air. The garage had seemed to shrink in around us; the already dim lights seemed darker, almost cave-like. Christina rolled the ring around her palm, looking down at it distastefully, but also with what I read to be a lingering connection, an inability to give up. I started to wonder if at this point, she was only married in the legal sense. I watched the dim light gleam of the ring, then I said: "Maybe leave it in the car?" She looked at me, a little shocked. Then Christina dropped the wedding-ring into the cup-holder. It rattled against the plastic with the tone of finality. She smiled, beaming at me. Sure. — CHAPTER THREE: DUSTY RELICS — When I walked through Christina’s house, I began to question my earlier assumption about her marriage being purely ink on paper at this point. Her living-room was full of dusty, untouched artifacts from her marriage: framed photos (one of her and a tall black man at Disney Land), Playboy coasters on the coffee-table, next to GQ magazines (the issues each months old). On the kitchen-counter, there was a mug with a photograph of her and her husband printed on it, bordered by a comically-shaped heart (the tea-bag inside it didn’t look older than a day). I started to wonder if Christina was holding onto hopes he’d come back. Then again, if he’d been gone so long, why was so much of his stuff here? Maybe he just didn’t care about it; admittedly, it mostly looked like junk. And I could understand why a man wouldn’t want to take a sentimental mug as a souvenir of a failed marriage. But she’s keeping it, though, I thought. Why? "How long have you been married?", I asked, sitting down on the sofa and placing my backpack beside me, leaving plenty of room for her. "I hope you don’t mind me asking." "Not, not at all", she said, sitting down on the sofa beside me. "Twenty years, nearly. Close enough for the difference to not matter." "What happened?" I reached out with my hand to place it on her knee again. This time, I didn’t retract abby winters solo it. "He slept with a prostitute. A lot." Then, she added: "Just one, though. Same girl, for months." "I don’t think that matters much, Christina." "Guess not." "When was the last time you talked to him?" This question took her longer to answer. "Five days ago. Craig wants to come get his things, but I told him I don’t want to see his face yet." I glanced toward the framed photo of them smiling, then recalled the mug. Christina was clearly conflicted, and deeply, probably to such a degree that she was only consciencely aware of a portion of it. That makes sense, right?, she continued. Just not yet, I said. I cant sleep with this woman, I thought. Not when shes like this. If I had of known, maybe I wouldnt have... Then, my trail of thought was cut off abruptly. Christina was crying. Big, wet tears that clung to her cheeks. I reached my arms around her shoulders and hugged her, letting her head rest against my neck. Not that much more than an hour ago, I was freezing, standing on my street outside my house, waiting for a taxi to no-where. Now, I’m cradling a crying woman, over twice my age and married. This… This I couldn’t have foreseen. Little did I know, it wasn’t the last time I’d have that thought in Christina’s company. — AUTHORS NOTE: — This version has been heavily revised, compared to the original I posted. This was mostly to re-ignite my inspiration, but also to better set things up for Volume Three and Volume Four, now that I know exactly what I want. I’d like to say a thank you to the lovely /r/WhisperInTheDarkness for all of her edits on the previous volume. Also, thanks to /r/NotaInfiltrator, who pointed out a rather embarrassing typo. — A link to the following volumes will be provided in the comments when I get finish them. Thanks for reading! — KinkyNick_Canada