CHAPTER 1
A black cloud settled over a house at 23 Walton St near the edge of the city because Charlotte and her husband Finnegan (Finn) O'Toole were bored. They were not going out because neither of them went walking, being young people, and anything else that cost money to visit was out because Charlotte had been fired from the Milk Distributors where she had worked feeding caps into machines capping containers of watered-down milk.
Finn's company where he was a pantyhose quality inspector was not yet downsizing because of the economic recession but there were ominous rumblings from the boardroom at frequent emergency meetings. Sales were down with cash-strapped women wearing cheap knee-high socks instead of pantyhose or unfashionable tights.
Charlotte a college dropout was the brains of the family and had said, "We have to cut back in case you are fired."
Finn was appalled but that passed when he found the cutback comment related to spending, not to sex. He pushed Charlotte over the kitchen table and had a quickie to celebrate and she was pleased thinking Finn's interest in her was renewing because he'd been visiting that sexy bitch across the street rather too frequently of late. A bit of la-di-dah over the fence was acceptable but not as frequently as every other night.
"I'm bored," Finn sighed.
"Go and masturbate."
"I've already done that and don't want a quick repeat because I want to leave a hefty shot in the barrel for you."
Charlotte moistened the crotch of her pants in delight. But when he sighed again and said he was bored she snapped, "You having your laptop sitting over there gathering dust. Write something."
"Write what?"
"I don't know. Write and submit to Literotica. All kinds of dopes do that."
"Are you calling me a dope?"
"Only be implication. Don't be so sensitive."
Fifteen minutes at sitting at the laptop Finn asked, "What should I write about?"
"Sex you idiot. What else is on your mind?"
"Er drinking forty cans of Bud light."
"God you are acclimatizing. Before we immigrated here you said Yankee beer tastes like cat's piss."
"Well no one here gives you free English beer because it costs too much. I was forced to recant."
"Recant is a strange word for you. Did Mrs Isaacs teach you that?"
"Mrs Isaacs?
Charlotte sighed. "You go to her house every second night to change a tap washer."
"American tap washers are crud, they don't last, not like English ones."
"I think you'll find over here using a rubber on compression faucets belongs to the days of the ark. They have various proprietary systems. Alternatively most of my girlfriends have faucets incorporating a ceramic disc."
"How do you know so much?"
"Unlike you darling I suffered an accident at birth; I was born with intelligence and later refined my ability to use my brain."
"It's an urban myth that babes have brains; ask any guy."
Charlotte said, "Will you stop this mind-numbing tirade. Unless you write something to publish on Literotica I'll stop you visiting Mrs Isaacs."
"Oh don't do that. It's easy to write about sex. Tell me, do the husbands of your girlfriends wear rubbers?"
"Not when engaging with their wives, only when they go out of bounds and try someone like me. Oh dear what am I saying. Is that the doorbell?"
"I didn't hear it?"
"That's because you should be working on your article. Get started please Finn. Once you post it you may have me back-door."
"It's an urban myth that babes allow their husbands to go backdoor. Women only permit anal when they go out of bounds."
"You know too much for your own good Finnegan Paddy O'Toole. Get on with your work. I'm off to do the ironing."
Finn made a promising start, according to him. Charlotte read it and said might be okay when polished and it was pretty pedestrian.
"Pedestrian?"
"Yes you write as if you've never fucked anyone but your wife."
"Well um I haven't."
"You lying toad and you weren't even born in Ireland Mr O'Toole. You should go out of bounds and get some experience."
"Really?"
"Ohmigod, what am I saying? I know, you won't wish to write about Mrs Isaacs because that would give your game away and I don't want you damaging my girlfriends with your fundamentally flawed sexual practices and I don't want you doing it with women we don't know. Look mom and my sister arrive on vacation next week. Broaden your experience with them."
"Okay if you insist."
"I do and if you manage to insert into either them I'll be astonished."
"Then how will I gain experience?"
"Going after pussy is four-fifths of what makes sex exciting darling. Don't your buddies tell you that?"
"Oh yeah."
"Yeah, as disciples of urban myths you guys would believe anything you are told."
It was Saturday and Lucy their daughter came home from a sleepover at a friend's place. Lucy was six and had been born in America so even at that tender age she was able to correction her parents in word choice like, "They're not called bangers daddy; they are sausages."
"Mrs Simons said she fancies you daddy. What does that mean?"
"It means she likes my after-shave," said Finn, wondering what else Mrs Simons had said about him.
Later Lucy wanted to go for a walk so Charlotte called up a neighbor's older girl and arranged for Nevada to take Lucy for a walk for a payment of ten bucks. While Charlotte was busy with her nails that gave Finn the peace he needed to write creatively about fucking the big tits of Mrs Simons.
Charlotte read what Finn had written and only suggested one change. "No suburban guy has a fifteen-inch dick darling. In my experience nine inched is absolute max."
Finn thanked his wife for being such a walking database of information. Making the change he read what he'd written in that chapter for submission to the Literotica website.
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