My heartfelt appreciation goes to DarkEmpress for her editing of this installment of Shane's story.
It is my intention to write in three distinct stages of Shane's life. I will not necessarily follow a chronological order in their creation, but will divide them into three clear segments
Dissolute: The Vanderbilt Years
Chapter 1
Growing up, I always thought I would end up like Uncle Ed as a pastor of a Baptist church. The choices I made led me towards that realization ... that was until I met Rich and Ann Nieman who introduced me to a world that I never imagined existed. One with such appeal, that no matter how hard I tried, I never fully escaped...
I watched with abject fascination as my engorged cock slid in and out of Ann Nieman's gaping gash, her shapely derriere serving as a delightful bit of eye candy that made my cock twitch in anticipation. Her ass wiggled like Jell-O with each powerful thrust forward. She was on all fours, her head and shoulders planted into the mattress of the bed. Her cries filled the air and commingling mingled with the aroma that permeated from her over heated sex.
Ann urged me faster, slower, harder, softer ... my hips followed her commands. Eventually, I realized the change in pace always occurred when she was about to cum, each change pushing her further towards an orgasm that would consume her sanity when it ripped through her being. As soon as it dawned on me, I began paying more attention to what her body was telling me and changed pace a split second before Ann would tell me.
I was on top of the world! Eighteen and my first experience ... well, real experience that is; was an afternoon long encounter with my professor's wife.
Brief moments of guilt welled up and Ann seemed to sense the change in me. Reaching between her legs, she stroked my balls lightly, bringing me back to the here and now. I knew, just knew, that my Father in Heaven was going to send me to hell for this one act, regardless of what ever good I may do in His name in future.
If He was going to send me to Hell, then I would go well sexed.
You, my fair reader, are probably wondering how a young innocent Christian boy finds himself buried inside a married woman...
Summer
The heat was beating down on me like a hammer in a forge, the temperature easily over 95 degrees and the humidity fast approaching the same level, or at least it felt that way. Sweat poured down my face and back. My arm pits were a soppy mess and I knew that I stank to high heaven. The swimming pool dominated the backyard, an enticing temptation. I would have given nearly anything to jump in it at the moment. Unfortunately the barbell I pushed up off my chest kept me pinned to the bench and I had a few more reps to do before I was done.
My spotter was also my professor and mentor. We had become fast friends previous semester, my first at Vanderbilt University. I had taken a course on American politics and he was a former lobbyist in Washington who had come back home after making an obscene amount of money schmoozing with the powerful shapers of American society.
He was a short man, no taller than 5'5" and his chest was easily that in diameter, or at least appeared that way. He was in his mid fifties and had the body of someone twenty years younger. His hair was thinning and was approaching wispy, the natural light brown retreating in front of the onrushing gray.
He had been exhorting me all semester to start working out again. My body was softening a little after high school, which was compounded by taking the fall off for a mission trip with a portion of my church youth group. We had spent six months in Mexico helping a village with time spent in menial tasks and proselytizing. It had been a rewarding time but left me slightly out of shape.
I had finally given in to Dr Nieman and joined him today for a workout.
My arms were quivering from the muscle exertion as I heaved the barbell one last time upward, to a "Good Job" from Dr Nieman. The bar clanked into its resting place on the bench and I sat up, knowing that I would be hurting in the morning.
I was wiping my face when I heard an unfamiliar female voice ask, "Would you like some iced tea?"
Behind me Dr Nieman said, "Yes dear, please bring a pitcher out to us."
By the time I had moved the rag from my face and looked to the backdoor she had gone inside. Dr Nieman and I sat at the table on the patio in the umbrella's shade. We were engrossed in a conversation about our local representative to the House when the pitcher of tea was placed on the table with three glasses. I glanced at the person that delivered them and did a double take, nearly giving myself whiplash.
Mrs. Nieman was taller than her husband by a couple of inches. Her dark mahogany hair was artfully caught up in a ponytail and hung to mid shoulder. A red bikini clung to her shapely figure, large enough that it was almost modest, and small enough to make you wonder if you could glimpse her nipples if she moved in just the right way.
Mrs. Nieman was not a super model, but she was certainly beautiful. Ann's skin was a golden bronze from spending hours by the pool tanning, which lightened her hair somewhat. Her breasts were full and heavy, a large B cup or a small C in size. Her stomach had that small swell that almost all mothers have after bearing children and her hips flared out provocatively into a firm ass. Her legs were longish and trim as if she walked, or ran, often. For whatever reason, I noticed her toenails had been painted a fiery red color, similar to that of her bikini.
My eyes must have widened noticeably because Dr Nieman laughed and said, "Shane, this is my wife Ann. Ann, this is the young man I told you about, Shane."
I stood as any good gentleman would and offered Ann my hand in greeting. She placed her hand in mine in such a way that it compelled one to kiss the back of her knuckles. I found myself bending to do just that, before stopping, muttering an embarrassed, "Pleasure to meet you ma'am."
