Friday, November 26, 2010

BETH AND THE FAMILY DOCTOR BY: GINGERBREAD (GINNYMAY24@CS


Beth and the Family Doctor

By: Gingerbread (GinnyMay24@cs.com)



BETH AND THE FAMILY DOCTOR


By Gingerbread


(all rights reserved)


CHAPTER I: JASON LAMBERT, MD


In Beth's Confessions III (please read it) I described my temptations and my slip-ups when our country went to War again, and my husband was sent overseas again, this time to the Far East, for a year. In the middle of that year, as I told you, he got leave in Hawaii. I joined him there for an idyllic honeymoon-like vacation. When that few days were done, I went back to California to face life with my two young children, and without my husband.


My first letter to my husband, Will, from California after the trip:


...My trip back from paradise wasn't that wonderful. I had to take a bus from Travis AF Base (they've changed the name from Fairfield-Suisun) to San Francisco, pay to go to LA on Western, and then couldn't remember where I'd left the car. Huge lot. Started walking up and down the aisles. God. While I was walking, I finally remembered. Walked right to it. But, Jesus I was blue, Honey. It was foggy and cold after Hawaii. What a let down. Grandma (her mother} was happy to see me. She has given the kids some of her "country discipline." They were uptight, crying at the drop of a hat. I gave them some hugs and kisses. They'll recover. Norma and Joe, our friends across the street, came over. Norma was glad to see me, but Joe had one of his wise-ass remarks-- "Ah, got all caught up, did you?" Ha, ha.


OK, I'm snapping out of it, or I will when Mother leaves, and starting on the rest of our lives. Lots of things to do. The house needs fixing up; the kids need raising; there's gardening. When you come home six months from now, we'll be ready. We'll pick up where we left off last week. God, I miss you and love you. I'm yours, Beth. Xs and Os.


We exchanged letters like that. Newsy, chin-up letters. As time passed, however, the weight I was carrying gradually got to me. The "no adult conversation" blues reappeared. The kids were wearing on me. Tommy had entered the "terrible Goddam twos," as I called them. Tommy was worse than Billy had been. I had planted a bunch of dichondra plugs in the backyard. Tommy walked around pulling them all up! And sex gradually "reared its ugly head again" as I put it to Will. Nothing interpersonal, just self-abuse.


(In another letter)...I had my shower and got into bed, naked as usual, and I began to think of that night with Mac and Adele in Hawaii. I started thinking about Adele, that tan skin, those big boobs, Gibson girl hips, eager attitude. I just imagined how she felt being screwed by you, somebody big and strong, lying there with her fanny in the air, coming and coming. It got me hot, honey. I rolled over, found the hairbrush and jammed the handle up me. Sound familiar? After a while I had come often enough to quiet down and go to sleep. In what seemed like a second, it was morning and the boys were having a screaming fight...


(And another letter)...Was thinking about Adele again. What is it with me? We had no relationship, not even like kissin' cousins. You got to see her twat and titties, and I didn't. I find myself imagining her brown pubic hair, dark slit, tight lips, backing her butt up against you. You're there, but as a shadowy presence, the highlights coming from her ass in the air, head buried in the pillows, muffled cries. In my mind I sort of see it building up and I grab myself and go with it. My mind adjusts the timing. When she comes, I come. It does remind me of Elaine-- the girl I lived with in Fresno long ago. I told you about our playing with each other after a date, and later, humping each other that night after she came from a USO dance. Two married women doing that! God. her's is the only other twat I've ever felt. It isn't as complicated as a cock and balls, nor as blatant. It's concealed. It's like a secret. There's the pubic hair but nothing else is obvious, a longish crease maybe, but when you explore, you find heat and slickness. A hole opens up that's pink, intricate, and deep, that can just swallow up a huge cock. No wonder men love it. I love it myself. As for Adele, don't worry about her, Dear. We'll probably never see Mac or her again.


(Still another letter)...While Joe baby-sat all the kids, Norma and I went to this movie, "Follow the Sun," about Ben Hogan, the golfer, starring Glen Ford.

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