No Art In This Falling

This is a story for the "Art of Falling" writing event; however, there is no "Art" in this story, hence the title.

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I thought for many years that I. Andrea Wilson, didn't have the capacity to love. That may have been due to my fucked-up childhood and my even more fucked-up mother.

My mother Bree was a serial flirt and cheater; she got away with it for many years because she was very good looking and people tend to give good looking women the benefit of the doubt; Bree's actions, and lack of consequences, taught me that. She went through three husbands after my biological father and made out well in all of the divorces even though she precipitated them. Moving around from "dad to dad" wasn't much fun, nor was moving schools but I survived primarily by not caring enough to love any place, thing, or person.

By pure DNA I also was born good-looking. Good looks are nothing for anyone to brag about because you have nothing to do with it -- it's simple genetics. However, just because I didn't think that I was hot shit just because I was good looking since I hadn't worked for it didn't mean that I wouldn't use my looks to my advantage.

I did use my good looks to my advantage any chance that I got. By her actions Bree had taught me well, even if I sometimes execrated her for it. I used my sex appeal to get the grades, jobs, and guys that I wanted, even though I had enough smarts to get them without sex appeal -- it was more fun using sex appeal.

Even though I never fell in love, I did fuck often, although "always" with condoms. The reason that I put quotes around the word "always" is because apparently I didn't one time when I was nineteen. I'm still not positive how it happened, but I had been drinking too much for only the second time in my life when my fuck buddy of the month -- a really good looking, rich, smart, but shallow senior in college -- and I fucked. I know the first time that we fucked the night in question that it was with a condom, because even in my haze I clearly remember him putting it on, and it was next to the bed in his dorm room the next morning. However, I had a dream that later that night we fucked like a pair of bonobos (generally considered the most sex-crazed mammals of all time). I didn't realize that it wasn't a dream for several months because I had a bad hangover when my fuck buddy took me into the shower the first thing in the morning (causing quite a stir in his dorm) so I was too out-of-it to notice any evidence of cum on my thighs or on his cock.

I was one of those rare women that didn't really start showing my baby bump until I was about twenty weeks pregnant, and I never really got morning sickness. I did feel a little "hormonal" but since I was regularly being serviced by a number of different guys I thought that it was just because I was getting good sex. By the time that I suspected that something was amiss I was about twenty one weeks pregnant and by that time even if I was inclined to abort -- which I may have been if given a legitimate option and time to think about it -- it was virtually too late to get it properly scheduled. So, my junior year in college I had to temporarily withdraw to give birth to a six pound, eight ounce, nineteen inch long bouncing baby girl, who I named Lainey.

Fortunately, I didn't have the economic pressures that a normal nineteen year old single mom has. Since my mother was wealthy from her many divorce payouts, she supported me and little Lainey, and was actually a much better grandmother than she had been a mother. I made it clear to Bree that I didn't want her values to be passed onto little Lainey, and surprisingly Bree wasn't even insulted by what I said.

With my mother's financial help not only did I complete my university education, cum laude but I also got my MBA, also cum laude, by the time that I was twenty three and Lainey was almost four years old.

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Because I was apparently incapable of romantic love -- I did love Lainey, and as she got older almost loved Bree, but obviously those were familial types of love -- I never married for love. However, I did marry four times by the time that Lainey started college as a 17 year old freshman (she is very smart and skipped a grade). Those marriages were so that I had a ready sex partner, and to give Lainey a father figure, and since married business women seem to be more respected.

I found that I had a real acumen for business and was very successful first working for a fortune 500 company, and then starting my own. One of the businesses that I started was a national fitness chain. As the company spokesman I felt that I needed to be in excellent physical condition so I did work very hard to maintain my genetically-provided good looks. Without bragging, from the time that I got my MBA through the defining events of my life story, I'm confident that I was in the top one-tenth of 1% in fitness of women my age. I decided that Lainey would be my only biological child.

While my first three husbands were well-off, I insisted on a prenup with each of them which worked out for me since despite their wealth I made more money than they did. I kept my maiden name, Wilson, for each of the marriages.

For some reason Bree insisted on providing Lainey and me with lavish gifts even though we didn't really need them; I mean did sixteen year old Lainey really need a pearl blue Corvette with white leather interior? (Since Lainey was mature and responsible for her age I didn't nix the idea.)

I was nice to each of my first three husbands; they were between decent and good fathers to Lainey and two of them also had kids by other marriages so Lainey had siblings part of her formative years. I never cheated on them. I liked sex with them until I got bored, at which time I divorced them as amicably as possible. I know that they were left with some hard feelings, especially when I explained to them that I never was truly in love with them -- or anyone else -- but it couldn't be helped.

I was on my fourth husband, Brad, when Lainey went off to college. I married Brad only for the ability to have regular sex and maintain my image for the companies that I owned, not because Lainey really had the need for a father figure anymore and certainly not because I had suddenly developed the capacity for romantic love. Lainey's lack of need for a father figure was due in part to the fact that she maintained an excellent relationship with my second husband, Peter, and Peter's two daughters who were two and three years older than Lainey.

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Lainey was a mature-for-her-age eighteen year old sophomore in college, and I was thirty seven, when she brought her new boyfriend Alex to our mini-mansion during Christmas vacation. Lainey and I texted or talked on the phone almost every day and aside from her studies the main topic of our discussions was Alex. Despite Lainey's maturity I was a little concerned about her relationship with Alex since he was in his first year of graduate business school and had worked for two years before starting graduate school so he was twenty four years old, almost six years older than she was.

I had some minor emergencies with my fitness company the Friday that Lainey and Alex arrived, so they were already chatting with Brad in the living room and had drinks in their hands when I got home. As I was about to enter the living room and announce my presence I stopped dead. I saw Alex in profile and my heart started fluttering. I stood frozen for a period of time that I can't estimate, probably only a few seconds but my mind wasn't working right so I can't be sure. Then I slowly and quietly backed away and found a comfortable chair to sit in in the den to regain my composure.

I had never felt like I was feeling then. I thought that maybe despite my high level of fitness I was having a health emergency. I was flushed, my hands were clammy, and my heart continued to flutter. By doing deep breathing exercises I was finally able to calm down. I determined that it was not a health emergency but it was a reaction to Alex -- but I couldn't figure out what sort of reaction it was. I steeled myself and then nosily walked the thirty or so paces to the living room, my high heels clicking on the marble floor, and entered.

Lainey came and gave me a big hug, Brad gave me a kiss on the cheek, and then Lainey joyfully said "Mom, this is my friend Alex, Alex this is my mom Andrea, and don't call her anything except Andrea if you want to be on her good side."

I said "Nice to finally meet you Alex," while he said "Likewise Andrea, although I feel that I almost already know you from reading the articles about you in Business Week and the Wall Street Journal." As we exchanged greetings we shook hands -- but he took my right hand between his as we did so. I felt an electric jolt go up my spine, and felt slightly unsteady on my feet as he smiled at me.

The four of us had a pleasant discussion for the next few minutes although I have no recollection whatsoever what it was about. For some reason chemicals were rampaging through my body like water through the Amazon after a thunderstorm and I felt my panties getting soaked. I was snapped out of my stupor when the maid announced that dinner was being served and we retired to the dining room.

During dinner, I didn't know what the fuck was going on with my body. I remained flushed and clammy. I was constantly glancing over at Alex -- he and Lainey were across from Brad and I at the dining room table -- and had a surprising adverse reaction when he and Lainey quickly kissed a few times. I think that we had a stimulating dinner conversation since there seemed to be a lot of talking and laughter, but like the conversation in the living room none of it seemed to stick in my brain.

After dinner Lainey announced that she and Alex were going to a party with some of her high school, and their college, friends the next suburb over so they hopped into her Corvette and took off. As they drove away I had a sudden feeling of loss and anxiety -- and I'm not an anxious or emotional person so again I wondered what the fuck was going on. I decided that I needed to take a shower and get in some casual clothes so I told Brad that I would be going up to our bedroom.

When I got up to the master bedroom to change when I took off my panties they were sopping wet -- apparently I was not imagining the feeling during the living and dining room conversations. I showered and tried to intellectually determine what the fuck was happening. I partially convinced myself that I had never before seen Lainey with a man who was her boyfriend, rather than a teenage boyfriend, and somehow that had disturbed me. I wondered if that was correct, however, when Brad walked into the bedroom as I was exiting the bathroom wrapped in a towel and the first thing running through my mind was "Fuck Him!"

Brad was saying something innocuous to me when I dropped the towel wrapped around my body, sauntered up to him, wrapped one arm around his neck while grabbing his testicles through his pants with the hand on the other arm, and planted a plasma hot kiss on his lips. His hands immediately went to an ass cheek and a tit as he kissed back. When we broke the kiss he grinned and said "To what do I owe this exceptional greeting?"

"I've been horny all day," I lied, unless you could consider the time since I met Alex "all day," and then continued "Fuck my brains out, stud."

Brad was somewhat perplexed because he couldn't remember me attacking him shortly after dinner before, but he is not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Therefore it wasn't long before he too was naked.

I was wilder than at any other time in my life since I conceived Lainey during my "bonobo dream" (which wasn't really a dream) fuck. After sucking his cock I mounted Brad like a cowgirl taming a bucking bronco and proceeded to ride his cock like I was trying to rip it off while twisting his nipples and swearing a blue streak, very unusual for me since I normally don't talk much while fucking. My tits were flopping all over the place and my hair was flying until he latched onto my bouncing mammaries, then pulled them onto his chest, and grunted like a pen full of hogs as we simultaneously came like a pair of jets taking off.

As I lay in post-coital bliss an inappropriate thought flashed through my brain; I quickly dismissed it. Despite the fact that it was only about 9:30, since I was emotionally drained I fell asleep. Apparently Brad slowly detached himself from me, and got up, not ready to call it a night. I awoke with a start and looked at the bedside clock -- as near as I could tell it read 10:42. I got up, showered again, put on just a bathrobe, and then went looking for Brad, knowing that the cook and maid would be gone for the night. He was in our entertainment center watching a Liam Neeson flick. I slid next to him on the couch and was greeted by a big smile.

"I really like it when you come home horny," he chuckled. "That was as good as fucking gets."

"Oh really," I snickered. "I think that I can top it," I continued as I opened up my robe, displaying my nude body with moist pussy and hard nipples.

"You can, huh," he chuckled again.

With that I shucked my robe, slid down to my knees on the carpet, and pulled off his boxers, the only lower body garment that he had on, and then started massaging his balls and sucking his dick. Brad quickly rose to the challenge, I sat on his dick facing away from him while he abused my tits, and after we bounced around, grunted, and groaned, for a while we climaxed as he spewed a load of jism into my restless pussy. I climaxed hard -- much harder than normal -- as the same unwelcome thought that had passed through my brain after our first fuck of the night reemerged, requiring me to concentrate to purge it from my brain.

After I dismounted, I put my robe back on, we snuggled as Brad occasionally finger fucked me while I sporadically massaged his balls, until the Neeson movie was over, and then we went to bed with smiles on our faces.

Despite the fact that it was Saturday morning, my inward biological timepiece woke me up at six a. m. That was actually quite normal for me because I didn't get to the fitness level I was by not having a workout schedule that I religiously followed. I put on my exercise duds, made a quick small protein shake in the kitchen, and then went into our large fully equipped exercise room.

As I was concentrating on exercising I was trying to figure out what had happened to me yesterday evening. I normally can work things out in my brain during exercise, but I seemed to be totally confused that morning. My confusion was ramped up when the door to the exercise room opened about quarter to seven and Alex walked in while I was using the elliptical.

"Oh, sorry Andrea, I didn't know anyone else was in here," he said with a smile.

"Don't leave on my account," I responded. "There's plenty of room in here, do whatever exercises you want to."

"So you don't mind if I use the weight machines and free weights?"

"Help yourself," I smiled.

Although I was being polite and really should not have been bothered by Alex working out at the same time that I was, the way that his muscles rippled when he did various lifts disturbed me. I guess that I should describe Alex. He is about six feet two or three inches tall (1.9 m), and about 200 pounds (91 kg) of what appeared to be -- in his tank top and short exercise shorts -- pure muscle. He obviously knew his way around a weight room. He had light brown hair, steely cobalt blue eyes, and a ski-slope nose.

Fortunately, Alex wasn't a chatty Kathy as we exercised since I don't like to talk much when I exercise. However, I was looking at him every chance that I got, and I did notice him glancing at me on occasion.

When as a sweaty beast I dismounted the elliptical and started circuit training Alex smiled and said "After seeing the intensity of your workout it's no wonder that you're the most in-shape CEO in history, just like the Business Week article said."

I'm sure that I blushed as I replied "I'm not sure that's true, but I believe that if I'm going to represent a national fitness company that I have to be in shape."

Although we didn't really disturb each other we did chat some more as he continued lifting and I continued circuit training. When I got to the bench press with free weights he asked "Do you want a spotter?"

I foolishly said "Sure, if you don't mind; even though I never approach maximum weight I do do two sets of fifteen with only a short refractory period, and during the second set I sometimes get muscle fatigue."

My undoing started with smelling the natural pheromones emitted by his apocrine sweat glands, eccrine sweat glands, and sebaceous glands, as he stood next to me. When I had a minor glitch in getting the bar back on the supports after my first set, he moved next to me as he grabbed the bar. The bastard had on loose shorts and no jock strap and I got a good, although fleeting, look at his large uncut cock and low hanging balls.

After that I knew that I wouldn't be able to hold it together much longer, so I got up from the weight bench, pointed to the clock on the wall, and mumbled "Oh shit, there's something I forgot to do and it's already almost 7:45. I'll have to cut my workout short -- but please, use all of the equipment you want." I then grabbed my sweaty exercise towel and bolted out of the exercise room.

I was panting and light-headed as I hoofed it up the stairs to the master bedroom. When I got into the bedroom Brad was yawning and stretching having just woken up. I immediately discarded my sports bra and shorts, quickly ditched my shoes, and with my socks still on and not having taken a shower, I threw my sweaty body onto Brad and mumbled "I'm still horny as hell."

Brad chuckled as I started sucking his cock. He could sense my excitement and as soon as he was rock hard he yanked me toward him, gave me a kiss as he squeezed my sweaty tits, turned me on my hands and knees, and without ceremony shoved his cock into my wet pussy in the doggy position. We both banged and grunted until he unloaded into me and I screamed into a pillow as the same disturbing thought from our two fucks yesterday entered my brain and the intensity of my orgasm didn't allow me to purge it -- or maybe because I couldn't purge it because my orgasm was as intense as a tsunami -- I couldn't tell which.

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The rest of the weekend was fairly uneventful. I was able to control myself so that I didn't stare at Alex, and actually had some intelligent conversations with him that I even remembered afterward. The four of us went to a club Saturday night where I danced more vigorously than I had in years, and we went to a play on Sunday afternoon. When Alex hugged me goodbye early Monday morning when he left to get to his parents' house by Christmas Eve I got a very unwelcome feeling in my nether regions.

Although it was the Christmas season and I could have avoided going into work Monday, I decided to go in for a few hours for just one specific reason -- to research what the fuck was going on with me. I was afraid that I had fallen for my daughter's boyfriend, but since I had never been romantically in love I needed to investigate it in a cold factual manner.

You would think that a 37 year old who had been married four times wouldn't have to do an Internet search on "what are the physical manifestations of love," but I did. There were lots of websites with lots of tidbits, but none that were scientifically worded (to the extent that one can discuss love "scientifically") until after a good forty five minutes of searching I came upon one. It was a website called something like "livescience," and it was on the 13th page of search results. It was just what I was looking for.