"Tapioca Tundra and the Strawberry Orgasm"

By Mama Nez

Chapter One:  Too Much

As if it wasn't enough that Michael was standing there, tight Levi’s, no shirt, telling me he was thirsty. I stood at the sliding doors, nodding, as he told me how much he would love a glass of water or maybe some lemonade.

"Sure, what else?"
"Nothin' else. I just want something to drink. I'm parched. Yard work is hard, I can tell ya."
"I'm sure you can."

And I turned on my heels into the house, thinking about him. I took out the pitcher of lemonade and filled a glass for Michael, who stood there, hair slicked back with sweat. He was really sweltering. I hurried back to  him, and handed him his lemonade.

"Thanks so much." And he took the glass, gulping as much of it as he could into his mouth. He wiped his mouth.
"Jesus, that feels so much better. I think I'm done. I'll finish tomorrow."
"Well, I can always ask Peter to come out here and do it."
He laughed. "No, wouldn't want to hurt his precious hands."
"Micky, I'll ask Micky to help you."
"Well, Micky might."
"He would, he lives here too, you know."

He walked in after me, closing the door, lying under the fan in the living room. He sighed and let the air hit the sweat on his body and cool him. I sat on the couch. I felt the sweat starting to collect under my dress.
"Christ, if I don't get some relief from this heat I'll go bonkers." I said.
Michael started to laugh. "You know what? Just pour that lemonade all over me. I bet you it feels nice."
"I bet you it'll make you sticky."
"I'm already sticky, Moni."
"Well, then, more so."  We laughed at that.
"Come here and lay with me. It feels so good."

I got down onto the floor and lay close to him, feeling the fan bear down its wind on us. His eyes were closed, and he licked his lips for moisture. All I could think was, “oh Mike, you'll never know how much I want to be close to you.”

Later that night, the entire house was eating dinner. We were all laughing, talking, eating the beautiful meal that Phyllis had so kindly put together. Michael seemed to love her, kissing her cheek and thanking her for such a good meal. She would smile and walk away, only to come back with a bowl of food or dish of vegetables.

Peter leaned in and whispered, "I wish you had cooked,"
"Next time, darling. I'll make you some pasta," I whispered back. He kissed my cheek and held my hand.
"Aren't you two adorable!" Phyllis announced, and the whole table looked at us. We all laughed, except for  Michael, who just piled more salad onto his plate, and ate in silence.

"Michael really seemed bent out of shape," Peter said, taking off his shirt and throwing it across the room where it landed on the chair.
"Hey, you made it this time!" I clapped. We had a mini-celebration.
"You didn't answer me about the first comment."
"Oh, Peter," I said, crawling under the soft covers of our bed. "That's just Mike. It's probably from being in the sun all day. You know, you and Micky should really give him a hand out there."
"I don't know. When you interfere with something he's doing, he usually gets pretty mad."
He lay down in bed completely naked.  "If I didn't know better, I would say you were just making up excuses."
"Maybe I am," and he grabbed me and kissed me. "But I'd rather be in here making love to you."

And we fell into this place where we had somehow fallen for each other previous to all that. We were in a relationship because once skin touched skin everything was fine. The window, a crack open, let all the night air float in, cold from the ocean waves. It touched my naked body as our forms mixed into one in the moonlight. We rubbed together fiercely, and Peter moaned and I groaned, and we sighed and I wailed.  The breath so quickened, the sound of wet kisses and sex making themselves known in every moment. He rose up from his place on the bed, and his whole body convulsed, and he moaned and groped, and sucked my breasts and he
released his satisfaction, and I let mine rain down on his manhood.

Then we were lying together, he asleep, me wide awake, feeling him hold me, and feeling his chest heave, and knowing somewhere deep in me that I loved Michael more.

In the next room, Michael sat up in bed, Phyllis sleeping in his lap. He petted her hair, and rested his head on the wooden head board. They had made married couple love, and Phyllis, satisfied and happy, had fallen asleep where she had been attempting to give him head. He knew she'd never do it. She was too scared or something.
He had heard everything Peter and I had done, everything Peter had said, everything I had moaned. What he would have given to hear that in his own ears. 'Oh, God, how I wish that was my name she was moaning, wet with pleasure.'

I listened to everything in the night, and then I heard our bedroom door creep open. I sat up, Peter was dead to the world.  "Who's that?"
"It's me, Michael."
"Yes?"
"Come outside with me."
"Just a second, let me get some clothes on. I'll meet you out there."
"Okay, just hurry."  And the door closed.

I got up and put on Peter's shirt and my panties. I walked out into the living room and saw him standing outside of the sliding doors. I quickly walked to him, knocking lightly on the door.  He opened it up, and I stepped out. He shut it.

"How well does sound travel through this door?"
"Muffled. You can still make out words."
"Oh. Well, let's go sit in the trees."
"Do you mean climb one?"
"No, let's just sit in the trees."

I nodded and we walked into the yard with only the moon to guide us. We got out into the trees, where Michael
wrapped me in his arms and kissed me. He let go and rubbed his face against my neck.
"You smell so good." I smelled like Peter.
"Michael, what's come over you?"
"I want you, I don't care what happens."

I know it sounds corny, but I wanted to push him off. Oh! But I just couldn't! The Princess never turns the duke away! The stable boy is never rejected! So why should the lanky, good looking, sexy ass Texan be? I kissed back, hell I wrapped my legs around him and squeezed. He found some way to put himself inside me and started humping me against the tree. I squeezed him inside me and moaned my head off. Who would hear? Everyone was sleeping; the neighbors couldn’t care less.

"Mike, oh, YES! OH! UHHHHHHHHHH!"  And I came all in that instance, but he didn't quit. He was still hard, and still wanted me. I couldn't handle it; he was shoving my cervix into places it wasn't sure it could go. I wanted to cry, and I did. Tears came streaming out of my eyes and he came; he pulled himself out and spurted onto my thighs, then he kissed me.

"Tell me this will become a ritual," he said.
I was backed up against a tree with bark in my ass. He wanted this to be a ritual?  "Yes," I said it breathlessly, and we walked back out of the trees, and I stopped by the water hose to wash his smell off of me. We walked back into the house.

Everything was unstirred, and I walked back into mine and Peter's bedroom, undressed, and lay down, sleeping
soundly the rest of the night.

***

Chapter 2:  2 Become 1

The next morning I cooked Peter a big breakfast, which he ate with much gratitude, and many thanks. I smiled, and knew that I had done my job as his other half. Phyllis served Michael his breakfast, and happily stroked his hair, and he woofed down his plate. Nothing had happened.
"Did you sleep well, dear," she asked.
"Yeah, I slept great."

Micky trudged down the stairs. No Nikki. She was even harder to wake up than he was.
"Nick!" He called behind him. "Let's go! Breakfast time!"
A stick pounded against the door. "Make it yourself!"
He made a face.
"I'll cook you something, Micky," I said, "Come and sit." Micky smiled and came down the stairs, and sat in the empty seat between Peter and Michael. "Now where in the world is Davy?"

I heard the door under the stairs slam open, and Davy singing a song, skipping out in a morning sort of mood.
"Good morning! Who's ready for work?"

The other three were very tired. I set a plate of eggs down in front of Micky with a glass of orange juice. His eyes grew wide and he ate fast. Nikki came down and I gave her some food.

"Would you like something Davy," I asked.
"No, I'm fine. Don't think my stomach could take it this early."
I nodded. Michael kept stuffing his mouth with food and coffee. I ate cereal, and we saw our men off to work, while we were left to take care of little babies, (none of which were mine) and clean house. It turned out to be fun, and then we would shop.

I knew that Phyllis was genuinely a nice person. I knew that Christian was a beautiful little boy, and I knew that I longed to have my very own little boy. I also knew that if Michael's "ritual" was carried out, he would soon not see this beautiful little boy very often.

***

"And it happened like that?" Nikki asked, once the boys had arrived home, and Phyllis was occupied with her family.
"Yes. I don't know why I didn't stop him,"
"Well, it's okay, but I don't think this ritual should pass."
"No! I love Peter."
She smiled and patted my hand. "I know you do, hon."

Someone knocked.
"Who is it?" I sang.
"It's your loving man, come to rescue you!"
"Come in, Pete!"

Peter pranced in, with Micky and Davy and Michael on his heels.  "HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR NIKKI! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!" They sang it loudly, and in came Phyllis with a cake. Nikki blew out her twenty candles and we were all happy.

"And you get your present, much later," Micky growled, attacking her. How amazing they were, their little babies so cute, and their marriage so happy. Peter and I weren't married. Too establishment. But Nikki and Micky had married because of Micky's mother.

I wanted a baby. I wanted a little person to need me!
"Pete, let's have a baby."
He turned around from his shaving.  "Do you really?"
"More than anything, Peter. Please. If we really love each other we should be able to extend that love."

He washed the lather off his face, and checked for any spots he might have missed. He brushed his long hair back a little, and turned off the bathroom light. He took off his pants, and lay down in his underwear. He pulled me close to him.  "Do you really think that we're ready to have a baby?"
"As we'll ever be. Pete, I'm not gonna get any younger."
"You're only 19."
"I know, but I want to be a young mother."
He kissed my lips softly and touched my face. "Then a young mother I shall make you."

We tried for months. Every night Peter and I tried, and after that Michael would make love to me outside in the
yard. I was confused, or maybe I had confused my body. Peter was frustrated with trying to get me pregnant, and we wanted so badly to be parents. We were sharing the desire to make something that was of us, and at the same time Phyllis was growing big with her and Michael's second child.

"How's the baby going?" Michael asked.
We were in the guest room, the door was locked.  "It's not. I can't get pregnant no matter how hard we try."
He frowned. He put his arm around my shoulders. "Maybe it's my fault."
"How?"
"Just, you know, always fucking you, maybe, if you and Peter really want a baby, maybe I should back off."
I rubbed his arms, they were fastened around me. "Okay."  I turned around to face him in that embrace, and found myself wanting to kiss him very much.
"Don't fight how you feel right now," he said. I said nothing and found myself deeply in love with him and kissing him with a heavy mouth. I couldn't feel my body, and I let him lay me on the bed. He kissed me even deeper as we lay pressed together, and I felt him breathe, and his heart quicken from nervousness. We released from the kiss, and he put his head on my shoulder, breathing in and out.
"Are you okay, Nez?"
He didn't answer for a few moments. Then he lifted his head and looked into my eyes.
"I'll feel better once we start making love," And he kissed me again.

We lit a candle so the light wouldn't shine through the cracks in the door. I watched him stand at the foot of the bed, taking off his clothes. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, watching what he was doing carefully. His skin was golden by the candle light. I was still wearing my dress as I slipped my panties out from under it. He dropped his levis and stepped out of them, taking down his boxers. I hadn't really seen him. His body was amazing to me, and I felt myself tremble. He came close to me, and taking the lace of my dress in his hand, released me from my clothes. He took the dress completely off me and caressed me. We looked at each other, touching each others lips, playing with each other's hair, looking into each other's eyes. We laced our fingers together and he kissed me again. He kissed me like he was going to die at any moment.

He rubbed his face on my neck and down my chest, down my stomach, and kissed the space between my stomach and my womanhood, which was swollen with anticipation. He rubbed his face against the mound, and slipped his tongue into me.
"Oh, Jesus, Michael."
I opened my eyes and watched him go down on me. I felt the flicking of his tongue, it burned with pleasure and I felt as if I would collapse. I ran my fingertips through his hair, and he came back up, balancing himself over me.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  "Was that good?"
I nodded and closed my eyes, feeling him touching me as he asked me questions like 'do you like that?' or 'do you want more?' or 'how does that feel?' I had never been asked these questions. I opened my eyes and he was
beautiful, hair messed about his gorgeous face. His eyes were filled with lust, and burning desire. I knew it, because that was what was in my eyes.

"Oh take me, Michael."
And he scooped me up into his arms, and entered me. I held onto the bed and let him move however he wanted
inside me. I bit my lip and held onto his shoulders, feeling the same burning as I did when he had been licking me. He slipped faster and slower, and sometimes he didn't even move. I lost track of all time, and as I felt the last great thrust, I heard him moan and felt the warm liquid travel inside me, then I gave in around him and down him. We both convulsed with every small movement, and both let out shuddering breaths and relaxed. He rolled onto his back and I let my body go limp.

"I came inside you," he said.
I said nothing.

* * *

Chapter 3:  Cry

The next morning Peter and I made love, sitting up, on the floor of our bedroom. He tried his best, and I knew he was doing all his feeling for me compelled him to do. We moved like crazy, and with my eyes closed I could see Michael's eyes full of fire coming closer to me, his lips kissing my neck. When I opened my eyes, they were Peter's lips on the tender skin of my neck. I squeezed my eyes shut and let a tear run down my cheek. We made no sound.

Afterward, Peter sat naked, reading his book, and my head was in his lap. He was stroking his hair, and I knew we had given up on having a child of our own all together. I closed my eyes and saw Michael again, feeling his warmth against me. I felt the muscles in his chest pressed against my breasts, his nipples rubbing against me, making the skin tingle. Everything about it had been the most sensual experience I had ever had.  I wanted to bawl, I wanted to just let go and wail on Peter's lap. I felt the warmness of the tears beginning to collect under my cheek. Peter put his book down and took me in his arms. I cried on his shoulder and he wrapped me up, and we wrapped around each other. He rocked me and reassured me it was fine to cry.

"Oh, Monica, I wish I knew why you were crying."
"Peter, are we going to give up on a baby?"
He kissed my mouth and said only this, "No."

***

A few months later, I was big with a child. At that time, Peter finally decided we should get married. It was under an altar Micky built, and we were hand fasted.

"Now you are bound forever in love and harmony."  Everyone clapped, and as Peter kissed me, he pressed his hand to the baby. I looked up into his eyes, touching his hand, both of us feeling the baby kick. As Peter
hugged me, I opened my eyes and saw everyone clapping, but Michael. He stood perfectly still, and not an
expression was on his face. I knew I'd broken his heart.

I walked into the house after everything had calmed down. He was sitting on the couch, strumming his guitar.
My heart sank to see him just sitting there, tears running down his face.
"Michael, are you okay?"
He stopped strumming. "How do you want me to feel?"
"I don't understand what's going on. Why are you upset about this?"
"Monica, don't you think it's funny that Peter couldn't get you pregnant, and now you are?"
"Well, why would that be funny?"

He put his guitar down and stood up. His face was wet, and his eyes were blood shot. "I have been thinking this over for months," he said, coming closer and putting his arms around me. He took my belly in hand. "This baby is mine, and you're mine. You belong with me, both of you."

"Michael, how do you know that?"
"We made love two months before you found out you were
pregnant, and if this baby is born with black hair, it's mine."  And he released me and walked away. He walked out the front door and slammed it behind him.

***

The baby's cries broke the gasps and yelling of everyone in the living when I pushed him out. The midwife caught the placenta in a bowl and put some rose petals in with it. Phyllis turned away when that happened, she even hid little newborn Jonathan's face. The baby was held up and given to me, a mess of thick black hair covered his head. Peter took the baby in his arms and looked at his face. His eyes were shaped like almonds, and he had curvy lips, and a slight cleft in his chin. Peter stood with the baby, and began to walk across the room.  "Here's your son, Michael," Peter said, and handed Michael the baby.

Phyllis clamped her hand to her mouth. She began to shake, and the more she tried not to scream the more her face turned red. Micky and Nikki only looked at each other. Michael stood there, motionless, holding the
squirming child. Peter clenched his fists, and turning on his heels, left the house.

The midwife had, by this time, cleaned me up and left, blessing the room as she walked. She went up to Michael and touched his forehead, and handed him a flower.  "Congratulations, Papa," she said, and walked out.

Phyllis screamed across the room and ripped the baby from Michael's arms. I pulled myself up as best I could, still squatting on the floor, blood dripping from my body.   "GIVE ME MY BABY!"

Micky and Davy ran after her and Micky grabbed the baby, who was crying wildly. They handed my baby to me.

Phyllis slapped Michael.  "That baby isn't yours! Tell me it isn't yours!"
Michael didn't say anything; he didn't even react when Phyllis slapped him. She screamed again, "Tell me that little brat isn't yours!" He knew it all too well, and so did I. The baby was his. "You son of a bitch! How could you do this to me! You asshole, I want a divorce, I never want to be near you again!"

Michael picked up Christian. Christian snuggled into his daddy and Phyllis started pulling on the little boy. She
kept pulling as Christian was screaming. Michael was squeezing him tight and sobbing.

"Give me my son!" She screamed.
"NO! NO! Don't take my baby boys from me! Please, don't take them from me!"
"Christian, come to Mommy!"
All he did was scream and cry more. Michael held onto Christian tighter with each tug, and finally, Phyllis
had him in her arms.

"Don't take my babies away from me, Phyllis, please!"  Now he was on his knees. He watched Phyllis run out the front door, with Christian trying to escape to get to Michael. Both little boys were crying. She made it out
the door with both boys in her arms. And Michael ran out the front door in time to see them drive off.  "Christian! Jonathan! No, please! Phyllis, please...." and he fell on the ground.

Davy was hugging me when Michael came inside. "It's going to be alright, sweetheart," Davy said.
I nodded, and he kissed my face. Davy had to be the only man in that room that I didn't want to disappear.
"Oh, God Davy, what have I done," I sniffed, holding my son in my arms.
"Nothing. You haven’t done anything."
And maybe Davy was right. Maybe he wasn’t.






Chapter 3:  Roll With The Flow

Sometime after the incident, Phyllis came to her senses. The divorce was in place, and Michael had asked me to marry him as soon as it was final. I was happy, and our baby son Jason was going to be raised the way we
intended. Sensibly. Of course, you can’t say that for his hornball parents.

When I first saw Michael, there was no doubt in my mind I was going to be finding excuses for us to be close to
each other, or for me to sneak a peak at what he looked like without his clothes on. God did I get an eye full of that every night.  This magnificent soul with his wonderful body had stirred something in me that was animalistic in more ways than one, and that got us into lots of trouble. But it got me into more trouble.

I guess that if I had planned on sleeping with Peter, I should have thought about it first. But when you’re drunk that doesn’t seem to register. Ever.  I had him deep inside me. It was no joke this man had one of the biggest cocks I’d ever seen or felt. It was swollen up inside me, hard and filled me with warm cum. I could almost taste this. It was like our relationship never ended, and here we were again, putting ourselves back into a place where we could hurt each other. Or Reine and Michael.

As we went on, I remembered how I said I would never do this again, and fuck if I wasn’t fucking Pete in that car
of his once again.  I watched our silhouettes on the wall and wondered if Michael was worried about me. I would probably be getting home quite late, if I even made it home.

" Shit Pete, I forgot how big you were," I whispered.
"Then let me help you remember."

He bent me over a chair, assessed the situation and rammed his hard cock into my pussy from behind. I cried
out in pain and pleasure. I felt my body begin to shiver, and my pussy clamp tight around him. This made him cry out louder than I had. With each stroke Peter took, I began to feel my juices drip down my thighs. I thought about what Michael said when I would do that on his cock. "Oh, god, your pussy is dripping wet!" and this made me hornier than before. I started imagining Michael and I doing this, his beautiful cock ramming into me like so much machinery. I could hear his moaning as I played with his swollen balls and sucked on his   delicious dick.

Peter moved his cock out of my pussy and into my ass. I had never let him do that when we were together, but it didn’t matter. I was imagining my Long Tall Texan doing unspeakable things to my body: Licking my pussy and sucking on it with his whole mouth, eating my ass, spanking my pussy and asking me if I liked it when he
hurt me. 'OH YES, ADMIRAL MIKE!' I would scream at him, call him god, fuck him harder when he let me on top, fuck him harder than he was fucking me.

"Oh MICHAEL, YOU FUCKING GOD!"

This was not taken well. It was when Michael walked in.  Peter was so angry, he yanked his cock from my ass and reared back to hit me. I watched as Michael grabbed the very drunk, very naked Peter and threw him out into the hallway. He slammed the door. I was in trouble.
"How could you do that?"
"I don’t know...." I slurred my words.
"You have to be punished."

He took a towel and wiped me clean, then taking down his pants, he threw me up against the wall and put his dick inside me. I moaned in complete ecstasy. I suddenly felt him fucking me so hard my head banged against the wall with each thrust. I wanted to cry. I wanted to do something! And then he came, and it dripped down my
thighs.  "I’m sorry, Michael." I said, crying.

He took me in his arms and cradled me. It had been a huge mistake to treat me like that, but my husband to be just let me know that everything was fine.

We still got married after that, too. How the hell does someone so wonderful deal with someone so messed up
inside and out?

After that, the Monkees were no more. And sometimes when I lie awake, I remember all that happened, all that I did. I wonder if it was even justified. But I know it’s fine, when he pulls me close and says nothing, just kisses my neck, and lets me fall to sleep.