I had only been back in school two weeks when Melissa called, crying hysterically.
“Something happened to Gypsy. Come now?” was all I was able to distinguish from her gut wrenching sobs.
‘Something happened to Gypsy’ was all I needed to hear before sprinting to my car and hauling ass for Houston. With adrenal glands pumping and my heart about to explode, I drove like a possessed madman until I pulled into Gypsy’s driveway. If truth be told, I don’t even remember the drive. Cars littered the drive and even some were parked on the lawn. Melissa was sitting on the threshold of the back door, head buried in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably with tears pouring from between her fingers. Melissa looked up at me, mascara streaks down her face, eyes red and puffy.
“She’s gone Howdy! She’s gone.”
My stomach churned, my mind went numb, voices faded to silence, I felt my knees ready to give way. Barb and Abi who stood nearby, reached for me. Melissa mumbled between sobs that Liz was on her way. Charlie and Jan would be there in about an hour. No one knew who else knew what. A few of the other girls were frantically making phone calls to others.
Through my own tear filled eyes, I noticed a young policeman walking up the driveway from the street. He made his way over to me and asked if I was Howdy. I nodded my head yes. He asked me if I owned a ’63 Vette. I was still the registered owner of the Vette, even though I had given it to Gypsy. I had become so preoccupied with getting back to school, I neglected to transfer the title. But that was the farthest thing from my mind.
“What the hell happened? Somebody please tell me!” I blurted out, begging for information.
None of the girls could put a sentence together, let alone explain what little bit they knew. Even the poor officer had a hard time as he tried explaining the events. As fate would have it, he happened to be waiting at the traffic light when the accident happened. He tried his best to stay in control as he shared what had happened. But he was a young cop, close to my age I guessed, and struggled to keep a strong voice.
“She came through the intersection on green,” he started, then stopped and cleared his voice. “the, the, the tractor trailer swerved to keep from hitting me from behind. He was traveling way too fast and passed me in a blur. He ran the red light, broadsiding your friend. Everything unfolded in slow motion right in front of me, yet it only took the blink of the eye really. I didn’t have time to react, to try and prevent it, or anything really. I don’t know what I could have done differently.” he said, as his voice wavered. “I’m really sorry I couldn’t help her.”
His attention seemed to wonder. His eyes widened, then he added as he shook his head from side to side, “The car literally exploded into a million pieces before the truck pinned the remaining wreckage against the overpass support column. Not that there is any consolation. The trucker died at the scene too.” he said, still visibly shaken and choking back his emotions. “The mind numbing erie silence that followed the crash was deafening.” he said as his eyes glazed over.
“I’m really sorry Sir. She never saw him coming. I’m convinced of that. Any suffering would have been very brief, maybe a couple of seconds at most.” he continued, fumbling for comforting words.
Gypsy had been so badly damaged in the crash, they mercifully didn’t even ask me to identify her. They used evidence from her purse and what they could glean from what was left of her lifeless body. That must have been the toughest thing that young cop ever had to do.
***
The following Saturday we held Gypsy’s memorial service.
The girls all showed up, Charlie and Jan were there, Mr. Jamail showed up, as did Peg, the dear waitress who always had a smile to give. Even my parents were there. We all did a better job of consoling each other than we did the day of the accident. One thing I learned at the service, only a handful of the girls actually knew each other. I imagined each of them, knowing what they knew about Gypsy and me, and our little escapades, probably wondered to themselves who else among them might be sharing their passions with me.
It was a 10 am service and a fog drifted slowly through the cemetery. I had hired bagpipes for her service. Through the fog, you could make out the ghostly silhouette as he stood watch from atop a small hill. What was left of Gypsy had been cremated and her ashes were to be spread over the lake at Forest Park Cemetery on Lawndale. The foggy morning seemed fitting for a bagpiper’s serenade I thought. The music was penetrating, moving, hauntingly beautiful. A chorus of sniffles, faint sobs and weeping filled the air as the bagpipes played. The sound of Amazing Grace slowly faded into the distance as he walked over the hill, leaving a deafening silence in his wake.
It seemed like several minutes before anyone dared interrupt the spiritual calm that had settled in amongst all of us that morning. Everyone felt it. It was strangely soothing and comforting. We all stole glances back and forth to see whom else may have experienced the presence. Everyone wondered who would be the first to shatter the peaceful calm.
One by one, the friends passed by me, hugging and giving me kisses, sharing their grief at how awful it was for us to lose Gypsy. It was surreal I tell you. Looking deeply into the eys of everyone of those beautiful women, was like catching a glimpse into their souls. They stood in front of me, and shared their pain with me in such a raw manner. Each one acknowledged that it was Gypsy who had introduced us, and breathed life into each of these new relationships in the first place. I wondered to myself, just how a woman could, time after time, send her lover into the arms of her horny ass friends. The thought struck me so oddly. To this day, I still smile at that mystery.
What was truly odd, and awkward at the same time, was how arousing the whole scenario quickly became. Gypsy would surely have found the humor in that for sure. It was the first time I had seen all the girls in one spot at one time. They all looked stunningly beautiful decked out in black. The consoling, long hugs began to take a toll on me. The alluring perfumes of each one reminded me of very hot memories. Control of my thoughts volleyed back and forth as my mind overflowed with emotions mixed with grief and the hot lurid scenes of fucking each of them. Racked with guilt, my cock betrayed me as it hardened and pressed against my zipper. Fortunately, my suit jacket covered for me. But one by one, with each full bodied embrace, I felt the girls take notice. Watching their responses to my erection poking at their tummies was priceless. Like me, I’m sure they didn’t know if they should be offended, or turned on as well. Except for Barb, none of us knew quiet exactly how to respond. Apparently Barb felt the same way I did, and whispered her reassuring feelings in my ear.
After the service, attorney Jamail approached me, telling me to call him in a few days. “There is some unfinished business of Gypsy’s to take care of Howdy. Let me know when you can come see me.” he said with a comforting smile and a gentle fatherly pat to my shoulder.
I thanked him for coming to the service and promised to call when my head cleared up a bit. I thanked everyone for attending and invited all of them back over to Gypsy’s house for a catered lunch. Still numb from the news no one wanted to accept, everyone seemed to pick at their food as each of us tried to make sense of our shared loss. One by one, the girls opened up, and began to share funny and crazy things they had done with or to Gypsy. There were lots of ‘remember when’ moments we laughed at and cried to. It felt good to laugh, to remember her in such light hearted manner. Everyone loved Gypsy.
I stayed in Gypsy’s house for a couple of weeks, I think. Honestly, I don’t remember how long I stayed. Time sort of got away from me. The only changes I made in the house, were to clean out the refrigerator and pantry so varmints wouldn’t make a mess inside. I tidied up and cleaned everything good, just like she had kept things. Nearly every day, one of the girls stopped over to bring me something to eat and hang out, or we would go out to eat. Mostly, we all just felt kind of numb and tried to figure out how to move forward. At some point I went back up to Texas A&M, withdrew from classes, packed up and returned to Houston.
***
I sat speechless as Mr. Jamail went over Gypsy’s will. It was only then that I realized what Gypsy had done that day she first introduced me to attorney Jamail. I was young and very naive. I had no idea when Gypsy and I signed all that paperwork, Gypsy was making me the sole beneficiary to her estate. The most important document I would ever sign, and I hadn’t taken the time to even read it. But I figured, Gypsy knew what she was doing, and I trusted her implicitly.
She had left me everything she had of earthly value. The house, her vehicles, the income from the businesses her husband had sold, stocks, bonds, jewelry everything. Stunned didn’t even come close to describing how I felt at the news of instantly becoming a multi-millionaire. She had already left my life richly enhanced, and now this? I had no idea what to do, or from whom to seek guidance.
I took off the entire year and collected my thoughts, learned how to manage money, sought wise counsel, learned to respect the power money wields. After that long year, I returned to A&M and finished my degree.
A couple of months after the accident, out of the blue, a guy called me and offered to sell me another 63 Vette identical to the Gypsy’s.
Since taking delivery, the only miles put on that car, have been from my house to Gypsy’s, which I still do on the 14th of every month. I sold her house a few years ago, but still do a monthly drive by and pull into the driveway. Sometimes I swear I can see Gypsy standing in the doorway, wearing a shear nightgown, her body swaying to one of her favorite songs as she waits for me. There are times I sit there in that driveway, caught in that dimension between reality and what could have been, staring through blurry eyes at the back door. I imagine ‘what if’ for a few moments before backing out and returning home. After each trip, I give that Vette I affectionately call ‘Gypsy’, a good wash and dry, then put her back in the garage under cover and tell her we will go for another ride soon. Except for that one day a month, she sits covered in the garage next to my grandfathers all original 57 Chevy he bought new, and gave to me when I turned 18.
***
I continued to see most of the girls on the same schedule as before. It was a while before I had sex with any of them. It wasn’t that we planned it that way, it just turned out to be that way. Our times together became sort of…therapy sessions. The relationships I shared with the girls had slowly morphed, and was different now. We had developed a real sense of family between us and our feelings were deeper because of the grief we had shared. Don’t get me wrong, we all eventually picked up where we had left off. The only difference was, there was no exchange of money.
Barb was the first of the girls I had sex with after Gypsy’s death. It was impromptu. It just kind of happened. We both cried afterwards. We talked about being very aroused at the memorial service. Barb felt how hard my cock was when she leaned in to console me. When we broke our embrace and our eyes met, she knew I wanted to fuck her right then and there. She confessed to being very aroused too, and told me that if I had pushed the issue, she might have let me. Instead she had whispered to me that ‘Mommy’ was going to take good care of me from that day on. Then we had sex again. The second time was extremely intense and fulfilling.
We were both so relieved to be fucking again, we spent the next few hours, napping and waking to one or the other doing something sexual to the other one. The last time she woke me from my slumber, I opened my eyes to see her pussy and ass gyrating in my face as she deep throated my cock. Her pussy was so wet, her juices dripped onto my neck and face.
I didn’t need another invitation to nibble my way up her silky smooth thighs. Her hips jerked as my tongue neared her hot cunt. Her lip lock on my cock tightened when I gently bit into her clit. Then I swatted her ass and grabbed her cheeks, helping her grind herself into my face even harder. Barb’s lovely clit was fully engorged and twitched at my licks and sucks. I took turns sucking one fat lip or the other into my mouth as I bit on them. I licked at her puckered up little starfish before sticking my finger in. Her body shook violently as she started moaning loudly, telling me to ‘suck mommy’s pussy good’. She pulled my cock from her mouth and sat back on my face as she jacked me off. I thought I was going to drown she came in such a flood.
***
After Gypsy’s death, Melissa gradually began to push Veronica and I closer towards each other. I believe reality set in for her, relizing she didn’t want her neice to grow old and wind up ‘married’ to the company like she had done.
Melissa and I continued our relationship up until the month before Veronica married me. It was now time for new beginnings. Melissa understood that, and appreciated my unspoken committment to be faithful to her niece.
Veronica and I married on August 14th, the year after I graduated from A&M, and the anniversary of Gypsy’s death. It was at my insistance that we marry on that date for reasons much like those of Gypsy’s, to try to make a bad date, a good date. Veronica never knew the depth or scope of my relationship to Gypsy, Melissa or any of the other girls for that matter. I knew the real challenge for me would be, to try and love Veronica more than, or even as much as, I had loved Gypsy.
It was always interesting when Melissa invited Veronica and I to her home, or visa versa. The three of us got together on a pretty regular basis. Veronica marveled at Melissa’s ‘insight’ into relationships. Throughout the years, when Veronica and I had our little marital spats, Melissa was always quick to offer some creative sexual remedy for Veroncia to try. They always worked. She was now living her sex life vacariously through Veronica, wanting Veronica to become the insatible lover Melissa had been to me. Melissa had been a great lover and I missed our times together. We had several opportunities to renew our relationship, but respectfully did not.
Two or three years after we had married, we had been invited over for dinner. Melissa had excused herself for a minute and left the table. As Veronica and I cleaned the table, I excused myself and went down the hall to use the restroom. I caught Melissa masturbating in her bathroom. I stood silent and watched as her eyes met mine, and she continued. She noticed the large bulge quickly grow in my pants and moistened her lips with a long slow wet of the tongue before closing her eyes. She came in a flurry of short gasps as her fingers pounded at her pussy. Then she sank her fingers deeply inside her, gripping her insides roughly, tensed up and came even harder. I heard the rush of her orgasm splash into the toilet. Melissa stood, holding her pants and panties at mid thigh and walked towards me. Her pussy hair glistened and juices trickled down her thighs. Her pussy screamed out for me to come have fun. She slipped her cum coated fingers in my mouth and watched intently as I sucked them clean. Then Melissa gently pushed me away from the door, closing it.
Veronica and I raised three daughters and a son, all of whom worked then, and still do, in the business that Veronica eventually inherited from Melissa. Melissa, convinced that Veronica had the abilities and passion to run the company, retired a few years after we married. Veronica became known as one of the top female CEO’s in the country.
Melissa died in her sleep in 2009, well into her 80’s. Ironically, she died on the June 14th, both her birthday and mine. I never knew for sure how old Melissa, or any of the girls were for that matter. It’s a funny thing about women and age; after about 17-18, none of them seem to be able to remember exactly how old they are.
Teresa and Margot are gone now too.
Liz and Dee Dee were still together the last I heard. They sold the ranch and retired to a beach house somewhere in Florida. The three of us had a fantastic two day orgy as part of my bachelor/wedding present.
Abi is a wealthy widow now and lives in the Virgin Islands somewhere. I still owe her for leaving me stranded in the lingerie shop that day. Tragically, Abi and Barb became widows on the same day. The private plane their husband brothers piloted, crashed somewhere in Saudi Arabia in the mid 1990’s. They said a sandstorm was to blame.
Barb died a few months after Melissa. She knew how much love we shared for exotic vehicles and she left me her all of her cars, the rest of her estate was divided among her neices and nephews. After losing both Melissa and Barb in the same year, I slipped into a deep depression that lasted over a year. For quiet some time, I looked more like a recluse than a wealthy man as my mind tried to restore order once again.
Finally one day I looked in the mirror and simply said, “It’s over. It’s time to live again.”
There are many many more stories to tell. Sooner or later I will share more about the beautiful women Gypsy introduced me to, over thirty of them in total. There are some amazing women whose stories need told.
As I have shared these stories, I have fondly relived the memories that seem so painfully distant now. Just in writing these few stories, I once again became overwhelmed with my sense of loss for Gypsy. Even Veronica, my wife of thirty years doesn’t know the entirity of that summer’s events. She will never know, and if she did, she would never understand the impact Gypsy had on my life. Thanks to finding Lush, and telling a few stories here, Gypsy’s legacy is even sweeter and once again, it refreshens my memory of her. For the time being, the renewed grief of her loss has smothered my creative attempts to write any more adventures. So for now, this is the final chapter of BoyToy. Thanks to all who took such interest in this young man’s adventures.
Recalling the events of that fateful day, as I write this final chapter about Gypsy, I weep bittersweet tears.
