She reached down between her legs with one hand and started stroking her glistening cunt, her fingers flying faster and faster the closer her man got to orgasm. Suddenly, the man tensed, trying his best to stifle a scream, obviously filling her mouth with semen. She plunged three fingers into her pussy and Jeff could see her lips contracting as she came again. At the same time, Jeff came, turning slightly so that several drops of fluid fell on her beautiful ass. The man sat with his head thrown back, totally spent. The woman rested her head in his lap, and with one finger, she wiped a drop of Jeff’s come off her ass and, slowly, seductively, brought it to her lips. She extended her tongue and, with the tip, licked Jeff’s come from her fingers. “Mmm,” Jeff heard her purr. He knew that she had enjoyed giving the show as much as he had enjoyed watching it.
Suddenly, Jeff was aware that the credits were rolling up the screen. He had missed almost the entire movie while dreaming about the woman in the red T-shirt. He looked to his left and saw a row of empty seats. No woman, with or without a red T-shirt. Not that he would have done anything even if he could have, he realized. He was a happily married man. But anyone could fantasize.
He thought of his wife of almost two years, who was arriving home from a business trip later that evening, and smiled. He would meet her at the airport, and then, when they got home …
CHARLOTTE’S FANTASY
Charlotte loved romance novels. She read at least two a week and enjoyed nothing more than curling up with a book on a winter afternoon while her husband watched sports on TV. After reading one particularly erotic scene, she found herself gazing off into space.
Charlotte ran across the dark yard toward the gazebo, where she knew Armand would be waiting. Not even noticing the sultry Louisiana heat, she lifted her hooped skirt and felt the dew-dampened grass soak her silk slippers as she sped away from the music and rich food and revelers in the mansion behind her. No one must see me, she thought, looking over her shoulder. Good. No one.
About fifty feet from the gazebo, she slowed, then stopped and tried to catch her breath. Was she breathless from running or from the expectation of Armand’s muscular arms, lean body, and handsome face? He would be her husband in a few weeks, but, except for a few minutes at the party thrown in their honor, she hadn’t seen him in almost a month.
“I’m here, darling,” the husky voice said.
A smile lighting her face, she lifted her hoop skirt higher and ran to the gazebo, to Armand. She climbed the three steps and almost threw herself into her fiancé’s arms. “Oh Armand,” she whispered. “This is so dangerous. We shouldn’t be alone like this. What would Papa and Mama say?”
“I couldn’t bear to watch you from a distance, looking at you politely, telling everyone how much I am looking forward to our wedding.” He closed his arms tightly around her and buried his face in her hair. “Oh darling, I wanted to hold you, to touch you, to love you.”
Charlotte turned her face up to his and felt his lips brush hers. “Oh yes,” she whispered against his mouth.
He pressed his lips more tightly against hers and rubbed his tongue against their joining. “Open for me, pet. Let me taste you.”
Tentatively, as she had done a few times before, she parted her lips and let his tongue plunder her mouth’s depths. They kissed for long moments, and Charlotte felt heat flow over her. She pulled back, withdrew a lacy handkerchief from her cleavage, and blotted her chest. “Oh my dear sir,” she said, “you do know how to kiss me.”
“I want so much more,” Armand said, taking the handkerchief and brushing it gently across her chest. The neckline of Charlotte’s dress was so low that he could almost see the tops of her areolas. He brushed the lace deeply into her cleavage, admiring the luscious globes on either side.
“Sir,” Charlotte simpered playfully, “we mustn’t.”
“And why not?” Armand said. “In two weeks, we’ll be married. We’ll be able to do whatever we want. Why must we wait?”
“We just have to.”
Armand dipped his fingers into the deep valley between her breasts and caressed her damp skin. With a quick flick of his fingers, he found her nipple and lifted it from the confines of her bodice. He pinched the swollen bud, then dipped his face and licked. Feeling her tremble, he placed his forearm against the small of her back, pressed her closer to his body, and suckled. “You want this,” he purred, his breath tickling her wet, erect nipple.
He took advantage of her silence to lift the other breast from its fabric nest and bite the tip. “You want this,” he repeated. When she didn’t respond, he placed his other arm behind her knees and lifted her into his arms, then sat on the bench of the gazebo, with her on his lap.
In the light of the full moon, Charlotte could see the glow of the white of Armand’s shirt between the sides of his black jacket. Beneath her hand, she could feel the strong, rapid beat of his heart. She looked at his shadowed face and saw his smile. Yes, she did want him. But she couldn’t admit that. And she certainly couldn’t have more than a few stolen kisses—not until they were married. She touched his beautiful mouth and he nipped her finger.
While he played with her finger, he placed his hand on her silk-covered ankle. “Your skin is so soft,” he whispered, sliding his hand up her calf, finding the bare skin above her stockings.
“You mustn’t,” she said, her breathing quickening.
Ignoring her protests, he slid his hand higher, up the inside of her pantalet-covered thigh. “I just want to touch you.” The hand slipped higher, toward the split in the fabric.
“But Armand …” She tried to move away from the questing fingers but only succeeded in allowing him further liberties. As she knew he would, his fingers found the hot, wet center of her hunger. She wanted to stop him. She knew she must. But it felt so good, that finger, rubbing and probing. She had never felt anything like this. “Armand … ” She wanted, needed—but what?
“I know, my love. Let me show you how good it will be when we are married.”
He seemed to know how to feed the hunger. His finger rubbing her center, his mouth dipping to suckle at her breast. Rubbing, sucking. Pulling her toward something. Pulling. Pulling. Her body was unable to resist the pull. But she must try. Mustn’t she? Finally, she stopped resisting and let her hips move with a life of their own.
He sensed the moment she surrendered to him. Smiling, he moved her slightly, just enough to allow him to unfasten the front of his britches and let his hard cock spring free. With a sweep of cotton, he lifted Charlotte so she straddled him, his cock aimed at her heat. “Darling, I wish we had a soft feather bed where I could love you properly, but we both need this now. And we must eventually return to the party. Tell me you want this as much as I do.”
Charlotte sighed into the hot night. “Yes,” she whispered. “I do want you. Please.”
“There will be a little pain, but I will make it as easy for you as I can. After the pain, darling, I will never hurt you again.” He lifted her with his strong arms and, buried beneath her skirts and petticoats, his cock found her. With a sudden upthrust, he drove himself inside of her.
She felt a moment of pain, then the hunger began to build anew. His hands found her under the cotton. One hand held her tightly against him, the other forced its way between their bodies to her now-erect clit. He rubbed again, and as he felt her tighten, he pressed his mouth against hers.
She was reaching for it, whatever it was, reaching for what that finger was pushing her toward. Lights. Shards of colored lights. Closer and closer, tightening her thighs and low in her belly. Suddenly, the lights burst and showered her with brilliant stars. She wanted to scream against his mouth, but Armand kept his lips tightly against hers, preventing her cries. She felt him tighten, then arch his back and thrust upward, more deeply into her heat. Pulses of power flowed from him into her.
When they had quieted, he helped her to clean herself, then righted himself and his clothing. “Oh Armand,” she said softly. “I never imagine
d. Is it always like that?”
“And better. So much better.”
As she calmed, she heard the sounds of the Louisiana night mixed with the distant music. She smelled the damp smell of the nearby bayou, felt the rough texture of Armand’s jacket. It all seemed new and fresh, as if this experience had sharpened her senses. And it could be better?
Later, hand in hand, not totally able to conceal the ravages of lovemaking, the two lovers walked back toward the house.
Charlotte sighed, looked up, and saw her husband staring down at her, that special look in his eye. “Where in the world were you?” he asked.
“Just dreaming,” Charlotte answered. “Is the game over?”
“No,” he said, “but I’ve been dreaming myself. I’m wondering what you’re doing for the next hour or so.”
Charlotte grinned. “Why,” she said coyly, “did you have something particular in mind?”
He grinned down at her, then placed one hand on each arm of her chair, trapping her. “Actually, several somethings.”
Charlotte grabbed the front of his sweater and pulled until he dropped on top of her into the chair. “Good,” she said, “me, too.”
3
Now We Have
Children
A father and his four-year-old son were walking through the park one afternoon and they happened upon a male dog mounting a female dog.
“What are they doing?” the little boy asked.
The father hadn’t yet thought through the matter of introducing his son to the mysteries of sex. So honestly, if a bit hesitantly, the father answered, “Why, they’re making puppies.”
“Oh,” the small boy said.
A few nights later, the boy walked into his parents’ bedroom, intending to ask for a drink of water. He saw his mother and father, belly-to-belly, doing what mommies and daddies do late at night.
“Whatcha doing, Daddy?” he asked.
With only a moment’s hesitation, the father answered, “We’re making babies, son.”
“Turn her over, Daddy,” the boy yelled. “I want puppies.”
I don’t think it will come as a surprise to anyone that living with children may be the largest obstacle to a couple’s sexual fulfillment. Somehow lovemaking appears on the priority list somewhere below shopping, cooking, laundry, cleaning, helping the kids with their homework and only slightly above removing the crab-grass from the front lawn.
“Darling,” he says, nibbling on the back of his wife’s neck, “I’ve been thinking about you all day. How about going to bed a bit early tonight?”
“Oh sweetheart, I’d love to,” she says, turning in his arms. “But you still haven’t folded the laundry, and I need to bake twenty-seven cupcakes for Jennifer’s kindergarten class.” She glances at her watch. “It’s almost nine-thirty. We won’t get to bed before eleven.”
“I know,” he says, yawning. “And the alarm goes off at five of six tomorrow morning. Maybe this weekend.”
Sound familiar?
Books and articles on sexual health urge people to work hard at sex during these stressful years. “Sure, right,” she says. “I’m willing to try. But I work all day, take care of kids, shop, clean, and now you want me to put on a sexy negligee and seduce my husband. All I want to do is sleep.”
Then he says, “I commute an hour each way to and from work, bust my butt to earn a decent living and support the kids. Now I’m supposed to bring her flowers and wine?”
She says, “I used to feel like a sex object. Now I’m a typist and a mommy and there’s not much time for anything else.”
He says, “At first, my wife was passionate. Now she’s disinterested, thinking more about the kids than about me. I’m just a wage earner.”
Finally, you manage to find time, energy, and desire for lovemaking. You’re in bed, stroking and recalling when you were lovers instead of parents. Then a voice says, “Mommy, I don’t feel too well,” or “Daddy, I had a bad dream.” Oh well …
And the problems don’t end when the children reach school age. It can feel awkward to make love with the kids still up, watching TV or listening to music. “What if they hear us? They’ll know what we’re doing.” Embarrassing, isn’t it?
Before we get to specifics, let’s get one thing straight. If you don’t make an effort to keep the flame alive despite the children, you won’t have any quality sex with your partner until the kids are in college. And, for me at least, the longer I went without good sex, or even sex at all, the less I wanted it. I seemed to forget how nice it had been and I decided that I could easily do without.
The good news is this: It really is possible to feel less like mommies and daddies and more like lovers, even in a house that’s filled with toys, basketballs, and computer games. Let’s consider the problems with the children and try to find some short- or long-term solutions. Many of these will seem simplistic, and some are. But relax and think seriously about some of these ideas, even though at first blush they might seem awkward.
Couples frequently overlook the need to set aside time for sex. They make time for relatives, for business dinners, for painting the guest room. If they get tickets for the hottest show in town, they hire a baby-sitter and find the energy. Seldom, however, do they make a date with each other for Saturday night.
So do it. Make a date with your husband or wife. Pick a day and time and then stick to it. No changing at the last minute because Susie has a runny nose or Andy needs help with his algebra.
Then line up a baby-sitter. If no baby-sitter is available or affordable, arrange with grandparents, cousins, friends, or neighbors to take care of the kids for the entire evening. If you can find a way, make plans for someone to stay with your children all night, or, better still, take them to that person’s house until the following day. Trade an evening of caring for your neighbors’ kids for an evening of them taking yours. Your neighbors probably need an evening alone just as much as you two do.
Next, anticipate the evening the way you did when you were dating. Tease each other with little notes about what you’re going to do that evening. Try not to let your mind lose the delicious anxiety. The morning of the “big evening,” tie a string around your partner’s wrist as a reminder, so that every time he or she looks down, the vision of you naked and willing will appear.
Wear something special. Dressed in the same old jeans and shirt, you are the same old mommy or daddy. Dress up for a change, as if it’s a special occasion, because it is! Buy something new, or borrow something sexy from a friend. Take whatever time you can scrounge and enjoy a shower. Wouldn’t it be nice to take a bubble bath? (I’m not going to press my luck here.) Use a new cologne or a new shampoo. Use hand lotion. Find a tape of the music the two of you used to listen to when you were dating and put it into the player in the car.
Have a relaxed dinner at an intimate restaurant and then rent a room at a fancy hotel or the local Super 8, even if it’s just for an hour. Share a bath and make love in front of the bathroom mirror. Make as much noise as you like. Make love with the lights on. Make love more than once, slowly.
With two small children, Alice and Tim had neither the time nor the energy to spend on themselves, even though they had enough money. After more than a year, they finally decided to make time for long, leisurely loving. And when they did, the results were delightful.
ALICE AND TIM’S STORY
Alice and Tim had twin fifteen-month-old girls. The twins were gorgeous, smart, good eaters, and easy sleepers. Alice and Tim, however, were exhausted. An accountant, Tim worked long hours to get ahead, and Alice spent her days changing diapers, feeding babies, and never getting a moment’s peace. By the time Tim got home and they all had dinner, bathed the babies, and got them down for the night, both parents were ready for bed and sleep—just sleep. Once a week or so, they indulged in a quickie, which left them feeling briefly physically satisfied but emotionally empty.
“You know, baby,” Tim said one evening as they collapsed into bed, “
I miss making love. Long, luxurious, caressing, touching, hugging, kissing love.”
“I know. Me, too. I remember it well, and I’m sure it used to be lots of fun.” Alice yawned.
“How about asking your folks to baby-sit while they’re here next weekend?”
“Oh Tim. My folks don’t get much chance to see us, and they only have this long weekend.”
“I know, but I want to spend an evening with you. Just you.”
Alice yawned again. “I’ll see whether I’m comfortable asking.”
The following afternoon, Alice called her mother, who lived about four hundred miles away. “Mom,” she said in the middle of the conversation, “I was wondering whether you and Dad might baby-sit with the twins one evening so Tim and I can have dinner together, just the two of us.”
Her mother’s warm voice jumped in quickly. “Of course, dear. We planned to do that all along as a surprise. We thought you could go out Saturday evening. We’ll feed the girls so you two can do something fun for a change. And we’ll even take the baby monitor so you won’t be bothered until morning.”
Alice shared the good news with Tim that evening and Tim agreed to make all the arrangements. Since it would be a surprise, Tim told Alice only that she should dress up in a very fancy outfit and be ready at six o’clock sharp.
Late Saturday afternoon, Alice and Tim got dressed, hugged the girls and Alice’s parents, and walked out the front door. There, parked at the curb, was the longest limousine Alice had ever seen. “Tim, is that for us?”
“It certainly is. Nothing but the best.”
“But a limo? That’s so expensive.”
“I want to be able to drink and get a little blitzed tonight without having to worry about driving home. So I thought this was the best idea.”
Now and Forever--Let's Make Love Page 7
