“That was sensational,” Frank said.
“Umm,” Maggie purred.
“Getting off, lady,” the man in the three-piece suit snapped impatiently, bringing Maggie back to the present. She bent down and peered out the fogged-over bus window. “Oh damn,” she muttered. “I almost missed my stop.” Maggie shifted her pocketbook and umbrella, picked up her briefcase, and hustled off the bus.
She opened her umbrella, but not quickly enough to keep a cold dribble from trickling down the back of her neck. “Shit,” she said as she trudged toward her apartment building.
As she entered the building’s foyer, she almost crashed into her husband. “Oh, poor baby,” he said. “Look at you. You look drowned.”
“You’re drenched, too,” Maggie said, looking over her bedraggled husband. She smiled at him. “I love you, you know.”
He smiled. “I know. Me, too.” Frank walked toward the elevator, breaking the momentary spell.
“This rain is too much,” Maggie said, pressing the elevator button. “What a day. And the weatherman says it might change to snow this evening.” She spotted a brown paper bag in Frank’s arm. “What’ve you got there?” she asked.
Frank smiled and sighed. “For some reason, I was thinking about Saint Martin today.” The elevator door slid open and they stepped inside. “Remember our honeymoon?” Frank reached around his wife and pressed the button for the fifth floor. His arm trapped his wife in the corner of the elevator and he placed a long, leisurely kiss on her wet mouth. “Umm,” he purred. “Anyway, I was thinking about those banana daiquiris we had. The kids are both out for the evening, so I stopped and got some cans of daiquiri mix, a few ripe bananas, and a bottle of rum. I thought this might be a wonderful evening to relax together, just you, me, and a blender.”
“Sounds like a terrific idea,” Maggie said, smiling. “Just great.”
4
The Empty Nest
One evening, a priest, a minister, and a rabbi were sitting around arguing.
“Life begins at conception,” the priest said. “When the sperm and egg unite, you have an embryo, and an embryo is life.”
“Not at all,” the minister replied. “Life begins at birth, when the blood courses through the veins and the lungs begin to take in air.”
For many minutes, the two men argued. “Conception.” “Birth.” “Conception.” “Birth.” Finally, the two men turned to the silent rabbi. “Give us your opinion, Rabbi. When does life begin?”
“Well,” the older man said after a long pause, “when the kids go to college and the dog dies, that’s when life begins.”
Isn’t that the truth? In the spring of the year during which my elder daughter was to leave for college, Baron von Hound, our one-hundred-plus-pound German shepherd, died. Although all of us were sad to end our eight-year relationship with Baron, he was distinctly anti-social and had curtailed many of our family plans. Once Baron was gone and my daughters were away at school, life became much simpler. I loved my empty nest.
In the past, before she had a life outside the kitchen, a woman had a difficult time carving out a job for herself once the children were gone. Most women were full-time wives and mothers and were untrained for any work outside the home. Once the children were gone, she had to resort to bridge clubs and charity work to fill the hours in which she used to cook, clean, nurture, and generally exhaust herself. Her “empty nest” was a lonely place, which she worked hard to fill.
Today, things are different. Most women have had full-or part-time jobs outside the home for a long time, and now that the little ones are out and gone, her empty nest has finally given her and her husband the opportunity and free time to explore all types of new experiences. You and your partner now have space, time, energy, and, most important, privacy.
Despite all the newfound freedom and all the articles about spicing up your love life, there are sexual problems for the empty nesters, too. The most basic problem for our generation is the collection of longheld and often erroneous ideas that revolve around sex. Like me, those in their forties and fifties were brought up in a communication wasteland. I had a very enlightened mother who answered all my questions and helped me understand the mechanics of sex. The emotional side, however, was left pretty much undiscussed.
When I married, I thought that a woman was a vessel who should always be ready to receive her husband’s lovemaking. It was my sexual “job description,” so to speak. Talk about what I wanted? Of course not. It’s not that I suppressed my urge to discuss matters; it’s that the urge never existed. And be the instigator of lovemaking? Not a chance. That was the man’s job, poor soul. He always had to make the first move, and, of course, risk the rejection that went with it. That was the way it was between my husband and me, and, unfortunately, I don’t think we were unusual.
How my marriage would have continued, I don’t know. After seventeen years, my husband and I separated and I entered the sexual revolution with my entire being. Would I have discovered the pleasures of adventurous sex otherwise? Would I have talked to my husband about my desires and needs? I can’t be sure. But, as I think back today, with almost twenty years of hindsight, I tend to think not. To the best of my recollection, we had developed such deeply ingrained habits that they would have been hard to discover, much less break. Was I unhappy sexually? Sometimes. Did I have any idea how to fix the situation? Not a clue.
Nowadays, of course, every TV talk show, every women’s magazine, and every conversation in the nail salon all seem to revolve around a woman’s needs and desires, sexual or otherwise. Would that have changed me, or would I have evolved? I can’t say. Have you evolved?
Now is the time for women my age to crack that mold and become the aggressors occasionally. Yes, it’s difficult. Just the act of lighting candles on the dresser can feel silly or awkward. But there are many subtle ways to start becoming more aggressive. Shop for sexy lingerie, buy and wear an exotic perfume, have a special bottle of wine chilled when he gets home from work, or plan a romantic weekend getaway. Tell him in various ways, both overt and covert, that you’re interested in a playful evening together.
Well, it’s time. If not now, when?
Men, you have some old baggage to deal with, as well. I have the feeling that you have fantasies you might play out with a stranger, if it weren’t entirely too dangerous. But with your wife, your partner? Not her. She’s not that kind of woman. That’s another of those stereotypical ideas that should have disappeared with the end of the 1950s but, unfortunately, is so ingrained that you don’t even realize you believe it.
There’s another problem with a long relationship. You know each other’s sexual buttons much too well. You’ve fallen into sexual habits—you cuddle in a particular position in bed, touch in that special place that says, Wanna? and your partner wiggles in that special way that says, Okay. You advance through the same moves to the same caresses and end in the same position. Bad? No. Predictable and maybe a bit boring? Yes. A sexual technique that drove a man or woman crazy when first tried cools and becomes commonplace with repeated use. And an idea that wasn’t wonderful when first tried might be just the thing with the passage of time and some newfound privacy.
What’s more, for many people who’ve seen each other’s naked bodies 365 nights a year for twenty years, those bodies aren’t automatically a sexy turn-on any more.
So here you two are, with time, space, energy, and privacy. How can you turn up the volume on your sex life? Begin by trying to shed those old habits and out-moded ideas. Are those traditions difficult to discover and get rid of? Of course. But there is so much fun out there to have, it’s a shame if a few cobwebs keep you from delightful pleasures.
Like what? Now you have an empty house. You can arrive home from a party, tear each other’s clothes off, and make love on the living room floor; or you might turn the third bedroom into a playroom with a kingsized bed, lots of pillows, and a collection of toys. You can do anything you want—anything.
>
Let’s start with Betty. She and her husband had shared a fantasy for a long time, but only now did she work up the courage to act it out.
BETTY AND TOM’S STORY
Betty looked down at the bed, spread with a large white towel, and almost chickened out. I want to do this, she said to herself. I want to play out this fantasy we both have, but I don’t know whether I’ll do it right. I don’t know whether I can make him as hot as he was the night we first talked about this. She remembered that evening. Tom had a doctor’s appointment the following morning and he had confessed his long-standing fantasy about being “examined” by a female. “I’m glad I’ve never had a woman doctor,” he had said. “I would have such a hard-on that I’d probably totally embarrass myself and her.”
Well, Betty thought as she arranged a few props on the bedside table, I hope this works out.
“Honey, I’m home.” The front door slammed. Betty had selected an evening when Tom had already had dinner and an after-dinner appointment.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” Betty called. She took a deep breath and walked down the short hall to the living room. “The doctor is ready for you, sir,” she said, her voice small and shaky.
Tom looked at his wife, who was dressed in a white uniform top and pants and white shoes, her short gray hair tucked under a little white cap. “Why are you dressed like that?” he asked.
Betty took another deep breath. Come on, baby, she silently urged Tom, play along. We’ve done this kind of thing before. “I said the doctor will see you now.”
She watched his eyes travel over her outfit and saw comprehension dawn. “Oh,” he said, clearing his throat. “I forgot I had an appointment today.”
Damn, I love you, she thought. “Well, you’re right on time. If you’ll take off all your clothes and leave them in the bathroom, we’re ready for you in here.” She pointed toward the bedroom door.
“All my clothes?” Tom stared, and Betty could see the mounting excitement in his eyes. But, she realized, there was a bit of fear there, too.
Plunging ahead, Betty said, “You can leave your shorts on for now and come in when you’re ready. The doctor will be waiting for you.” She reentered the bedroom, giving Tom time to adjust and to decide whether to play out this fantasy or end it. Trust me, baby. Let’s play this. She didn’t have long to wait.
Stripped to his shorts, Tom opened the bedroom door. “Oh my Lord,” he said. Betty had turned on all the lights, so the room was extremely bright. It smelled of disinfectant and alcohol.
Betty saw the unease written all over Tom’s face. She knew what it was like to be suddenly faced with a fantasy like this, because he had helped her act out a few of hers over their long years together. And she trusted him to let her know if she was carrying things too far. But for now, he needed a little push. “Come on, sir, I’m waiting, and I have other patients after you.”
She watched Tom square his shoulders and walk toward the bed. “What should I do?” he said in a shy voice.
“Lie down here,” Betty said, pointing to the towel-covered area of the bed. “On your back.”
Tom complied. “This feels sort of silly,” he said, slipping out of the fantasy.
“But hot?” Betty asked.
Tom looked into his wife’s eyes. “Yes,” he whispered. “Very hot.”
Slipping back into her professional voice, she said, “I understand you’ve been having some abdominal pain.”
“That’s right,” Tom said, back in character.
Betty took a pair of latex gloves from the bedside table and pushed her hands inside very slowly. One finger at a time, she smoothed the white plastic over her fingers while Tom watched every move. She pressed on his abdomen above the waistband of his shorts. “Here?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Lower?”
“Yes. There, too.”
Working around Tom’s now very large erection, Betty pressed on various areas of his belly. “Very puzzling.”
“Is it?”
“I don’t quite understand what could be the source of your pain.” She slipped her gloved hand under Tom’s shorts and grasped his hard cock. When he gasped, she smiled. “It could be this, I guess,” she said, squeezing. She took his balls in her other hand. “And these, too.” She squeezed with both hands.
“Oh God, baby.” Tom’s breathing was ragged and his entire body trembled.
Betty withdrew her hands. “But maybe not. I need to learn more about your condition.” She paused. “Turn over. I need to check for internal problems.”
“What?” Tom stared at her.
“I said, turn over. And remove your shorts, too.”
“Babe …”
She knew she was close to something they had alluded to but had never actually done, and she needed to be sure that Tom understood and agreed. “You know what type of exam I need to do.”
Betty watched Tom obviously weighing what was happening. Then he stood up, pulled off his shorts, and stretched out on the towel. Betty ran her gloved hands over Tom’s back, pressing and kneading. “Any of that hurt?”
“No …” He paused, then added, “No, Doctor.”
Betty let out a pent-up breath. “That’s good. I’ll be just a moment.” Betty took a long, slim, flanged dildo from the drawer of the bedside table. “I really need to check you thoroughly.”
Tom stared at the dildo. “Where did you get that?”
“It’s a standard instrument,” Betty responded, “for the kind of exam you need right now.”
Tom’s breathing was rapid and uneven. “Oh.”
“I’ll be ready in just a moment.” Tom’s eyes never left her hand as Betty slowly covered the dildo with lubricant. She looked down and watched as Tom squirmed, rubbing his erection against the towel. “You must hold still, sir, so I can complete my exam.”
She smiled as she watched Tom’s attempts to control his body. “I must make this probe very slippery, you know,” she said, trying for a conversational tone. “This procedure isn’t very painful, but I must slip this instrument deep inside.” She knew her description was adding to Tom’s excitement. “Now I’ll just lubricate your anal area, too.” She took a finger full of gel and used the other hand to part Tom’s cheeks. “Nice and slippery.” She touched the cold gel to Tom’s ass and watched him jump. She knew the combination of sensations must be driving him higher. She pushed the tip of her finger against his anal sphincter. “This won’t hurt a bit.” She pressed but didn’t penetrate. For a few moments, she rubbed the area around Tom’s puckered anus and felt his effort to hold still.
“Will you be much longer?” Tom asked with a groan.
“No, sir. I’m ready now.”
She spread his cheeks wider, then touched his anus with the tip of the dildo and pushed. The slender column of plastic easily slipped inside. She pushed gently and watched it sink into his body until the wide flange rested against his cheeks. “Now see? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Tom merely grunted.
“Good. I just need to check out one more thing. Raise up on your knees slightly.” Betty knew her husband well, and it was obvious to her that he was losing control. She grinned and repeated her instruction.
As he pulled his knees beneath his belly and pushed his ass into the air, Betty squeezed a large puddle of lubricant into the palm of one hand, then held the flange of the dildo in place with the other. When she could reach between his legs, she slid her slippery hand over Tom’s balls and grasped his cock. Pumping with one hand and sliding the dildo in and out with the other, it was only a moment before Tom came, shooting semen onto the towel beneath him. Betty pumped and pumped until Tom’s cock was drained, then pulled out the dildo, removed the towel, and pushed him gently onto his back.
Still fully dressed in her doctor’s outfit, Betty stretched out on the bed beside Tom and put her head on his shoulder. “I didn’t go too far, did I?”
“Oh baby, no. That was so hot. You did great.”
“You mean that you might like …”
“Just think about it.”
“What I’m already thinking,” said Tom, “is that you’re long overdue for your next complete physical exam. And I know the best doctor in town.”
Betty was really brave to take the chances she did, but she got quite a reward. And your fantasy playing can be as simple as making love with the lights on or lighting candles. It could be giving your partner a long hand massage or beginning by brushing her hair. It certainly doesn’t have to involve something as risky as anal sex.
A warning: If you decide to try anal penetration, as Betty did, there are a few precautions.
First, select a dildo with a wide flange on the end. Because the vaginal passage is of finite length and closed at the internal end, dildos for vaginal penetration can be retrieved with ease if they disappear into that body cavity. The anal opening leads directly to the intestinal tract and therefore has no internal closure. Nothing should be inserted far enough to get lost.
Second, the anal passageway isn’t naturally lubricated the way the vaginal one is. Therefore, to prevent damage, a lot of lubricant is necessary. One very sexy way to lubricate an anal dildo is to slip a prelubricated condom over the plastic.
Third, if you decide to try penile penetration of the anus, condoms are mandatory. We all know about the danger of disease transmission during anal intercourse. If you want to try this off-center but, to many, thoroughly enjoyable lovemaking technique, two well-lubricated condoms should be worn and carefully removed before any vaginal penetration.
Fourth, don’t touch any vaginal tissues with anything that has been in contact with the anus. There are bacteria that live in the digestive system, and, if they find a warm home in the vagina, they can give you serious infections.
Now and Forever--Let's Make Love Page 12
