by Alexis Moore
“But why did she…entertain them in the house?” Samantha had to rack her brains to find a word that was innocuous and yet would convey her meaning.
“Dad said that she needed to feel secure and in control of the situation. And then said the most ridiculous thing that he said that night—she never slept with other men in their marital bed because she loved and respected him too much!”
“Maybe your mother has a thing for men in pilot uniform and…” Samantha started and then broke off as she remembered a conversation she’d once had with his sister. A horrible realization started to dawn on her. “Zoë told me that your grandfather used to be a pilot too.”
“Yes. He and my grandmother split up when my mother was fourteen. My grandmother started an affair with a twenty-year-old man and granted my grandfather full custody after the divorce because she didn’t want a daughter who was only six years younger than her new boyfriend around. My grandfather was the one…”
“You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to,” Samantha told him when he made no attempt to continue. She needed to know more so that she could understand the situation better and therefore help him more, but these were his family secrets and he had a right to his privacy.
“It’s okay. I trust you not to tell anyone else.” He took another deep breath and then continued, “Dad said that if her father had been cruel, Mum might have reported him to the authorities.” Samantha silently registered the fact that he had called his mother “Mum” and not “my mother” for the first time in her hearing for several years. “Because of him Mum had never had a boyfriend or went to university. He got her a job as an air hostess after she finished her A-Levels. When she wasn’t working she just waited around the house until he came home between flights…like some damned housewife! He died of a heart attack when she was twenty and she fell apart. She told my father that it was like coping with two deaths at once and yet she couldn’t grieve. After his death she found herself drinking heavily and sleeping with one pilot after another. Soon it was two at the same time and then three… I’m glad that old bastard’s dead because I swear I would have shot him!”
Samantha felt Zachary’s rage building again—his body was like a tightly coiled spring against her. She held him tighter and said, “Honey, you have to let it go. You must forgive your mother—she was the innocent victim of an unscrupulous father.”
“I can understand when she was a child and couldn’t fend for herself.” He gave a sound of disgust. “But to let it go on when she was a grown woman? That I find hard to accept.”
“She was sexualized at an early age and by someone she loved. I can’t imagine what that must have been like for her. When my mother died, I crawled onto my father’s lap and wept like a baby against his shoulder. I was almost the same height and size as I am now, but he held me and comforted me.”
“I loved the way you were with your father.” Zachary smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“A girl’s father is special to her and your grandfather was unprincipled enough to take advantage of that fact. Your mother would have had to wrestle with her revulsion of what he was doing to her and the knowledge that he would be jailed if she reported him. And he probably made her feel guilty about her mother’s betrayal and convinced her it was her duty to take her place.”
“Yes, she told Dad that he had done. But why would she stay once she’d started working and could get a place of her own?”
“Because by then it had become a habit she couldn’t break.” Samantha pressed his face closer to her breast for a moment. “She’s living with the guilt of allowing and possibly enjoying an unnatural relationship. Don’t add to it.”
“Truthfully, I think I forgave her when my father told me about the sexual abuse—my issue is that she allowed men into the house when she had a vulnerable child…well children really because some men don’t differentiate between the sexes, although he would have had to kill me first!”
Samantha suspected that of all his mother’s transgressions, forgiving her for endangering Zoë was the toughest for Zachary.
“When I asked my father if he didn’t worry about us in the house with strange men when he was not there, he said that they were men he had chosen carefully. When one of them overstepped his mark, Dad said he beat him almost black and blue.” Zachary paused for a moment. “My father is such a strong, tough guy, I can’t understand why he would accept the situation in the first place.”
“You’ve been to a swingers’ club. Surely you must have seen similar things.”
“I’ve seen worse. And I know I’m nothing like him. When Anika invited me to the club I went along to see if it would help me understand how my father… As soon as I saw those men touch her, I knew that things would never be the same between us. She was a submissive and after than night I felt the need to punish her. Our relationship went to dark places I never want to revisit.”
“Then don’t.” Samantha pulled his head up and kissed him until he relaxed again. Then she bit his lower lip and asked with a pout, “I guess she was a blonde, too.”
“Yes,” he admitted ruefully.
“So why marry me?” she demanded. “Because I look nothing like your mother?”
Zachary gave a bark of laughter.
“You hooked me at fifteen in that dress! I couldn’t believe my luck when I found a gorgeous girl like you all by yourself with no boyfriend in sight. You looked so grown up I just assumed you were the same age as the rest of us.”
“I was going to be sixteen soon,” she protested.
“I was already eighteen. You were too young.”
“And when I was eighteen?” she demanded.
“The summer before that I had walked in on my mother’s little sex party. I didn’t want to ever fall in love and end up like my father. Melanie looked like my mother and I wanted to prove that I could date her and not fall in love.” Zachary laughed—more a sound of derision than mirth. “It seems ridiculous as I’m explaining it to you now, but at the time I felt the need to be strong…to compensate for my father’s weakness. Every time I found myself getting too close, I walked away. Freud would probably have something to say about a man who dated women who look like his mother, but I promise you I never thought of her when I was in bed with them.” He pulled her down onto his lap. “On your birthday I wanted you badly, but I had been dating Melanie for almost two months. That night when I couldn’t keep my hands off you I felt disgusted with myself. It was as if I had inherited more from my mother than her green eyes.”
“They’re beautiful eyes.” Samantha kissed each in turn. “Be thankful she gave them to you.”
***
Chapter Seven
The days and nights following blended seamlessly into one another and before Samantha knew it the honeymoon was almost over. They made slow sweet love and talked and talked about anything and everything. The friendship they had shared previously had taken second place in the first days of marriage as they had discovered each other sexually. After their heart-to-heart talk, it merged with their explosive sexual chemistry and boded for a wonderful marriage which Zachary had categorically informed her would not end in three years as planned.
Samantha hadn’t protested.
He had thanked her for opening his eyes and making him see his parents from a different angle: his mother, not as someone who didn’t give a damn about anyone else including her family, but rather someone who had been badly hurt and felt the need to do something unconventional as a means of coping with the trauma of her past. He may never again be as close to his mother as most men are, but Samantha was convinced that some healing had taken place. After that day Zachary had spoken about his mother more than he’d ever had before, about the mischief Zoë had often gotten up to, that he would end up taking the blame for since his mother’s idea of punishment was denying the guilty party a sweet at dinner time, and Zoë had a notorious sweet tooth. His only consolation, he’d gleefully explained, was that K
ayle was shaping up to be just like her mother, not only in looks but in temperament—Zoë was already finding her quite a handful.
His father’s acceptance of his mother having other sexual partners was still hard for Zachary to stomach. He’d said just the thought of another man looking too intently at Samantha would be enough to make him see red; another man making love to her was unthinkable! But he admitted that his father was a self-confident man who wouldn’t accept a situation with which he wasn’t comfortable. And he’d also admitted that his parents seemed to share a marriage that was stronger than most he knew.
He seemed happier and more at peace with himself.
But now the fierce lover of the first two days of their honeymoon—the bottom spanker, the arrogant love-maker who had told her that no other man could fill her the way he did—seemed to have disappeared.
Zachary, the tender lover, was the stuff of dreams.
Zachary, the dominant lover, was the stuff of fantasies.
Samantha needed a bit of both.
The previous night they’d had a bath together and then spent hours and hours on the intimate exploration of each other’s bodies. Samantha couldn’t believe how comfortable she felt being totally nude with him. By current standards of beauty she was two dress sizes too big to be considered perfect but Zachary seemed to love every inch of her lush body.
The smell of freshly-baked croissants and just-brewed coffee assailed her nostrils even before Zachary pushed the door open.
“I wasn’t sure if you could make it downstairs for breakfast, so I brought breakfast to you. I, myself had just enough energy to crawl there and back,” Zachary said with a smile as he placed the tray on the bedside table and crawled under the covers with her.
“You spoil me.” She kissed him on the lips before reaching for a croissant.
“Do you want to go sightseeing today or would you rather spend the day indoors?”
“Indoors,” she replied without giving the matter any thought. This was their last day and she had big plans for him.
“Perfect choice.”
“But I want us to spend it a little differently.”
“What did you have in mind?” he asked, pausing in the act of lifting his coffee mug to his lips.
“First, I’m too tired to bathe myself. I will need my little helpers.” Then she gave a helpless sigh she knew he would love. “And I will need my husband to be there in the room with us in case they take liberties with my defenceless body.”
“I will protect you my dear, have no fear.” Zachary’s American superhero accent was as bad as her acting, but she loved the fact that he was willing to look the fool just for her. To add weight to his words, he flexed his arms and showed her the perfect spheres of his well-developed triceps.
“My hero.” She swooned and Zachary obliged by bending her over his arm and kissing her deeply.
***
Within minutes of her finishing her very late breakfast, the two young women appeared. And knowing in advance what the ritual entailed, Samantha decided to relax and totally embrace the sensuality of the experience. Swinging her legs out of the bed as they approached, she gave them a hand each and allowed them to assist her into the water after the fragrant bath had been made ready.
Zachary stayed on the bed, his lower half under the covers and watched avidly as they pampered her body. She caught him smiling widely as the women each smoothened one of the lobes of her behind with first the coarser of the two exfoliating potions and then polished it to a high, silky shine with the same finely-textured concoction they had used previously. His smile looked strained by the time they later took an ample breast each in their slim hands and subjected it to a more gentle but equally thorough treatment.
This time she allowed them to massage her entire body, not issuing a murmur of denial as she had done the first time when their firmly caressing fingers had reached the junction of her thighs. Up until then the women had worked in tandem, mimicking each other’s movements. As Samantha let her legs fall apart, the women both looked at Zachary as if seeking his permission. He gave a brief nod and one woman immediately moved to the head of the massage table to cup Samantha’s breasts while the other took a tiny vial of oil from a pouch and poured a few drops carefully onto her palm. Samantha breathed the unmistakable scent of Rosa Damascena, damask rose, her favourite essential oil.
Her breasts looked pale and plump in contrast to the woman’s beautifully slender olive-hued fingers as they slowly tweaked the nipples into upstanding peaks. The other woman expertly ran her fingers over Samantha’s clitoris in an arousing, yet strangely soothing manner—as if she wanted to stoke Samantha’s fire but not extinguish it.
“Thank you, ladies.” Zachary’s hoarse voice was almost unrecognizable as he issued the order of dismissal.
“Actually, Zac honey, can you give us a few minutes, please?” Samantha sat up and smiled across at him.
The shock on his face was priceless. He did as she requested, his jaw tightly clenched and every muscle in his body showing his annoyance as he left the room. But not before Samantha caught a quick glimpse of the massive bulge of his erection beneath his boxers—that had nothing to do with anger.
Feeling the need to rush, Samantha deliberately took her time, letting the women brush her hair at their leisure and then help her into the skimpy costume Fiona had designed for her performance of ‘The Dance of the Seven Veils’. The women murmured in appreciation of her friend’s fine handiwork as they unwrapped the delicate, sheer outfit from the tissue paper before helping Samantha into first the bottom and then the equally scandalously-brief top. The outlines of her nipples were clearly visible through the sheer material as were her newly-polished bottom, oiled vagina and glistening pubic hairs.
She thanked the women, giving them each a kiss on both cheeks and a large tip, ignoring their protestations. Smiling conspiratorially, they grabbed the sturdy, lightweight massage table and carried it between them as they hurried from the room.
Samantha found the song she needed on her iPod and called down to Zachary, “Honey, will you come up here a minute, please? I want to show you something.”
He bounded up the stairs heavily and was standing at the door watching her in a few short moments. His eyes sparked flames as he took in her outfit and came towards her, looking ready to tear it off.
Samantha backed up until the back of her calves touched the bed. When he reached for her she eluded his hand and at the same time pushed him backwards onto the bed. He sat down heavily, his eyes burning through the thin layers of the material that covered her.
Samantha held a hand up, indicating that he should give her a moment. She pressed the play button on the remote control, took two steps backwards and then started to dance. The harsh sound Zachary made at the first shimmy of her hips filled her with exhilaration and she became bolder.
She danced, getting tantalizingly closer to him but evading his hands whenever he reached for her.
As soon as the music came to an end, he surged off the bed and grabbed her.
“You little minx! What did they do to you when I left the room?” he asked jealously.
“They just helped me get dressed.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes.” She loved the fact that he was acting so possessively, but she didn’t want to push him too far by teasing him further.
“And this dance…what did I tell you about being provocative?”
“That you’d spank me if I was?” she asked hopefully.
“Yes!”
Though her polished skin was visible through the material, it must not have been obvious to him that she wasn’t wearing a thong. When he pushed it up over her hips and saw her naked lobes he groaned.
“Kneel up on the bed and show me your sweet ass and pretty pussy, baby.”
Samantha had grown accustomed to his demands over the week. She assumed the position, hoping that she was showing to her best advantage.
The smack came d
own swiftly, right in the middle of her legs and set her clitoris on fire.
“Ouch!” she moaned and tried to close her legs.
“No, leave them open!” he ordered. “I’m going to punish your naughty pussy as well.”
All but one of the remaining blows were delivered to her behind, though the anticipation of another smack to her clitoris made it throb in an unfamiliar achy way.
“So beautiful.” He pressed his face against her and tongued her slippery nub, his hands rubbing her tortured behind soothingly. When she felt his tongue against the tightly puckered ring of her anus she started and quickly lowered herself to the bed.
“Let me get you wet, sweet pea.” He pulled her back up. “Your little butthole is just begging to be fingered.”
“I’m not sure about that, Zac.” The idea of anal sex had never appealed to her.
“Just my fingers, sweetheart,” Zac promised.
Samantha squirmed as his tongue returned to tease and arouse her anus. It was the most maddening sensation, she realized, and finally relaxed and opened herself fully to him.
Zachary straightened and slipped a long finger inside her dripping entrance. “God, you’re so wonderfully wet.” He thrust his fingers vigorously back and forth for a few moment, then paused and worked another finger inside her vagina. She moaned as he stretched her. “So wet and still so tight.”
He stroked her slippery nub as he buried the fingers inside her, pulled them out to the tips and then sunk them deep, repeatedly. Then the delicious stroking of her clit ceased and she felt his fingers between the cheeks of her behind, probing at her anus.
“How many…ah ah!” Samantha gasped as he worked not one, but two fingers past her tight sphincter muscles.
“Relax for me, honey.” Zachary pressed them deeper, rubbing the thumb of his other hand firmly against her clitoris.
Samantha was soon mindless with pleasure as he thrust into both openings, sometimes using an alternative thrusting motion, at others sinking all four fingers into her twin holes simultaneously. And instead of stopping when she begged him to as she climaxed around them, he increased the pace and triggered a second orgasm. He would have probably wrung a third out of her if she didn’t collapse weakly onto the bed.
