I was so excited for our big condom night. I couldn’t wait to get the kids down for the night.
Finally, the kids were in bed, asleep, and it was time! Yippee!
First we both showered together—that was always so arousing. Then we got out, towel dried, lotioned up, and got into bed naked together.
“Well, princess, foreplay with the condom, or foreplay without the condom? What do you want? ’Cause this is your thing.”
“Oh, put it on first!” I said. “That boneless bone of yours is already as big as it’s going to get!” I told him, thinking how blessed he was, thus making me blessed, with abundance.
I was sitting up with my legs crossed, Indian-style, watching curiously, like a child getting ready for a lesson. Shay slowly opened the foil package and with one hand he held the very edge.
“See,” he explained, “this has rolled up sides so I can just place it over my penis and roll it down the shaft. I have to get it on right the first time or it could tear.”
“It doesn’t matter if you tear it, babe,” I said. “We’re only using it for me to experience condom sex!”
I watched, fascinated, as he rolled it down my joy-toy. I couldn’t believe it. There was my Shay Man with a condom on. I was so excited! The condom had a little balloon on the end of it, and without any thought whatsoever, I grabbed the tip of the little balloon, pulled it about eighteen inches out and let it snap back like you snap a rubber band. Wrong! This was the wrong thing to do. The moment it hit the tip of Shay’s penis, gyrations like I’d never seen began. He let out a yelp and did a dance with steps one couldn’t retrace if they tried. He was then rolling on the floor, both hands between his legs, just rolling and moaning.
This little performance went on for about fifteen minutes, and I probably don’t have to tell you, there was no condom sex that night. In fact, sex was put on hold for an hour or two. Maybe he just faked that pain so we’d never have condom sex again. Well, hell of a deal, now I’d never know what sex felt like with a condom.
***
Later that month we were at some friends’ house for an evening of supper and fun. After supper, our hostess announced that we were going to play some games. She had bought several gifts for prizes, and displayed them on the prize table. There were four couples, plus the host and hostess. Our hostess would first ask the wives questions; then she would ask the husbands. The couple with the most matching answers got the prize. One of the questions was, “How many hours a week would you say you and your spouse have sex?”
I counted two hours at night, two hours in the morning, plus about one and a half hours in the afternoon. So I did the math in my head and rounded it off at thirty-five hours a week. Then came answer time. Four hours for one couple, seven and a half for another, and then they get to Shay and me. We had both put thirty-five hours. Well, hearing this, the other couples just went crazy. They said it just couldn’t be true. Finally I realized they were being serious. Well, this just ended the game and we won the prize—a new toaster. But the rest of the night was all about Shay and me. Tell us, they said, just tell us how you do it! Thirty-five hours a week, plus with two children! They just couldn’t get enough.
This was the first time I realized that we were having more than the normal amount of sex. Hell, I’d never known anything else. No one ever told me there was a limit on sex. I enjoyed all those hours, all those positions and different places—from under a farm tractor to the bathroom counter. All seemed normal and wonderful to me. Come to think of it, no wonder I never gained a pound.
Later, one of the wives told me I’d gotten her into trouble; now her husband wanted much more sex! Gee, guess he had me to thank for that. I believe that the more intimacy a couple shares, the closer they stay. Just speaking for myself, it made me love my soul mate, Shay, for the rest of my life. It is true what they say, two become one.
***
By the middle of October I found myself nauseous every morning. I knew this feeling well; it was definitely morning sickness. I didn’t tell Shay, I wanted to see my doctor first. I knew my period was due in four days, and I was just praying for a blood storm.
A week came and nothing. Then another. It was time to see my doctor. I made an appointment and that was the day it was confirmed. I was pregnant.
Not that I didn’t want another baby, but let’s face it, there was that one in one hundred chance I was carrying a child of rape. I wasn’t sure how I was going to tell Shay, but I knew I was going to watch his face closely when I did. I think this was something that would have caused a question in any man’s mind.
When was I going to tell him? The timing would have to be just right. I decided that the perfect time would just present itself and I would know when it was.
We were like a couple of foolish, young kids in love. How could we be old enough to be parents? We just did fun, goofy things. I remember standing in front of the kitchen sink peeling potatoes for potato soup. I had on little bikini panties, Shay’s big shirt and bobby socks. I’d heard him come into the mudder room a little earlier, then the sound of the shower. I heard the shower shut off, and a few minutes later I thought I could feel someone looking at me. I turned around and saw Shay standing, naked from the waist up, in the laundry room doorway, watching me while he towel dried his hair.
“Stop it, Shay,” I said, “you scared me.”
“I’m just looking at you, baby,” Shay said in his sexy voice. “You turn me on so much. I love the way your thin little legs go all the way from the floor straight up to your cute little ass.”
“Well, gooney googoo, where did you think they’d go? Up to my ears?”
“Oh, you little smart mouth, you are in so much trouble. I’m going to do you right here on the floor,” Shay said as he walked into the kitchen in his black underwear, pulling a black t-shirt over his head. He had the most beautiful chest, so fit and strong.
I started laughing as he headed toward me at the sink. I dashed around to the other side of the table.
“First you’re going to have to catch me!”
Shay made one big dive, slid directly over the table, tipping over my floral arrangement, and had me on the floor in two seconds flat. He had me on my back, sitting on me (never with his full weight, he always put his weight on his knees,) with my arms pinned straight out.
“What are you going to do now,” he asked, laughing.
I was laughing hysterically myself. “The question is what are you going to do? ’Cause Yonnie is upstairs playing with the kids.”
“Well, princess, this is a panty raid, ’cause I need a nice soft cloth to wipe the dust off of my windshield. These look perfect,” he said, and pulled my panties down as far as he could. “Bring your knees way up, Callie.”
“No,” I said, playing hard to get.
So he let go of both my arms at the same time and started tickling me wildly. I brought my knees up and he just reached his hand back and slipped my panties off me.
“See,” Shay said as he held them in front of my face, “the perfect dusting cloth. And then I’m keeping them in my glove box.”
“There is a whole drawer full upstairs, goony, why not just get one of those?”
“You wore these, so I want these.”
“You’re nuts, Shay Westover, that’s just sick. Now let me up before the kids come down.”
Shay jumped up and pulled me up by my hand, just as we heard the kids coming down the stairs. He grabbed a chair and sat down, pulling me down onto his lap so we were both covered.
“Hi, Daddy,” Kelly said when she saw Shay. She was used to seeing Daddy holding Mommy, so she didn’t give it a second thought, and neither did Yonnie.
I told Yonnie there was a bowl of rice crispy bars in a Tupperware container on the washer, and she was to take them home with her. I thanked her for her help and said I’d see her in the morning. We said our goodbyes; Yonnie took the Tupperware and was off for home.
This kind of buffoonery was always going on in o
ur home.
That night, after my shower, I crawled into bed nude. Shay was at his desk doing some paperwork. I’d pulled the sheet up so just my shoulders were showing. When Shay was at his desk, he couldn’t see the bed directly, but he could look into the mirror on the dresser. Well, sure enough, he looked in the mirror and saw me. It wasn’t long before he was beside me on the bed, kissing my shoulder. Gentle kisses and nibbles. Sometimes he’d move his tongue back and forth on a small part of my flesh. He kissed my neck and eventually turned me on my back and kissed my lips. It was so tender, soft and flawless.
“Callie, you taste so damn good,” he said. “I just don’t know how anyone can taste this good."
“Shay, don’t exaggerate. I’m yours, you don’t have to win me over,” I said between excited breaths.
“Princess, when I put my mouth on you anywhere, and baby I mean anywhere, you taste fruity.”
“You think I’m a fruit?”
“Did I say that? I said you taste like fruit. Like oranges or pineapple. Your skin even smells like citrus. I’m serious, Callie, every spot on your body smells and tastes so damn good; just like fresh citrus. I’m sorry, babe, but that’s how it is. Maybe it’s all that orange and pineapple juice you drink.”
Later in life we learned from a doctor of nutrition that if a woman (and maybe a man, too, I don’t know about that,) drinks two small glasses of pineapple juice a day, her genitals will smell and taste of that juice. Shay and I were way ahead of them. We’d already made this discovery, as I was a pineapple and orange juice fanatic. I was also an extremely clean person, and a man must surely appreciate that in his wife.
I remember the night I told Shay I could put both of my feet behind my head. He got this cool grin on his face, picked me up, carried me to the bathroom and sat me on the counter.
“Put your feet behind your head, princess,” he directed.
It took a little space and a bit of gyrating, but I did it. Needless to say, Shay loved that sexual position. He called it his own private, secret position.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means I won’t share it with any of my friends.”
Well I should think not!
It was good to know that what had happened to me in the Straw House hadn’t changed things between Shay and me. If anything, he loved me all the more fiercely—a combination of possessiveness, arousal and, I like to think, the desire to perform, as the song goes, a little sexual healing. Well, he definitely did that. Now all I had to worry about was the baby.
Hard Liquor
We spent most of evenings playing with the kids before they went to bed. They loved wrestling with Shay. They would tackle him, small as they were, and he’d fall to the floor, letting them sit on him. The three of them loved their time together. After the kids were tuckered out and tucked in, we went and played some adult games in the shower, then some adult games outside of the shower.
Daddy tackled Mommy and sat on her until Mommy cried uncle and said, “Yes, Shay, you’re the greatest lover in the world. Yes, Shay, you’re a stud.” Then we had some of that magic Shay-foreplay. That man never ceased to get my temperature to 278.6 degrees.
Well, Shay was in a great mood, so I figured this was the time to tell him my somewhat delicate news. I was lying with my head on his shoulder and his arm around me, playing with the hair on his chest, making little tiny curls. (I always used Shay’s body to make little fun games to entertain myself. He was so patient; he’d just lie there and watch to see what I was going to do next.)
“Shay,” I said, a bit hesitantly. “I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.”
“Callie,” he said, rolling me up in his arms. “That’s great! I’m so happy! I just love it when you’re pregnant. You’re so cute and radiant. Woman, you are one sexy pregnant woman. I know it’s a girl, too; I know it is. And I can even tell you when she’s due, ’cause I know the night she was conceived. So am I right, babe? Was she conceived the night I said?”
“Well, the baby is due sometime in the middle of June, so I guess you were right on the mark, Shay.”
I was surprised he seemed so happy. If he was thinking of Frank, he didn’t let on. I know there is no way he didn’t think about it. He really did love Kelly, though, and she wasn’t his, so maybe that’s what he was thinking. We went on as though all was right with the world.
***
One Sunday night Shay and I went to the drive-in theatre. Let me tell you, I don’t know how they were able to play this particular movie; it had to be X rated. We soon had the Impala windows all steamed up and one hot lovemaking session in full swing. There was no way anyone could see in the windows, but if I had to venture a guess, I’d say any couple there couldn’t see out of their windows either.
That Tuesday I had a pre-natal visit with my new baby doctor. He was great; we called him Doc Sam. Doc Sam was fairly new, around our age. He came from a small town up north and had several children of his own. I mentioned to him that we had gone to the drive-in theatre Sunday night, and how it was so risqué that we made love right there in the car. Now why I told him this, I don’t know. I was probably just being a chatterbox. Guess it was still on my mind.
“Was that around ten this past Sunday night?” asked Doc Sam.
“Yes.”
“My wife and I were coming home from my parents' and we saw that playing from the road. We didn’t have the sound, but all we needed was the pictures. We pulled off the highway and parked. Our kids were asleep in the backseat and we probably did exactly what you and Shay were doing.”
That little conversation forged a bond between my doctor and me. There was nothing I couldn’t talk to him about, and believe me, he heard some sexy stories about Shay and me. I needed a confidant and I’d found one. I know I added to his marital sex life, that some of my stories turned him on. I wasn’t stupid. I had good eyes and he was turned on!
One afternoon after my examination, I dressed slowly in front of my doctor, pulling each nylon on with as much sensuality as I could, just to shake him up a bit.
I told Shay about it later.
“Callie, that’s not funny,” he admonished. “You’re just being naughty. I don’t ever want you doing that again, or you’re changing doctors.” But he ravished my body for hours after I told him about it.
On Halloween we took the kids trick-or-treating. Kelly was a scarecrow and Wessy was a ghost. Don’t know why we went out, as Kelly wasn’t quite three yet and Wessy wasn’t even one. I guess we just liked doing it ourselves! It became one of our traditions. We loved traditions. We’d start out at the Big House, then go to the hired hands’ houses, then on to a few houses in Westover, ending up in Hudson. We’d go around a city block or two, and end up at my parents’, where they would have a special late Halloween supper waiting for all of us.
My mother was a woman of celebration. I think she would have created a new holiday if it meant she could cook and have us over. Halloween was pumpkin night. Mom and Dad would get three large pumpkins, four soup-bowl sized pumpkins, and two cute mini pumpkins. The two of them spent the day carving. They would cut the top off first, in a zigzag so the lid fit perfectly. Then they cleaned the pumpkins out and washed them real good. Mom would fill one carved-out big pumpkin with homemade chicken noodle soup, the other big one with chili. The third big pumpkin, she’d cut down on four sides, then bend the sides down to make a tray for her delicious sandwiches. She then filled the carved out bowl-sized pumpkins with soup for the adults, and the carved out mini pumpkins with soup for the kids.
Mom had planned ahead several weeks and made us all matching placemats. She had some beautiful old green crystal she had gotten from her mother, which they’d brought with them from Germany. Fall flowers adorned the center with a candle on each side. The table was magnificent. It amazed me that the kids would eat a bowl or two of soup each. Normally they weren’t so crazy about soup, but the pumpkin bowls apparently changed things. What a wonderful meal!
I remember one year after we finished dinner, I was helping Mom do the dishes and I noticed she had blisters on her palms and fingers. I guess I’d never thought about how hard it was to cut those pumpkins. She put her whole self into everything she did.
***
We celebrated Thanksgiving at Mom and Dad’s at noon—what a spread Mom put out, and she made it all herself. Martha and her family were always there, sometimes Martha’s in-laws, the Hines, would come for dinner, as Mom was from the “more the merrier” school of thought.
At the Westovers’, of course, the evening meal was all fancy and formal. These were dress-up dinners. The night started with cocktails. Then came the meal, and after that, coffee in the formal living room. Maggie’s new cook, Hulda, had hired several ladies to help with the meal. She had Weiman’s Floral come out and decorate the table with arrangements. I always thought the food was much better at my mom’s. It was so wonderfully casual, unlike this grand soiree.
Samson and Sunset Page 19
