When my mother died in my arms I experienced a breakdown. During counselling I was advised to keep a journal, recording all the incidents in my life, and the resulting subsequent thoughts and feelings. The following stories are based on extracts from my journal concerning my experience of sexual relationships in later life
Chapter 9
It dawned on me after a few weeks that I had stumbled into the perfect relationship. At least for me it was perfect. My need for companionship and sexual fulfilment were satisfied by my weekly sessions with Michael.
The attention I had received from poor Valerie and Paul had been constant, and though I had been utterly involved in the feeling of being in a family, everything we did was directed towards their needs and I can’t recall now being asked how I felt. Eventually, I presume, I would have rebelled and taken more time apart from them.
Perhaps if their plan to introduce me into their games with the swingers group they were involved with had come to fruition I would have found contentment with that way of life.
Whilst I was with Valerie and Paul, when everything was new and confusing, I did contact the counselling organisation that helped me when my mother died. Of course my original counsellor had long moved on, but I was put in contact with a lovely woman with whom I had a series of long phone conversations. She listened to my account of the situation with Valerie and Paul without condemning or criticising me. Eventually she advised me that if I needed to fulfil the urge to be shared I needed a kingpin, someone permanent in my life who would be willing for me to get fulfilment with others if I wished.
She told me she had the same feelings but had never acted on them. Now with Michael, those feelings had faded. The excitement of preparing and waiting for his weekly visit occupied that wayward part of my mind more or less completely.
Every Wednesday morning I showered, spent some time on my hair and dressed in something he would find alluring and wait for the sound of his car. I never used makeup or perfume that would betray him to his regular girlfriend. If he didn’t come I would never feel disappointed as I knew I would see him tomorrow. The anticipation was so intense that as I repeated the procedure on Thursday I was ready to explode. I think sometimes he held off till Thursday just to experience the pleasure of a sex mad Linda throwing herself at him.
Over the weeks he began to spend more time with me, often staying till early evening. I began to open up to him about my relationship with Valerie and Paul. Of course when I mentioned the photographs he wanted to see them. I don’t think he could believe his eyes, especially when he saw some of the photos Paul had taken of me and Val, and those Val had taken of me and Paul. He asked if he could borrow some of them, of course I agreed. He commented on Paul’s fat little penis, and I told him how I had to refuse anal as I feared being damaged. He said he didn’t blame me.
The outcome of this was that a couple of weeks later he had bought himself a professional looking camera and was putting me in all sorts of lewd poses around the house. This made him very excited and the lovemaking afterwards was the most satisfying we had ever had. The photography became a routine part of our sex adventures.
After a time, I realised Michael was becoming more dominant in his behaviour towards me, perhaps because I was so willing to take any pose that he wished for his photography, he had begun to realise that I was only too willing for him to dominate me.
One Thursday Micheal came earlier than usual, and seemed very diffident, the way he was when he knew he had upset me. He asked if he could show me something, ever curious of course I agreed. He went back to his car and struggled back with a computer, screen and keyboard.
We had had a very simple computer in the solicitor’s office I worked at. It was basically an electronic card filing system, but this one plugged into my telephone socket, and made a warbling noise like the fax machine we had in the office.
My telephone telephone socket is in the entrance hall, and the telephone lead Michael had with him was quite short, so with the computer and screen precariously balanced on the telephone table and the keyboard on his lap I sat next to Michael at the bottom of the stairs and had my first internet experience, which involved a lot of tapping and warbling. Then very slowly pictures of naked women started opening on the screen, and one of them was me!
The title was “Wife Exchange”, which appeared to be owned by someone in California, where men could load photos of their ladies, and other men would comment on them. Nothing pornographic, just naked women with the occasional glimpse of pubic hair and wayward labia.
The photos Michael had put on of me, were four he had taken of me on the staircase about a month earlier. Whilst getting myself ready for him that morning I had shaved off the little bit of golden fuzz that posed as my pubic hair.
The first photo was of me climbing the stairs and looking back down at him and smiling, the second I am standing on the stairs with my legs slightly open holding my breast in my left hand and my right fingers combing though my hair, very cliche. The last two I am sitting on the stairs with my hair swept forward and my hands on my knees, the first my knees are closed and the second they are open. I have commented before that my inner labia are quite small, so there was not a lot to see, just a glimpse of a shy clitoris.
Michael had introduced me as Marie, a schoolteacher from an English country village.
The comments on my photos were amazing, and very complementary. I was so beautiful, my legs were from heaven, my breasts were perfect, my little kitten was so sweet, my smile was angelic etc. etc. and of course Michael was a very lucky man.
Then there were the requests. “Can we have more of Marie?”. “Can Marie pose like this?” “Will Marie do this?” I looked at Michael, he was looking down, so I knew he was not sure what my reaction would be. My initial reaction was shock, then the sexual warmth flowing through me, all those men looking at me naked, all those men wanting me. I let the silence sit for about thirty seconds,
then “Oh Michael, what a lovely surprise”,
and kissed him.
Sliding back up the stairs to avoid the cables, I pulled off my t-shirt and threw it down, climbed a few more stairs and kicked off my fluffy mules, then eased down my track bottoms and threw them down. At the top of the stairs wearing only my panties I looked down at him still sitting gawping up at me. Then sliding off my panties, I balled them up and threw them at him, and scooted into the bedroom, and laid spread-eagled across the bed. I heard Michael stomping up the stairs, and then a bout of panting and muttering on the landing outside the bedroom door. I imagined him again trying to get his trousers off before his shoes. I took the opportunity to fluff my hair up around my head and spread my legs as wide as I could comfortably, reaching down to open my labia.
Michael burst into the room naked and ready, I looked at him straight faced, “Where’s your camera”. For a moment he looked confused, of course I burst out laughing and of course he felt embarrassed, and then he jumped on me, and then he was in my vagina, and then he was in my mouth, and then I was on top of him, and then he was on top of me, then I orgasmed, then he just carried on, then I orgasmed again and then he ejaculated deep inside my vagina, then we just laid there tangled together, then I knew I was in love with him.
Which was against the rules.
I woke up, with Michael propped up at one elbow, looking at me and gently caressing my body from shoulder to hip and back again with a very contented look on his face.
He smiled “I love your curves”.
Of course I immediately thought he wanted me again, and immediately slid down and took his lovely penis in my mouth.
“I’ve got to go” My heart was hammering, he wriggled away, and slid off the bed. I heard the shower going, but this time I didn’t join him. I was feeling so confused, so happy, but a feeling of loss.
I heard Micheal moving about on the landing outside the bedroom door, but instead of just leaving as he usually did, he came back into the room, fully dressed, cupped my face with his hands as usual,. and gave me a gentle kiss. I could hear him moving about downstairs, but after about ten minutes I heard the front door close.
I was alone, and cried.
Eventually I roused myself, wandered into the bathroom, tidied up after him, and had a shower.
I walked down stairs naked, picking up various items of clothing as I went.
The telephone table was back in its usual place and the phone was plugged in. It seemed that Michael had taken the computer with him, however when I wandered into the lounge, I saw he had put one of the side tables into a corner and the computer screen and keyboard and various wires were balanced on it.
I finally threw my discarded underwear into the washing basket, sorted out some fresh knickers, added a liner, as my vagina was still very wet, still leaking his generous contribution and dressed. Sitting in front of my dressing table, I started sobbing again. I think finally admitting to myself the feelings I had for Michael had been deeply disturbing,
I knew it meant I had to let him go, but, not yet, not yet.