“Boys and girls make fun” Part-2 Continues…..
Confused, worried and concerned she was having seconds thoughts about what had just happened between us, I finally asked her about the sudden change, and if she was in fact upset that it had happened, and that we’d ended up fucking the way that we did.
“It’s not that Max, I enjoyed it very much…you know that I did. I needed it in fact, perhaps more than you realize. But it’s me…there are things about me you don’t know, perhaps wouldn’t understand. And the fact we enjoyed what we did, is what now worries and concerns me. If I were to tell you things…I fear you would find them disgusting, and no longer wish to have anything to do with me.”
I tried very hard to get her to open up to me after that, but she simply refused, finally telling me that now was not the time or the place to get into it, if in fact…we ever did. She told me she needed time to think about it more, and then if she found enough courage to tell me, she would. But she also said that until then, it wasn’t fair for us to continue doing what we’d just started either. With tears in her eyes, she bolted from the car the moment we pulled into her driveway, and entered the house closing the door behind her without saying another word.
As I stood in the shower finally washing away the rest of the caked on mud that still clung to me, I tried desperately to imagine what horrible acts, or deviant desires she might have. Those thoughts eluded me, try as I might. I considered almost everything, many of which even I found despicable, deplorable, but in doing so…still could not see her doing those types of things either. I was at a loss for words, or further ideas. I could only hope that she would eventually come around and decide to take me into her confidence, share with me the secrets that she obviously found too wickedly horrible to share with me then.
**
I didn’t see her at all the following day. She seemed to have gone into seclusion, though to be honest, I didn’t go over and knock either hoping to see her. What I had hoped, and waited for, was that she might come out on some errand, or that she’d go outside in the back of her yard and lay out or something.
But I never saw so much as a curtain move inside the house. I also knew she had my number, as I had hers, and thought several times about calling her. I then made up my mind to give her that entire day at least, just in case she was using it to consider speaking to me about whatever horrible thoughts she might actually entertain. I would give her that, but I would at what I considered a reasonable hour first thing in the morning, go over to her place and finally knock on her door.
As it turned out, she came to my door instead.
She was properly dressed for the day, looking as though she was going out on some errand. It was seven fifteen in the morning, and I had barely rolled out of bed myself, just putting on the coffee when I heard her knock at my back door. Surprised, though delighted to see her, I invited her in, the coffee now made as I poured us each a cup, sitting down at the table. Few words even then passed between us. I waited patiently, my gut telling me that she had finally made her decision to talk to me about whatever it was.
“Your parents were right about me,” she began, which even then didn’t fully register. “Not about me sleeping with the neighbors, or anyone around here. And technically, I never fucked anyone but my husband,” she then added.
“What do you mean technically?” I asked curious, but my gut told me that there was a lot more to this, and perhaps that some of it, I just might actually find repulsive or disgusting, and the thought of that made me ill. I had just had one of the best experiences of my entire life with her, and I felt that was about to be taken from me.
“Did you ever think it odd I was married to a man who was so much older than myself?” She now asked.
“No…not really, why?”
She paused, reconsidering her approach having seen my reaction, which was still more confused than anything as I tried to calmly sit there and wait for her to explain where she was going with this.
“Thomas was the only man I ever had intercourse with, but he wasn’t the only man I had pleasures with.”
“Ok,” I said trying to absorb this, but even that hadn’t shocked or surprised me, though I continued to wait for the other shoe to drop, which it soon did.
“I married Thomas when I was just eighteen, I was fascinated with him, his virility, the way he made me feel like a woman, innocent as I was. At first, it was just us…Thomas pleasured me in ways I never even knew existed, and because of that, I trusted him implicitly. Once I did…and once he knew that, he began introducing other men into our sex-life, men at first I was hesitant to include, but he convinced me how much he enjoyed it, enjoyed seeing me pleasured, how much it pleased him to see me pleasuring other men. But always…always…with the promise no other man except for himself would ever be allowed to fuck me.”
I now had a pretty good inkling where she was headed with this, visions of her involved in some sort of an orgy, with several other men present perhaps now filled my mind. Even then, I wasn’t as appalled by having heard this as I might have been.
“It’s not your fault, he forced you into doing that!” I told her, thinking she would hear in my words that I didn’t hold her accountable, nor would I look at her any differently because of it.
“He didn’t force me. I did so willingly. At first of course, it was because I thought it pleased him, which it did. But then…after a while, I did it because I wanted to, because I wanted to feel the thrill of doing what I did with other men, friends, even coworkers, and then after a while…men we’d simply pick up in a bar, where we’d then get a room, invite them up…”
“Them?”
Now I could see the fearful look in her eye as she looked at me, my reaction, wondering if she should even continue, or call it quits there.
“Go on,” I urged her, smiling, trying to let her see somehow that though surprised, yes, I wasn’t even now trying to judge her.
“Yes…them,” she began again. “We’d find four, five, maybe even six guys in an evening. We’d tell them all to come to our room at a certain time, none of them would usually know about the others, until of course after they began showing up. It was rare that any of them would ever leave once they had, only a very few ever did. But we generally were pretty good about our selections, finding men who we felt would enjoy the limitations we placed on them if they were to stay.”
“So what happened, I mean…not so much about what actually happened, but obviously something changed between the two of you. What I seem to remember, or recall, is that you and Thomas never were very close as a couple as I remember it, growing up next door.”
“No…by then we weren’t, not really. Like I said, in the beginning, it was all Thomas’s idea, and I went along with it…because of him, for him. But then…after a while…I went because I wanted to, I began enjoying it…no longer doing it for him, but doing it for me!”
“And that’s when he wanted to stop.”
She nodded her head at my guess. “Yes, he decided he’d had enough…seen enough, but I told him I hadn’t. I told him he’d be the only man I’d ever fuck, ever have sex with in that way. But I also told him, if he made me stop, I’d never fuck him again, and that I’d then start fucking everyone else except for him.