Her Secret Sex Life (9 page)

She felt him move away for a moment, while he fumbled with the buttons of the pajama bottoms to emerge his turgid penis, and then he came back to her, and she felt the velvety yet hard head of his organ rubbing against her moistened cleft. With a groan of delight, digging her fingernails into his back, she pressed her mouth avidly against his, telling him of her complete surrender. She felt him slip his hands under her buttocks as he rolled her onto her back and mounted in a deft maneuver, entering her almost at once, drawing a gasp of exquisite anticipation from her darted lips. Her bare feet locked over his sinewy calves as she prepared herself. She could feel the twitching contractions of her vaginal scabbard, preparing to welcome the deepest housing of his manhood to the very roots within her.

"Rachel, oh my Cod, you sweet darling, Rachel!" he hoarsely panted as he pressed forward into her.

"Oh, Tim-yes-oh, Tim, it's so good-Tim!" she moaned.

And suddenly with an agonized cry, he wrenched himself away from her, and she felt the bubbling drench of his semen, sticking the lips of her vulva and her thighs and belly as he twisted over onto his side and cursed aloud: "Oh, Christ not again! Oh what the hell is the matter with me, Rachel, I'm no husband for you after all!"

Exactly a week had passed since Tom Woodling's trip to New York, and it had been a difficult one for both him and his brunette wife. Deeply mortified at his failure to achieve successful union with beautiful Rachel on the night of his return, he had occupied himself with many an hour of overtime at the office to prepare the preliminary campaign for the newly acquired New York account, and as a consequence he hadn't come to bed with Rachel at all.

Meanwhile, seeing their father's preoccupied behavior, both young Tim and Heather took every opportunity on the sly to remind the mature brunette of the infamous bargain to which they had compelled her. Just this last Thursday night, as Rachel was doing the dishes in the kitchen, Heather had slipped in on the pretext of wanting to help wipe. And as she did so, she had cattily whispered, "Dad's sure been looking down in the dumps all week, Rachel. You've got just three weeks left, and don't you ever forget it. And from what he said, he has to go back to New York next week to see that new account, so you can expect another visit from little brother and me, remember!"

Rachel had turned scarlet, bent her head and then meekly nodded. "I'll keep my word, Heather," she had finally managed to say after regaining her self-control. "Just you keep yours."

"Okay, okay, but it's down to three weeks, Mummy. Come on, you're slowing me down," the taunting redhead had mocked her crestfallen stepmother…

This Friday night, Tim Woodling had determined to try again. He just couldn't understand what was happening between himself and Rachel. There wasn't any question about his not desiring her; she had a beautiful body and such a lovely face, and she was so sympathetic and gentle and understanding. Lots of women would have laughed at him for all these signs of impotence so early in the marriage. Damn it all, it wasn't as if he couldn't get it up at all; with that girl Eleanor, he had felt like an adolescent full of endless sap and juice, wanting to set a record. And even the next night, even in bed with lovely Rachel, he'd had an erection and a very satisfying one and there was still plenty of juice left in him to satisfy her. Only everything had gone wrong and it was beginning to worry him.

He'd thought half a dozen times of having a private chat with young Tim and Heather, trying to make them understand that he loved their new mother very dearly and that he wanted them to try to show a little more affection even if they had to force it for the time being. But of course with sophisticated kids of this generation, such an appeal would be much too square and it might only make them lose respect for him and deride Rachel all the more.

Tonight, he had watched TV with Heather and his son, Rachel having excused himself about an hour ago on the grounds of a headache. He'd tried to look pointedly at Heather, because she was the older and the one who could probably control young Tim, but every time he'd done that, she'd just smiled and looked back at the TV set. At last the movie ended, and he yawned and walked over to the set and turned it off. "I'd better hit the sack, you kids, because I've got to get down to the office tomorrow. I'll be going to New York probably right from the office on Tuesday, looks like. But I ought to be back by Friday night anyway, so maybe the four of us can plan a weekend together. How'd that be, Tim, Heather?"

"Sure, fine, Dad," the gangling blond teenager had nodded, glancing at his red-haired sister with a curious little smirk in his face that made his father want to slap him. "Maybe we can go to the zoo or something."

"I can think up something better than that for both of you," he forced back his impulse to rebuke the boy for his sarcasm. "Well, good-night. There's just one thing-I wish you both would be a little nicer to Rachel."

"Did she complain about us or something, Dad?" Heather quickly asked, rising from the couch and eyeing him with watchful interest.

"Of course she didn't. She's a lady, Heather. The sort of lady I'm hoping you're going to be one of these days. You know, it's sort of strange that with your good looks and your quick mind you aren't out dating tonight instead of staying home with your old father and watching TV."

"I happen to like being with you, Dad," Heather instantly flared back, her nostrils dilating and her face coloring. "And I suppose because I'm twenty, you're already marking me down as an old maid. I just haven't found the right guy, that's all. Now if you don't mind. I think I'll go to bed. Come on, little brother, you could stand a good night's sleep for a change yourself."

They both swept out of the living room and he shook his head despondently. What was getting into them both? There was an undertone of hostility he had caught, and he didn't like it one little bit. But that wasn't the real problem. And he was going to have to solve the real one all by himself before this marriage went on the rocks…

Rachel had taken a quick shower and pulled on a black satin lounging robe, determining to read herself to sleep. The book wasn't really too interesting, but she hadn't been able to take the sly little glances which both young Tim and Heather had sent at her all through that dreadfully boring movie. She shivered as she remembered Heather's threat last night, and now that Tim was going back to New York next week, she knew the girl and her brother would force her to keep the bargain.

They were both of them so insecure, relying on their love for their dead mother to carry them through as a weapon against her, when all she wanted was to be friends. It would be so wonderful for all four of them if they would only get over that Irrational hatred for her. But then, it might as well have been the same for any other woman whom Tim had brought into this lonely house.

She laid down the book with an impatient gesture on the little table beside the bed. and reached for the bottle with the little red pills. But again she shivered, remembering how those pills had been used last Friday night And yet they had served to soften the incredible, harsh, even astonishing sex to which young Tim and Heather had forced her.

Indecisively, she held the bottom in her hand a moment, and then set it back down on the table. And at that moment, the door quietly opened and then closed, and she looked up to see her husband in his bathrobe and pajamas.

"Darling! It was sweet of you to look in on me. Honestly, it wasn't much of a headache, so you needn't worry.

"I-I'm glad to hear that, Rachel Would it be- could we talk a few minutes?"

"Of course, dear. Come sit on the bed. You look awfully tired. You've been working much too hard. you know."

He chuckled as he seated himself and leaned to her to kiss her eagerly offered mouth. Her hand stroked his cheeks and she gave him a gentle kiss on the mouth, then shifted herself to be closer to him.

"I thrive on work. Besides, It's what's sending the kids to school and keeping up the taxes on this old house," he bantered.

"Are you just possibly hinting that you'd like me to give up my shop? I will, you know, any time you say. I'd like nothing better than to be your full-time wife. Maybe even a mother, Tim. You know, I'm not too old to have a child and rye never had one."

He flushed a little, lowered his eyes. "I-I hadn't really thought about that, to be honest with you, Rachel darling. But I think I'd like it a lot. But not right now. You know as well as I do, I've got to get those kids of mine in line so they'll accept you. No, that's not the word either. I mean, love you. I didn't like the way they acted downstairs, and I haven't liked the way they've been acting ever since I brought you here. I feel rye let you down."

"Shhh, dearest, you mustn't say anything like that!" she whispered, drawing her soft fingertips across his forehead…

Heather, a finger at her lips, beckoned to her smirking brother as they stood a few feet away from the door of Rachel's bedroom. "Dad just went in there. So you'd better forget it tonight. Besides, you heard him say he's leaving Tuesday. So that gives us a couple of nights with Mummy if we want. Now let's go to bed."

"Okay, I guess I better. Just when I was hoping I could bang her again, Heather," young Tim disgustedly whispered back as he tiptoed down the hall and back to his room…

"Mind if I smoke?" He took a pack of Pall Malls from the pocket of his bathrobe, expectedly looking at her.

"No, not at all, and in fact I'd like one too, Tim dear."

He lit hers, then his, and puffed at the cigarette, considering the smoke rings for a long moment. "I-I'm letting you down, Rachel, and it's been bothering me," he finally said in a hoarse, unsteady voice.

She patted his knee. "That's exactly the wrong thing to do, Tim, brood about anything like that My goodness, I told you before, even very young men have an accident once in a while. It's from being too tense, or trying so hard to succeed that you concentrate on what should be perfectly natural and beautiful between two people. That's why I say, you've been working too hard."

"No, it's not that either. And don't think just because I've hit fifty I'm ready to consider myself used up."

"I should say not! I've already had evidence of that, darling, you remember," she playfully chided him. All the same, her cheeks had a lovely rosy flush.

"I suppose, in a way," he was fumbling for the right words now, "both of us ought to have sat down and talked things like this over. I mean, about our experience before-you know what I'm trying to say, Rachel. Everybody has a different hang-up, one way or another. Like for instance, girls who are brought up strictly think that sex is something nasty and sinful and has to be submitted to with one's husband."

"I never had that sort of upbringing," she giggled now and patted his knee again. "Of course, I told you all about my first husband. He was just a Don Juan in the stalls, and he thought of himself as a super male stud. Maybe I don't know all the words this younger generation uses about sex, but I think I'm pretty tolerant."

"You're a wonder, that's what you are.

"Maybe," she confided in a low soft voice as she moved still closer to him, "since I am that way, I can even understand it if-well, if you were to have a very quick affair with some other woman, just to give you back your confidence. Maybe that's all it would take."

He almost dropped the cigarette stub, and hastily crushed it out on the little tray on the table. "I'd never cheat on you, Rachel"

"It wouldn't be cheating if I told you to do it. Of course, I wouldn't want it to be with any of my friends or some of the cute girls I have working for me at the shop. But if on your trips to New York, you found some nice woman who was lonely-well, perhaps it would help."

"You must really have radar, Rachel," his voice was unsteady again. "I-well, since you brought the matter up, and since I believe in being honest, I guess I'd better tell you now than have you find it out later. I-I did have something in New York last week. But-well, it was with a call girl. And I did it-you may as well know the truth about it-exactly for the reason you were suggesting. To find out if I was still a man, after making such a fool of myself with you. Love didn't have anything to do with it, darling."

"I'm sure it didn't. Come on, get into bed and stretch out and tell me about it."

"You-you mean you want to hear about a thing like that?" he stared at her wide-eyed.

"Certainly I do. Anything that concerns you concerns me too. Isn't that what marriage is for?"

He shook his head wonderingly. Then he took off his bathrobe and got into bed beside her. He lay on his back, his head pillowed on his arms, looking up at the ceiling and avoiding her intent gate as he tried to gloss over that incredible experience.

"Was she young and pretty? Was she very expensive?" Rachel softly prompted.

"Yes to both questions. Extremely attractive. Red-haired like-" he caught himself just in time, and scowled at the realization of what he had almost been about to say.

But Rachel apparently hadn't caught it. "She had her own apartment, I suppose. Now go ahead and tell me."

"Not all the details, for God's sake!" he gasped.

"Yes. Maybe it'll help relax you. A teacher I had back in high school once said to me that the best way to get over something you were afraid of was to talk it out and actually to face it. I thought it was pretty good advice, Tim darling. Now you go right ahead. And I promise you won't offend me. I know what sort of man you are, and you're not at all like my first husband-which is exactly why I was willing to try marriage again. Not to try, but to make it last, I mean. Go on, dearest."

She had turned to him on her side now, one hand on his chest, the other hand gently stroking his thigh. He cleared his throat: "Well, she had quite a setup. Something you might read about in one of those French novels, I guess. A revolving waterbed, mirrors on the walls and the ceiling no less, music and incense. Oh yes, and changing colored lights."