Now and Forever--Let's Make Love (10 page)

“You do think of everything, baby,” Alice said, hugging Tim’s arm.

In the hotel room, Alice found another bottle of Chardonnay chilling. “When did you set this all up?”

“I picked up the key earlier this afternoon when I took your dad to the supermarket.”

“You mean my father knows about this?”

“He suggested the wine.”

“Dirty old man.” Alice grinned.

Tim grabbed for Alice and nibbled at her lips. “Yup. He and your mom seem to have it real good.” He gazed at his wife admiringly.
Then he reached over and turned on the radio and tuned it to an easy-listening station. “Remember how you used to dance for
me?”

“Ummm.” Alice smiled, then extended her arms horizontally and swayed her hips. She danced around the room while Tim poured
wine. He settled himself on the bed. “Would you do a strip for me?”

Alice winked at him, then slowly unbuttoned the top button of her blouse. It took four songs before the blouse was open to
her waist. Without a bra for support, her breasts swayed, and Tim caught a glimpse of her smoky nipples. Alice wiggled her
shoulders close to him, but when he reached for her, she slapped his hands away. “Patience, baby,” she purred.

With agonizing deliberation, she unzipped her skirt and pulled it and her half-slip off. Dressed in her unbuttoned blouse,
garter belt, and stockings, she moved around the room, watching the lust build in her husband’s eyes. Alice turned her back
to Tim to remove her blouse teasingly. She saw that she was reflected in the wide mirror over the dresser. “Can you see me?”
she asked, noticing Tim’s gaze shift to the mirror. She let the blouse slide off her shoulders and fall to the floor. Then
she cupped her breasts and leaned forward.

The combination of the wine and the erotic atmosphere made Alice a bit more daring than she might otherwise have been. She
leaned against the mirror and pressed her nipples against the cold glass. “Ooh,” she crooned. “Feels cold.” She watched Tim
almost leap off the bed and come up behind her.

“Watch me in the mirror,” he said, standing against her back and holding her hands in his. “See how we both hold your breasts?”
Alice slumped against him and they both watched his dark, hairy hands play with her white breasts. Slowly, he slid his hands
down her belly and into her bush.

“You’re still all dressed,” Alice said, turning and quickly removing her husband’s shirt, slacks, and underwear. “That’s better.”

Tim cupped her buttocks and lifted her so she sat on the dresser, her back against the cold glass of the mirror. He spread
her legs wide, stepped between them, and pulled her forward so her hot pussy was against the tip of his rock-hard penis. “You
asked for this, baby.” He pulled her toward him and buried his cock in her cunt.

“Oh baby. Fuck me good.”

Tim pulled back, then slowly inserted his cock again. In and out, slowly and deliberately, he alternately filled and emptied
Alice’s cunt. When he withdrew again, Alice wrapped her hand around his hard, wet shaft and squeezed. As he pushed forward,
she let his cock slide slowly through her fist and into her waiting pussy. As she cupped his balls, he pounded. “Not yet,”
she yelled. “Just a moment.” She twined her legs around his waist, linked her feet, and held him tightly inside. Panting,
she felt her climax slowly wash over her, then thunder through her entire body. “Now,” she screamed, and Tim let his orgasm
take him.

They dozed, then made love again. They returned to their limo just before midnight and arrived home to a darkened house. As
they walked toward their bedroom, Alice whispered, “You know Mom and Dad have the monitor. No one will disturb us until morning.”

Tim nipped at her earlobe. “How about if I disturb you?”

“Yeah,” she said. “How about that.”

Of course, you can’t always go out to make love like Alice and Tim did, and no couple can afford a trip to some hotel every
time the mood strikes them. So it’s necessary to make your home a place where all kinds of loving, from hugging and hand-holding
to wild chandelier-swinging, take place frequently.

“Okay,” you mutter, “how do I do that? After all, I have kids, and they’re smart little devils.”

I have several suggestions.

First, and most important, as soon as they can understand, teach your children that when Mommy and Daddy’s door is closed,
they have to knock. Tell them that you will respond to their needs but that you need some time alone and they’re not to snoop.
And do the same for them. Knock on their door when it’s closed, as well. If you don’t respect their privacy, they will not
learn to respect yours.

Second, put a hook and eye on your door to keep the inquisitive and forgetful from wandering in at the worst moment, like
the little boy in the story at the beginning of this chapter. And put it high enough that the children can’t reach it and
lock themselves in.

Third, when you and your partner want some time together, tell the children that Mommy and Daddy want to kiss and hug and
love in private. Psychologists agree that children are comforted by the fact that Mommy and Daddy love each other and want
to spend time together. Children talk to their friends, most of whom have more than a passing acquaintance with divorce; deep
inside, most children think about it and wonder whether it can, in fact, happen in their family. So don’t hesitate to act
loving where the kids can see. Don’t force it if it doesn’t feel comfortable, but if you want to touch, do it. If you want
to kiss your spouse on the back of the neck, do that, too. And do the same with your children so Mommy and Daddy’s loving
is part of the natural way things work.

I remember overhearing a conversation between one of my children and a friend at the age of about five.

My daughter had just finished telling her friend what she had done the previous evening. Her friend responded, “Mom and I
got a new videotape from the library after school yesterday, so she sent me to my room to watch it. Mommy and Daddy told me
they were watching TV, again.” She gave a strange inflection to the last word, which my daughter caught, too.

“Again?” she asked.

“Yeah. They go in their room, turn the TV up real loud, and giggle. They really think I don’t know they’re kissing and tickling
each other.”

“Oh,” my daughter said. That evening, she asked me what I thought her friend’s parents were doing. I told her in short sentences
about loving, hugging, kissing, and a little about lovemaking. After each very short explanation, I made it clear that she
could ask additional questions if she wanted to, until she reached the end of her curiosity and patience, which she did quickly.

By the way, on the subject of telling children about sex, here’s an old story that emphasizes the need for making sure you
answer the questions your child is asking.

A seven-year-old boy was riding in the car with his father.

“Dad,” the boy said, “where did I come from?”

Dad struggled with the pros and cons of telling his son about sex, then decided that since they had a long trip ahead of them,
there would never be a better time. He spent half an hour on his explanation, barely pausing for breath. Finally, he said,
“Well, son, does that explain it for you?”

“Well, Dad, that was really interesting, but, well, Davie says he came from Denver. I just wondered where I came from.”

Enough said.

Some couples with small children have, unfortunately for their sex life, gotten in the habit of letting Junior sleep in their
bed.

Let’s say Junior is a boy, and since his bouts with night terrors as a baby, you’ve let him continue either to go to sleep
in your bed or to creep in during the night. Plays hell with your sex life, doesn’t it? Well, unless there’s a special reason,
such as illness or severe space constraints, most child psychologists agree that children don’t belong in Mommy and Daddy’s
bed. Therefore, it’s time to get him used to his own bed—full-time.

Americans put a very strong emphasis on privacy and on sexuality. It is true that in other cultures, people share beds, rooms,
and the like in a normal, natural way. But we aren’t living in other cultures.

I listen to a radio psychologist, a very down-to-earth, sensible lady. A caller recently phoned her and said, “My son comes
to bed with my husband and me every night. I know I have to get him back in his own bed. How mean should I be?” The psychologist’s
reply was very sensible: “Think of it as ‘firm,’ not ‘mean,’ and you’ll feel a lot better about it.” That makes a lot of sense.
Take Junior to the store and get him his own personal flashlight, a night-light, a sleeping bag, whatever his choice is to
ease the transition. Then explain that Mommy and Daddy sleep in their bed and he sleeps in his. And that’s the way it will
work from now on. Then be prepared! You will probably have to put up with several nights of screaming. You may need to get
a lock for your door. Junior will pound on your door and shriek for a while, possibly all night. But every time you give in
and let him into your room and into your bed, you will have to begin all over again, and it will be even more difficult the
next time.

A man is doing a survey about the varied household uses of Vaseline. He knocks on one door and a rather harried-looking woman
answers. She agrees to answer his questions. After several inquiries, he finally asks, “Do you use Vaseline during sex?”

“Yes,” she answers.

“Does the male partner or the female partner use it?”

“Oh,” she says, “neither. We put it on the door-knob so the kids can’t come in.”

After I told this joke to a dear friend of mine, she told me the story of her recent adventures with her seven-year-old daughter,
whom we’ll call Lisa. Lisa enjoyed climbing into bed with Mommy and Daddy, but this late-night practice was putting a crimp
in their sex life. So my friend and her husband had made the difficult decision to bar the child from the bedroom. They put
a better lock on the bedroom door and waited for the storm.

About eleven that evening, Lisa knocked on the door and then, on being told that she should go back to bed, threw a fit. She
banged on the door, kicked, and cried. After a few minutes, suddenly there was silence, followed by rustling sounds outside
the door. As the parents debated what might be going on, time passed.

Five minutes later, to my friends’ astonishment, the door flew open. In walked the seven-year-old, the doorknob in one hand
and a screwdriver in the other. I sympathized with my friend’s dilemma: whether to chastise the girl for disobeying, praise
her for her ingenuity, or merely laugh. When my friend told me this tale, we decided that Lisa has a brilliant future, either
as a rocket scientist or a cat burglar.

A suggestion:
Don’t waste any small flicker of sensuality. You don’t have the luxury of saying, “This isn’t the best moment. I’ll resist
this temptation and wait till a better, more convenient moment.” There are no convenient moments. If you want to make love
and it’s at all possible, do it. Jill found such a moment and decided not to let it pass.

T.J. was eight months old. Colicky since birth, he had one or the other of his parents awake just about every night. Because
T.J. was now on soy formula and not breast milk, Tony and Jill alternated the middle-of-the-night feedings and soothings.
This night, it had been Jill’s turn.

As she sat with little T.J. lying facedown across her thighs, Jill idly rubbed his back and thought about Tony. How long had
it been, she mused, since they had made long, luxurious love? Weeks? Months? As she felt her impatience rising, she forced
it down. That won’t do any good at all, she told herself. I want him. I miss him. But what can I do about it?

As T.J. fell asleep, Jill found her body tingling at the memories of the delicious times she and Tony had spent together before
T.J.’s birth. She remembered their spontaneous lovemaking, once in the car, pulled over on the parkway, once in the woods
when they slipped away from a family picnic. God, those were good, she thought, lifting a sleeping T.J. into his crib.

As she slipped from the room, she became aware of the wetness between her legs. She was hungry for Tony and just had to find
the best way to make lovemaking happen. She could wake him up right away. But that wasn’t quite what she had in mind.

As she reentered the master bedroom, she saw that Tony was sprawled on the bed, arms and legs spread wide. Since he slept
nude and the moon was bright, she was able to gaze at the body that still excited her after five years of marriage. As she
stared at his flaccid penis, she smiled slowly. She usually enjoyed oral sex, but recently there had been little time to indulge.
This was too much of a temptation to resist.

She peeled off her nightgown and gently settled herself on the bed beside Tony, not disturbing his sound sleep. She scooted
down until her head was at the level of his hip. Then she leaned over and touched the tip of her tongue to the velvety skin
of his soft cock. So smooth, she thought. So tasty. She licked slowly from base to tip, watching the organ move of its own
accord.

She licked again, and she was amazed at how quickly it began to grow, but still Tony didn’t move. How much can I do before
he wakes up? she wondered. How hard can I make him?

She licked gently, over and over, frequently blowing on the wet area. When Tony’s cock was semihard, she licked the tip, then
wrapped her lips around the head and created a slight suction with her cheeks. Ever so slowly, she drew the cock into her
mouth, sliding her tongue over the underside. Never able to “deep-throat,” she could only get about half of the now-engorged
cock into her mouth. Slowly, keeping a slight vacuum in her mouth, she drew back, and Tony’s cock pulled from her mouth until
only the tip remained inside.

Still he didn’t move. In and out she sucked his penis, enjoying the freedom to get used to the feel of it in her mouth, the
taste of the drops of fluid that soon oozed from the tip, the smell of his groin. Then, while Tony’s cock was inside of her
mouth, she used her fingers to stroke his balls.