a man to watch a woman play with herself.”
I brought up my legs and spread them, giving my fingers full reign of my crotch. I let go and teased the insides of my thighs with my nails, thumbing my soaked vaginal lips and probing for my clitoris. Then, I parted the lips and rubbed freely the insides, working gradually back up to my clitoris and bringing on a flood of orgasms.
One after another they came. I called out to Bob. I cried. I whined. I begged him every way I knew how. Why? Oh, why, did the men who seemed to appeal to me strongest, always torture me this way? But then a strange feeling came over me. I worked on myself harder, finding a new kind of enjoyment in knowing that somehow this was, after all, an interpersonal act, and that in some way Bob was enjoying it.
“Oh… oh, Bob… I'm exhausted… oh,” I finally confessed aloud, laying back and closing my eyes, “At least you can come over and kiss me now. I feel so relaxed… so wonderful.”
“Don't you feel ashamed of yourself?” he asked gruffly, shattering every offbeat illusion and satisfaction I had gained. “I would think you would feel cheap and dirty after that orgy of masturbation you just performed. You don't think a normal woman would feel comfortable after such a depraved exhibition, do you?”
I was so exhausted, so confused, so humiliated and shamed, that I got up and started to put my clothes back on in a trance. The couch cushion was soaked where I had secreted so much, and Bob chided me about that too. I seemed to move around mechanically, taking orders from Bob. We moved everything of his up to my room and re- arranged the den like it had been before, pushing the single Hollywood bed back in the corner, putting the thick cover over it, then making a sofa out of it with the big cushions.
I was terribly tired, tired and frustrated, when we finished. Bob took a pair of pajamas from the drawer and started to undress. I felt so peculiar about the idea of going to bed with him. I felt physically and mentally unclean, as if I might tarnish him with my presence and closeness. I realized then that I was pretty dirty and did need a bath. I had been perspiring heavily with all the work, and I was messy otherwise too.
The shower refreshed me a great deal, a hot bath with scented soap always does. It seems to clean away both kinds of dirt, mental and the physical. It never did a complete job, but it helped immensely. I know whenever I had that feeling after a bath, I recalled Lady Macbeth's line that “will not all the perfumes of Arabia wipe out this damned spot?”
I walked back in the bedroom naked to find Bob lying in bed in the same manner. His penis was already erect and he announced to me, and I do mean announced, “Denise, I am going to make a woman of you. Come here.”
Immediately, I became alive again. It was the most amazing thing. I lay on the bed beside him and melted in his naked embrace. It was absolutely wonderful!
I suppressed my impulse to go down on him. The sight of his thick organ recalled so vividly that scene at the party. I was tensed up and frantic, so anxious for him to make love to me.
My wait was relatively short, considering the three weeks of anxiety and the awful suspense of the hours before. Bob turned over on his back and I straddled him. I yelled for joy at the feel of him entering me. I think it was the most wonderful entrance I have ever enjoyed. I care not what the experts say about the vaginal orgasm or that it is all psychological, the feel of a man's penis inside. The experts have never been entered. They are all men and they don't know what they are talking about.
I knew not to hurry Bob, so I luxuriated in the slow rhythm of moving myself up and down, crying out for joy at the feel of him going in and out of me. I seemed to be lifted with each upward movement to absolutely dizzying heights. I was in a world where humans had no right to be.
My joy and ecstasy in that role was short-lived. In looking back, I think Bob deliberately wanted to prevent me from becoming too satisfied at that moment. He put his hands at my buttocks and lifted me from his shiny wet organ. He crawled out from under me, keeping a hand on my buttocks, to indicate that I was to stay substantially in the same position, going down on all fours.
When I felt his hands on my buttocks from the rear, I tensed with anticipation until I felt the tip of his penis entering me again. I suppose I had been afraid for a moment that he was going to do the other. I was in no mood for that. I wanted to be satisfied.
My orgasms began almost at once. It was such a beautiful feeling. I can't really put it into words. I know I wiggled my bottom. I did all the appropriate things and made all the right noises, and they came from my true feelings. I was delirious with pleasure and I never wanted it to stop.
And that was when it did stop, of course. Bob pulled out and remained on his knees there, asking me to turn around and lie on my back. And then, he did the unexpected, really. He entered me again in the regular position and began too make love so beautifully. He held me tight and brought me to more wonderful climaxes, controlling my body with his magnetic attraction, his hypnotic pull. I knew then what the blonde girl on the floor was experiencing that night.
The most unexpected part was what he said. He was so tender and soft in his caresses, his voice was affectionate, more so than I had ever imagined was possible. I remember his words vividly.
“I want you to listen… Denise,” he told me with measured pauses that showed me the quality and degree of control he maintained over every organism in his body, “I may never tell you this… again. I love you. I love you… in a way that no other man ever has. I love you and you are mine…”
“Oh, Bob… I love you, Bob,” I told him with all the true feeling I had. “I don't want you to leave me… ever.”
“I will have to leave you… sometimes,” he told me, our bodies in such a beautiful motion, our organs thrilling each other so wonderfully with their friction. “You will remain mine and you will remain faithful. Do you understand?”
“Yes… yes-yes-yes!” I promised, knowing I would have promised anything at that moment.
“When I come,” he began again, pausing, “I am going to say some things you may not like. You must understand…”
We came together so beautifully that I could not understand what he said. I think he was so similarly affected that what he did say was an almost incoherent babble. But the word that stuck with me, although I was not sure that I heard it, was-“Kathy!”
Chapter Three
There was so much that happened that summer, I have tried desperately to think of some way to condense it all without writing an entire book within a book. Bob, of course, took over the household completely. He used my car as if it were his own, driving me each noon to the little private summer school where I taught drama in the afternoon.
What he did during those times I never questioned.
I understood that he had business around town or that he was working on some “business deal” with a bunch of stockbrokers and lending companies that would allow him to retire in five years as a millionaire. All of his money, over a hundred thousand dollars, he claimed, was tied up either in this venture or in overseas banks where he could not draw it out.
His financial demands grew as time went on. At first, it was twenty dollars every once in a while. And then it was a hundred for “a deposit on a surprise,” and a thousand to “make a fast trip to Europe to see if I can get some of my funds released.” I had to dip mightily into my meagre savings and get a new loan on the car, as my hundred dollar a week fee for part-time time teaching was my only income during the summer.
In retrospect, I am utterly amazed that I never once objected, never questioned Bob about a single thing that he took or “borrowed” from me. I was an absolute slave, desperate for the love that he avoided giving me until I became a nervous wreck, yet willing to put up with any deprivation so that I could be assured that love was mine to have.
There were so many things that I tolerated, yet there were three basic acts or themes that troubled and distressed me the most, and all of them had to do with Kathy.
