© August 2000
Jake roused me from sleep, his fingers prodding my panties. With practiced skill he slipped beneath the elastic and lace, quickly, before I was fully awake. His fingers maneuvered in and out, every other stroke pushed a little deeper. He kissed my neck, nibbling my earlobe. I shivered.
"It's after midnight, Jake," I mumbled irritably.
"I'm sorry," Jake responded. My husband nuzzled up against my back. I felt the heat from his naked chest warm me through my thin nightgown.
"This is the third time this week," I continued, stiffening slightly. An image of that evening's ruined dinner popped into my mind. "You promised to be home before 9:00," I whined.
Jake nudged my bare leg up, giving him a better passage to my now moist sex. I grew wetter despite my anger. He licked my earlobe, dipping his tongue in and around the shell of my ear. I shivered again.
"I had to prepare some experts for tomorrow's deposition. John was going to handle it but had a family emergency. I didn't have a choice." Jake flipped me on my back and kissed my mouth. His fondling quickened. His tongue mirrored the activity of his fingers. He was such a dedicated man - at least to his other partner.
"Mmmhmmm," was the only response I could give while his tongue played in and around my lips.
"Didn't you get my message?" He pushed my nightgown up with one hand.
Anger flashed suddenly inside of me. "Yes, your idiot secretary called with the message around 10:00. Since when does she work so late?" I struggled against him, a little attempt to get away. I envied the amount of time he spent with his secretary. I wasn't happy with Jake but at the same time I couldn't resist him. He had a way about him that drove me crazy with desire. But still, I wanted him to know I wasn't happy.
His mouth fastened on one of my nipples. His tongue lashed over the sensitive tip, driving me crazy. I struggled against him again.
Jake peeked up at me, sliding up my body until we were face to face. "I'm really sorry, hon. I told her to call you a lot earlier than that." He kissed me softly, then severely before plowing his cock deep inside of me. I arched against him, taking him deep. He felt so good.
Reverently he moved in and out, despite his initial forcefulness. After ten years of marriage he knew my body. He knew unhurried thrusts at first, gliding up slowly, and then down slowly, while making contact with my clit, would get me wetter. I opened my legs wider and dug my fingers into his rear, pulling him deeper. I rocked against him. Soon we found our rhythm: Jake plunging in and out of me while I arched up to meet him.
"I love you, Stacey. I love you so much," Jake growled near my ear. I felt part of my anger dissolve, but not all of it. Familiar frustration washed over me when I thought Jake was avoiding something. Then I felt Jake tense slightly. His penis pulsed and emptied warm semen deep inside me.
Jake's a good man, a good husband, a good lover. He is thoughtful - most of the time - and he is sweet. He has a hidden erotic side that always fascinated me. When we were dating, he would write arousing little stories involving us or characters we could assume were us. Every predicament, every plot or non- plotted out description still stirred me up. The stories and poetry began to taper off after our first anniversary. Any free time was spent with law firm activities. I often reread those old letters and reminisced. Things weren't the same lately.
Jake continued touching me gently, spreading our mingled juices around my swollen labia and clit. He was also a patient man.
"It's no use. I'm sorry. It's just not happening." I gently nudged Jake off of me and felt around our bed for my panties. I felt him slump on the mattress next to me.
"What can I do?" he asked, concern in his voice.
"I don't know. I really don't know." I pulled on my panties and straightened my nightgown. I turned to my side, away from Jake, and let the tears slip from my eyes. I felt my husband pull the blanket up around my shoulders. He kissed the back of my tangled hair before he turned away and fell asleep.
It had been seven months since my last orgasm. Also for the past seven months I've dealt with overwhelming feelings of guilt. My past had come back to haunt me.
I felt screwed up. Damaged beyond repair. Frigid. Desperate. But most of all I felt alone.
How did it all start? I was reading the local paper and recognized a photo in the obituaries. I read about the woman and felt panicked immediately. Lauren had died in a car accident that week. There wasn't a long list of accomplishments or sorority affiliations listed after her name. A husband grieved for her but no children. By all accounts Lauren appeared to be a simple woman. How wrong. Lauren introduced me to feelings I would never forget.
We became friends while I was away at college. I began working at a strip club the last semester of college, hoping to earn extra money to finance my upcoming move. I also needed to buy clothes for my future career in the banking world. The extra money would help take some of the pressure from my parents. A minister's salary wasn't much.
Lauren was a dancer, raking in tips. I was a waitress, raking in smaller tips. One weekend the owner asked if I would fill in for an absent dancer. The jump in pay and the extra tips were too much to pass up. During that time I managed to hide my part-time job from my parents. I pushed the guilt to the back of my mind, justifying my reason for working at the strip club as a way of helping my parents. It was a lame excuse but it eased my conscience at the time.
I was surprised at how much I actually enjoyed dancing on that sleazy stage. I was a natural at dancing and always had a healthy respect for my body. In many ways I didn't mind showing off my figure. The flashing neon, loud music and skimpy costumes turned me into a different woman. I enjoyed playing the part, maybe a little too much. Taking off my clothes and dancing lewdly in front of a bunch of strangers didn't bother me. I enjoyed the exhibitionism.
Lauren and I loved exchanging dance moves and stories about some of the customers. We grew closer each day. Lauren was closer to me than my own sister.
We had a brief fling eventually that led to my first lesbian experience. I've never felt anything like it since. It's hard, even now, to forget how her body felt. Her soft curves - smooth and warm to the touch - opened to me, feeding me in a way I never imagined. I had large breasts, wide and round, crested with deep mauve nipples. My waist narrowed and then flared to generous hips. Not too big, not too narrow. Lauren was fair and blonde, with small upturned breasts topped off by fat, pale nipples. Our coloring and bodies contrasted completely but when we were together, naked, everything blended perfectly.
Everything felt so right, so natural. We both were able to bring each other to orgasm again and again, instinctively knowing what to do, how to touch and tease. That last night was wonderful. I was still basking in the glow of our passion, Lauren's arms wrapped sleepily around my waist, when my father called. Ice water flooded my veins as he began questioning my whereabouts the previous day. Yesterday, Saturday, was my baby nephew's christening. I was expected and it wasn't like me to forget, he said. The whole family was worried about me during and after the ceremony. He nearly drove the four hours to Dayton to look for me. Thank the Lord I was safe, he kept saying.
Guilt, like a heavy weight around my neck, began pulling me down. The more I talked, the more I tried to cover up my activities. The lies began to flow freely. I was going to burn in Hell. I lied to my father, telling him my Daytimer had been stolen. I thought my nephew's christening was the following weekend. I was at the library late studying. The lies continued to flow.
That day seven months ago I stared at Lauren's picture in the obituaries and relived our friendship. So many emotions came flooding back. I wondered how our affair had affected her. I never knew because I left Dayton as soon as possible. My background growing up in a strict religious family taught me I had committed a grievous sin. Homosexuality might be a feeling fallible, horrible, demented human beings lived with, but to act on it was acknowledging it and, therefore, saving me a place in Hell. All this, of course, I learned while attending the Riverside Christian Academy. I was constantly reminded of my weak nature. "It's the way all humans are created," so said Brother Thomas, one of my counselors. "Sometimes we all feel the need to do something against the wishes of God. Suppressing that need is what makes us better humans; acting on that need makes us sinners." I was definitely a sinner.
I should have told Jake about my past when we met. I couldn't bring myself to do it, partly because of the overwhelming need to hide my sinful past and partly because I wanted Jake to see me as the woman to build a future with. I felt he wasn't the type of man to want to get serious with an ex-stripper.
Now, ten years had gone by. How would he react now if I told him I had stripped for money? I hardly expected him to understand how much the tips helped me financially. I also had to face another fact, something Jake would despise me for: I turned a few tricks during that time. Four sex-for-money tricks, to be exact. How would he feel if he knew that I enjoyed doing it?
.... There is more of this story ...