Chapter 9

Lying back in the warm tub Aggie lavished in a soothing bubble bath, her fingers toying with her always active clitoris. “I’m so shameless,” she uttered.

The day started by awakening her son Malcolm which developed into an involved conversation. The afternoon was spent playing bridge with her friends. In the tub the memory of the morning caused her fingers to tighten the pressure and jiggle her sensitized node. For the past few days after Phillip left for work, she had gone into Malo’s room, knelt beside his bed, and reached under his covers. When she wrapped her hand around his morning erection he would sigh in his slumber. After taking his swollen penis into her mouth and bobbing on it for a full five minutes he came in three abundant ejaculations. She marveled at her son’s youthful vitality as she thought, and it barely woke him up!

It was the third time Malcolm awoke with his shrinking organ in his mother’s mouth. The first day he was surprised beyond belief, today when he awoke, he gave a sleepy chuckle and said, “It’s nice that you take care of me this way Mom. I can go to the bathroom so much more easily after I’ve come,” he said with a sleepy chuckle, “and I have to pee now.”

For some reason it reminded of the things she used to do for him when he was a baby: feeding him, cuddling him, and changing his diaper. Following him into the bathroom she watched him standing at the toilet while he thrilled by his arcing yellow stream and listening to the tinkling music he made. How many mothers would follow their son into the bathroom to watch him pee, she asked herself. But he seems to love that I do it as much as I love watching him.

Following him back to his room just as she had done the previous two mornings, she and climbed into bed with him. It was like a honeymoon the way they were frolicking this morning, ending up with their mouths on each other’s sex. Two magnificent orgasms made her thankful that her son was working so hard at pleasuring her. Since he had already exploded in her mouth when she had awakened him, she knew he would be able to fuck a long and glorious time ... until she would beg him to, “cum inside Mommy’s pussy.”

Until last summer—at the age of fifty-two—Agatha Wilcox had coupled with only one man sexually. After all the years of living the role of a “goody-goody” pastor’s wife she was initially astonished by her shamefully exhilarating behavior at the shore during her vacation week. The audacious wickedness of it made her like feel like such and adventuresome woman. After their first night together, they were in bed with each other every night and during rest periods in his lifeguard shifts in the where she was staying.

Known as Agatha prior to that vacation she emerged at the end of the week as Aggie, a sexually motivated woman. Soon after her return from the beach she sought out her daughter’s piano teacher (once her high school sweetheart), with whom she carried on a yearlong affair which ended in a conflict with her daughter. Then in what seemed an opportune twist of fate Aggie’s simmering lust for her son Malcolm—home on spring break from Rutgers—became an encounter.

After adding more hot water to her bath she laid back and considered the irony in the strange set of circumstances: Bart, who she hadn’t seen since their time at the New Jersey shore, spent his summer vacation as a lifeguard where he catered to the sexual needs of frustrated older women. Milroy—the piano teacher—had been having an affair with her teen-aged daughter (his piano student) which she was unaware of. Finally, though she had no reason to suspect it, she had learned that her husband Phillip was having an affair with the youth pastor at his church. And the most preposterous thing was this: her son Malcolm, who she thought was playing the field, had been carrying on an ongoing affair with his high school guidance counselor Charlotte Speaks since he was a sophomore in high school. Charlotte was the reason he came home this spring break. Laughing to herself as she considered her husband cheating with Kasey Kaminsky, her daughter cavorting with Garven Milroy and her son frolicking with Charlotte Speaks and thought I guess I’m just destined to share my lovers with other women, no matter what my relationship with them is.

The mental images of her lovers morphed to scenes of Trish McMartin, Carla Addebury and Bev Chumley, the women with whom she had been playing bridge. She pictured them individually having sex with one of her lovers and asked herself, “Would I really fix my friends up with these men, even my son?” She didn’t have the answer. As she tried to understand why she was thinking that way she just said, “Oh well, the water’s getting cold, and I have to fix dinner.”

When spring break came to an end and Malcolm returned to school sex became sporadic for Aggie. Malo could come home every couple of weeks—Rutgers wasn’t that far away. Sex with Malo was always good but because she resented sharing him with Charlotte Speaks. It wasn’t just that Charlotte was having sex with him; it had more to do with Aggie’s feeling that she wasn’t getting equal time.

What Aggie thought might have just been a perverted dalliance with her son brought on by the discovery of her husband’s affair and her disillusionment with Garven was here to stay. Since the affair at the shore with Bart she had become a liberated woman discovering a new kind of freedom. She thought about friends (pastor’s wives and disappointed secular women) who might be living in the same kind of sexual wasteland she had realized and wondered if she should share the wealth. A few days after Malo returned to school Aggie began thinking of ways, she might approach the subject with her friends. Since her two of her most exciting relationships were with young college men, she wondered what some of these women might think about it themselves. I must be out of my mind she thought. But once the idea got into her mind, she couldn’t shake it. There was no way she would divulge her incestual relationship with Malo but after chewing on it thought if I could, how would I go about it?

One day something developed that added to her sexual pot-pouri, something she had never thought of doing before. Since the beginning of the year, she had been playing bridge with her friends, all pastors’ wives. During and after their games the conversation always seemed to wrap around Trish McMartin, Carla Addebury or Bev Chumley complaining about sticking points in their marriages—the women had become their own support group. Carla at forty-nine was two years younger than Aggie. Bev Chumley was forty-three. Trish, at thirty-nine, was the youngest. Apparently satisfied in her marriage she talked the least. These women all looked up to Aggie, thinking she was the best adjusted and had most of the answers.

This day clarified for Aggie that Carla and Bev were fed up with their husbands. Her experiences in her own marriage had long ago proven how difficult being married to a man of the cloth could be. Quick flashbacks of her own hurts and disappointment made her smirk at how she had solved the impasses. As she listened to her three friends bitching, she relived the piquancy of her three extramarital experiences and thought Oh ladies I wish you could understand how easy life becomes when you solve the dilemma of living with a man who doesn’t fulfill your needs.

When they had finished playing, Carla and Bev left together. Trish, the one who seemed to be the happiest in her marriage, asked if she could stay to, “ ... run a slight problem by you that I’ve been experiencing.” Had Trish not lingered Aggie would have encouraged Carla and Bev to stick around to see if she could find an opening. She had been guiding the conversations for the past couple of weeks, hoping she could open doors for them that she had discovered. Having done some probing of what was going on in their marriages she was ready to ask more direct questions. Perhaps, she thought, I can help them discover some of the excitement I’ve found over the past year and a half.

The “slight” problem turned out to be a gigantic catastrophe. It was a conversation that Aggie was astounded to find herself in the midst of. Since everybody including Aggie had assumed that Trish’s marriage was idyllic, she was bowled over by what the young blonde had been telling her. What was more; it was leading the sexually seasoned “older woman” in a direction she had never seriously considered. But by the time the half hour that Trish asked for turned into an hour and a half, Aggie was hugging the younger woman who sobbed uncontrollably in her arms.

Trish’s McMartin’s marriage had lasted the traditional seven years before infidelity reared its head. After six years she had begun to recognize a lack of spontaneity in her husband’s romantic behavior. She figured the honeymoon was over. “But” she told Aggie, “six weeks after our seventh anniversary Garth just stopped having sex with me.” As tears spilled down her cheeks she went on, “I told him that I would give him sex in any way that he wanted. He said, ‘you can’t Trish, No one woman can.’”

“When I asked if there was another woman he said, ‘a number of women are available to Trish.’”