“How many men have you fucked?” Brian asked Maggie. They were laying on their backs, naked, in a luxurious bed in a room in the Stanley Hotel in Nairobi, Kenya.
“That’s a personal question, you impertinent twerp,” answered Maggie tartly, but with a smile on her face.
“I’m interested in the sex life of a MILF.” He kissed her on the cheek.
“Am I your surrogate mother?”
Brian smiled back. “No, I’ve not yearned to fuck my mother. My sister? Maybe. He laughed. “However, I would be interested in what mum and sis she could tell me about their sex lives.” He continued after a pause. “I’ve told you about all five women I have had. What do I know about you? I know you live in a place called Kansas, somewhere in the vast United States.”
“I have to be careful. I’m married and have two children in college, and I work for a fundamentalist religious organization.”
“I’m interested in you. In your life and what you feel and what you’ve done and everything. This is a romance. You’re not just a fuck buddy.” With exhaled breath he continued. “I love you.”
Maggie teared up with emotion. He had never said that before. She put an arm around his neck and pulled him to her and they exchanged quick kisses. “Let’s not talk about love. We’ll both be going home in a few months and we’ll never see each other again.”
“I’m not asking you to marry me. I just want to be in love with you -- even if it’s temporary. Can we do that?”
Maggie digested that question. “Yes, we can be in love. For now and in Africa.” She thought for a long moment. “The answer to your question is thirteen. Counting you.”
“Thirteen men? A quick response. You didn’t need to count on your fingers.”
“I’m an accountant. I like numbers.”
‘Oh, you are evil,” Brian answered with a laugh. He pulled her to him and their bodies locked. “Now, I want to fuck you again.”
“Only if I can just lie here. You’ve worn me out.”
He rolled over on top of her and probed with his penis and slipped it inside her vagina. “This is my birthday present to you.” Maggie had just turned forty. Brian was twenty-three.
“It’s better than a box of chocolates,” she said as they began to move their bodies in unison. “It’s also the anniversary of our first night together. Three months now.”
He joked, “It seems like we’ve been together forever.” He paused. “Back to the subject at hand. Who was your first man? And how old were you?”
She mused as he pulled his penis out of her and lowered his head to kiss her breasts. “I was eighteen and just out of high school and my boy friend stuck his cock in me. I panicked and made him take it out. I was an awful prude in those days and sexually repressed.”
“I don’t count him as a sex partner,” she added. My first real sex partner was my husband when I was nineteen. It was my wedding night. Nine months later I had a daughter.”
Brian moved his head from her breasts downward to her crotch and flicked his tongue against her clitoris. She gasped. “Does that hurt?” he asked.
“No, but be careful. I’m a little tender. You’ve fucked me three times today.”
“Always counting, aren’t you?”
“Sweetie, let’s postpone sex for a while.” She picked up the telephone beside the bed. “I’m starving. Let’s order something from room service. And a bottle of wine. Maybe after that I will be a little more responsive.”
“Order something we can eat in bed. Pasta Alfredo?” He spread her legs wider and inserted his tongue in her vagina.
She gave the order over the telephone. “How about a shower while we’re waiting for the food? We smell like sex.” She sniffed the air. “This room smells like sex. I guess there’s nothing we can do about that.”
“The perfume of true love.”
“I love you, too,” she said quickly and suddenly. She kissed his cheek and got out of the bed and to her feet. She extended a hand. “Come on. Take a shower with me. This is the first fancy bathroom I’ve seen since I got to Kenya.”
She turned on the shower and adjusted the heat of the water and the two of them stepped inside. They kissed standing up, her hand around his penis, his hand running up and down her buttocks.
“I want to fuck. Right now.” He put his hands under her hips and sought her vagina with his penis.
“No,” she said. “We have to get dressed. The food will be here in a minute.” She pushed him gently away.
Brian picked up a bar of soap in his hand. “I’ll scrub your vagina and that wonderful butt.” His soapy hand found her crotch and ran up the crack in her buttocks.
“Enough, please. I’m not going to greet the waiter naked.”
Brian complied. He rinsed the soap off her and they both got out of the shower. He toweled her off from head to foot, stopping to spread the lips of her labia and plant a kiss on her clitoris. “I’ll get dressed to greet the waiter. You get in bed. Just like you are now. I want him to know -- I want everyone to know -- that we are lovers.”
“I hope that he doesn’t think that I’m your mother.”
“I’m proud of you. Proud that people know I am fucking you. I want to show you off. I love you.”
She didn’t answer, but sat down on the bed with pillows behind her back, pulling up a sheet to cover her breasts. He put on a pair of trousers and a shirt and paced, waiting impatiently for the room service waiter. Shortly, the waiter arrived, pushing a stainless steel cart with two plates on it, an unopened bottle of wine, glasses, and silverware.
“Serve the lady in bed,” Brian told the waiter. Maggie struggled to keep her breasts covered as she accepted a plate of Pasta Alfredo and a napkin wrapped around silverware from the waiter. The waiter uncorked the wine bottle and poured her a glass and set it on the table beside the king-side bed. He put another glass of wine on Brian’s side of the bed. Brian tipped the waiter extravagantly as he left.
“Did you deliberately flash that waiter a little side boob?” asked Brian as he took off his clothes and sat down beside her on the bed and got under the sheet beside her. She dropped the sheet from her breasts.
“I most certainly did not!” They sat side by side companionly, eating pasta and drinking wine. Maggie had never been happier.
“Thirteen men,” Brian mused. “And your husband was the first. Who was the second?”
“It was almost seven, years ago. I had been married 14 years. He was a preacher, like my husband. I had just begun my accounting business and I traveled from place to place in Kansas to audit the books of churches and religions organizations. The sex wasn’t very good,” she said. “He was scared and so was I and it was all over in two minutes.”
“Did you cum?”
“No, although I pretended to. And afterwards he told me how guilty he felt cheating on his wife. I didn’t like that. I didn’t feel guilty. I wanted to be loved.”
“Your husband doesn’t love you?”