Chapter 60: I Don’t Feel Any Different

June 2, 2002, Chicago, Illinois

On Sunday morning, I met Rachel Kealty for breakfast at the diner on Hyde Park Avenue.

“How did you do on your assignment?” I asked once we’d ordered.

“It was a struggle because I think the best representation of my life is an empty box.”

“Normally, I wouldn’t accept that answer,” I replied, “but from you, I will. The question is, what do you want to do about it?”

“Become authentically human,” Rachel said. “Are you willing to help me?”

I knew, without a doubt, that if I agreed to help her with her goal, exactly where it would end, or, more accurately, start. I was certain, having read Bethany’s books, that she’d have had the requisite STI test, which meant this was the inflection point, and I didn’t feel she’d change her mind the way Luisa had.

“I am,” I replied.

“Will you take me to bed? Today?”

“If that’s what you want, yes, provided you’ve followed Bethany’s advice.”

“I had an STI test, and it was clean. I assume, given your experience, that you’ll have prophylactics.”

“I had a vasectomy after my last daughter was born,” I replied.

I pulled out my wallet and showed Rachel my card, and she opened her purse, extracted a folded paper, and handed it to me. Having both verified each other’s STI status, there was no impediment.

“May I ask what you expect to happen afterwards?” I inquired after I put my card back in my wallet.

Rachel laughed softly, “I have no idea. I just know I need you to take me to bed. That has to be the first step and it will allow me to ‘arise and walk in the newness of life’.”

“Baptism,” I replied. “After a fashion.”

“Doctor Bethany called it, alternately a rite of passage, a rite of initiation, and a declaration of independence, depending on the person and the context.”

The waitress brought our food, and we began eating.

“May I ask about your experience?” I inquired.

“Nothing more than a few kisses on the lips,” she replied. “And all before I turned twenty-one.”

“And you want to go to bed for the first time with a married man?”

“I want to go to bed with you. You wouldn’t be cheating, if I understand correctly, and I specifically rejected Catholic moral teaching. I did go to the library and read about Augustine and Manichaeism, and that was eye-opening. I was obviously never taught that in the parochial school I attended.”

“The entire West is suffering from the effects of Augustine’s philosophy, either directly or via Luther and Calvin. It’s led to all sorts of craziness in society, and, ultimately, will cause it to break down.”

“Break down?”

“With the demonization of sex and infantilization of teenagers, they’ll be denied every chance to be authentically human. They are being told that something which is natural and good is evil and to be avoided. They’re being told that the natural urges they have are unnatural and morally wrong; sinful, if you believe sin is a thing the way Western Christians mean it.”

“So going to bed together is a ... revolutionary act? As it was with Winston and Julia in Nineteen Eighty-Four?”

“Rebels from the waist down,” I replied. “Orwell was certainly onto something there, in addition to the complete dystopian nightmare of a totalitarian system.”

“Is this the norm for you? That you go to bed with women whenever you want?”

“In the sense that I manage my own sex life, yes, though the norm is for the girls to approach me, not the other way around.”

“I suspect that’s a true statement, but I think you intentionally create the opportunities, so, in that sense, it is you approaching them. Is that how you justify your behavior?”

“I have no need to justify my behavior because I believe sex is healthy, fun, and ought to be limited only by the choices of consenting adults, though my definition of ‘adult’ includes teens, so long as they’re properly educated and informed. You’ve met Birgit, who is a prime example of a very mature teen who could give consent and who ought to be free to do so.”

“So you wouldn’t have a problem with her going to bed with a guy, even if he were older?”

“So long as it was what she freely chose to do, no, I wouldn’t.”

“Do you ever say ‘no’?”

“I have, yes.”

“Lack of attraction?”

“That can be part of it, though probably not the way you mean. For me, attraction is intellectual. I like intelligent girls of any body type. Yes, I have a ‘type’ that I prefer, but intelligence is the overriding factor. Or, to put it another way, a gorgeous airhead is someone I’d most likely turn down, while a plain woman with a PhD is someone in whom I’d be very interested.”

“And me?”

“You’re intelligent and well-read.”

“And I fit your type, right?”

“Yes.”

“Despite being inexperienced and forty?”

“Inexperience is a temporary condition; age is simply a number. In any event, you’re only a year older than I am.”

“What do you expect?”

“For you to actively participate, not be passive.”

Rachel smiled wryly, “Which means you want the same thing every guy has wanted from the time he understood what it meant!”

I laughed and shook my head.

“That is NOT what I meant!”

“So you don’t want that?”

“The short answer is that I enjoy oral sex, both giving and receiving. But anything we do has to be by mutual agreement.”

“You actually like putting your mouth there?”

“I enjoy putting my mouth everywhere, but I find the taste particularly appealing, not to mention extremely stimulating.”

“How long do your relationships usually last?”

“That all depends on each individual girl’s needs. Sometimes it’s a single encounter, other times it’s a few. Some are long term, and those can be regular or irregular. There are some which have lasted decades, others which lasted a day, at least in terms of physical intimacy. I’m still friends with most of my past partners, and many of them are involved in my life in some way. In the end, it’s up to you to decide what you need from me, and me to decide if I can provide that or not.”

“Has any woman tried to get you to leave your wives?”

“In a serious way? Just once.”

“And what happened?”

“A lot of heartache on both our parts, but it led me to discover some important truths, and, ultimately, to make me a better man. She’s happily married now, with two children.”

“You’re still friends with her?”

“No, but circumstances are such that I see her from time to time. I’d rather not give more details so as not to violate any confidences.”

“Do your, uhm, wives, know about me?”

“They know about all my partners,” I replied. “It’s the price of freedom, so to speak. So long as I disclose who I’ve been with, and follow the basic rules, I’m free to manage my own sex life as I see fit, just as they are.”

“They play around, too?”

“They have the freedom to do so, but it’s not my place to reveal anything about their sex lives.”

“What rules?”

“Certain groups are off-limits — anyone who works at the hospital with Jessica, anyone who works at UofC with Kara, and anyone at the dojo.”

“I was at the dojo.”

“Yes, but not as a karate student. There is a small amount of flexibility in the rules, but those rare exceptions have to be discussed and agreed to in advance.”

“Are your kids aware of your ... open marriage?”

“Yes. We don’t hide that from them.”

“So they’ll know about us?”

“If they see us together at the house, yes, but I don’t tell them. That said, Birgit likely assumes it’s already happened.”

“Seriously? Why?”

“She’s her mother’s daughter!” I chuckled. “Birgit is a free spirit and very open about sexuality. My other kids are equally free spirits, but mostly more circumspect about their relationships. And to answer your next question, with one, or perhaps two, exceptions, my kids all believe in monogamous marriage for life.”

“That’s interesting, given your lifestyle.”

“Their choices are theirs; I don’t believe in raising clones nor imposing my values on my kids. They’re free to think and believe how they want.”

We finished our meal, I paid the check, left a tip, and then Rachel and I left the diner.

“Where?” she asked.

“My house,” I replied. “There’s a guest room, which was the servant’s quarters back in the day, that we can use.”

“I take it everyone is home?”

“Jessica is at the hospital; she prefers weekend shifts. Kara and Suzanne will be home, along with all the kids except Albert, who was on a Scouting overnight last night.”

“We just walk in, I say ‘Hi; your husband and I are going to bed’?”

“You don’t have to say anything at all. We may not see anyone, and if we do, I’ll introduce you. What you say is up to you.”

“Very weird.”

“That is the basic description of my life! But I embrace it, which is why I have an affinity for the Norse god Loki.”

“You’re going to make me see Loki?” Rachel asked with a smirk.

“I have a bronze statuette of him at home, so I could!”

Rachel laughed, “Cute.”

She slipped her hand into mine, and we walked the rest of the way hand-in-hand. When we arrived at the house, we went inside, took off our shoes, and I led her to what Kara was calling my ‘playroom’, locking the door to the kitchen behind us. We went into the bedroom, I turned down the duvet, then turned to face Rachel. I held out my arms, and she stepped into them. I pulled her against me with one arm, gently lifted her chin, then touch my lips softly to hers.

“That was nice,” Rachel said. “You can do that again.”

I smiled and kissed her softly twice more. The next time I touched my lips to hers, I touched them with the tip of my tongue. Rachel’s lips parted, and my tongue found hers. She was tentative at first, but then her tongue began dancing with mine. I wrapped both arms around her and pulled her tight against me. Rachel moaned softly, and I felt her arms tighten around me as our tongues twirled.

Holding her tightly with one arm, I moved my other hand to cup one of Rachel’s firm butt cheeks and pulled her closer. Rachel broke the kiss, took a couple of deep breaths, then pressed her lips against mine. Our tongues twirled again, and she roamed one of her hands over my back and butt. I had no impetus to push things along, as we had four hours before lunch, and I felt Rachel would prefer a slow build-up, rather than a frantic coupling. In fact, unless I had completely misread her, she wanted to make love, not fuck.

We kissed for several minutes, with short periods where Rachel rested her head on my shoulder to catch her breath, before I slid my hand to her hip, then up her side. I paused briefly, then slipped it between us to cup her breast and began rubbing my thumb over her nipple, which was covered by her soft cotton blouse and her bra. Rachel moaned into my mouth and her tongue moved more forcefully as her excitement built.

Continuing my slow pace, we kissed, and I fondled her breast for several minutes before breaking the kiss and releasing her from my arms. Rachel always had all the buttons buttoned, showing no skin below her neck except for her hands, and wore a long skirt, which covered her legs to her calves. I moved my hand to the top button of her light blue blouse and waited. Rachel nodded, so I unbuttoned it and the rest of the buttons, then pulled the tail from her skirt so that the blouse hung loosely on her shoulders, giving me a glimpse of her stomach and revealing the material of her black lace bra.

I dropped to one knee and planted a kiss on Rachel’s stomach, just above her navel, then stood up. Once again I looked into her eyes, and seeing nothing, which gave me pause, I pushed Rachel’s blouse off her shoulders. She lowered her arms, and the blouse fell to the floor. She made no move to pick it up, so I moved my hands to her waist, found the zipper of Rachel’s skirt, and drew it down, causing the skirt to drop and bunch around her ankles.

Rachel stepped out of her skirt and I took in her figure. Clad only in a black lace bra, black lace panties, and sheer black knee-high stockings, she was striking. I’d surmised, from our time at the dojo, that her stomach was toned and flat, which it was, though with the usual slight uterine bulge most women had. I smiled, Rachel smiled back, then she stepped forward and unbuttoned my polo, though only one button was fastened, as usual. She grasped it, pulled it out of my khakis, and then lifted it over my head. I held up my arms to allow her to remove it completely, and she dropped it onto the floor with her blouse and skirt.

Rachel didn’t hesitate, and her hands moved to my belt, which she unfastened, but didn’t remove. Next, she unbuttoned the waist button of my khakis, then drew down the zipper. She pushed them off my hips, and they slid down to my calves. I carefully stepped out of them, kicked them over to the growing pile of clothes, then took Rachel into my arms so we could kiss.

I very much enjoyed the smooth skin of her abdomen on mine, and carefully slipped one hand inside her panties, cupping her smooth, firm butt cheek. Our tongues tangled for a bit, then I deftly unhooked her bra using just one hand, which I then slid under the loose garment to cup her soft breast. I strummed her nipple with my thumb, causing Rachel to moan into my mouth. Mimicking what I was doing, she slipped one hand into my briefs and cupped my butt cheek, and put her other hand on my chest, covering my nipple with her palm.

After a few minutes, I broke the kiss, gently pushed the straps of Rachel’s bra from her shoulders, and she dropped her arms to allow it to fall away, revealing modest breasts which drooped slightly, capped with bright pink nipples which were just begging to be suckled. Not one to pass on that opportunity, I stepped forward, lowered my head, and suckled each breast for about a minute while Rachel rubbed the back of my head with her palm.

Next, I knelt in front of her, planted several kisses on her stomach, then hooked my fingers into her black lace panties, catching the first hint of her scent. I looked up for confirmation, and Rachel nodded slightly, so I drew down the panties, exposing her neatly trimmed triangle of blonde pubic hair and puffy labia.

Rachel stepped out of her panties, and I debated about the sheer black stockings, and decided to leave them on. I leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on Rachel’s mons, inhaling deeply of her musky scent. I stole a taste by giving her glistening labia a quick lick, which only heightened my desire to please her orally. I stood up and kissed Rachel, and went to take her in my arms, but she gently pushed my arms away, knelt down, hooked her fingers in my briefs, and carefully drew them down, exposing my semi-erect member. I stepped out of them and she tossed them onto the clothing pile.

I waited to see what would happen, and Rachel looked up at me, then leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on my glans before standing up, just inches from me.

“You want me to take you in my mouth, don’t you?” she asked with a slight smirk.

“I do,” I said, following my personal principle of saying what I wanted, “but only if that’s something you want to do.”

“I take it from the book it gets harder?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“And bigger?”

“Yes.”

“And you want me to swallow?”

“I do, but again, that’s up to you.”

“Get into bed,” she said, rolling her eyes and smiling, “and I’ll give you your blowjob!”

I took Rachel in my arms, pulled her naked body tightly against mine, then kissed her deeply. When I broke the kiss, I removed the decorative material that covered the mirror, then got into bed.

“A mirror?!” she gasped.

“You can watch when I pleasure you,” I said. “Most girls enjoy that.”

“It seems a bit strange, but I trust you.”

“You’re welcome to close your eyes,” I said with a smile. “I bet you don’t!”

Rachel got into bed and positioned herself so that she could rest her head on my stomach, facing my groin. I watched in the mirror as she tentatively grasped my semi-erect shaft with her hand, then began stroking gently. Blood flowed naturally to the right places, and I grew to my full length and girth.

“You’re bigger than what Doctor Bethany’s book said was average,” Rachel said.

“Size is only one factor,” I replied. “And not the most important.”

Rachel continued to stroke me for a few minutes, then planted a soft kiss on my glans. I watched in the mirror as she tentatively opened her mouth and touched her tongue to the tip of my glans, then slowly circled around it several times before she took it into her mouth and sucked gently. She had clearly taken Bethany’s description of how to pleasure a guy orally to heart, as she alternated between licking and sucking, while gently stroking me with her hand. A humorous thought crossed my mind, and that was to thank Bethany for the pleasure I’d received because of her writing!

Rachel never took more than two inches into her mouth, but that in no way made what she was doing less pleasurable. I relaxed, watched her in the mirror, and allowed the pleasure to build. After several minutes, Rachel moved her hand a bit faster, sucked a bit harder, and swirled her tongue more, bringing me ever closer to the pinnacle. A few more minutes passed before I twitched and reached the point of no return. I took a deep breath, held it, then blew it out hard as the first jet of cum spurted into Rachel’s mouth.