Chapter 7

Jake was busy in the kitchen when Mary arrived home. She went straight in and gave him a long, lingering smooch. He patted her on the arse and warned her not to disturb the pots. She volunteered to crack a bottle of vermouth for them and he agreed. He'd grown to enjoy a drink or two with her in the evening.

Mary left a glass for him on the bench and went into the bedroom to change. She put on a loose, cotton, men's shirt she knew he liked her wearing, and left off her bra. It fell down to her thighs, so she could leave off her knickers, too. Coming back out, he immediately noticed, like she hoped he would.

This was early home for her and she had much more energy than normal. The shirt brushing her bare skin made her feel playful and sexy. She brushed up to Jake and slipped a hand under his T-shirt.

"Had a good day, sugar?" she asked.

"Not bad, you?"

"Quieter, thank God! Whatcha cooking?"

"Thai chicken."

"Sounds good, and dessert?

"Fruit salad, whipped cream and sex!"

"Even better!" she grinned, "can I stir something?"

"Uh, not that! Not yet!" Jake said, backing away from her questing fingers. "What's got you warmed up?"

"You! You did say to keep my motor running?"

"Horny bitch!" he said and smooched her again.

Mary withdrew from his arms and went and sat in Jake's rocking chair. It was facing the open kitchen door so she was able to watch him cook their dinner. They chatted about some ideas he had for the garden and she asked when he was ever going to be satisfied with it. Halfway through the subject, Mary noticed him looking at her grinning. His eyes weren't on her face, however, but lower down. It was then she realised he had a perfect view up her shirt to her naked pussy.

"You like?" she grinned, cheekily, while opening her legs slowly.

"Haha! Like that movie with that guy Michael Douglas and that chick does the leg open and..."

"That's the one, the famous beaver shot! And when did women become chicks?"

"When I'm preoccupied and forget to self-censor?"

"Quite glib with the jargon, now, aren't we? Hey, remember this?" Mary placed a hand between her thighs and lightly stroked her fingers through her ginger thatch. She looked up at Jake, who smiled. His eyes fixed on what she was doing.

"Sharmila?" he said, and she nodded slowly.

"This still a turn on?"

"Hell, yeah!"

"You think about her?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Curious. You'd like me to masturbate for you, Jake?"

"Depends. Does it do anything for you to have me watch?"

"Not really. Not used to an audience. I get to the point where I want you to take over. I don't think I can get there on my own. At least not with you staring at me. Too much of a distraction."

"On your own?"

"Haha! What do you think I did before meeting you? My fingers were my only friend, baby."

"Every night?"

"No. Maybe a coupla times a week. Just when I was in the mood."

"We fuck more often than that."

"I know."

"So you're in the mood more often now?"

"Honey, I could take you two or three times a day! You've no fucking idea how horny I've become."

"Ya think? Sitting there, legs spread, with your fingers up your twat and you don't think I've noticed what a hot bitch you are?" he laughed.

"Huh, if you knew what I sometimes dream about waiting for clients..."

"Yeah? What?"

"Haha. I dream that you come through the door instead and fuck me over my desk!"

"Careful! That sounds a hot idea. I might take you up on it."

"No, Jake. Leave me something to fantasise about! If you did that I'd have to come up with something else. You finished in there?"

"In a minute. Light a candle?"

"Sure. Where would you like me to put it?"

"Ho! On the table for preference. I wouldn't want you to set fire to yourself."

"Good point! I'm not that into jamming things up me in any case. Unless they happen to be your tongue or cock."

"Vibrators?"

"Too sensitive!" Mary stood and placed a scented candle on the table. She lit it, then dimmed down the light.

Jake came out with dinner and they sat, close together, at Mary's dropleaf table. His free hand rested on her bare upper thigh. She knew he knew it turned her on, that casual touch, and he was doing it to keep her on edge.

"You're amazing, I missed you," he murmered.

"Me too," she replied, and accepted a gentle kiss. "Jake?" she said, her voice barely a whisper, "Y'know, I'd never thought this was possible until I met you."

"What?"

"Being this much in love. This," she swept a hand around the table, "the sex, the tenderness..."

"You've told me all this before."

"I know! Can't I repeat myself?"

"Sure."

"Jake?"

"Mm?"

"How old do you think Sharmila is?"

"I dunno. Hard to tell. Maybe thirty? Why do you ask?"

"25. You're 17 years older."

"So?"

"And I'm 13 years older than you." Jake shrugged. He couldn't see the point in the comparison. "When I'm 60, you'll be 47. When I'm getting the pension, you'll still be younger than I am now."

"So what, baby? You hear me complaining?"

"No, but have you really thought about that? You, in the prime of midlife with an old bag as a partner?"

"Everything will be still working I hope?"

"You hope! But I don't think you've really considered that, have you?"

"Probably not," he shrugged, "but I'm not that big at looking too far ahead. Ten year's ahead? Who gives a fuck about ten year's ahead except a property developer?"

"Sharmila would be 35 and probably sexier than she is now?"

"So what, Mary? What's this all about?"

"I can't give you children?"

"I know... Mary, what's wrong?"

"I'm... I'm scared, baby..." Her voiced came out choked with emotion. Jake immediately threw his arm around her and drew her into his chest. Tears came in a flood and she clung onto Jake as a drowning victim to a lifebuoy. "Fuck, damn, shit!" she suddenly exclaimed and banged the table with her fist. "This is stupid!"

"Mmm?"

"Here I am, given the best chance of my life, and I'm trying to blow it. I need to wake up and smell the flowers."

"What's got you worked up all of a sudden, lover?"

"I can't tell you," she said, "but it's someone we both know."

"Sharmila?"

"I never said that!"

"You don't have to. The fog's clearing."

"I really can't say any more, Jake, I'm sorry!"

"I know. So, are we going to grab dessert and adjourn to the bedroom?" he asked, moving his hand a little higher on her thigh.

"Oh yes, babe!" she replied, running her hand over his chest. "Can you do me a favour and take off your shirt?" Jake obliged, and she resumed stroking his chest.

"Babe?" he said, kissing her, "you're going to get looked after well tonight!"

"Darling, I hoped I would!"

Jake took her by the hand and pulled her to her feet. He patted her lightly on the bare bottom in the direction of the bedroom. He told her he'd fetch dessert and wouldn't be a minute.

Sharmila lay face down on her single bed clad only in a pair of white panties. She still had her teeth clenched to the pillow so she wouldn't cry out. She thought she might be able to tease out another spasm and her hand was still buried beneath her crotch. She rubbed and squeezed, rubbed and squeezed, but she appeared to be done. Reluctantly she opened her eyes and released the pillowcase.

Her pussy was still warm. Rolling onto her back, she moved her hands to her rounded tummy and stared at the ceiling, revelling in the wonderful relaxed feeling an orgasm always gave her.

Sharmila looked down at her stomach and thought of the times Jake had splattered his semen over her. It was always a little colder than her skin and likened it to having damp sugar sprinkled over her. It looked like cake icing in any case and thought that, if she smeared it over herself now, she'd look like a boston bun.

The taste, though, was bitter and salty and she didn't like it on her lips and tongue. Jake had wanted her to suck him, but she couldn't, it would've made her gag.

Jake had also wanted to fuck her, she remembered, and couldn't see the difference between that and true love. A lover would respect her and realise how hard it was for her to have intercourse. She knew Jake had been frustrated, but he would've come round in the end. They could've worked on the problem together, with him, perhaps, teasing her with his knob until she felt she could accept him completely.

Sharmila understood from childhood that someday she'd have to give up her treasure to her man. It would've been a wonderful journey, a test of true love, but not in the way it was stolen from her. Jake could never understand the savagery, the violation, the disrepect for her as a human being, that had accompanied that theft. It'd had been her gift to offer, not her husnad's to steal. Jake had described it as rape. But it was more than that. Her husband had deprived her of a piece of her humanity.

Jake had been close to understanding. He'd slipped under her guard as no man had ever done before. Jake had given her hope and it was something she should've cherished at the time. Instead, she'd let others come between them.

Sharmila had no way to find him. His little apartment had been sold, along with the building, and all his things had been cleared out. She hoped he'd set up a business somewhere else with his money, but he hadn't so far. He seems to have disappeared from sight.

She had hoped he would seek her out. She hadn't made it easy for him, but he was persistant and she was sure he'd have found her if he really wanted to. She was much better emotionally, now, and she felt she'd give him a better reception than the last time they met.

Closing her eyes, she could almost feel his arms around her, his sweet body pressed to her back. She held the feeling for as long as possible until she drifted off to sleep.

Mary bent and kissed his limp and soggy dick as a thank you to the pleasure it'd just given her. It had pumped so much up her that cum seeped out between her legs and onto the clean sheet. It had been a brave performance on the part of its owner, because she'd demanded so much of it over the past two hours.

The owner in question was snoring contentedly in her arms, having been thoroughly exhausted. They'd tried all the possibilities and some that weren't in the handbook. She'd even suggested giving 69 another try, but the same problem existed from last time. She couldn't keep rhythm when his tongue hit her clitoris and she'd the urge to bite him. It was a natural reaction to clench her teeth when on the verge, and she was grateful he'd been so understanding.

Mary had buzzed with sexual energy tonight and could've gone on longer if he'd been up to it. She'd even considered masturbation after he'd flaked, but she still preferred to be alone when she did it. Even though he was asleep, she found it hard to concentrate.

He'd managed two good fucks and a slow one to finish. That was pretty good going for a 42 year old inside two hours. The last one had been for her because, by then, he was beginning to lose interest. He'd wanted to go to sleep, but she'd coaxed him to another hard on and he'd managed, just, a very weak cum. It was special for her, also, because it had been missionary and his mouth had rarely left hers. It was an act of pure, unselfish, love for her and tears had welled up at the emotion of it all.

Afterwards, they lay draped and tangled together whispering endearments and telling each other how perfect it'd been. She'd dribbled all over his leg but he was too tired to care. They could shower in the morning. Jake had been too fucked to get out of bed.

Sharmila still nagged at her mind. Tonight, though, she'd managed to chase her away for two solid hours.

She moved his head so she could snuggle closer. He rumbled something in his sleep and she smiled, manuevred his head onto her breasts, and waited for sleep to come.

Catherine Sullivan and Mary had known each other longer than she could remember. They'd met up at varsity, Cath had been a political science student and she, already turned on by psychology.

They'd wound up fellow counsellors for Rape Crisis before Cath had moved on to drug and alcohol addiction, while she, relationships. Cath had always been there for her, though, as a sounding board for those complicated issues and for stuff that came up in her life.

She'd supported Mary through her difficult divorce and she, Cath, through her occasional messy break ups. Cath had bounced around a bit between lovers before settling on Mike. They'd been together 14 years, now, and neither felt like moving on.

Cath's daughter, she insisted, had pulled them together in the end. Michaela Sky was 11, now, and pretty and smart like her mother.

Mary had a couple of hours in the morning owing to cancellations and walked the half block to see her. Cath worked for a 'private rehabilitation provider, ' which, fortunately, left her pretty much alone. Cath found some time between clients and they talked over coffee in her interview room.

"Right, Mare," grinned her friend, "so you're this old bag who kind of got used to the idea of being single when, 'poof, ' this bloke comes along? I'm right so far?"

"Except for the 'old' part, bitch!" laughed Mary.

"Now this guy appears to be prefect, except, well, he's got an ex, right? This ex is a babe with tits out to here. She's young, exotic, sexy... maybe has a few issues, but, hey, don't we all, right?" Cath looked straight at Mary, winking. Mary looked away, blushing bright red. "This guy, though, shit, Mary, he really comes and fucks up your life. He's attentive, affectionate, good around the home, undemanding and supportive, and fucks your brains out like you've never had it before, ok so far?"

"Cat? Stop it!"

"Mary, honey, at your age, how many more chances do you think you're going to have?"

"I know, Cath, but..."

"And over the fucking flower garden? Are you kidding me? You fucked over the geraniums? Mare, that's sounds so fucking hot!"

"I know. It was!" Mary stifled a laugh.

"You're right, Mary, you've no right to be this happy. You pass him over to me on weekends and public holidays. I'll send Mike to the shops, and..."

"Cath, you don't understand. It's not that... it's nothing to do with him. He's perfect, he's... too perfect. I've never felt like this since... I'm so much in love with him it drives me insane. I can't think straight, I'm going to wake up, and..."