Chapter 3: Chellie

If this were an ordinary love story, it would have ended already. But Freya is not an ordinary lover, she is a goddess, so ... the journey continues.

Another Saturday, a few months later, we were relaxing on our bed before going to sleep. I had managed to talk her out of her clothes with difficulty and was lying next to her, silently stroking her naked, pregnant tummy, and feeling loved and loving.

You could probably guess, she wanted me to do her another favor. You would be correct. That 'look, ' the one where a husband can't possibly do anything right, unless the wife tells him exactly what to do and when to do it, was on her face. "Please, Johnny, I need a favor from you." She was using her 'little girl voice' and I had not a chance in hell of saying no. Just to be sure, she grabbed my penis and stroked it until it got hard.

"Sweetheart, I could never say no when you ask nicely. What do you need?" That got me nowhere.

"Can't tell you, yet. You have to promise." The stroking continued and then she pulled me towards her and lifted her outside leg so she could slide me into her. "You'll like it." Her hips started their 3-D action and I was lost.

"How can I refuse?"

"Yes, but do you promise?" The motion was faster and my breathing started to get out of control. "I promise. What do you need?"

To be truthful, I should have mentioned that I was also stroking her magic button by now, and she was breathing as deeply as I was. We finished each other and I told her that I loved her while we rested and our breathing returned to normal, before she continued.

"I have a friend and I want you to do to her what you did to me."

The surprise of the request left me speechless for a second, then I had to interrupt. "Freya, sweetheart, I'm married to you. I can't just cast spells on other women and make them love me. What will the neighbors think? What about you — won't you get jealous?"

Her soft, beautiful fingers touched my lips and stopped me. "I've thought about this a lot. Just let me give you my reasons." I opened my mouth and inhaled. "And don't interrupt!" I stayed quiet.

"First, I want this for you, since soon I won't be able to satisfy you. The doctor tells me that I won't be able to have sex for a few weeks before the baby is born, and then for at least six weeks after. I don't want you to have to go that long without someone to love you, because I love you."

"Second, I want this for her. She has never known what real love feels like. She has never even kissed a man, because her parents were so strict, and she is practically on fire with desire, but doesn't know what to do. You have to help her, she is my friend."

"Finally, I want this for me, so I have someone to help with the baby when it comes." She gave me her sly smile then, "And, I understand that sometimes a woman can help another woman with her desires when she is too sore to have a man."

"Oh. One last thing: she is only 21, beautiful, and a virgin, and I want to give that virginity to you, because I could not give you mine. Maybe you will even let me watch sometime, when you make love?" Could you say yes to that request — seduce a girl, possibly in front of your wife, and break your vows? Could you say no — a sweet, 21 year old virgin needed my help, and my wife was asking me to help her? What a dilemma. What could I do? Well, I had promised my wife I would help.

During that week, I learned about Chellie. Freya told me they had gone to college together. Freya was like an older sister to her in the dorm, because Chellie was years younger than most of the rest of the girls there. She also came from out of the country, but Freya was a little bit evasive about exactly where Chellie came from.

What the heck — with that name, I figured France. I built this image in my mind of a small, sexy French girl snuggling in my arms. Her family were very strict Catholics, so she'd had no interactions with men until she got to college, and she was too shy then to do anything about her desires. Freya and Chellie talked about everything, all those nights they were stuck in the dorm, with no dates (because they were both shy).

Apparently, this Chellie was some kind of genius, having graduated from college and gotten her Ph.D. degrees in business and economics before the age of 19. At this point, she had been out of college two years and had earned about $5 million through various deals, starting from practically nothing. She was due for supper at 7:00 on Friday night.

Waiting by the door, I was practically salivating. A young, beautiful, rich, French girl wanted to have carnal relations with me, and my wife was helping! When the doorbell rang, I jumped to answer it. My jaw practically hit the floor when I saw who was there.

She was young. She was lovely to look at. But she wasn't French. Her skin was almost the color of copper and she was barely five feet tall. She had on a loose cotton shirt with some kind of embroidered animals on it, and a pair of very curvy jeans. I just stood there, speechless. Fortunately, Freya showed up and introduced us. "Chellie, this is Johann B. Rocker, my sweet husband. Johnny, this is Ixchel Xtabay, my college friend, from Guatemala."

[Author's note: From here on, anything mentioned about Mayan people and culture is a fabrication of my imagination. I have tried to make the names correct, but the stories of the people and their gods are totally invented. If anyone knows the truth and is offended, I apologize. Put the errors down to my failings and try to enjoy the story anyway.]

"Pleased to meet you, Johnny. All my friends call me Chellie, because Ixchel is Mayan and practically impossible for anyone with a normal mouth to pronounce."

I smiled and nodded, still unable to form coherent thoughts. Freya showed her where she could sit and offered her a drink. I followed Freya into the kitchen and tried to hold a conversation in whispers. "You told me she was French!"

"No. You assumed that and I wanted you to be surprised."

"Well, I am! What is she anyway?"

"She's Mayan. And she's sweet. And you promised."

"But I've never dated an Indian. I've never even wanted to date an Indian."

"Good! Because Chellie is from Guatemala. That's nowhere near India."

"You know what I mean. She's not white."

"So what? You and I are not white, we're pink, except in the summer, when we are partly tanned. Johnny, you need to do this for me!"

I'm dumb, right? The first rule of husbandry is never argue with your wife unless you like to lose and spend a week on the couch. The second rule is like unto it: especially if you're right, don't argue; if you're wrong, shut your mouth and take your punishment like a man. I shut my mouth. We went back into the living room and sipped our drinks and chatted. (Did I forget to mention the drinks? Freya made them while I was losing the argument in the kitchen. Incredible woman, Freya; she can win an argument and make drinks at the same time. I can't even remember to mention them.)

By the time the oven dinged, I was listening to Chellie's stories with wonder and great attention. Her accent caught my ears and sounded as sweet as a bronze bell. Her intellect caught my brain and felt like electricity. She was small, but perfectly formed, with glossy black hair and brilliant black eyes, and more curves than a roller coaster; her beauty caught my eyes. And I have to admit she was sexy, and that caught my, well, I 'd better stop there and get on with the story.

During dinner, we talked about what we were doing. I was writing an operating system for the company's new computer product line. Freya was finding the best possible insurance company and writing a company handbook for the rest of the employees. Chellie was in the middle of three different deals that stood to make her millions more, and was explaining how to manipulate a deal so everyone got what they thought was the best deal possible. She was fascinating, pretty, intelligent, and (yes, Freya) sweet. As dessert wound down, she became more and more nervous.

Freya reached out to take her hand, mostly to stop it shaking and spilling her coffee. "It's OK Chellie. Johnny promised to help, and I'll be here so nothing can go wrong. You can stop at any time you feel uncomfortable, Johnny promised." (I never promised any such thing, but I would stop if she asked, and Freya knew it.) "There's no point in being nervous. Let's go into the living room and get comfortable." So we moved to the living room, leaving perfectly good coffee and several unfinished pieces of delicious pie on the table. Freya dimmed the lights and put on some folk-type music that I didn't recognize.

Chellie must have recognized it, because she smiled, and it was as if Freya needed to dim the lights again. What is it about a woman's smile? A smile can change the plainest Jane into Jane Mansfield. A really happy woman is just about the most beautiful thing on earth, possibly only after a really happy, pregnant woman. Freya settled Chellie on the sofa, and pointed right next to her, so I sat. She sat on the sofa's arm, within reach, but not in the way. "Why don't you start with simple kissing? Johnny, show her a good kiss."

So, I did. I kissed her. She tasted faintly of coffee and pie, and even more faintly of tropical spices. Her body was moving slightly to the music, almost a micro-dance. Her breath was soft and warm and her lips were full and tender. I did notice that, with my eyes closed (for the kiss), her skin color was impossible to tell in the dark. We practiced short kisses. We worked on kissing eyes, noses, lips, ears, chins, and hair. She made a soft smooching sound that I enjoyed, whenever she released her lips. I was feeling ready to proceed, but held back, because I didn't really know her. But I was still surprised when Freya tapped my shoulder. "Come on Romeo. Break time," she whispered.

Opening my eyes, I saw that Chellie still had hers closed, and was swaying gently to some internal dance that only she knew. Freya took things under control, again. "Chellie. Break time, Chellie."

When Chellie opened her eyes, I looked into them again and they weren't black. They were incredibly, darkly brown, like the best blend of espresso. And they were deep, like a jungle lake, where you can't see the bottom. (I looked it up later and decided they were deep like a cenoté, a kind of pool used for water and sacrifices by the Mayas.)

I looked again at Chellie's skin and it wasn't like copper. It was more like antique bronze, smooth, with a lovely dark patina, a sheen and depth that only can be made by years of polishing and weathering. The color varied, the texture was surprising, and I could have spent hours studying it.

Freya extended her hand and almost lifted Chellie from the couch, then they walked back to the bathroom together. They made an interesting pair: Freya tall, almost white blonde, with shoulder-length hair, a tiny butt, big boobs, and a baby hanging out in front; Chellie short, with a waterfall of glossy black hair almost to her waist, a slim build, but with great curves and an ass built like ... never mind. They were both beautiful, but could have been extremes in every other way. I knew every part of Freya, and loved them all; but I was looking forward to getting to know more parts of Chellie.

Freya came back first. "Great start, lover. You had her panting with just a few kisses; of course I remember your kisses." She stopped and gave me one, just for a reminder. "Are you ready for the next course?"

"Are you sure? Are you really sure?"

She smiled at me. "Of course. I asked you to do it, remember? Now, when she comes back, start the kissing again, then do that magic with your hands that makes a blouse disappear. I just bet she will love that."

The door to the bathroom opened, Freya moved back to the sofa arm, and Chellie walked back in the room and sat next to me, smiling. At least she didn't look too unhappy about being forced to practice kissing with an old, married man.

When we started again, Freya stood and walked to the stereo to change the music. What she put on was dark, throbbing, and latin sounding. It had Chellie humming and vibrating again almost immediately. Figuring that waiting, at least for a little while, was a good idea, I just kissed her for a bit. After a few minutes, when I thought she was totally rapt in the feeling of lips on lips, I started unbuttoning her blouse, carefully, as Freya had said. I moved my lips around her face, finding hot lips, a tiny nose, closed eyes, and ears that looked red enough to start blowing steam. When I was sure I had her attention on my kisses, I opened her blouse and lifted her bra. Then, I put my hands to work on her breasts.

What can I say about breasts? I was accustomed to Freya's, and they were more than a handful. Chellie's were tiny, but almost all nipple, and very sensitive. When I first touched them, the nipples started to grow. Then her body started moving and either humming or moaning; she must have liked it. When I put my lips to her breasts, her body started shaking and she cried out almost immediately, "Oh, Dios mio!" Just kissing her breasts, and not very long, had brought her an orgasm.

Since it had worked with Freya, I wrapped my arms around Chellie, and held her through her climax and recovery. I did notice that Chellie reverted to Spanish when she was stressed or excited. The first words out of her mouth after her eyes opened and saw me were, "Gracias. Thank you, Johnny." As a journeyman gentleman, I replied, "El gusto es mio, Chellie. You're welcome."

Her eyes lifted at this point to Freya, who was sitting patiently on the arm of the couch. "Freya, my friend. You told me, and I didn't believe you. This was wonderful. And your Johnny, he is wonderful, too. Are you not jealous?"

That was it for the kissing. Chellie blushed, but adjusted her bra and buttoned her blouse right there in front of me, then Freya and Chellie started girl talk, and when I left, about fifteen minutes later, I don't think either one of them noticed. I cleaned up the dinner, turned off the extra lights, and settled in bed to read. Freya would call if she needed me.

About an hour later, I heard the front door shut and the latch click. Freya appeared in the bedroom door seconds after that, smiling. "Johnny, you did a good job. She had a great time. I'm sure that I can convince her to come back next week for some more practice." As she started towards the bed, her clothes began disappearing. By the time she reached the bed, they were gone. "Watching you two made me very hot! And I want to thank you for helping my friend." She took my book and threw it away, pulled the covers off me, and flipped off the light. Then she spend a large part of the night thanking me, very well. I suspected that she enjoyed it, too, based on her moans and occasional screams.

Most days the following week, Freya had lunch with Chellie, and I ate alone. She made up for this by telling me what they talked about, later, when we were in bed making love. I never would have suspected that women said such sexy things to each other. Or, maybe, it was just that the words were coming out of Freya's sexy lips. At any rate, they made me hard, and when Freya helped me reduce the swelling, I could tell that the conversations started her motor, too. By Friday, I was ready to help Chellie all I could.

Standing there under the porch light, it was impossible to tell from her smile whether Chellie was scared or excited. She had on what looked like an embroidered cream colored silk blouse and a long dark skirt with similar decorations. I held the door open and offered her a hand of welcome. Perhaps she was trembling, slightly. So I escorted her to the sofa and offered her a drink. "Please, Johnny, some wine tonight."

Freya had it waiting in the kitchen when I went for it. "Take everything slow, Johnny. She's ready, but scared."

Now, I knew that much, but a husband needs to let his wife feel like she is in charge, especially when she is. (She knows she is in charge and just wants to train him correctly, but this is all off track. Maybe I'm a little nervous, too?)

When I brought back her wine, we sat, apart, and chatted about nothing. I asked how her week had gone. She asked about mine. Neither one of us were exactly paying much attention to the conversation. Fortunately, Freya called us to dinner before long.

Dinner was delicious. There was white wine with the fish course, rosé with the pasta, a darker red with the meat, and sherry with the dessert. Chellie's eyes were slightly glazed by the time it was over. "Can we go practice some more kissing, now?" she asked me. Freya and I each took one of Chellie's hands and guided her back to the couch. I noticed her hips moving slightly, in a very sexy manner, as she settled into the couch.

"Are you going to make love to me tonight?" she asked. She had a little girl voice, too. "Freya has told me it is even more wonderful than what I felt last week."

"We'll see, Chellie. There's no rush. When you are sure you are ready, we can. If you are not sure, we can do something else, or go slowly." I tried to smile comfortingly at her, but I'm afraid it came out as more lustful than comforting. "But I won't do anything unless you ask me. I have to be sure this is what you want."

"I want, Johnny."

"Then, just say what you want. If you feel uncomfortable, we will stop. If you want more, we can move forward. I never want to hurt you Chellie; Freya doesn't want to see you hurt, either. We are here because we care about you." (You, dear reader, probably don't believe this, but I was starting to believe it. Because Freya cared for this little girl, I came to care, too.)

A deep sigh, and she relaxed back onto the sofa, still holding both our hands. "Please kiss me, Johnny. I want to feel your lips and breath on me again."

Letting go of her hand, I put my left arm around her neck and started, slowly, with the kissing. Freya kept hold of her other hand, I noticed, but I wasn't sure why. After a few minutes kissing, my lips had moved to her ear, so her lips were near my ear and she whispered, "Touch my breasts, Johnny. They feel so good when you touch them."

The kissing continued, but my spare hand moved down, over her blouse and began caressing her breasts. I must have been doing something right, because Chellie moaned and sighed. "Touch them. Take my blouse off and touch them directly."

This took a little arrangement on my part. I removed my hand from behind her neck, continued the caresses with the other, while my now free hand worked on her buttons. When the buttons were open all the way down, my hands found the front clasp on her bra and opened it. Her sighed, "Yes" convinced me that this was what she wanted, so I moved the blouse and bra off her shoulders and returned to stroking, now on her uncovered cones. They must have been volcanic, because just a few minutes of this and her body shook. She let out a quiet "Dios mio!" and then relaxed; it was a small orgasm and she seemed to enjoy it.

Freya helped out here, by using her spare hand to slide the clothes down Chellie's arms, and swapping hands to get them off without ever letting go completely. Then a soft pull on Chellie's arm helped her lay down on the couch. From this position, I could no longer reach her mouth, so I resumed stroking her wonderfully naked upper body. When my fingers got back to her stiff nipples, I barely heard her whisper, "Kiss them, Johnny." Since she obviously enjoyed it, and since I could reach them with my lonely lips, I obliged. Soft, hard, dry, wet, warm, cool, I stimulated her as much as I could. I could feel her hips begin to bounce underneath me, but I wasn't hurrying anything: I had promised.

Just a few minutes of oral stimulation elicited another, louder, "Dios mio!" from Chellie and another storm of quivers and sighs. I slowed everything down while she relaxed and waited until she was ready again.

There was still doubt in my mind about her readiness for the whole enchilada (you know, sex), when I heard her soft, little girl voice again. "Johnny, will you take me now? Freya has told me how wonderful it is. Please take me Johnny?"

My lips worked on her sensitive nipples some more while my hands loosened and lowered her skirt. She had on a tiny thong brief, and it was soaked with her passions, so I pulled it down and got both the thong and skirt completely off. Freya squeezed her hand as some kind of signal, at the same time she smiled at me, and Chellie spread her legs wide, one off the edge of the couch, the other leaning against the couch back. What part of my mind that was still working, calculated that, if her breasts were so sensitive, her labia, and especially her clitoris, would be even more sensitive. I wanted her to have as much pleasure as she could stand, and I was in no hurry to push her into sex with me, so I started a gentle path down her stomach, kissing everywhere I could reach, until I found her fur. It was thick and dark like her hair, and was drenched in her juices, so it was very glossy right now. It smelled wonderful.

She wasn't the same as Freya. Freya always smelled like the sea: fresh, clean, tangy. Chellie smelled like the jungle: warm, secret, spicy. It was obvious that she was ready, wet and panting for me, but I wanted to taste her and enjoy her aperitif a little more before I got to the main course. My gentle licks on her labia made her hips sway more. My caresses on her clitoris made her breaths get deeper and more ragged. When I licked inside her vagina, she almost slammed her pelvis into my face. I moved back up to her clitoris and proceeded to drive her over the cliff again. She was huffing and puffing with her eyes squeezed shut, so I gave her a break and quickly took off my clothes before snuggling in between her legs again.

Looking up at Chellie's dark, angelic face, I could see Freya there, too, squeezing her hand. Freya smiled at me and nodded twice, so I moved gently up Chellie's still shivering body and kissed her lips again. "Do you want me to stop, now?"

Her hips moved again, and her legs spread even further apart, inviting me inside. Freya reached down between us and guided me until I was positioned properly, then she nodded again and I pushed, gently, inside. My white skin was contrasted against her dark skin, but where we met, we were both bright pink and wet. I tried to go carefully, but Chellie was having none of this slow forward motion now; she cried, "No! Please, Johnny! Please take me. Take all of me. I need to feel it, Johnny. Take me, please?" Then she pushed her hips hard up against me and I broke into her. I could see Freya's light hand squeezing Chellie's dark one, and I could feel Freya's other hand stroking my back.

Right then, I felt something unexpected — I felt Chellie's pain and her pleasure. I looked up at Freya and could see in her eyes that she felt it, too. Chellie moaned, "Johnny, I feel you. I feel you inside me and I feel me around you. ¿Como és possible? How can that be? And I feel Freya holding my hand, and I feel my hand holding Freya's. I mean, I feel like Freya's hand is mine and what it feels, I feel."

The pleasure, the pain, the hands, the skin to skin touching, especially the skin inside Chellie's hot body, all made me go crazy for a few minutes, and I started pumping into Chellie. The others must have felt it too, because all three of us started to pant like thirsty dogs, and Chellie and I just started slamming into each other as fast as we could. It was over in minutes and, when I had my mind back again, I was laying on top of Chellie, my penis still inside her, her hard nipples poking into my stomach, arms around each other, unable to move, except for occasional aftershocks.

Freya was leaning on my back, trying to support herself on one arm, looking as if she had felt our passion, and climaxes, too. That was a funny thing, because I distinctly remembered what my orgasm felt like, draining my strength and my seed; but I could remember what it felt like to have something inside me as my body squeezed and shuddered and my blood rushed through every part of me, filling me completely. That must have been what Chellie's orgasm felt like; very curious.

Freya was the first to revive. She pulled herself off of the two of us and disappeared into the bathroom. When she returned with damp washcloths, she helped me to sit, then stand. One of the cloths was used to quickly sponge me off, and she handed me my clothes, silently. The second cloth was used, gently, on Chellie, to remove the blood and semen from around her abused vagina. Another cloth cooled her skin and wiped our sweat from the rest of her body. A blanket that Freya had stashed behind the couch was pulled out and quickly covered Chellie's naked, panting form. (I did notice that it was the same blanket I had used to cover Freya the night she gave me her clitoris; she was always a romantic.)

I was the first to speak: "What the hell was that? I could swear that I felt Chellie's orgasm." I barely had the brains left to pull on my pants and start on my shirt. Doubtless, buttons were beyond me, still. Freya must have felt it, too, because she nodded at me: "I felt both your orgasms. It was intense."

Combining her own multiple orgasms with losing her virginity, plus putting herself under my spell and feeling my orgasm while she had hers had made Chellie almost comatose. After several minutes, she could barely move her mouth and whisper. We both moved closer to be able to hear her. "Freya told me I should give myself to you, Johnny. I'm glad I did. But I never expected what I felt at the end. Was that because I belong to you, now?"

A head shake from Freya and a quiet "No way!" from me confirmed to all of us that something unusual had happened. My lovely wife went into the kitchen and returned with a tall glass of ice water for each of us, and we sat, near each other, but not touching, on the sofa.

Almost simultaneously, we all spoke, "We need to figure this out." Or words to that effect.

First came Freya. "Chellie, my friend, and now my husband's love, I know a little bit. I don't doubt that you are now his property, as am I. I have felt that warm, much loved feeling that I see in your eyes. That is the effect of the spell he casts. And you will feel that again and again, because he takes good care of his property." She smiled lovingly at me, then she winked and leered at Chellie.

We both waited for more. When no one else spoke, I threw in what little I knew. "The spell has never let me feel other people's feelings before."

Her head jerked; Freya had thought of something, but she wasn't very willing to share it, yet.

"Sweetheart, you know something. You have to tell us. This is important for all three of us."

Slowly, she opened her mouth and inhaled. "I have thought, sometimes, that I knew what other people were thinking or feeling. Of course, I always decided it was my imagination, people can't really read other people's minds, or feel other people's feelings."

"Of course! That's what makes you so good at your job. You can not only sympathize and empathize with others inside your own mind, you must be able, at least sometimes, to actually feel and understand their thoughts and feelings." I really believed Freya could know what I was feeling and thinking, sometimes. My brain and heart both knew that it would be impossible for her to know me as well as she did unless she could hear my thoughts and sense my feelings.

There was a soft sigh from between us. Chellie was trying to decide how to say what she wanted. "My new love, Chellie. You are part of us now. You shouldn't hold out on what you think we need to know." I urged her. It was short of an order, because I didn't want to push her, yet. But we, all of us, needed to figure out what had happened. And, it seemed, that each of us had a small part of the puzzle to share.

She sighed again. "I have thought that one of the reasons I can make the deals that I do is that I can sometimes give orders to the people in the room. I concentrate very hard and think what I want one of the people to do, and they just do it. It doesn't work all the time, but it happens too often to be coincidence."

Turning to Freya, I asked, "Have you ever had a similar feeling?"

"Never." Freya smiled at me, gently. "I can sort of feel what they are thinking, or feeling, but I have never had a person do something I wanted them to do. Especially not just because I thought at them. That's crazy!" She looked sheepishly at Chellie. "I mean, I don't believe it has ever happened to me. And, if you weren't my friend, I would doubt your sanity. Since I have known you a long time, I'm sure you are telling the truth, I just have trouble believing it. Sorry, Chellie."

"And I have never had the feeling that I knew what another person was thinking or feeling, at least until now," Chellie answered her. "But now, I can't possibly doubt it." She closed her eyes for a moment and Freya's hand lifted, all by itself. Freya looked astonished. When Chellie opened her eyes, Freya was able to lower her hand. "It seems that I can still do it," Chellie said softly, "But I can't feel anything right now."