Helena (12 page)

Simone
continued, punctuating her story with occasional sips of wine.

"The other
thing was, of course, that I was also deeply aroused watching him
cram his cock into the girl, listening to her heavy panting. The
main reason, I suspect, that I was never detected, is that he was
so obliviously happy. I crept out of the room unnoticed and went to
sit in a cafe. I was waiting for the girl.

"She didn't
take much enticing to come into the cafe and take a lemonade. I
explained who I was and what I wanted. I knew that my husband had
to go to visit his brother a couple of hundred kilometres away and
that he wouldn't be back until about eleven. I told the girl that
she must come to the house and do exactly what I said the next
night. Of course, she didn't want to, she told me that she loved my
husband and that they wanted to run away together. She was so young
this girl. But she relented, especially when I threatened her with
going to see her parents. She knew that I would do it even if it
meant the destruction of my relationship with my husband, his
shame, the loss of his job.

"Then I went
back to my husband, taking great pleasure in listening to him lie
about what he had done, less angry at his betrayal, more
disappointed with the pathetic state of our relationship. How on
earth could all of our youthful love lead to this!

"The next
night the girl came at the time that I had instructed. She looked
very beautiful wearing a short tennis skirt and a plain cotton tee
shirt. I was so excited. I had never had sex with a woman, but like
you, I had dreamed about it very much. My heart raced as I talked
to her, her beautiful pouty lips rejecting any kindness, as she
sulked feeling indignant at being trapped in such a situation.

"But I am a
clever woman. I can be very manipulative. Also, she was still
frightened of my going to her parents and telling them what I saw.
I told her, too, that I had taken photographs, which I hadn't. I
commanded her to stand in front of me and then to lift up her
tennis skirt. She lifted it up slowly, tentatively, but eventually
high enough so I could gaze at her delightful skimpy panties. I
could feel my skin prickling as I reached out my hand and grabbed
her sex in the palm of my hand.

"She shuddered
violently, resisting my touch, but I persuaded her to open her legs
out for me again. This time I sneaked my finger onto her clitoris
and began stroking her. She was a very sensual girl this, I could
see how my husband could be attracted to somebody who was so
sexually precocious. Against her will and her fear, I could see it
was arousing her, her lips curling with the pleasure I was bringing
to her. She splayed her legs out a little further, to feel the
impact of my hand on her all the more.

"I got her to
lie down on the sofa and removed her panties. She had a beautiful
thatch of thick black hair. Inserting my finger where my husband's
cock had been the previous day, I moved my mouth onto her clitoris
and pleasured her, as I did with you today, with my tongue.

"I don't think
my husband had ever brought as much pleasure to her as I was doing
that day, as I was running my tongue over her, and then taking her
clitoris between my teeth, nipping it gently. She came almost
instantly, a tremulous cry emitting from the juicy bud of her
mouth, changing her attitude to me completely. After that I could
do whatever I wanted to the compliant girl, and I mean
everything.

"I took her
into the bedroom and showed her how to lick me, suck me, eat me,
when to apply the right amount of pressure, how to maintain a
steady rhythm. She was a very quick learner.

"My plan was
working brilliantly. After she had pleasured me and I had satisfied
her again, I cooked a meal for her with enough aphrodisiacal
elements that she was excited within moments. A few glasses of
carefully chosen wine meant that she had lost any remaining
inhibitions.

"We lay in bed
caressing each other, she sucking on my aroused breasts, me
flicking my finger in and out of her. We were in exactly the
position that I had wanted us to be in when my husband came, walked
through to the bedroom, and rested his astonished eyes on us.

"He was
furious thinking what I had done I had done out of spite, but that
wasn't the truth. Still his anger momentarily relented when he
found two voluptuous women begging him to fuck them. How could he
resist us, particularly when I parted the young girl's legs for
him, her pudenda gleaming before his amazed eyes? I sucked on his
cock to make sure he was erect, but the positioning of the girl was
enough to make him harder than I had ever seen him. He thrust into
the girl almost vengefully, pounding away inside her tight flesh so
she wailed with pleasure, coming very quickly inside her.

"Then he
turned me over and pushed me onto the bed, his hard rod twitching
before me. He entered me in the same place that he entered the
girl. I had never felt such an intense pleasure in my life, the joy
of having him inside me overlaid by the frisson of pain as he
pushed inside my most intimate of opening. He came inside me almost
immediately, catapulting me to the most glorious orgasm I had ever
felt in my life."

Simone
momentarily paused during her tale, looked at me sadly, before her
face brightened into a knowing smile: "But then the bastard left
me, calling me a slut, saying I was indecent. I couldn't live with
the hypocrisy of a man like that. It, he, disgusted me. I left him
two days later."

"And you came
to London?" I had been captivated by her story, regaling me with so
many intimate details of her life. I was not used to women talking
about their sex lives in this way. It had also stirred me, as much
as the anticipatory glances I cast at Jean-Claude, as she told me,
imagining him doing the things to me that Simone's husband had done
to her and the girl.

"Yes, I came
to England. My mother was half-English so I already spoke the
language very well. I was so hungry, even through the sharp
bitterness and disappointment I felt with my husband, as well as
anger with myself for always believing in him. I had imagined a man
that did not exist. But hungry, yes, like you I think, very hungry,
for experience, to know myself, discover my identity by exploring
my sexual self, learning what I needed through
experimentation."

"And did
you?"

Simone smiled.
I needed to know her answer; her story echoed my own.

"Yes, I did,
but it took time, a long time. I was confused a little."

"How?"

"Maybe in the
same way that you had been. I don't know. What happened to me is
that I met Freddie. Freddie taught me so much about myself. This is
what I wanted to warn you about."

I must have
looked very perplexed.

"No, don't
worry, Freddie is a wonderful man, there is nothing bad about him,
only don't make the mistake that I did."

"And what was
that?"

"I fell in
love with him, for a while, at least, until I understood him,
understood that falling in love is about the most useless thing a
woman can do, because he'll never settle down. He's too curious,
takes too much pleasure from his games and his flings. A wonderful
teacher! A wonderful lover, but, I think, a terrible husband."

"Don't worry,
I think I'm safe."

"I hope so,
Helena, I hope so. You know the best thing that happened to me was
Frank. Freddie even introduced us, in very much the same way as we
were introduced to you tonight. Frank wasn't possessive or jealous.
He too liked his flings. I believe, as I'm always telling Freddie,
the living proof that you can have love and intimacy and
experimentation and not kill yourself with jealousy or guilt. We
tell each other everything."

We went back
to your flat. Jean-Claude roughly ripping my clothes from me,
tearing at the lace of my bra, pinching hard on my nipples, as you
entered Adele at first, and then later Frank, both of you
simultaneously thrusting into her as she moaned her pleasure
between you.

Jean-Claude
spread-eagled me on a rug and inserted his hard manhood into me as
Simone sank her luscious pussy onto my mouth. I grabbed her
buttocks and angled my neck up to her, flicking my tongue inside
her as she squatted over me, sighing with delight.

Jean-Claude
had pulled my bottom off the floor and was pummelling mercilessly,
relentlessly inside me. Each mighty stroke sending a wave of
thunderous pleasure pulsating through my body. My bare bottom was
slapping against the solidity of his thighs. My pleasure was
sharpened by the taste of Simone's juice in my mouth as she lewdly
rotated her hips, so every part of her distended lips could feel
the pressure of my tongue on them, as Jean-Claude's prick seemed to
press against every inch of my vaginal flesh.

I could hear
Adele screaming her orgasm, but the noise seemed somewhere beyond
me, distant, immaterial. My eyes were gripped tight. I could feel
Simone's soft pussy flesh in my mouth and Jean-Claude's hard cock
in my quim, a delicate contrast, intensifying the pleasure inside
me, and then a third sharp sensation. Simone reached over and
tweaked my nipples gently at first but then with greater force. It
tipped the balance, sending me over the brink of pleasure,
compelling me to my climax, the vital provocation that spiralled me
into ecstatic abyss, where nothing else existed but the fervor of
the electric charge that coursed through me.

Jean-Claude
still hadn't come but insistently continued thrusting into me,
until the ecstasy he caused was almost unbearable, as I surfeited
on pleasure. One orgasm followed another, each one more powerful
than the last, as I writhed under him unable to escape each new
wave of demented ecstasy.

And then the
salve of his seed shot up inside me cooling my seared flesh.

As soon as my
joy relented I turned my attention to Simone, licking her clitoris
with a fury that I would have thought impossible of me only a few
short weeks before. I did to her what Jean-Claude had done to me,
extending her pleasure to almost unendurable limits, nibbling on
her clitoris long after her body had gone into spasm, until she had
to thrust my head away, unable to stand the torment of her climax
any longer.

Do you
remember that night Freddie?

After they all
left I slept with you, or rather you slept and I stayed awake,
unable to relax, my mind buzzing with everything that happened. I
was almost incredulous at what I had experienced, expecting almost
that if I fell asleep I would wake up to Gregory, to unwashed
dishes and other sundry domestic chores. It was exhilarating to
feel the magnitude of historic if personal event, removed from all
the drudgery of domestic detail.

I didn't want
to leave you that day. I wanted to stay nestling against you,
listening to you speak, feeling the language of your hands on my
body. But I knew, being such a dutiful daughter that I couldn't let
my parents down. They had invited me home for a couple of days
thinking that I would be lonely without Gregory.

I sat on the
train and thought about you. Maybe that day was the closest I had
ever come to falling in love with you. Simone's words reverberated
around my head, her caution about not falling in love with you.

It would have
been so easy to do. You were such an enticing prospect:
interesting, calm, experienced, intelligent, wise, handsome,
humorous.

I imagine that
Simone wasn't the only one who had lost her mind to you. There must
have been hundreds of women like her, and many not as astute as
Simone.

At least she
knew when she was on to a loser, and in the sense of connubial
bliss or even domestic contentment, that is what you were Freddie,
a loser.

I was sensible
though. I kept you at a distance, tried not to convolute my feeling
for you with the sentiment of love; that would have been too
confusing. There was still Gregory, the bed where I had dozed for
half an hour before going home, not long cold. I needed time and
peace, to order my thoughts, to think what inevitably had to be
thought. I had to be clinically logical. I could not complicate my
mind with loving you, although the temptation was there on the
train, as a blur of English countryside swept by me not
dissimilarly to my recollections of the last few weeks.

I saw my
father patiently waiting for me as the train pulled into the
station. His bald, noble head glimmering in the noonday sun. A
feeling of utter dread and desolation was sinking into my heart,
knowing as I did what a game I would have to play for them. I knew
I would have to make conversation about the most inane of things,
pretending that I was still deeply in love with Gregory, when my
mind was in such turmoil.

Don't get me
wrong, I loved my father and I loved my mother, but in much the
same way that I loved Gregory. They were kind, decent people, who
probably deserved a daughter that could settle for what she had
got, who didn't have such intractable sexual urges. Over the coming
months I knew that I would bring them a lot of unhappiness, that
their faces would twist in their incomprehension as I told them
that I was leaving Gregory. It was, of course, another reason why I
had to be so careful about the how of my separation with him: for
their sakes too I wanted to minimize their pain, even if it meant
deceit, lies that were no longer white but tarnished by my
libidinal zest.

My father
hugged me to his black blazer, overjoyed to see me. It was going to
be such a colossal effort this pretending business, inventing minor
preoccupations about my job or my domestic life so they could
provide their considered parental advice, careful as they were not
too intrusive.