I took a chance. I wrapped my fingers around the rubber cock and began to pull. Lynda shuddered at first, and then her body went limp. As I pulled the cock from her cunt, I vaguely felt like her mother; as though I were doing something for her that she did not have the strength to do. It reminded me of taking her temperature.
I pulled the cock free and flipped it to the side. It fell on the floor with a hollow thud.
"I feel so dirtyV Lynda sobbed to me once the dildo was out of her cunt. She turned towards me and wrapped her arms around me, burying her face into my breasts.
"Dirty?" I exclaimed. I held her tightly and patted her back.
"I feel like a whorer she said. "Worsen "There, there," I said. I was right. I understood what was happening. I let her cry for a few more minutes, allowing the guilt to trickle from her body through her tears.
Her body grew calm presently, and her sobbing stopped almost all together. "Why do you feel like a whore?" I asked. Lynda didn't answer.
"Because of what happened?" I asked. "Don't be silly. Enjoying sex doesn't make you a whore." I played a trump card. "And enjoying sex with a woman doesn't make you a Lesbian."
Lynda pulled away from my breasts and looked at me. Her face seemed startled that I had seen into the deepest, darkest secret of her heart. The naive innocence of her eyes questioned my magic.
"How did you know?" Lynda asked.
"Do you think that you're so different from anyone else?" I asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Just because you enjoy sex," I said, "doesn't make you evil. Sex is to be enjoyed."
"Yes," she said, arguing with me. She wanted desperately to prove her own worthlessness, I could tell. "But sex with Tom, Normal sex."
"Any sex that you enjoy is normal."
She looked at me incredulously.
"Do you think I'm a Lesbian?" I asked. 'I've been married to Mark for fifteen years. I love him and I love our children."
I patted Lynda's cheek.
"But I love sex, too," I continued. "And sex and love are not the same thing, no more than eating and love are the same thing. Sex is a physical experience to be enjoyed only at that level. Love is an emotional, spiritual thing.
"You can enjoy sex," I added, "without being in love. I've done it myself. Hundreds of times."
Lynda looked at me. "Are you trying to tell me that you've had affairs with other men?"
"Not affairs,'" I answered. "Affairs involve an emotional commitment. But I have fucked with other men."
I was purposely blunt, and the word has its intended effect.
"You've made lave to other men?" Her voice almost broke with rising incredulity. "After you've been married to Mark?"
"Of course. And so has Mark. Haven't you?"
Lynda looked away. "Of course not."
I cocked my head and looked into her eyes. "You don't have to lie to me," I told her. 'I'm not going to think you promiscuous any more than I'm going to think that you're a Lesbian."
She hesitated just long enough for me to confirm my suspicion.
"With whom?" I asked. I was curious now. Lynda waited a moment. "Swear that you'll never tell anyone-"
"Don't be adolescent!"
"Swear!"
"All right, I swear."
She hesitated again. "With some boy. He came around selling magazine subscriptions."
"How was it?" I asked. She shrugged. "Good."
"How big was his cock?"
Lynda giggled. "About that big," she said. She held her hands out and showed me.
"Was he a good fuck?" I asked. "Did you come?"
"Did I! Wow! I came like a sonofabitch. I just kept on coming and coming and coming…" Lynda's voice trailed off and she was suddenly aware of what she had revealed to me.
"See what I mean!" I said. "Sex and love can be very separate things!"
Lynda was silent for a moment.
"Do you love Tom any less now?" I asked. "Do you?"
"No, but-"
"Well."
"I don't know. I've never thought of it that way before…"
"Let me ask you one more thing. If you had the chance to get fucked again by a young, handsome guy, and you knew that Tom would never find out about it, would you do it again?"
Lynda weighed my question. "I guess I would."
"Sure you would! And do you know why? Because sex is great! Sex is to be enjoyed! Love never helped a cunt when it was hot. Only a hot cock can do that."
"But it sounds so dirty."
"What if it is," I said. "Everyone does it"
She looked as though she didn't believe me.
"Don't be so naive," I said. "Take my word for it I know what I'm talking about. I've been around a lot longer than you. I know what I'm talking about."
The way she giggled made me know that she was over her guilt "Jl you say sb…" she giggled.
Lynda flopped back onto the bed, on her back. My arm was still under her neck. I pulled it out and laid it across her hip, resting my open hand against her cunt Her cunt was wet and my fingers fumbled through the flap of the lips until I found her clitoris. I began to masturbate her.
"What else did you do?" I asked.
"He… uh… ate me."
"You mean he sucked your cunt. Licked your pussy."
"Yes."
I worked my fingers around slowly, sliding one finger down into the wet slit of her cunt "Did you suck his cock?"
"Yes." Lynda giggled again, then raised her hips up from the bed and pressed it against my hand.
"It was great!" she said. "His cock was so hot. I could feel it against my face and in my mouth. So hot! He almost came in my mouth. I had to pull him out."
I pushed my finger up into her cunt, and she moaned pleasurably.
"You should have let him. There's nothing better than sucking hot come from a stiff cock."
"Uugh. That's disgusting."
"Lynda," I said. "You have a lot to learn."
She didn't answer. She just moaned. I looked across at her. Her eyes were closed tightly, and her lips were pressed together in a thin, tight line. Her neck was arched and her head was pressed back into the pillow. The tips of her tits were rigid and pink. With my other hand, I began to fondle her breast. She sighed when my hand touched her tit.
"You've got to tell me the name of that magazine company," I said. "Who knows. I might feel like subscribing to some magazines myself."
This time I laughed. A low, wicked, sensual laugh that rippled up deeply from my throat.
I pushed my finger into her cunt hole again, and she sucked in her breath.
"I'll write down the telephone number before you leave," she said. The words came out through her teeth, at the breathless end of a sigh.
"You've got to tell me one more thing," I said.
"What."
"Where did you get that thing? That cock?" Lynda laughed. "Promise not to tell?"
"Who am I going to tell."
"Tom bought it. In New York."
"Why?"
"Because I asked him to."
Lynda's cunt was beginning to make a squishy-wet sound, and I could feel her body tensing under my caress. I could tell she wanted to come again.
"Why did you ask him to bring it home?"
"That wasn't the first one he brought home," Lynda said. "The first one was a regular one. Just a single cock. He used it to fuck me."
She moaned.
"Christ! It nearly drove me out of my mind! First he'd fuck me with it and it would hurt good-like. He'd just wriggle it up my cunt. I'd never felt a cock like that. So big and hard. The first time he did it to me, I came all at once, just as he pushed it in."
I pushed my finger into her cunt, then leaned over and began to suck her nipples.
"Then, we'd vary it," Lynda continued. "He'd shove it up my cunt, and I'd suck his cock. Like we were sixty-nining. The best was when he'd shove it into me and then go down on me. Suck my cunt and fuck me with that rubber cock. I'd come like crazy. It was like being worked over by two men at the same time. One fucking me, and the other licking my pussy. I used to fantasize that when he was doing it to me: I used to close my eyes and imagine that it were two men…"