Down and Dirty

My phone rang at 8:15 a.m., a bit early by New England phone etiquette standards. It was Mindy, a woman in my writers group. She sounded distressed and wondered if she could come by to talk. She mentioned something I couldn't quite make sense of, regarding marital issues, something I was no expert in, except that I had had some of my own. This morning in fact.

My wife and I had made love upon awakening, before she was to leave for the week at her out-of-town job. And as we lay there in what I thought was a quite pleasant afterglow, she, for some reason, reached back into the past and snipped, "Was that as good as with Rebecca?"

What followed was our perennial argument.

"That was years ago, honey."

"But you still want it. I know you do."

"I told you before we got married, that I could not do monogamy."

"I should never have married you."

"But we have had so many wonderful things to celebrate in our 45 years together."

"And one thing that I never will."

With that, she got out of bed, showered, dressed, and headed off for the week, after just a peck on my lips to say goodbye.

Mindy was due shortly, so I didn't have time for a shower. I pulled my clothes on, over my used body, and went into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

A few minutes after nine, I heard her knocking. Melinda Arroyo, an Anglo woman in her mid-60s, came in. Mindy, as she preferred to be called, was pretty, a little matronly plump after having had four children, but she still had luscious brown hair, without a strand of gray, just shy of shoulder length, matching her brown eyes, and framing a face with an omnipresent smile. This morning, though, she was uncharacteristically disheveled, smelling of cigarettes. Her hair was unusually mussed, and there was no hint of a smile on her face.

She accepted a cup of coffee, and we sat at our breakfast table to talk.

I knew little about the individuals in our writers group which had been meeting for a number of months. Only what we shared in our writings, which I assumed were somewhat autobiographical.

Mindy wrote mostly about straight couple matters. I wrote about people too, but mostly those encompassed in the rainbow coalition. Maybe because of our mutual interest in relationships, she thought to turn to me this morning to talk about hers. She began quite bluntly.

"I just found out that Ramon is having an affair. He's got a sex drive which we need to satisfy by love-making two or three times a week. This morning while we were doing so, he came inside me screaming "Maria, Maria" so when I asked who this Maria was, he faltered, tried to fabricate a story, then confessed."

I wasn't sure what to say, especially because I was feeling more like Ramon, although my interests were in men as well as in women.

She didn't look good. In fact, there was a slight tremor to her hand, as she brought the coffee cup to her mouth.

"Are you OK?" I asked.

Obviously, she wasn't. It was a stupid thing to say.

"Do you mind if I have a smoke? I don't regularly smoke cigarettes, but I keep a pack on hand for times when I feel stressed. It seems to take the edge off."

I didn't like cigarettes. I had been a smoker over forty years ago, before our kids were born. Both my wife and I smoked, in fact, but we had decided to quit when we started to conceive. Ever since then, the smell of cigarettes had made me nauseous, especially when going into the house of a friend who smoked.

But there was something about my wife's attitude this morning that bothered me. I felt annoyed. Angry. Maybe tinged with an underlying shame that I could never shake, even though I generally liked myself, and my polyamorous side. Her attitude toward me made me feel like I was a bad person. So I was going to be bad. Even badder.

Not only did I tell Mindy that she could have a smoke, but I asked her if I could bum one off her, too. She looked at me quizzically, but then offered me the pack. She then took one herself, lit mine and then hers. We sat in silence for a few minutes as we both inhaled and blew the smoke out, filling the room with a dense haze.

"Do you know what it's like when you give everything to your husband, including having sex three times a week when you're really not interested, and you find out he's banging another girl?"

I honestly did not know because my wife was faithfully monogamous. Though at times when I had fantasized about such a thing, I found it turned me on. Especially if she promised to let me in on things from time to time with her other man. But I couldn't really tell Mindy that, and so I just said in all honesty,

"No. I don't know what that's like."

I asked her to tell me more, which she obligingly did.

I mostly listened, taking a drag on my cigarette, tapping the ashes into my empty coffee mug, but maintaining my eye contact all the while. For some odd reason, when she explained in a very sensitive way what she was feeling, I looked beyond the smoking habit and her unkempt appearance and found myself feeling an attraction. Getting aroused, in fact. Something I shouldn't have been doing. I mean, it almost seemed like I was preying upon her vulnerability.

Our sharing a smoke seemed to help her somewhat. Her tremor was less noticeable now, as she continued to sip her coffee.

At one point, though, as the conversation continued, she got very tearful, and I moved my chair closer to hers, slid my arm behind her shoulders, and laid my other hand across her two hands clasped in her lap.

Her shaking returned a bit more violently, and she began to cry. I drew her head closer so that she could rest it on my shoulder, as I continued to sit and listen.

"I know it's not even ten o'clock in the morning, but I think I need a little glass of wine to calm my nerves," Mindy sobbed.

I was out of wine and only had a couple of lagers in the fridge. She said one of those would be fine, and I brought out two. Again, my bad boy attitude let me welcome a little buzz this morning. After all, each of us was hurting.

I popped the tops, gave her one and even though it was corny, we clinked and took our first long swallow. So from coffee to a smoke to a beer in less than an hour. I was really debauching it. We both were.

With what she shared with me, I felt I owed her some honesty on my part. And although it was a risk, and I felt it would be perhaps an insult to her, I told her about my conversation with my wife this morning. I was expecting her to be outraged, but she said something quite true, yet unexpected. The fact that I had told my then fiancee that I could not do monogamy and she still agreed to get married was different than her husband promising to be faithful and then going behind her back. She felt there was an honorability in me which was not present in Ramon.

I'd always found that more honesty led to a deeper conversation and a deeper conversation led to a deeper attraction. At least I was feeling that for Mindy, and I think she was feeling the same for me. Maybe it was the effect of the beers, but she started to rub my hand in a very affectionate way, and when she took her head off my shoulder and alternately wiped her tears on her sleeves, she gazed up into my eyes and offered me a very throaty "thank you."

I said "thank you" back, after a "you're welcome," and we hugged the kind of hug sitting in chairs that could not be a full bodied embrace, but still could show a kind of connection that was genuine, just not perfectly innocent. That became clear when, after we slowly released our hug, she turned fully toward me, with her eyes closed and moved her face toward me with her lips gently parted.

I accepted her offer to kiss.

If it were originally meant to be a brief one, her kiss did not stay that way. Rather, it led to a passionate probing of each other's mouth with our tongues, and a twisting of our heads from side to side to explore more deeply.

We paused long enough for Mindy to say,

"Ever since we started in our writing group, Mark, I've been feeling an attraction for you. I've kept it to myself because I wanted to be faithful to my husband. And I didn't want to do anything to affect things with you and your wife."

"I've always liked your writing, Mindy, and probably naïvely didn't pick up on any signals that you were giving, because I thought you were completely satisfied with your marriage.

"Actually, I wasn't completely satisfied, but since I thought Ramon was happy, and because we'd been married for over 30 years, I just kept going on with things, thinking this is what long married life is like. But now I'm through being his faithful wife. Although being completely honest with you right now, it does feel a little bit like I am a cheating slut by kissing you."

"I'm feeling that in some ways, too. We've both been wronged today, and I'm feeling OK with making it right. I'm not exactly sure where this is going, but I wouldn't mind finding out.

We each took several long swallows of our beers to finish them and then began kissing madly again.

We forwent our contorted sitting positions for a standing embrace, and I reached under her top in back to undo her bra. She reciprocated by unbuttoning my shirt and pulling it down behind me and off my arms in an inside-out manner. Then she did the same with my T-shirt, so I was naked from the waist up.

I took her top off over her head, also inside out, and then pulled her bra down off her shoulders and freed her breasts. They sagged--she had had four babies sucking from them, after all--but they were smooth and beautiful and offered me a generous handful.

I was no Adonis, but with morning exercises, I kept my arms and chest toned, so even at 66, I had a fairly decent-looking upper torso.

I've not had a lot of women lovers--nor men lovers, for that matter--so with a new partner, and without a lot of conversation beforehand of likes and dislikes, I had to guess at what might be acceptable and better yet, arousing to Mindy. I had never met Ramon. But guessing from his high sex drive, and him being from Columbia, I made some assumptions from Latin men I knew, and I summoned a macho, take-charge guy approach.

I began gripping her breasts roughly and then pinching her nipples. Good guess, I told myself. Hearing her whisper, "Si," I squeezed a little harder and she, feeling that I might like it rough, too, began pinching mine as well.

We resumed kissing again, turning each other on both with our nipple play, as well as our lingual stimulation. Then we dropped our hands and assumed a tight hug which brought my enlarging cock into contact with her belly through her skirt.

I think the feeling of my hardness asking to be liberated, made her break off from the kissing to unbutton and unzip my trousers so as to reveal my erect cock. In a typical rom-com fashion, we took turns ripping off each other's shoes, socks, skirt, pants, and then underwear, leaving them scattered on the kitchen floor, until we were both naked and could resume our intense kissing and hugging.

A little regret nagged momentarily at me, that I hadn't showered off the dried commingled come from my cock, but I waived that away. I reassured myself with the recollection that I had told Mindy that my wife and I had had sex this morning. And, apparently, so had she.

We kissed our way out of the kitchen, into the living room, and spun into the guest room. The double bed was waiting for us, and it took no time for us to peel back the sheets, and get ourselves situated beneath the clean linens.

My initial impulse had been correct with how to start. And given that we had been drinking and smoking, and with her earlier confession of feeling a little bit like a cheating slut, I decided to try some additional raunchiness.

I remembered a number of her stories, read to our group, about down-and-out men and women, so I knew she either had experience with or fantasized about such characters. So as we were rolling back-and-forth on the mattress, me pulling her hair or squeezing her breasts, I said to her, "Suck my cock, Bitch."

There was no hesitation. She immediately complied, and with real gusto, deep-throated me close to coming.

"Stop now, you slut. I can tell you don't get enough cock at home to eat, do you?"

"No, I don't. And what meager amounts I'm offered are not as generous as yours."

Could there have been a more perfect response? It certainly gave me the perfect permission to keep playing my part as she certainly seemed to be playing hers!

I liked this. My wife is a very ardent feminist, and I would never dream of using this kind of language when making love with her. But it was something that I had fantasized about for a long time, and today, I had a woman who was willing to indulge my hard-boiled imagination.

I ran my fingers through her hair again, gripping it tightly and pulling on it. She groaned with my abuse of her head hair, so I broke off after a bit and raked my fingernails down the back of her neck, tickled my finger pads around her collar bones to her chest, strummed my fingers between her sumptuous breasts to her belly, and then wrapped them around her lengthy groin hair. After some painful tugs, which she rewarded me with more satisfying moans, I began making circles around her vulva. I felt her spread her legs to give me more access.

I didn't go immediately for her pleasure place, though, but instead teased her by running my hand down her outer thigh, first the left one then up her inner thigh across the top of her belly, and then down the right inner thigh, and came back on the outside. Again and again, I retraced my path, making slightly smaller circuits, closing in rather slowly to what I hoped would be her aching clit.

Slowly, spiraling inward around the larger lips into the smaller lips, I found my way to a rather hefty clitoris. Surprisingly, for someone who was postmenopausal, she seemed to have a good deal of vaginal lubrication. My repetitive circling was frictionless and the amount of juices she was producing in response made me all the more inclined to proceed.

She was breathing heavier now, my clitoral massage obviously highly arousing, so I taunted her.

"You're liking this, Bitch. Aren't you?"

She seemed almost as if she were entering a trance. She did not speak, but just nodded. So I added,

"You're my whore today, Mindy. I'm gonna use you for my complete pleasure after I get your pleasure place even more good and wet."

She nodded again, but this time it was accompanied with a trace of a smile. I assumed that her Ramon did not take the time to give her the enjoyment of love-making that she and every woman deserves. So I was going to make sure that I did. And I kept up the vulgarity.

"I like when my bitches are unfaithful to their husbands, who can't satisfy them like I can. Are you ready for my big cock, you slut. You whore."

Again nonverbally, she spread her legs and nodded, this time more vigorously.

"Not yet, you wanton woman. I gotta see if your cunt can even take me."

I rammed two fingers inside her vagina and got her to gasp. I moved them around and around, and received her moans. I found the ridges of her magic spot and massaged her vagina there and received a reward of her affirmations.

"Si, Si, Si." She chanted.

I pressed my palm into her clit and vibrated it. She arched her back. So I alternated actions, plunging my fingers inside and swirling them around with pulling them out, circling her clitoris, then pressing my palm into her clit.

"I'm gonna fuck you now, Bitch."

Then it hit me. We both had fucked today, and the residual comes from each of us and that of our partners were still on us. This was real down and dirty fornication. So I added the comment,

"My wife's dried pussy juice is still all over my cock, Bitch. And I know you still got Ramon's spunk inside your cunt. And we don't fuckin' care, do we. In fact, we like it. We're gonna fuckin' cleanse both of us by doing this dirty act."

The silent nod. This time no additional smile. So my attitude softened for a moment. I was about to have intercourse with a woman, completely faithful to her husband up until now. Who was probably Catholic, or had been at one time. And who maybe was acting so reservedly and nonverbal because of these and so many conflicts.

"Mindy, as I gaze upon your beautiful body, that which has given birth to so many children, and know from what you've shared with me today so honestly, how deeply you have felt life's pain, I want us for a few moments, to escape it all in this loving action right now."

I moved between her thighs, saw the gaping of her nether lips as if she welcomed me with open arms, and placed my cut cockhead right at her entryway. I reached down with my right hand, as I supported myself on my left elbow and wiggled it up and down against her swollen nub.

"Si, Senor," she affirmed. My tender entreaty, summoning an escape together, may have temporarily erased any guilt she felt.

I moved my aching erection against her puffy inner lips, eased myself part way inside, then with one swift motion, I shoved my thick dick deeply in. She whimpered,

"Gracias,"

I ramped back up my vulgarity, "Pinch my tits, Bitch."

Nipple pain always got me harder, so I wanted to be as big as I could be for Mindy this morning.

She obeyed. I withdrew almost completely, then began inserting my swelling manhood slowly into her, then withdrew it slowly out. I watched her face contort and grimace in pleasure. I heard her sighs.

I know I haven't got the longest cock on the planet. I've actually seen much longer flaccid dicks on nude beaches. But I have the girth, so the women who I have made love with, those who have had multiple children, seem to enjoy the stretch that my cock gives them. Or maybe I'm just imagining it. But Mindy was clearly relishing every stroke.

I increased the tempo and watched her mouth gape open. Her eyes shut. I sensed that she was entering a trance of rapture.

I kept pumping away, ramming into her, and I felt her pelvis respond by meeting me with excited upward thrusts herself, and those unintelligible grunts of pleasure. It made me want to accelerate further.

I wish I could have held out longer, but when I saw her face and witnessed that satisfied look on her, I came with superlatives of "best whore," "best slut," "best cunt," "ever," all of which, in my euphoria, I truly meant.

I kept pumping away hearing her gasps, until I had nothing left to give. I rolled off but continued my stimulation of her vulva. I used my two fingers deeply inside her, swirling around our cum, then my fingers outside, massaging her outer lips, then spiraling in to her inner lips and finally circling her clitoris. She had another pleasurable time and time again. Finally, she signaled, "no more," by pushing my hands away.

We lay there for several minutes. It could've been half an hour that we held each other. I ran my fingers gently through her hair. I told her how wonderful that was for me, and she told me how satisfied she was.

I'm not sure if she came. Given all the emotional turmoil that led up to this, it would be understandable that she was so conflicted that she couldn't relax into an orgasm. But the playfulness with which we had just made love was something I don't think I've ever experienced with another woman--or another man, for that matter.

I told Mindy that making love this way with her had exorcized the demons from this morning's misery with my wife. Mindy said she had found some salvation in doing so with me as well. In fact, she added that she had never felt such loving attention paid to her in love-making, as I had done this morning.

I sensed she might still be conflicted, though. And I wanted to have another chance to make love with Mindy, when her mind was clearer, to show her that I truly loved her. And I told her that. But trying to be sensitive, I added,