Although this episode is one of the more restrained of the Couples Off the Interstate (KOI) collection, the Greater Squick Rule of Classification requires it be entered in the Fetish Category.
Maya the B
Kaw Valley, Early Autumn, 1970
"Maya the B." How strangely she loved!
I guess I could tell you about her, too. Back in the Sixties, the "open relationship" thing was new to people of my conventional background. So Maya and her husband were an odd couple to me when I was nineteen. Her husband was absent from my lessons, but Maya and he, together, helped me understand the rightness of the sort of thing I was to establish with Becca.
I had met freespirited girls before I encountered Maya in my first year of college. There had been girls well-ready to flaunt convention in return for novel experience, and girls working fast within the loose confines of American adolescence, and reckless girls who'd careered off-track into near-craziness, and just-plainly-sensible girls steady on a course of sexual self-definition.
Maya had probably been one of the last type, a couple of years before I came to know her. By the time I began taking a sequence of philosophy courses from her in Kaw Valley, she was about 26, and in the semi-rural cabin of Herr Doktor B she had found a warm but open place for her erotic persona.
Dok B was a genial Austrian research physicist, at least twice Maya's age. (Maya's closest living relative was an ancient aunt. I never had a chance to ask when or how Maya had lost her parents.) There was a definite flavor of adult father-daughter relationship in the interaction between Maya and Dok B. Given the disparity in their ages, it would have been hard to imagine the two of them interacting in any other way -- and still being profoundly in love.
That was a strange thing to me at the time. The love of the younger loose couples I had known had always been provisional -- young, and not always complete. But Dok B and Maya held a fully mature and committed marriage.
Yet Maya had lovers besides Dok B.
There was no indication that Dok B was dysfunctional in any way, physically or otherwise. But in the thirteen months I knew the couple and their circle, I saw or heard nothing to indicate that Dok B himself was at all inclined to take adventurous advantage of the open arrangement he had made with his wife. Nor was he especially interested in Maya's affairs. If asked, he'd surely have said that they were her own business.
A fellow lover of Maya's... I knew two others at the time; there may have been more... told me that Maya had been living with a colleague of Dok B's when she and Dok B met. At first, their affair had been as casual as our's, but it soon heated up, and Dok B's colleague found his emotions strained despite his long-rationalized "openness" in such matters. It was lucky for everyone that Dok B and his colleague were both stable, tenured profs, working in separate subspecialties.
"But it was funny," my co-lover shrugged, "Dok B and Maya got formally married at least partly to salvage Z's feelings..."
I knew nothing about Maya's history at first. I was interested in the course topics she was giving as a senior-level Teaching Assistant. In fact, I was thinking about a graduate career in her field. So I found nothing unusual about following her lead in my academic work. Maya was "stockpiling" publishable papers while finishing off her doctoral dissertation, and often enough, I could do her some minor favors, searching bibliographies and taking notes while carrying out my own projects.
In the spring of '70, Dok B landed a visiting professorship in Louvain, to begin the next fall. Maya had to rush to complete her dissertation in order to follow him, and was a PhD by late July. She left town in the middle of fall semester, two months after Dok B, a week before I met Becca.
Maya's first proposition, or invitation, was couched obliquely, and with such fleeting casualness that I was unable to recognize it for what it was. Maya had to give me a hands-on demonstration, so to speak, before I understood.
Maya's face had real Grecian beauty: deep-set, light-brown eyes in a somewhat strong face of classic proportion. She smiled with natural casualness, but her long upper lip had a quality that could add a sensual sneer to the most commonplace expression. Her hair was a golden brown, not really heavy yet very full. It was usual to unfasten several hairclips before loving her... then the fall of dark gold encircled her face, neck, your forearms...
Maya's small body had a womanish softness but little curve. Her breasts were full ripe fruits. Unbound beneath her shirt, their flat hard nipples tipped to the touch of fingertip. But Maya's body had a roundness provided by its limbs, whose softly toned muscles curved at forearm, deltoid and bicep, backthigh and calf. This heaviness never exceeded attractive proportion. In fact, Maya's round smooth thighs, pressed over one's own, could flash before one's awareness like buttocks, compelling you to grab for her resilient flesh, flesh of leg, back, bottom...
To grab or to bite... bite broadly, not to hurt, deep into her opened thighs' tender hamstrings. The mouth met yielding firmness, there, the mix of light stretchmark and smooth vulnerability only adding to Maya's flavorful texture, as my face worked into her crotch. Her legs waved and her hands danced about my head, Maya trying not to grab me, trying to brave the tickle, her tummy flexing with suppressed laughter.
