The Game – The Second Half
1.
It was weird and I couldn't understand it. In fact, it was absolutely impossible – but the condom just would not come off.
I'd already tried rolling it upwards, but it simply refused to budge. And then, when I grasped the empty teat on the end of it and tried to pull it, the pain that ran down the length of my penis and into my groin was almost unbearable.
This is not supposed to happen, I told myself as I curled my fingers around it, clenched my fist, and tried to jerk it upwards – producing the most severe pain so far! It felt as if my entire groin was burning.
"Come on; Love... what's keeping you?" I heard Jeanie say in her most sensuous and seductive voice, and I turned to look through the opened bathroom door. She was lying, stark naked, on our bed and, no matter how much I'd always adored her, she seemed even more provocative and beguiling than I'd ever seen before. Even as I watched, she turned her head towards me and, with a captivating smile, said;
"Don't be too long, Mark... I'm waiting for you...." And I saw her hand slide slowly downwards, brushing lightly against her small, firm breast before continuing towards the delightful tangle of her blonde pubic hair.
"Jeanie," I whined, "the condom's stuck... it won't come off!"
"Oh, dear!" she answered.
"And I can't get out of the bathroom until I get it off me!" I practically wailed.
"Oh... my poor Love," she soothed, her fingers now sliding back and forth between her legs, "and I really need you... I really do."
Once again I heaved at the latex sheath, inhaling the smell of it that was covering my hands, but there was only more pain and no movement. I wondered if I ought to wash the lubricant from my hands and possibly get a firmer grip.
"Jeanie... I'm just...." I started to say, but she broke in with...
"It's alright, Mark... no need to worry. Greg's here! He'll take care of me."
I whirled around to face the door again and saw that Jeanie was now lying flat on her back with her knees drawn up a little way and her legs wide apart. I couldn't see much of the lower part of her body – just enough to make out that there was someone else there – and I could hear the crude lapping sounds almost drowned beneath her steadily increasing groans of pleasure. I heard her whisper something that sounded like: 'Jeez! You're good at that, Greg! You're really good at that!'
I wanted to scream at her to stop, but my throat was almost completely constricted by pain as I tried to wrench the condom from me. I strained at it with all my strength but all it achieved was to make me fall to my knees on the cold hard floortiles of the bathroom, with tears of pain running freely down my face. I hardly dared to look into the bedroom but, when I finally had no choice but to do so, I could see that Jeanie was on her hands and knees. Once again, it was only the top half of her body that I could see, but there was no doubt, from her movements that someone was behind her - and deep inside her – pounding away with vigorous and unmistakable movements.
I heard her gasps and groans; heard her urging her lover to 'Fuck me!' and to 'cum in me!' and to fill me!' And then it was just the word 'Yes!' being yelled over and over again and I was trying to scream, desperately trying until, at long last, I heard my own voice give out with a howl of "No-ooo!"
It took so much effort that I found myself shaking....
No... I wasn't shaking. I was being shaken.
And when I forced my eyes open I realised that Jeanie was leaning over me, in our bed and saying; "Wake up, Love! You're having a dream... a bad dream. Wake up."
As my eyes opened, reluctantly, I could see the look of obvious concern on her face and, once again, I heard her voice;
"Are you alright, Love?" she said and, instead of accepting it in the intended spirit, I just growled a reply of:
"I'm fine... go back to sleep."
And then I lay very still and kept my breathing at as even a rate as I could for what seemed like ages, until I was reasonably certain that she was sleeping soundly. It was 5:15 when I sneaked out of bed and went off to make my first coffee of the day – it was going to be another long one.
**
2.
The same dream, with variations, had haunted my sleep for the best part of three months and the stress from loss of sleep was definitely beginning to take its toll on me.
After that fateful weekend, Jeanie left the house early and returned shortly afterwards with a Levonelle morning after pack. Without being aggressive about it, she persuaded me to examine it and to watch as she took it – just so that I could be certain that she had no intention of being pregnant from her one-night stand with Greg. Whether any of that made a real difference is open to question; she'd already told me that her period was due and, the following day, it arrived.
Naturally, I was relieved, and it eased the pressure off me for a little while; but then the realisation that she wanted me to give her the baby she craved began to eat away at me. It wasn't that Jeanie was putting any pressure on me – far from it. In fact, she tried to persuade me to forget all about such things for a few months and just concentrate on getting our relationship sorted out. She was, in fact, just about as loving and as considerate as any wife could be, even though the verbal barbs that I frequently threw at her were unnecessary, unkind and unjustified.
The nightmares began after a couple of weeks or so. They were always about the same thing – about me being unable to fulfil her need for a baby and Greg being ready and waiting in the wings to take over. I began to dread going to sleep at night; never knowing when the fearful dreams would invade my rest. I managed to convince myself – without any real evidence to support it – that a few drinks before bedtime would help to stave them off. Gradually, it began to exact a toll on me.
Although my job was just about as secure as it possibly could be, the fact that I was turning up for work every morning as if I was hungover (which I often was), almost incapable of doing anything useful for the first hour or two, and starting to wind down wearily nearly two hours before going home, was clearly having an impact on those I worked with.
Nor did it help that Mrs Watson, my efficient and conscientious personal assistant, had decided to take early retirement. In her place, I'd been landed with a complete 'bimbo' whose large tits had obviously been the deciding factor in her promotion because, to be honest, she had nothing else going for her. Oh, I'd better qualify that; she did have an encyclopaedic knowledge of soap operas and 'reality' TV programmes!
I was able to cope at work because I was in a position where I could delegate – I'd accumulated an excellent team around me, I knew their strengths and weaknesses – and all but a very small number of tasks could be passed on. Unfortunately, the downside was that I had too much time on my hands for thinking about non-work related matters. I mean, I knew exactly where Jeanie would be at almost any given moment of the day: moving the local museum and reference library to brand new and purpose-built premises was an enormous task. For Jeanie, in particular, it was exhausting because everything had to be examined and re-catalogued with a new computer programme; a programme which, as she often complained, had been selected by people who knew nothing about either computers or the reference library.
Occasionally, on a sunny day, I'd suggest meeting up in the park outside the new building for a sandwich and a coffee and, being Jeanie, she never refused. Even if I said that I was already there, she'd only say, 'give me five minutes' and, sure enough, she'd be there. Was I testing her? Well, I suppose I was in a way – but I never doubted that she'd be there. That wasn't a matter of real concern. What really bothered me, I guess, was the thought that she might still be keeping in touch with Greg.
It isn't that I believed she was but, knowing that she had his number, how could I possibly be sure that she wasn't phoning or texting him?
Ridiculous? Of course it was. There was not the slightest reason to believe that Jeanie had ever been anything other than completely truthful – but facts have never been an adequate antidote for suspicions; which is why I checked through her texts and calls whenever I was able to get hold of her mobile phone without her knowing. And when there was nothing to be found there, did that help me? No... because I couldn't be sure that she hadn't deleted anything she wouldn't want me to see.
I knew I was being paranoid. I knew that I was being a complete dickhead. I just didn't seem to be able to help myself. And in the meantime, my wiseass comments weren't exactly helping things along. I lost count of the number of times I saw her beautiful face change from its natural mischievousness to barely-concealed pain. I knew that she was doing everything within her power to bring us back together – which was what I most wanted – so why the Hell was I apparently doing everything possible to drive a wedge between us?
**
3.
If you're sitting on top of a powder keg and you can't resist playing with matches... well, you should have a pretty good idea of what's likely to happen.
It was a Friday evening, and quite a special one for Jeanie.
The new reference library had been officially opened by some local dignitary that afternoon and she'd been able to demonstrate how easy the new system was to use. The local newspaper had sent a photographer (who'd actually taken far more pics of Jeanie than he could have possibly used!); the girl reporter (who seemed to think she was a cross between Lois Lane and Nancy Drew) managed to ask a lot of carefully-prepared questions, to which Jeanie provided equally well-prepared answers.
I'd taken the afternoon off work to be with her for the ceremony, and I think she was grateful for my presence. Certainly, when one of the town councillors leaned in towards her to ask a really dumb question about the system – and managed to let his hand slip down from the small of her back to her ass while she was answering – it was a lot of fun to watch the way she casually straightened up, stepped back a fraction, and placed the very narrow heel of her shoe firmly on the man's toes. It was a long time since I'd watched her deal with unwanted attentions and, I have to admit, she was still pretty damned good at it! Even the apology for her clumsiness was really close to convincing.
