Cucquean

In the shower I washed quickly, afraid to make them wait. I scrubbed my face and then my hair and then my body.

When I did my armpits I felt the stubble there, coarse and scratchy. I looked longingly at my Lady Schick but then I remembered Lori's clear instruction and left it alone.

But I could not leave the handheld shower head with its vibrating massage feature alone. The ache in my belly was just too much to ignore. I felt like if I didn't get release after three days I might explode.

I ran the pulsating jet over my breasts, my nipples so hard they ached. And it took my breath away. When I gasped the splashing water went down the wrong pipe and I coughed. Then I giggled as I began running the jet over my body.

I ran it down my belly, feeling my knees go a little rubbery as it flushed my belly button and then crossed the pad of my

mons

. My eyes were closed and I was lost in anticipation. In my mind's eye, it would be David and then Lori handling the showerhead, teasing me.

I was starting to tremble, using my hand to lift my clitoral hood and then starting to run the jet of water down when the shower door jerked open suddenly.

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!!" she yelled and her fingers were in my hair, twisting, hurting, leaving me no choice but to reach up to ease the pressure, to make the pain ease.

I dropped the showerhead and water sprayed onto the floor.

The punch that followed hit my

solar plexus

, that big ganglia of nerves high on my belly, just below my breastbone, and left my knees rubbery, and my bladder control failing.

"David," she yelled, the fingers in my hair twisting, making me cry out, "get the fuck in here!"

I was struggling to keep the pressure off, hell, to keep my damn hair from being pulled out.

"What?!" David said, running into the bathroom.

"This cow was going to use the shower massage to get off," she said, twisting my hair with each word, making me moan.

He didn't say anything. I know him pretty well and it looked to me like he was trying to keep from laughing.

I could not, though, tell if Lori was really angry or if this was just an act.

And she WAS hurting me the way she was pulling my hair, that's for damn sure. My nerves seemed to be working again, and that odd weakness in my legs and the strange feeling in the pit of my stomach from the punch was gone as well.

Her grin turned, well, evil.

"What have you got by way of arthritis liniment?" she asked.

"What?" I asked.

"What?" David asked.

"Oh Jesus Christ," she said, making me yell when she gave a particularly nasty twist to my hair, "I used English. What do you have? BenGay? Icy Hot? Maybe some Tiger Balm?"

"Oh," David said, "We've got all of that stuff."

"Bring it here," she snapped at him.

On some level, I hated the way he jumped to do as she bid, but on another, well, I can't say I "liked" it, but it was exciting.

He brought back the little plastic basket in which I kept all of my arthritis stuff. And I had tried them all. Voltaren seemed to be working, so I had pretty much given up on the various liniments I had used before, but they were still there.

"Hold her while I decide what I want to do," she said and I saw David reach to replace her fingers in my hair as he handed the little basket to her.

"Oww," I yelled as he twisted even harder than she had.

"Goddam it," she said, "stuff something in her damn mouth, I don't want to listen to her bitching."

He dragged me along, like he was Oog the caveman dragging Oogla by her hair back to the cave, to the closet. He rummaged around in the hamper and came up with a pair of his boxers.

"Don't make me force you," he said, so I opened my mouth and he stuffed the dirty shorts into my mouth, stuffing until my cheeks bulged.

Lori smiled, the first real smile I had seen from her.

"Oh, honey," she said, brushing a fingertip across my bulging cheek, "now THAT is a good look on you."

I said nothing. I couldn't have if I wanted to.

"Lay her back on the bed," she said, "and hold her down. She ain't gonna like this."

Again, I was both troubled and excited at his unquestioning, and unhesitating, obedience.

I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised when he pulled me up onto the bed and straddled me so that when he leaned back my arms were captured between his thighs and calves, just behind his knees, and his ass was right there as he sat back, sitting on my face.

I couldn't move at all.

I felt her pushing my legs apart and then felt her strap something on my ankles. There was pressure as she anchored the cuffs to the legs of the bed, immobilizing me in that exposed position.

"Oh, no," I heard her say, and I could hear the smile in her voice, "she ain't gonna like this at all."

The smell of menthol and camphor was strong and I knew she was going to use the Tiger Balm on me. I tried to shake my head. I tried to scream, "NO." But David held me immobile.

I felt the first touch of cold in that little space between my anus and my vagina, that area the old joke calls a "taint" (as in, "t'aint ass and t'aint pussy").

I tried to shake my head but he had me locked down tight.

I tried to scream but all that came out was, "mmphffff."

I tried to pull away, but I couldn't move against the tension of the bindings.

I felt the coldness against my anus and tried to scream again.

I felt her penetrate and tried to buck, to squirm, to get away.

Her finger went in all the way, then she pulled it out and put it in again, adding more to the Tiger Balm.

It was already starting to burn when she started on my pussy.

She smeared my urethra coated my lips, and then probed, deeply, her cold finger touching my cervix.

I was having trouble breathing then. My mouth was stuffed and my nose was closing down as my sinuses started swelling.

Another probe and another.

I was on fire. The camphor and menthol worked on tender tissues like they were propane torches touching kindling.

I was trying to scream but no sound came out.

I was getting lightheaded from oxygen starvation.

"Okay," Lori said, "let her up."

David lifted himself, releasing my arms, and then crawled off of me.

I was desperate and yanked the shorts out of my mouth, gasping for breath like I had just broken the surface after a near drowning.

"Whose pussy is it?" Lori demanded.

"Y-y-y-your pussy," I managed to get out.

"And when can you play with it without permission?" she demanded.

I tried to think, but the pain, the pure agony, between my legs was distracting me. I was on fire and I knew there was nothing to do but wait for it to pass. It was all I could think of.

"WHEN!" she snapped and slapped me across the face.

"N-n-n-never," I said.

"Good girl," she said, smiling and patting my head, "now put on your clothes. I need a ride home.

I couldn't stop crying. Christ, I was on fire.

"Come here," she said, opening the door to my closet.

I went, walking in an odd bowlegged gait, trying to ease my pain at least a little.

"Here," she said, handing me one of my old-fashioned dresses.

She went to my chest of drawers and tossed me my old-fashioned, open-bottom girdle and long-line bra.

"That should work with the dress," she said, "now get fucking dressed. I need you to take me home."

I struggled into the girdle, the way it squeezed my ass adding to my misery. The bra felt even more constricting than it usually did and I realized my breasts were swollen. I got the dress over my head and buttoned it. She hadn't specified no makeup but I thought it would be a mistake to put any on so. In the same way, I didn't do anything with my hair. In the mirror I thought,

"Jesus Christ, you look like a hag."

And I did. My eyes were red and swollen, and my face beside my nose was swollen from the way my sinuses were swollen. My nose was red and swollen and running. My hair stood up like it had never seen a comb or a brush. Yeah, I was a hag.

But for a moment, as I looked, the pain receded.

I liked it.

But I couldn't dawdle.

They were standing at the door, waiting when I went downstairs.

"Come on, for Christ's sake," she said, "I'm running late."

David kissed her and she headed out to the car. He smiled at me and said, "hurry home."

Lori lived in an apartment on the opposite side of town. It's a spread-out city and it was a twenty-minute drive.

"You're enjoying it, aren't you?" she asked.

I concentrated on my driving.

"It's, well, it's exciting," I said.

"How're your pussy and asshole?" she asked.

"It's, well, it's easing but still burning," I said.

"And whose pussy is it?" she asked.

"Your pussy," I said without hesitation. I didn't want to give her a reason to hurt me again.

"Good girl," she said.

When I pulled into the designated spot at her apartment building she said, "come along."

A line that Jim Parsons, you know, Dr. Sheldon Cooper in

Big Bang Theory

said once about something or other ran through my mind -

"Oh, what fresh hell is this?"

I thought.

Her apartment looked like a tornado, a hurricane, an earthquake, and a tsunami had struck. The woman was a pig.

She didn't say anything, just walked to the kitchenette, casually stepping around and over the various fast food wrappers, clothes, magazines, and God only knows what else that was scattered across the floor. She rummaged through one of the drawers and came back and handed me a key.

"As you can see," she said, making a sweeping gesture with her hand, "the cleaning lady missed a day. So I need you to run home, take care of my boyfriend, then get this fucking mess cleaned up before I get home. Okay?"

"Of course," I said.

Then she surprised me by kissing me. Not a little peck either. It was a good kiss. She knew just the right amount of pressure to use, just when I would welcome her tongue, just how to brush the hair back from my face, just how to run her hands up and down my back. It may be the best kiss I ever had.

"Now get moving," she said, turning and walking away, "I need to get to work."

Okay, I was in a bit of a daze as I started the car and headed home. At least the pain in my ass and pussy was easing now as the camphor and menthol were used up.

He hadn't dressed when I got home and surprised me with a cup of coffee.

"Sit," he said, so I sat at the kitchen table while he made breakfast.

David isn't a cook, but he does breakfast well. In fifteen minutes he had a reasonably good omelet, bacon, toast, and orange juice on the table and sat across from me as we ate.

And had the most surreal conversation of my life.

"Any regrets?" he asked.

"David," I said, swallowing my mouthful of omelet and taking a quick drink of the orange juice, "I'm terrified and excited and frightened and aroused and, no, in answer to your question, no, I have no regrets."

"Wanna know a secret?" he asked.

I giggled and said, "of course."

"I think you are SO sexy right now I'm having trouble keeping my hands off of you," he said.

I was crying. I was just crying instantly.

"And I want you," I managed.

He stood, naked, took my hand, helped me to stand, and led me into the bedroom.

It was SO different from earlier when Lori had been here that I think I went into shock a little.

His fingers were confident as he unbuttoned the dress and his kisses were gentle, and tender, as she reached around and unhooked my bra. We both got the giggles when he struggled with the girdle.

The burning was gone from my pussy and my ass but I was still very tender and sensitive as his fingers brushed and played and touched.

He took me in the missionary position, face to face, and was kissing me as he slipped inside. I wrapped my legs around him and felt that pressure, deep in my belly, start to build with his first slow gentle thrust.

We said, "I love you" to each other about a thousand times as we made love.

When I came it was explosive. I was grunting and trying to cry out his name but he was covering my face with kisses, his mouth on mine, absorbing my cries.

He slowed his rhythm as my orgasm passed, and then started over, taking me over the top a second and then a third time before I felt that wonderful sudden tension in his body and then the warm stickiness of his release overflowing me.

My heels were against his ass, trying to hold him in but, as men will, he softened and slipped out.

We laid side by side, kissing, little gentle kisses, basking in the afterglow when he said, "I'll break it off with Lori if you want me to, Martha. I love you, you know that."

I felt a sudden adrenaline rush in my belly and pushed myself up so I could look down at him.

"Please don't do that," I said.

"Really?" he asked, his eyes big and questioning.

"Yes, David, really," I said.

I touched his lips with my fingertip when he started to say something.

"David," I said and bent and kissed him tenderly, "I'm terrified. I still hurt from what she did to me this morning and, honestly, I'm scared of what is to come."

I touched his lips again when he started to say something, and added another gentle kiss.

"But, David," I said, my palms on his cheeks now, holding his eyes with mine, "without her we don't get this," and I gestured at us in the bed. "How long has it been since we made love like this?"

I watched his face, those little lines between his eyes forming, his "thinking face."

And then he smiled.

"Okay, then," he said, "but know that all you have to do is say 'I withdraw my consent' and I'll end it."

"That's fair enough," I said, "but I don't think that will happen."

I kissed him again, a long, lingering kiss.

"David, I think I'm addicted," I added.

He kissed me once more and then rolled out of bed.

"Okay, then," he said, "now get in the shower with me and wash my back. I am SO late."

I washed his back and sent him off to work.

And then I sat at the kitchen table, drank a cup of coffee, and contemplated my life.

And I realized that what I had said to David almost as an afterthought was true.

I was addicted and felt more alive than I had for years.