Our heroine's saga continues, in three parts. Read "Ginny's Withering Faith" as background.
Part 1
The past year had been the best one of my life. My father-in-law, JJ β now almost 55 β and I had continued our blistering affair with one major addition. I'd discarded my earlier hang-ups about engaging in group sex with him and we'd become involved with a swingers' club..."The Friendly Friday Society." Each Friday afternoon we'd meet at a member's home and join consensual partners, most times in groups, which had an amazing, enriching effect on our sex life.
Swinging was easier for JJ than it was for me, since I was somewhat guarded about sharing him with other women. But, it kept him happy and was a tremendous turn-on for me, given some of the attractive, intelligent, sophisticated couples that we met. It got to the point where I knew the people β men
and
women β I wanted to have sex with within five minutes of meeting them. It's as if a switch flipped inside my head, as I thought,
Yeah, I'd like to fuck you
! I got so obsessed with group sex that I could hardly wait for each Friday afternoon to arrive. But, as with most things, over twelve months of sinful excitement couldn't last forever. A tragedy occurred, and our swingers' lifestyle stopped suddenly when my mother-in-law, Lee, was diagnosed with virulent, inoperable, ovarian cancer.
"I'll expect you to take care of Jay, Ginny," she said from her hospital bed. "He's strong, but my being sick has made him a basket case. I'm afraid that when I go he'll fall apart."
I was close to doing that myself. Sitting next to her bed and holding her bony little hand, I was crying uncontrollably, trying to staunch the flood of tears. She was hardly recognizable, as her cancer had metastasized and eaten away at her petite, once shapely body.
"Oh, Lee...Momma...please tell me what I should do," I blubbered. In the seven or so years that I'd known her, before and after I'd married and divorced her son, Mike, she'd been more of a mother to me than my own mom had ever been.
"You'll know what to do, Gin," she said, fixing me with a meaningful stare. "We both know how Jay is β he and women β and, though I've kept quiet about it, I'm aware of your feelings for him."
"He's the sweetest man, and I...I...".
"Don't admit anything you might be sorry for," interrupted Lee. "I feel lucky having spent a few years with him since my divorce from 25 years of an absurd marriage. Now you can reap the good fortune. You and Andi'll certainly be well provided for, much more so than by my wastrel son."
I'd never heard Lee speak of her son β my former husband, Mike β so disparagingly. I wondered if she knew that JJ was the biological father of my three-year-old daughter, Andi, as well. I hoped not. She'd suffered enough through her illness, and would have an eternity in Heaven to know the sordid fact that her husband and I had been having an adulterous, incestuous affair since I'd met him, with but one interruption, for nearly six years.
"I promise I'll care for him, Lee," I whimpered.
"That's a good girl, 'cuz I'll be watching...from upstairs, or the other place," she whispered, trying to cheer me up and patting my hand. "Now I've got to rest. Bring Andi by tomorrow, okay?"
Andi saw her grandmother the next day for the last time, because a few days later Lee passed away, which changed all of our lives forever.
Mourning for Lee was agonizing, and took many weeks. JJ was constantly depressed, and didn't respond to my efforts to comfort him. Once Andi fell asleep, I'd join him in bed and hold him until dawn, trying to be a 25-year-old wifely substitute. But, I was unable to stimulate him to the levels of our previous passion. It was as if he'd aged ten years and had become a much older man than his age, and he became nearly oblivious to my hunger for him. Even his custom building design business, which he'd worked so hard for decades to develop, became drudgery, it seemed. His lack of energy also ate away at my spirit, which began to flag because of the pervasive sadness.
"Don't you care for me anymore, JJ?" I asked one night after dinner.
"Of course, babe. I'll always love you," he said, listlessly.
"Well, I don't feel it. When we fu...when we
do
make love now, you're like a statue. I can cum a half dozen times, but you just...just stay kind of hard...and quiet. You haven't had an orgasm in ages!" I said bluntly, though trying to temper my statement by hugging him...holding him. It was true. In the three months since Lee had been gone, I'd forgotten that life-affirming joy that I used to feel when he'd go out of his mind as he filled me full of his seed...or when he'd watch me getting it on with another man. I knew in my heart that he needed something to reverse his depression...probably other women.
"I'm sorry, Gin," he sighed. "I'm wrung out emotionally. Lee was my anchor, and I miss her so much. Even the business bores me. The only reason I'm keeping it is for you and Andi. I feel like an automaton. I should go to the doctor and see if he can give me some energy pills or something."
That night in bed I was almost sorry I'd said anything, since we tried to make love and failed, causing me to lie awake nearly 'til morning. He'd tried so hard. I'd felt his wonderful, mature body, straining to get hard and please me, but to no avail. I was relieved when he left the house the next day to go to the office and, later, to see his doctor.
Three days after that JJ's test results came back from his complete physical exam. He was in very good health, but had some of the potentially dangerous afflictions of the modern professional man: moderately high blood pressure and high cholesterol. To combat them, he brought home some prescription drugs, which did our sex life no good at all.
A month went by and we made love only sporadically. When we did, it was because I forced it, sucking him 'til he was hard β or almost hard β and mounting him until I had an orgasm. I gradually bottled up my frustration and, as I'd done before when Mike and I had ceased having satisfying sex, I reverted to using my dildo to masturbate. To JJ's credit, he didn't mind. In fact, he helped me maintain a regular relationship with my plastic lover as β little by little β he descended into what seemed like impotence.
"The doc also prescribed Viagra, kiddo...to be used in moderation. I need something! When I
do
get an erection with you, my dick just stands there, feeling numb. I got some, anyway. God! I'm ashamed of getting old," he said, turning away. Then he mumbled, "I think it's time we found you a boyfriend."
"What?" I gasped, shocked that he could be so selfless...so distant...so
practical
about salvaging our sex life. I began to wonder if it was just because the thrill of our adulterous fucking had ceased with Lee's death. Or, that we'd tapered off on our swinging activity, which had made him a real voyeur where I was concerned. "I love you, JJ. I've gotten by without sex before" β thinking back when I'd "gotten religion" a couple of years before and tried to be celibate β "and I can do it again," I assured him. I truly believed what I said, naively ignorant of how wrong I might be.
"Well, you know, Jim...at the office...has been hot for you for years."
Jim was JJ's lead architect, a tall, sweet, gentle, dark-haired 34-year-old who stammered and was comically clumsy whenever I was around him. No doubt he'd make some woman an ideal mate, but he lacked my father-in-law's fire, his humor, and his incredible