The Preacher's Wife, Chapter Six

            "How many men have you fucked?" Brian asked. They were laying on their backs, naked, in a large, luxurious bed in the Stanley Hotel in Nairobi, Kenya.

            "That's a personal question, you impertinent twerp," answered Maggie tartly, but with a smile on her face.

            "I'm interested in the sex life of a MILF." He kissed her on the cheek.

            "Am I your surrogate mother?"

            Brian smiled back. "No, I've not yearned to fuck my mother - although I would be interested in what she could tell me about her sex life." He continued after a pause. "I've told you about all five women I have had. What do I know about you? I know you live in a place called Kansas, somewhere in the vast United States."

            "I have to be careful. I have a husband and I have two children in college, and I work for a conservative religious organization that would not be pleased if it knew about my illicit sex life."

            "I'm interested in you. In your life and what you feel and what you've done and everything. This is a romance. You're not just a fuck buddy." With exhaled breath he continued. "I love you."

            Maggie teared up with emotion. He had never said that before. She put an arm around his neck and pulled him to her and they exchanged quick kisses. "Let's not talk about love. We'll both be going home in a few weeks or months and we'll never see each other again."

            "I'm not asking you to marry me. I want to be in love with you -- even if it's only temporary. Can we do that?"

            Maggie digested that question. "Yes, we can be in love. For now and in Africa." She thought for a long moment. "The answer to your question is thirteen. Counting you."

            "Thirteen men? A quick response. You didn't need to count on your fingers."

            "I'm an accountant. I like numbers. And two women."

            "Oh, you are evil," Brian answered with a laugh. He pulled her to him and their bodies locked. "Now, I want to fuck you again."

            "Only if I can just lie here. You've worn me out."

           He rolled over on top of her and probed with his penis and slipped it inside her vagina. "This is my birthday present to you. Happy fortieth birthday."

            "It's better than a box of chocolates," she said as they began to move their bodies in unison. "It's also the anniversary of our first night together. Three months now."

            He joked, "It seems like we've been together forever." He paused. "Back to the subject at hand. Who was your first man? And how old were you?"

            She mused as he pulled his penis out of her and lowered his head to kiss her breasts. "I was eighteen and just out of high school and my boy friend stuck his cock in me. I panicked. I was an awful prude and sexually repressed. It was traumatic. I was certain God would punish me by making me pregnant.  I prayed and made promises.  Promises that I kept for fifteen years. I finally decided I had done my penance.  Or maybe I just lost my faith."     

            "I don't count that boy as a sex partner," she added.  "My first real sex partner was my husband when I was nineteen. It was my wedding night. Nine months later I had a daughter."

            Brian moved his head from her breasts downward to her crotch and flicked his tongue against her clitoris. She gasped. "Does that hurt?" he asked.

            "No, but be careful. I'm a little tender. You've fucked me three times today."

            "Always counting, aren't you?"

            "Changing the subject, tell me why a 23 year old man is telling this middle-aged woman that he loves her."       

            "Are you fishing for compliments?" He raised his head from between her legs and winked at her. 

            She laughed.  "I am.  And I'm curious."

            He moved his body up to lay beside her.  "How do I love thee?"  he mused.  "Let me count the ways.  I love thee because thou art a woman without pretense, a women who plays no games, makes no demands, an honest woman to whom I can confess my anxieties and share my worries." 

            "But most of all," he added as he rolled over on his side, lapping his leg over hers, and kissing her on the cheek.  "I love you because you love to fuck. You make love with joy and passion and dedication. I am privileged to be your lover. In fact, I'm feeling like loving you right now." His erect penis was rubbing against the hair covering her public area.

            "Will it destroy the moment if I say, not now?  I'm starving."  She picked up the telephone beside the bed. "Let's order something from room service. And a bottle of wine. After that I will be more responsive. Promise."

            "Order something we can eat in bed. Pasta Alfredo?" He spread her legs and inserted his tongue in her vagina."

            She gave the order over the telephone to the kitchen. "How about a shower while we're waiting for the food? We smell like sex." She sniffed the air. "This room smells like sex. I guess there's nothing we can do about that."

            "The perfume of true love."

            "I love you, too,"  she said suddenly and a tear ran down her cheek. She got out of the bed and to her feet. She extended a hand to him. "Come on. Take a shower with me. This is the first decent bathroom I've seen since I got to Kenya."

            They walked hand in hand to the bathroom. She turned on the shower and adjusted the heat of the water and they stepped inside. They kissed standing up, her hand around his penis, his hand running up and down her buttocks.

            "I want to fuck. Right now. Standing up." He put his hands under her hips and sought her vagina with his penis.

            "No," she said. "We have to get dressed. The food will be here in a minute." She pushed him gently away.

            Brian picked up a bar of soap. "I'll scrub your pussy and that wonderful butt." His soapy hand found her crotch and ran up the crack in her buttocks.

            "Enough, please. I'm not going to greet the waiter naked."

            Brian complied. He rinsed the soap off her and they both got out of the shower. He toweled her off from head to foot, stopping to spread the lips of her labia and plant a kiss on her clitoris. "I'll get dressed to greet the waiter. You get in bed. Just like you are now. I want him to know -- I want everyone to know -- that we are lovers."

            "I hope that he doesn't think that I'm your mother."

            "I'm proud of you. Proud that people know I am fucking you. I want to show you off. I love you."

            She didn't answer, but sat down on the bed with pillows behind her back, pulling up a sheet to cover her breasts. He put on a pair of trousers and a shirt and paced, waiting impatiently for the room service waiter. He arrived shortly, pushing a stainless steel cart with two plates on it, an unopened bottle of wine, glasses, and silverware.

            "Serve the lady in bed," Brian told the waiter. Maggie struggled to keep her breasts covered as she accepted a plate of Pasta Alfredo and a napkin wrapped around silverware from the waiter. The waiter uncorked the wine bottle and poured her a glass and set it on the table beside the king-side bed. He put another glass of wine on Brian's side of the bed. Brian tipped the waiter extravagantly as he left.

            "Did you deliberately flash that waiter a side boob?" asked Brian as he took off his clothes and sat down beside her on the bed and got under the sheet beside her. She dropped the sheet from her breasts.

            "I most certainly did not!" They sat side by side companionably, eating pasta and drinking wine. Maggie had never been happier.

            "Thirteen men," Brian mused. "Your husband was the first -- or the first you counted. And the other twelve?"

            "The second one was six years ago. I began an accounting business and I traveled occasionally from place to place in Kansas and Nebraska to audit the books of churches and religious organizations. Most of the sex wasn't great.  The men were usually frightened -- as was I.  Most of them were married, like me." 

            "Do you always come?"

            "Not always, although, as you know, it doesn't take much to get me off." she kissed him on the cheek.  "It's interesting to fuck," she mused.  "You don't know a man until you've had sex, and afterwards you might like them less or more. I've never had much romance in my life, and I enjoy the bits I have experienced."  

            She continued.  "Thinking about an ideal world, it would be a better place if sex was a human right.  If everybody could get laid.  Maybe you designate one day a week in which everybody can have sex, and nobody gets left out.  The ugliest people in the world get to fuck the most beautiful. And everybody gets to fuck the person they most want to fuck. You've heard of Willie Nelson, the country singer?"

            "Of course." 

             "He said, 'Ninety-nine percent of the world's lovers are not with their first choice. That's what makes the jukebox play.'  Maybe if everybody got to fuck somebody regularly, including their first choice, people wouldn't be killing each other. How weird am I with that thought?  Am I obsessed with sex?" 

            "It seems so. Interesting theory -- but every day I would want to fuck you." 

            "As horny as you are, you could fuck me and a half dozen other women the same day."  

            "But I would rather fuck you six times than six women."  He changed the subject. "Do you love your husband?  Does he love you?"

            "I don't know.  I suppose he loves me in his own way. I make him a comfortable home. I'm a good mother to our two children -- or rather I used to be before I took this job so far away from them. I make more money than my husband. And he fucks me every night. Always the same way. Missionary. Quick. No formalities. No wine and pasta. I'm a receptacle for his sperm." She looked down. "Oh, shit. All this talk and now I've dropped pasta on my tit."

            "I'll lick it off." Brian put his plate of pasta on the table beside the bed and turned to her and licked the sticky pasta off one of her breasts, and then moved his mouth to her erect nipple. "Have I told you that I love your tits?"

            "There's not much there to love. But, they don't sag. Yet. Thank God for that."

            "The nipples are puffy. I've never fucked a woman with puffy nipples. Very erotic."

            She looked at herself critically. "My nipples used to be pink. Bright pink. Now, just brown.  Children and age, I guess. I wish I had fucked you when they were pink. You would have liked that. They were pretty."

            "I wish I had been fucking you ever since my first erection.  When I was three years old.   Does your husband suspect you have lovers?"

            "I imagine he does. I spend a lot of time traveling to service my clients." She laughed, "Well not 'service' in the way you may be thinking. I'm very professional in my work. The men I have fucked are not my clients." She mused a moment. "My husband likes the money I make. We were poor until I started working."

            "What does your husband think about you being in Africa?"

            "He doesn't like it - but he likes the money I make.  The children are both away at college. They don't need me much anymore. So, here I am, a wanton woman, having an affair with a young man in a hotel room in Nairobi.  And loving every minute of it." She put down her empty plate on the table and they kissed.

            "Will your husband visit you here?"

            "No. Colorado is the most exotic place he's ever been."

            He paused a moment. "My girl friend back in England wants to visit me. Should I tell her not to come?"

            "This is the girl that you will probably marry?"

            "I don't know about marriage, but yes, she and I have a long term relationship."

            "Do you love her?"

            "Do you love your husband?"

            She poured them of them another glass of wine, emptying the bottle. They sipped the wine, sitting side by side, naked, their hips touching, a sheet half-covering their legs and pubic areas. "I don't know whether I love my husband or not, but I probably won't leave him. I am what I am. A woman from small town Kansas with modest aspirations. Once in a while I experience love and passion and excitement."

            "I don't know if I love my girl friend. We're comfortable with each other. She's good in bed -- although not as good as you. Not even close." He kissed her on the cheek.

            She returned the kiss. "Remember what Willie said about ninety-nine percent not being in bed with their first choice.  We all live lives of quiet desperation." 

            "I'm getting quietly desperate to fuck you again." His hand sought her vagina. "But going back to my girl friend. I could tell her not to come."

            "Would that end your relationship?"

            "Probably. She's attractive and she has other options. Our parents approve of us. England, you know. Right class, right school, a bit of old money. An appropriate relationship. Bugger appropriate!"

            "You would come to hate me if I said she shouldn't come. I don't want that. I'll be jealous while she's here, but I can endure that. I would like to meet your girl friend. To see what she is like. To see what you're like when you're with her. I can pretend there's nothing between us."

            "She will perceive there is something between us. But she won't say anything. She's English. Very polite."

            "Promise me something," she said.

            "Anything, my brown nippled goddess."

            "You're my first real boy friend. The first man not my husband with whom I have had a lengthy relationship. I know this is temporary. But when we end it, let's do it well. I want to look back and remember that I loved a young man and he loved me and that we parted loving each other." Tears ran down her cheeks.

            "I love you. Now and forever."

            They coupled in passion, he lying between her legs, she wrapping her legs around him, his penis going deeper and harder inside her, deeper than it ever been, or so she believed, and she, climaxing, once, twice, three times -- and then it was him, his body stiffening, his breath coming hard and fast, his penis quivering in her, and a hot rush carried them both forward into a few seconds of oneness.


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