The Acquisitive Lady

I stood up and felt the glutinous mixture begin to dribble down my thighs. Maurice glanced at the divan seat where the action had taken place and seeing that some of our joint fluids had dropped on to it said, "I'll try and clean this up while you shower."

I thought, "I didn't know plumbers were so gentlemanly," then smiling at him I left for the shower.

Finishing my shower I slipped on the flimsiest bathrobe I owned and went to the lounge room door and called out, "Its okay now Maurice", and then hurried to my bedroom. Here I checked myself in the mirror and brushed my hair. I wanted to be at my best for the second seduction.

Happy that all was well with me I went back to the lounge. Inspecting the divan it seemed that Maurice had managed to remove the sexual residue although there was now a big wet water stain. "It'll dry," I decided, and plonked myself down away from the water patch.

Maurice did not take long to shower and he came into the room looking very pleased with him self.

I had thought that all the moves would be mine, but I was wrong. Maurice came over to me and lifting me to my feet he kissed me deep and passionately.

"I want you again," he said, and made as if to lay me on the divan.

"Not here, Maurice, in the bedroom."

I led him to the bedroom. My heart was thumping with anticipation for what was to come. What did come was not quite what I anticipated.

I did the seductive thing and standing beside the bed I let my bathrobe slip to the floor, to stand naked before Maurice. I heard the sound of Maurice's indrawn breath as he stood looking at me.

Quietly in an awe filled voice he said, "Your lovely, Madeline; your more lovely than any…"

He stopped short no doubt realising that this was not the moment to make open comparisons between me and his other female partners.

He stripped himself never taking his eyes from me, and then he lifted me to sit on the edge of the bed. I didn't know what he wanted to do to me so it came as a surprise, not to say shock, when he parted my legs, raised my feet to rest on the edge of the bed, and knelt before me.

He knelt gazing at my genitals for a while, and then I felt his fingers gently part the lips of my vulva. I knew he must have exposed the inner lips and felt embarrassed. I wanted to protest in case the sight of my female organ turned him off, but before I could say or do anything I felt a finger touching the inner lips and probing into my vaginal tunnel.

I felt a shiver of pleasure pass through me, but it was nothing to the shuddering delight when, a moment later I felt him lift the hood over my clitoris and touch that little nub of nerve centres. I gave a whimpering cry; I had never been made love to like this by Ben. Maurice was surely a real lover, one who cared for and sought to give maximum pleasure to a woman.

His stimulation of my clitoris continued for some time, causing me to cry out continually with ecstasy and also begin to flood with my female fluid. Then I saw his head go down between my legs and felt something soft probing into me. For a moment I was at a loss to know what he was doing to me, then I realised, it was his tongue.

He was tasting me…he would smell my woman smell…how could he especially as I was pouring out my lubricant…how could he enjoy it? I tried to stop him, struggling to move away from him calling out, "No Maurice…no…don't do that to me…" He was too strong for me and he held me tight to him.

Unable to free myself I surrendered letting him have his way with me. That did not last for long, for however I imagined he felt, I soon began to respond to his ministrations. The sheer thought of his tongue in me, probing into my tunnel and then circling my clitoris…that he obviously wanted to do this to me…was enjoying it…and beyond that the effect it was having on me was beyond anything I had ever experienced in sex.

I felt it starting, the first quivers that presage the approaching orgasm, the dread of being stretched on its rack of exquisite torment had me begging him to stop, yet still he went on relentlessly, unyielding to my pitiful pleas.

Then it was upon me holding me in bondage to its delicious agony, and I was arching my body towards him as he held my thighs tightly, thrusting with his tongue more avidly than ever as my fluids poured out of me. I was screaming and weeping like a child in pain and still it went on until finally the climax was passed and I was a moaning sobbing creature.

He swung me round on the bed and came to lie beside me. It was then I experienced his tenderness as he held me in his arms and gently stroked my face. His own face glistened with my lubricant and as he bent to kiss me I could smell my fragrance and then taste myself.

Maurice was unhurried in his love making now, not like the urgency of our first coupling. It was as if he was bent on giving maximum pleasure to me, and as I was to learn, the man, in doing this, is on the road to his own sensual delight.

I placed a hand under my breast and raised it to extend a nipple saying, "Suck me…suck me my darling." I felt waves of love engulf me as he complied, sucking and tenderly nibbling on the nipple. Despite my orgasm of a few minutes before I felt the build up of another simply from the stimulation of my nipples, and I was experiencing a whole new realm of sexual love.

"Come into me now, darling, let me feel you inside me."

I spread my legs for him and he came over me and entered. I almost felt I was on another planet, or perhaps a new Garden of Eden where all is innocence and joy; Maurice was my Adam and I his Eve, united as man and woman were intended to be.

Foolish and stupidly romantic? Perhaps, but I pity anyone who has not known this bliss, the deep satisfaction of a fulfilling coupling. No wonder some people describe sexual intercourse as a spiritual experience.

What we were doing as Maurice slowly moved up and down in me did not seem like "fucking" as I understood it. For the first time I felt it as an act of loving procreation, the beginning of new life in my womb.

It was in that moment I deeply regretted the barrier of the pill that stood between me and this outcome. I wanted to be impregnated by Maurice, to carry our child, and I could have wept for its impossibility. Indeed I did weep, but once more it was the weeping of a wonderful orgasm. I wanted to consume him and be consumed by him; I wanted us to meld together, to become one.

Long after we had ended our orgasms he stayed in me and held me, telling me how lovely I was. I somehow felt that he meant more than my external appearance, that he was seeing something deeper in me, something I could not see in myself.

I had felt love for him, but how was this possible? True we had copulated but I hardly knew him, and yet felt as if I'd always known him. Was I mistaking lust for love, but if so, why did I feel so tenderly towards him after the edge of passion had been blunted? Why was he caressing me so tenderly when he could have got up and commenced his work? I didn't know and all my old values seemed to be tumbling down.

I have heard that prisoners long held in custody begin to look forward to the day of their release with dread. I had been imprisoned within my own values, the rapacious desire for money and grasping at what I thought was security. Now a new world seemed to have opened before me, and I was hesitating at the door of my prison.

For the time being Maurice and I were sated, and after eating lunch he went back to work as we didn't want 'Arry killing him. He worked furiously, obviously wanting to return to our love making, which by early evening and after a meal, we did. That night I now always think of as our honeymoon night.

The next day we anticipated the arrival of 'Arry, but about eight o'clock the telephone rang it was the man himself.

"I been tryin' to ring Morrie but they say he ain't there. Tell 'im I'm still feelin' lousy and won't be in for a couple of days. Tell 'im he can finish off the work in the laundry. I 'ope 'es been puttin' 'is back into it."

I was able to tell 'Arry quite truthfully that Maurice had been "putting his back into it."

For the next few days Maurice continued to put his back into it and I came to realise that a monster had been let loose in both of us. Maurice rang the house he shared and let it be known that he was staying with a friend for a few days, which again was the truth.

Each of us in the power of our monster, we could not leave each other alone. Between periods of plumbing work we engaged in the work of trying to satisfy each other. The problem was we didn't seem to be able to manage it. The more I had of Maurice the more I wanted and he seemed to be in the same situation with me.

As the week drew to a close I began to dread the return of 'Arry and Ben. How would things go on from there? Or perhaps they would not go on. Perhaps Maurice would have had enough of me by then?

As the ominous time drew near I was to discover that Maurice was experiencing the same dread as me. "What are we going to do, Madeline?" he asked one night after we had finished making love – at least temporarily. "We can't not see each other; we can't just stop…can we?"

I said "Yes we can, if you want to."

"I don't bloody well want to and you know it," he replied with unusual irritability.

I understood how he felt, but was still not sure just how far things would go between us. From what I have seen of other couples in similar situations the relationship either fades out, or one of the partners starts to ask for more than the other can give, you know, like "Leave him/her and come and live with me."

I was reticent to make any commitment beyond the present. This was partly because I had to be sure of my and Maurice's ongoing feelings. The other part was that I was not sure I could give up the materially blessed life I had with Ben. I was at least smart enough to know that what one decides to do in the midst of infatuation can harbour future disaster.

So, were Maurice and I merely infatuated with each other and could I let go of my material security? I had to have time to test both Maurice and myself.

We in fact decided that we would see as much of each other as much as possible. Ben was often away and Maurice and I could be together over night and weekends when Ben was away. Apart from that we managed the odd hour or so.

I think it went on like that for about eight months. We were still totally enamoured of each other, but then the "something more" started to emerge.

The "something more" happened to coincide with something I had felt and wanted from the very beginning. Perhaps it is a crazy instinct in some women, but I wanted Maurice to make me pregnant. I had reached the point where I felt sure of Maurice's love for me and mine for him, so when one night as he was about to ejaculate into me he said, "I want to make you pregnant," he struck a powerful and responsive chord in me.

This was crisis point. To become pregnant with Maurice would surely end my marriage with Ben. His possession would have been defiled and no longer be fit to be his possession. Could I…would I… be willing to give up that status of being in his possession?

The old money hunger was still there. What to do about it?

I assured Maurice that I would dearly love to have a child with him, and asked if he could accept the responsibility that went with having a child.

He was no idiot and could see quite well that he would be totally unable to provide me and a child with the sort of life style I then had. He was desperately miserable about this but could see no way that he could do anything about it.

I continued to give the matter much thought, and finally I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. The upshot was I took myself off the pill.

I said nothing to Maurice about stopping taking the pill and it took some time, but eventually I became pregnant. I still said nothing to Maurice, but I did tell Ben.

That was a night to remember. After dinner one evening I announced quite baldly, "Ben, I'm going to have a baby."

He sat staring at me for a moment wondering if he'd heard aright.

"Did you say you're going to have a baby?"

"Yes."

"You must be mistaken, how could you when we take precau…"

Another pause, longer this time.

"But you can't be we haven't…"

"No, we haven't, have we Ben!"

"Then…my God, you've been screwing with someone else."

"That's right Ben."

His face went red and seemed to swell up.

"You fucking whore…you…slut…after all I've done…you're not foisting your bastard on me…you'll get of this house…you'll get nothing from me…who the bloody hell is it? Who's been fucking you?"

"Not telling, Ben."

"I'll have him killed…I know guys…I'll take a contract out on him…"

"I don't think you will, Ben."

"Oh, and what's to stop me."

"Because you'd have to have me killed as well."

"How do you make that out?"

"I know too much, Ben."

"What d'yer mean?"

"Look Ben, when you've calmed down I think you'll see that it would be best if you were very nice to me. After all you've got your other women; one of them could easily step into my shoes…"

"How do you know about…?"

"Because I'm not stupid. You don't think I've been fooled by all this 'Going away on business' stuff, do you?"

"You've no cause for complaint. I dragged you out of a slum and given you a good life."

"That's true, at least, in part, Ben. And I think you'll want to go on giving me an easy life."

"Like fucking hell I will. You're out of here."

"Yes, I'm out of here, when I'm ready to get out."

"You said you knew too much, what does that mean?"

"Ben dear, you don't think I'm a complete fool, do you? I've kept my eyes and ears open; I've listened to you and your shonky mates talking."

"So what?"

"So I know where all the money is hidden away from the tax man and I know a lot about your less than legal dealings. Mr. Tax Man and the constabulary would be very interested in some things I could tell them. Now you don't want that to happen, do you?"

"You bitch…you wouldn't…I'll have you…"

"I would and I don't think you'll have me killed. You see, the information is all documented and in a safe place. Think it over, Ben, and we'll talk about it tomorrow."

His plump frame seemed to have diminished, like a balloon that been stuck with a pin, but he said nothing, but stomped out of the room. I decided it would not be diplomatic to share the bed with him that night – or any other night thereafter.

Ben was right though, I am a bitch – a conniving woman making the best deal she could. As I have said, in that respect Ben and I were well matched.

Maybe you can forgive me a little, because as I saw it I was doing this for the man I loved and the child that was on its way, as well as for myself.

I have finished except to note what happened and where things are several years later.

Ben stumped up with an allowance for me. I had the baby – a daughter. Maurice finished his apprenticeship but did not continue as a plumber, and with my urging we opened a plumbing supplies shop.

I've had two more babies since then, and after learning something about the plumbing supply business, I took on the buying. I do quite a bit of business with The Ben Stanhope Export/Import Enterprises, and very profitable it is.

Oh dear, they do say a leopard never changes its spots. I suppose I'm still acquisitive but I've got love and the fruits of love to go with it now.