Mysteries

So he backed off and she worked through her feelings, and it was better. A few months later they decided to make a baby.

* * * * *

When Phil is finished with the massage and returns to Jennifer's vagina she begins to gasp. He could masturbate her and watch her come from above her, but he decides to give her his mouth, the thing she likes best. He slides between her legs and raises her hips with his hands, pushing them under her buttocks and lifting her to his mouth. He begins sucking on her and moving his mouth up and down the full length of her vagina, and she goes crazy. She reaches to his head and pulls on his hair so hard it hurts him. When she starts to come she is so noisy it seems she might wake Kirsten, but he doesn't stop. He keeps mouthing her as long as she can stand it, until finally she rolls her sex away from his face and gasps,

"No more. Darling. No more. Please. No more."

He enters her while she's still panting, just pushing John Henry slowly into her flower, then holding himself in her while he kisses her all over her face. When she stops panting they kiss mouth-on-mouth and he pulls slowly out of her, then plunges in. She's still sensitive, and gasps with the plunge, but she doesn't say "no more." He pulls slowly again, and plunges again. Again, and he's already almost there, and then he starts fucking her quickly and comes while he's kissing her, and for a moment he doesn't kiss. He groans through his mouth, his mouth on hers, and she sucks in the moan. She holds her breath, keeping his moan inside her as long as she can. Her guy's moan. Her own guy, with her taste on his mouth for her.

As they cuddle afterwards, he can't run his hands over her because she's so sensitive. Everything tickles and makes her twitch. They lay their heads on a single pillow and look at each other and kiss a little, and joke, and she tells him he's the most wonderful lover in the world.

* * * * *

Philip always takes a long time to fall asleep, and he sleeps lightly, so Jennifer waits forever for his breathing to become regular and deep, before she rolls herself ever so slowly from the bed. It takes some time for her computer to boot up. She goes on line and logs onto her private email account, the one she keeps under a nym, and she clicks on the "New Letter" button. Then she stares at the screen for a long time.

When she begins to compose she types, erases, cuts, pastes, and types some more. At one point she erases almost everything, then begins over. A letter develops:

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Dearest Francesca:

After the night we spent together I was filled with shame and fear. I didn't know what to make of it. I was afraid of what would happen to my life, and what it would mean for Philip. I couldn't talk to you about it. I was afraid to talk to you. I was unforgivably cold, and I know I hurt you more than anyone else in my life. I'm so sorry, Francesca. I broke your heart. And mine.

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Jennifer's eyes fill ever so slowly, and she brushes them dry. "Don't be stupid," she says to herself. She types some more and her eyes fill and overflow. She stops typing, wipes her face with the back of a hand, and breathes through her mouth for a few moments, to gain control, but when she goes back to the keyboard she starts crying all over again. She doesn't sob. When a wave of crying rolls over her she stops typing until it passes. She gets tissues. It keeps happening. The first few times she handles it the same way, but then she gives up and cries quietly while she types, typing, then wiping, then typing some more.

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If I could undo how I hurt you I would. You are so dear to me. There hasn't been a day in the past two years I haven't thought of you, and wondered how you were, and hoped you were happy.

I know you have no reason to accept this apology. My remorse can't set everything straight. I owe you so much more than this, and if you will give me the chance I will spend a lifetime trying to make it up to you.

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She has to stop. She almost saves the text as a draft letter, but restrains herself. She gives in to the crying, trying to cry herself out. "Oh God," she whispers, in a strangled little voice. "Oh God, what have I done? What am I doing?" Finally she can type some more.

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I'm lost, Francesca. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do about anything, about you or about Philip, whom I love, and who is good to me. Please help me, Francesca. Please!

I just don't know. I'm broken inside. What can I do? Tell me what I have to do, my dearest friend. My love. I don't deserve your help, but I'm begging you. Please.

Your,

Jennifer

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Jennifer highlights "My Love" and cuts it. She stares at the screen for a minute, then pastes it back in. She addresses the email and moves the cursor to the "Send" button. She moves it to the "Cancel" button. Back and forth. Back and forth. Finally saves it as a draft. It joins the other six drafts of Francesca letters.

She cries some more, then shuts down the machine and returns to bed. She creeps under the covers and moves her body up close to Philip's, so she can touch him without waking him, until she goes to sleep.

End.