THE COMFORT OF A WOMAN
Published by Severin Rossetti at Smashwords
Copyright 2010 Severin Rossetti
Smashword Edition, Licence Notes
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The comfort of a woman was what her husband had always wanted of her, arms enfolding him, a soft and fragrant breast to cushion his cheek, but this was not enough for Bev.
'I need more,' she told Paula. 'I expected more when we married, and now, ten years on, I demand it. I need passion! I need...'
'A shafting?' Paula suggested, when her friend hesitated.
'Yes, if you want to put it so crudely, a bloody good shafting,' Bev agreed, downing her glass of wine and then gesturing to the bartender for a refill.
'And there was me thinking you and Derek had the perfect marriage,' said Paula. 'Of all my friends you two seem the happiest.'
'In most respects we are happy,' said Bev, nodding her thanks to the young barman as he recharged their glasses, passing him a note and telling him to keep the change. 'Derek is loving, faithful, attentive, he gives me everything I could ask for...except passion.'
Paula nodded, as if she understood, said, 'You've asked him for passion?'
'Well, not in so many words,' Bev confessed. 'I mean, it's not like asking for a new car or a new kitchen.'
'It isn't?' Paula grinned.
'No! Passion isn't a commodity, so I haven't asked him for it. I've dropped hints enough though, there's the body language there if only he'd read it. But he's content just to kiss and cuddle and fall asleep in my arms.'
'And that's it?' asked Paula.
'Oh, there's some lovemaking,' Bev conceded, 'and love is involved, I can feel it in him. I just wish that sometimes it could be a little more like fucking than making love.'
'Poor Bev,' Paula smiled, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. 'But men Derek's age, hard working, successful...these things happen, they thrive more on the comfort of a woman than her passion.'
'But Mark is no different to Derek,' Bev pointed out, 'just as industrious, just as motivated by his career. How do you two cope?'
'Who says we do?'
'Oh come on, Paula!' Bev exclaimed. 'We've known each other since schooldays, know each other only too well. If anyone couldn't survive without passion in her life then it's you.'
'Should I be flattered by that remark?' Paula laughed.
'It's true and you know it,' Bev insisted. 'So come on, what's your secret? Where does the passion come from? Give me a clue so I might find it for myself.'
'My secret?' said Paula, taking a sip of her wine, a glint in her eye as she smiled at her friend over the rim of her glass. 'You really want to know?'
'Please,' said Bev. 'I really am getting quite desperate.'
'Very well then,' Paula nodded, drinking down the last of her wine and beckoning for the bartender.
The young man came towards them, faced them across the bar, silent but smilingly attentive.
Just draining her glass, expecting Paula to order two more drinks, Bev almost choked to see her friend reach out, grasp the bartender by the front of his shirt and pull his face down to hers.
'Paula?' she gasped, but Paula seemed not to hear, had fastened her mouth to his and was kissing him, long and deep, with unmistakable passion. 'Paula!'
Slowly Paula broke the kiss, as their mouths parted Bev saw both wet with saliva, tongues flicking against each other a last time before withdrawing.
'Two more?' said the bartender, taking their empty glasses and moving along the bar to replenish them.
'Paula? What was that about?'
'Rather dishy, eh?'
'Explain yourself,' Bev insisted.
'Well, Mark's job does take him away from home a lot-' Paula began, but before she could elaborate the bartender was back with their drinks and she was leaning towards him again, no kisses this time, just the single question which was almost as shocking. 'What time do you finish tonight, Andrew dear?' she asked.
'Eight,' he answered.
'Then I will expect you at my place fifteen minutes after.'
'This is a regular thing then? How long has it been going on? How did it start?'
Paula laughed at the profusion of questions, they had started as soon as they left the bar, continued during the brief walk to her house, and she had evaded giving a straight answer to any of them.
'What does any of that matter?' she now said, taking a bottle of chilled wine from the fridge, scooping up two glasses and leading the way through to the lounge.
'It matters!' said Bev in exasperation, hurrying after her friend. 'And it matters that you kept it secret from me!'
In the lounge Paula kicked off her shoes and sat with her feet tucked beneath her on the large settee. Bev sat down beside her, closer than she needed to be, as if this might draw some answers from her. She accepted the glass which was offered, sipped at the wine but never once took her eyes from Paula's, scrutinizing her closely.
'Okay then, what matters is that I had a problem,' said Paula. 'One not unalike yours. I needed passion, Mark is away so often and so I addressed the problem. Yes, it is a regular thing, but how long it's been going on and how it came about really isn't important. I have my passion, I'm happy, and when Mark returns from his many business trips he comes home to a happy woman.'
'Well Paula, I'm-' Bev shook her head, took a long drink of wine, tried again. 'I'm-'
'Gob-smacked?' Paula offered.
'Utterly! So smacked in the gob I am positively reeling! And I always thought you and Mark were such a contented couple!'
Paula set down her glass on the low table before them, took both Bev's hands in hers, said, 'But we are, perfectly contented! And now perhaps you can see the reason why?'
'I need another drink,' said Bev, helping herself, though she had already had more than she would usually drink.
Paula waited until Bev had refilled her glass, declined any more for herself, then said, 'Now, what about you?'
'Eh?
'Your own problem, your own personal need. What shall we do about it?'
'Find me someone like your bartender friend?' Bev giggled a little drunkenly, and then remembered, checked her watch, asked, 'He's coming, he's really coming?'
'Oh yes, soon, but he won't come before I come,' Paula grinned.
'I'd better be going then,' Bev said, setting her glass down.
Paula caught her hand, said, 'Where? Back home to a night with Derek but without passion?'
'No, Derek is doing a Mark, away on business for a couple of nights.'
The invitation was simply stated. 'Then stay.'
It took moments for the meaning of the words to sink into Bev's befuddled brain, after which she said, 'But your barman friend?'
'His name is Andrew and he can provide the passion you need,' Paula told her, and took her by the hands again, tugged her to her feet. 'Come, try it, trust me.'
Paula's voice was coaxing and cajoling, Bev tried to resist the hands which drew her forward but was too weak, offered arguments which were all easily overcome.
'But in your bed-?' she said, as she was brought to the foot of the stairs.
'The guest room,' Paula countered.
'I'll be seeing Derek, too much guilt,' Bev tried, as they climbed the stairs.
'Then we will blindfold you, yoou will see who you choose, there will be no guilt.
And then her final protest, as they entered the guest room and she saw the double bed: 'I know every contour of Derek's body, I'll recognise him even if I can't see him.'
'Then you won't touch,' Paula said, pushing her back onto the bed, spreading out her arms and using scarves to tie her wrists to the wrought-iron bedstead.
'Paula, I really don't think I want to do this,' said Bev.
'Yes you do,' Paula insisted, taking another scarve and wrapping it around her face, knotting it tightly so that she could see nothing.
'No, not now, not this time.'
'Too late,' said Paula, rising as the doorbell rang downstairs.
Bev tugged at the scarves but they held her fast, she turned to the pillow and worked her face against it but was unable too loosen the blindfold.
Then she froze as she heard footsteps on the stairs, the soft murmur of voices, the creak of the bedroom door. Her blindness, her vulnerability, made these faint sound all the more threatening and she gave another desperate tug at the scarves.
'Relax and enjoy,' she heard Paula say, and then, 'Andrew, meet my friend Bev. Her life lacks passion.'
'Hello Bev,' said a deep male voice which she recognized as that of the bartender, and her body now stiffened rather than squirmed, her ankles were crossed and her thighs clamped tight together.
She just thanked God her friend had not seen fit to tie her feet as well as her hands, said, 'Paula, I really don't want to do this. Please, let me go.'
'Nonsense, you'll thank me for it,' Paula laughed.
'And me too, I hope,' said Andrew.
'Have fun,' said Paula, her voice receding, and there was the soft click of the door closing.
'Paula!' Bev cried. 'PAULA!'
'Ssh,' said Andrew. She felt the edge of the mattress dip under his weight, the soft touch of a fingertip to her lips. 'Ssh.'
Instinctively Bev turned towards the voice and there was a light kiss on her cheek, the sort of goodnight peck a child might receive from a parent, the lips warm and dry, the breath of the kiss slightly perfumed, or perhaps it was the nearness of his cologne, so subtle that it was only now that she noticed it. Unable to see, Bev could almost forget the unfamiliar bedroom, imagine herself in some fragrant glade, the scent of herbs and flowers all around her.
'Calmer now?' he asked, but before she could answer a wave of panic was washing over her again as she felt fingers at the buttons of her blouse.
'Stop this!' Bev said, twisting her body but unable to prevent her from parting her blouse, revealing her bra.
'I would if you wanted me to, but I don't really think you want me to,' he said, moving his hands to her breasts and resting his palms lightly on them. 'See? Your nipples are getting hard already, Bev. You can't deny that, can you?
No, to her shame, to her delight, Bev could not deny it, beneath the black lace her nipples were pricking and tingling.
'So...?' said Andrew, as if asking whether he should continue, and they both knew that she would say nothing.
Hands ran over her face, down her neck, across her breasts, the short nails nicely manicured, not chewed to the quick like her husband's, lightly grazing her skin. The hands, too, were softer than Derek's, their touch more gentle, and they moved back up to cup her cheeks, to hold her face still while he kissed her on the lips.
Bev had to respond now, her mouth opened to admit Andrew's tongue and felt it wash against her own, and then him suck at it to draw a deep breath from her. His kiss lingered, his tongue probed, though it was not as fervent as Derek's it seemed to have more...more of the passion which had been missing for so long.
Feeling a fire build inside, Bev began to lap hungrily at Andrew's mouth, but the moment she did this he drew back, leaving her gasping.
Blindly searching for his lips, her head tossing from side to side, she felt them touch the top of her breasts, then skip down to kiss her belly.
'Lift a little,' Andrew told her, his fingers at the waist of her skirt as his tongue licked at her navel, and she raised her hips.
In an instant her skirt and knickers were down, whipped away in a single fluid movement, and before she could feel any embarrassment his mouth was moving lower, tongue washing over her pubic hair.
Bev remembered a crude bar-room trick of Derek's, a stick figure of a woman made from twisted pieces of paper, and the merest drop of liquid would make its legs part lewdly. She was that helpless automaton now, as Andrew's tongue burrowed into the mat of hair her legs spread wider and wider, needing him deeper, into the very core of her.
His fingers caressed the inside of her thighs, found the wet lips of her cunt and parted them, held them obscenely wide to make way for his tongue. Even her own fingers playing with herself had never delighted her more, as if his tongue was a part of herself, and driven by her, it went to the very places she wanted.
As Andrew's hands began to climb slowly back up her belly so Bev sank as far down the bed as her tied hand would permit, pressing her groin harder against his face.
She heard a low sound escape, not the soft snort of disgust which she sometimes guessed was Derek's response but more a growl of satisfaction, and she understood that Andrew was enjoying this as much as she was.
Stretched to her limit, Bev shifted her hips from side to side, gyrating against his face, and eventually he had to pull back.
'Paula promised me passion,' Bev said, her voice coming in ragged gasps, and though she was experiencing more than ever before she said, 'Fuck me, Andrew.'
'Make love to you?' he asked, his fingers now slipping inside her, taking up where his tongue had left off.
'No! Fuck me!' insisted Bev, her body bucking beneath him, knowing what she wanted, aware of the distinction more than ever before.
Andrew's free hand slipped inside her bra, pulled her breasts without removing it, his thumb brushed the swollen nipples as he knelt higher between her thighs, his knees forcing her legs even wider.
Then she felt his mouth fasten on her breast, he sucked the nipple into his mouth and then a greedy portion of the flesh. She had never had children but she knew this is what it must be like, this is what she had missed, to be suckled with such urgent fervour that her whole body tingled.
She grew wetter, she was sure she must have been drenching his fingers, but where Derek would surely have responded with revulsion, if he had ever brought her this far, it only seemed to spur him on. His fingers worked faster inside her, his mouth worked harder on her breast, he drove her body into unaccustomed paroxysms of delight.
And when his fingers withdrawing from her made a wet 'plop' of a sound they both giggled.
'And now the passion,' he told her, taking his mouth from her breast, running his sopping fingers across her lips so that she could suck them and taste herself.
Slowly he rose on his knees, leaving her body burning and aching for his, she felt his fingertips trail down her body and the mattress give
as he adjusted his position.
'Yes, now,' she pleaded. 'Now.'
After so many years of waiting for passion it had to be now.
Bev caught her breath as she felt something nudge at the mouth of her cunt, not his delicate finger this time but something meatier, with more substance. It pressed, parted her lips, but entered no more than a fraction of an inch before withdrawing.
She was about to protest, voice her frustration, but then it was back again, entering her a little deeper, and then a little deeper still. With slow steady strokes Andrew began to move into her, a measured progression, as if he needed to gradually coat his cock with her juices and make it slick before the promised passion.
'And it will come, the passion,' he said, knowing her need. 'As will you.'
'Promise?' she sobbed, her body rising to his.
'Promise,' he said, as he was finally deep enough inside her for their groins to meet, bone bruising bone.
Now he pulled out quickly and pushed back hard, no cautious inch-by-inch intrusion this time but a driving thrust which forced her body deep into the soft mattress.
His hands were to either side of her head, supporting his body, his thighs were between hers to keep them apart, there was no tender caress of his hands or soft touch of his lips but just the increasing rhythm of his cock inside, moving faster, working deeper.
From the depths of her soul, from a part of her that her husband had never managed to touch in the ten years of their marriage, Bev felt her orgasm build, and she actually screamed out loud, out of fear that she might ultimately be denied it, out of fear that it might be too much for her to bear.
'Come!' Andrew said, his pounding movements making the whole bed shake, as if to excuse the need for her being tied to it. 'Give into the feeling and come!'
Okay, the orgasm didn't last forever, but after waiting so long for such passion it maybe seemed that way. Bev's body shuddered and trembled as if with a series of aftershocks, only slowly subsiding.
Remembering how it was with her husband, his greatest joy being to have arms enfolding him, a fragrant breast to cushion his cheek, she now felt the need to offer the same thanks, the same solace to her friend Paula's barman lover.
Her hands were still tied, though, she could not wrap him in her arms, so all she could say was, 'Oh Andrew! Andrew! Andrew!'
'Oh Bev! Bev! Bev!' he responded, with a soft laugh.
'How I ache to take you in my arms now,' she sighed.
'Not quite possible at the moment, is it?' he said, that mischievous hint of humour in his voice again. 'But maybe instead-?'
'Yes?' she said, then sensed the weight of his body settling on the bed Beside her, felt an arm work its way between her body and the mattress, taking her in a half embrace.
'Oh yes,' she sighed.
'Yes?'
'Yes!' she hoped, for after such passion there had to be tenderness.
'Very well,' he agreed, and she felt fingers at her right hand untying the scarf which had fastened it to the bed.
Bev flexed her fingers, brought some feeling back to them, was able to roll into the loving embrace she needed, felt the arms enfold her, the smooth touch of flesh against her lips, the....?
The soft fragrant breast which cushioned her cheek?
She blinked in the harsh light of the bedroom as the blindfold was removed, had to accustom herself to its glare before she could make out the figures, Andrew in the chair on the far side of the room, still fully dressed as he had been in the bar, and Paula naked beside her, holding her in a tender embrace.
'Sometimes it really is the comfort of a woman that we need,' her friend told her, taking Bev's hand and moving it to the wet dildo which was strapped around her groin, then lowering her face to kiss her. 'And now, will you give me the comfort of a woman in return?'