Chapter 3

Martin was standing at the sitting-room window when Jean returned by taxi. He had been to the cinema but had not stayed to see the program through because he found it impossible to concentrate on a silly horror film with the problem of Jean's visit to Dorothy on his mind, as well as Mr.. Huxtable's proposition. Part of him still wanted to divorce Jean and get it over with, but another part didn't want to let her go, despite the discovery of her inversion. He felt there was a link between them which had been established since the truth of their relationship had become clear.

As soon as he opened the door he saw she was upset. She was no longer crying but her face was tear-strained and tragic. He took her arm and guided her into the sitting-room, serving her a drink without a word and noticing her trembling hand as she took it.

"What happened, my dear," he asked smoothly, "Did you see Dorothy?"

She nodded, her eyes filling with tears.

"You look as though it wasn't a successful meeting," he said lightly, taking a cigarette from a brass box. "Let me guess . . . I'd say Dorothy has found herself another girl-friend and was a bit embarrassed when you turned up is that how it went?"

The tears were now openly running down Jean's beautiful pale face.

"Oh Martin . . . it was horrible--horrible!" she looked so stricken he went over and sat beside her on the sofa, taking her hand in his.

"Tell me about it Jean. I'm sorry it upset you, but tell me about it I'll understand."

For the second time that day Jean threw herself into another's arms and sobbed out her un-happiness. Martin, like Dorothy, slowly pieced together the disjointed tale. But, unlike Dorothy, he was genuinely sympathetic and really moved at her experience. The manner of Jean's seduction and the embarrassment she had been subjected to told him his wife's former friend was callous and insensitive, whatever she might have been in the past. If it had been a man who had put her in such a position he would have punched his nose in. But you couldn't do that to a 'Butch' Lesbian who had all the outward signs of being a woman, even if she no longer behaved as one.

"Oh Martin . . . I felt so degraded . . . you can't imagine. It's no use telling me it's alright to go with a woman it's not and that was my punishment."

"Don't talk silly, Jean," he told her, "You're all mixed up. It was unfortunate, but you can't expect her to stay the same after three years. You've changed yourself and you know it. With a decent person it would be quite different, I'm sure of it. Now don't cry my dear, it's all over and done with. Just try and forget."

"I'll never forget it Martin, never as long as I live. I'll never be the same after that."

"But Jean, listen to me . . . look at me and be perfectly honest. When she was making love to you did you enjoy it? Honestly now!"

Jean turned her unhappy tearful eyes and looked at him imploringly, then she dropped them to look at her hands where they lay twisting her handkerchief nervously. Finally she whispered:

"That's the awful part of it . . . I enjoyed it . . . really let myself go for the first time in my whole life . . . and then that had to happen to me! Don't you see? I wouldn't be minding it so much if I'd found it unpleasant."

"Well, at least you've proved something to yourself Jean. It's what you need. It's the proper sexual relationship for you . . . so it's only a matter of finding the right person, isn't it?"

"I'm not sure. I'm still not sure if it's morally right even if I did enjoy it. And what if all Lesbians get like that . . . maybe I'd become a person incapable of real love and loyalty?"

"Of course you wouldn't, you haven't got it in you," he said, decisively, none too sure himself, but determined to comfort her. "Now snap out of it I'll make some coffee and sandwiches . . . here, finish your drink."

She got out of her chair wearily and took off her coat and her shoes, quite willing to have Martin wait on her. She was emotionally exhausted. He returned after a long time, not being used to domestic chores, with some very rough-looking sandwiches and coffee which was too strong for her taste. But she ate and drank gratefully, finding she needed refreshment.

He waited until she had relaxed a little.

"I had a visit from Old Huxtable," he said finally, "he had a rather extraordinary message from the Church Committee."

She made an effort to be distracted by listening intently as he told her about the Youth Club. To his dismay she said:

"Well . . . it's not a bad idea to have a club like that in the Parish. There's a need for a place the teenagers can go to, other than the cafes and cinemas. You know I think it's a wonderful idea really . . . and what a compliment to ask me to run it . . . " she paused thoughtfully, now fully concentrated on the subject, "Do you know I think I'd love to do it? All those innocent fresh-faced youngsters might make me feel clean again after what happened to me today."

"But Jean you can't you mustn't!" he protested vehemently.

She looked up in surprise. "Why? Oh! You mean you want us to be divorced after all? But I thought . . . "

"No, no, I want us to stay together, as a matter-of-fact. Don't you see . . . I couldn't have you mixed up with teenagers when I've got this thing about girls. I would be too much of a temptation to me it wouldn't be fair!"

A painful despairing look came into her eyes and once more the tears gathered. Suddenly she flung herself full length on the sofa in a paroxysm of misery. He rushed across the room and tried to comfort her, dragging her upright and holding her in his arms. But she could not be comforted. Life seemed to her utterly hopeless and without meaning. After a while she calmed down.

"Oh Martin . . . I'm so unhappy, every way I turn seems a dead end and now there's one thing I feel I could do and that's denied to me also . . . I wish . . . I wish I were dead!"

He was stricken by the misery in her voice and an idea which he had been chewing on all day came back into his mind. It could be a solution if she would co-operate. He decided he would suggest it, but he'd have to be cunning about it. He remembered that whiskey always broke down her inhibitions.

"Have another drink Jean . . . let's get blotto again . . . things don't seem so bad after a few drinks. Remember last time?"

She didn't answer, but she didn't refuse the drink when he put it in her hand. He turned up the electric fire, pulled the curtains, switched off the center light and left one standard lamp burning in a far corner. The comfortable intimate atmosphere, plus several stiff drinks, soon had her relaxed and slowly the shock of her experience began to wear off.

She began to talk about it once more and for the first time was able to see the funny side of being discovered almost naked in the arms of a woman. Martin gradually edged her off this incident and managed to get her talking about her actual seduction and he was gratified to notice that Jean became sexually aroused as she talked about Dorothy's lovemaking. She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa beside him.

"Tell me, Jean," he said slyly, "What have you been doing during our marriage I mean about sex ? I know it's not aimed at me but you must have felt excited sometimes thinking of Dorothy."

She blushed. "Well you know," she said looking away from him.

"You did the same as I did of course," he said, "You masturbated yourself in your single bed while I lay beside you doing the same thing in mine, eh? What a couple of clowns!"

His bantering tone made her more at ease.

"Well . . . yes."

"It excites you talking about Dorothy, doesn't it?"

"I suppose so, if only I could forget about what happened this afternoon. You see I've never talked to anybody about her, except you."

"So when I talk about Dorothy to you, you get sexy?"

She nodded and blushed again.

"Jean, I think we could work something out between us along these lines. I mean if I were getting some sort of sex life with you, even if it wasn't actually fucking you, I think I could withstand the temptation of having teenagers around. In fact I'm sure of it."

"But I don't see what you mean," she protested.

"Well, what I mean is . . . it's terribly difficult to say but we've just go to be honest with each other . . . I mean you'll probably go on masturbating and thinking of Dorothy because one's got to have a sex-life of some sort . . . well . . . would you let me watch you doing it?"

He waited with baited breath for her answer.

She looked bewildered, staring at him uncomprehendingly.

"Look," he went on hurriedly, "I could talk to you about Dorothy to excite you while you're doing it."

"But that wouldn't be enough for you surely not?"

"It would I promise it would. I'd never touch you, I swear it! If only you'll do just one thing for me . . . "

"What's that?"

"Put on schoolgirl's clothing while you do it," he answered, watching her reaction closely.

There was a glimmer of a smile on her face but she suppressed it quickly. He turned and filled her glass once more, leaving her to chew it over in her mind.

"You mean that would compensate you for a proper sex-life?" she asked quietly.

"I'm sure of it," he answered convincingly.

"But I don't think I could do a thing like that in front of you," she said tentatively, after a few minutes thought.

"You could close your eyes and just listen, couldn't you? And besides if you wear schoolgirl's gear it will remind you of Dorothy as she used to be not as she is now wouldn't it?"

"I suppose so," she said dubiously.

"Jean, we've got to do something to solve our difficulties. Either we try this or we'd better go ahead with a divorce, because I don't think we could carry on as we were before."

"No," she said, "I couldn't bear that again and it has been better between us since Friday.

I think . . . perhaps . . . I'll give it a try, if you like Martin. But I'll be very embarrassed, I expect."

He leapt from the sofa and went rushing out of the room and bounding up the stairs. In a few minutes he came clattering down again carrying a parcel done up in brown paper, which she had never seen before and wondered where he had hidden it. She watched curiously while he undid it. The parcel contained a gymslip and blouse, navy blue panties, a liberty bodice with suspenders attached, black stockings, and lace-up shoes. They had all been bought before his marriage in the vain hope that one day his new bride might co-operate in his aberration.

She was certainly embarrassed. She did not know which way to look when she saw the clothes. But she agreed to the experiment, so she stood up reluctantly and stripped off her blouse. Martin sat in the big easy chair beside the fire. He especially did not want to frighten her by being too near although he would have loved to help her change. It seemed to him important that she shouldn't be startled or surprised, so he said:

"I'm going to take my penis out, Jean, but you don't have to look at me . . . I'm just warning you."

She flushed and did not look at him. He undid the buttons of his flies. Already at the very thought of seeing her undress and dress again IN THOSE CLOTHES had got him to fever pitch. No sooner had his tool emerged from his trousers than he had an immediate emission. It was not surprising after three years of sexual frustrations and masturbation.

But she did not know. He mopped it up in his handkerchief and watched her as she took off her skirt, her panties, her corselet, her nylons, and her pretty frilly brassiere. And then she redressed. In the liberty bodice which hardly reached her waist, navy blue school panties which stretched tight across her adult buttocks. Now the blouse, then the gymslip over all and, one by one, the black stockings which were long but only just reached the stretched suspenders. Finally she put on the lace-up shoes.

She stood for a few minutes undecided. What was she supposed to do now? She looked quickly over at her husband. He was staring at her with a concentrated, almost ferocious, expression on his face while his hand worked vigorously to revive his penis. She looked away.

Suddenly he began to speak:

"You told me," he said, his voice low in the dim room, "That Dorothy used to sneak into the same lavatory as yours when you were at school.

"You used to lock the door and then you used to put your hands up each other gym slips. Just like the one you've got on . . . your fingers would feel each other's mickey's through the material.. . "

Jean's face was flushed. She had not realized he intended to excite her at the same time she was exciting him. But of course that was what he meant . . . she closed her eyes.

". . . of your school panties and you would open your legs and pull the elastic wide so that the other's hand could get up the leg . . . "

Into her mind's eye came the youthful Dorothy . . . there she was with her untidy black hair, standing with her hand up Jean's panties, her gentle fingers producing the most delicious feeling in her young puss. The years rolled away in an instant, invoking the most vivid memory of the past. Her hand began to find its way up the leg of her schoolgirl panties, her face glazed and sightless. Martin held his breath this was perfect ! Not only had he got the schoolgirl he craved for, but he had a schoolgirl masturbating herself and on top of all that she was his wife! His pumping hand once more brought a marvelous thrilling climax. His semen dribbled hot and thick over the back of his hand. He looked down and watched the white liquid start and stop from the pinkish-mauve head of his weapon. He looked up and went on talking to Jean:

". . . and then when you got very excited, you pulled your panties right down to the knees and stood in front of each other pulling back the lips of your little schoolgirl quims with both hands so that the other girl could get a good look. And one of you would then go down on her knees and look up at the other's twat and push a finger about and explore and . . . "

His voice droned on. Jean was ecstatic. She stood in the middle of the floor. As he spoke about the knickers being brought down she lifted her gymslip and dragged down her own navy-blue panties. She hooked two fingers into her hairy adult cunt and exposed it to Martin with her long legs bent at the knees so he could see its slimy interior from front to back. This was obviously the stance she had adopted with Dorothy all those years ago. She was acting it out before him . . .

And Martin thought he would almost burst with excitement. Her pose was lascivious in the extreme. To see her standing dressed as a schoolgirl in her own living-room, the electric fire showing her bent open legs, her exposed cunt, her eager working fingers, was erotic beyond his wildest dreams. He was seeing an aspect of Jean he had never dreamed existed.

He leant back in his chair, his legs wide open, one hand slowly masturbating his limp penis and the other hand cupping his balls which he gently squeezed from time to time. His eyes were fixed on the wonderful scene in front of him. She was no oblivious of his presence. The afternoon's session with Dorothy had certainly had an effect on her, he decided. She had, without realizing it, broken down all her inhibitions at one stroke.

He was positive she would also break down all those moral scruples she still had. He caught his breath. Suddenly he was jerked back into the reality of their situation and saw objectively what had happened to their lives from the minute he told Jean on Friday of his intention to divorce her.

He was appalled at the avalanche of eroticism which had overwhelmed both of them. He was nauseated. Had they gone mad? Here was his wife, whom he had associated with a cold sexless attitude, exhibiting herself in the most lewd, undignified manner imaginable and here was he condoning a Lesbian relationship between his wife and anybody she fancied and deliberately asking her to encourage him in his unlawful erotic dreams about teenagers. How could such a moral degeneration have occurred so quickly? He was sick with shame and turned his eyes away from the lustful writhing of his schoolgirl wife. Thoughts were stirring around in his head like a whirlpool.

The trouble with both of us, he thought, is the silly outdated way we have been brought up and the church's puritanical outlook on sex. We've had it shoved down our throats since we were children and when we discover the pleasure of sex we feel guilty at our enjoyment.

His eyes traveled back to the figure of his wife, still standing, eyes shut, in front of him. His diversion had really only lasted a few minutes but he felt he had lived a lifetime and cut the umbilical cord from his childhood. I'm a whole responsible person now, he thought, I've broken away from a conventional attitude which is all lies, and I'm free at last. With a sense of relief his fingers closed once more over his tool and, with an appreciative eye, he looked at the gaping hole a few feet away from him and noticed it was so wet that the light was making it glitter as she moved.

Two of Jean's fingers were working furiously inside her vagina and each time they went in her thumb came down expertly on her clitoris so she was stimulating both sensitive parts of her genitals at the same time.

Jean hand obediently slipped up her body and pushed her gymslip, blouse and liberty bodice right up her arms so that one luscious boob came into view. Martin's hand worked faster on his cock at the sight of it. Her fingers squeezed the sunken nipple and slowly it erected to a hard protuberance, red and demanding. He knew a breast which had never been sucked before would not be able to produce a nipple as big as that. It was obvious it had received a lot of attention as a schoolgirl. That first lover of hers, her math teacher, must have titillated her youthful teats, and he had no doubt that very afternoon Dorothy had enjoyed their white and pink beauty.

A lustful urge to suck at it himself overcame him, but he dare not approach her. If the illusion were broken that she was playing about with Dorothy it would all be ruined for her and for him too! Nevertheless he licked his lips oh how he'd love his mouth around that thrusting teat. She was pulling the nipple out now in a milking action.

Her heaving belly was close to him, but her eyes were still closed as he rubbed his penis and felt the spunk lurking ready to shoot. He saw her hand drop away from her breast and her deliberate movement as she offered it to him to suck, turning a little sideways so it was only six inches from his face.

He did not dare touch her with his hands, but craned his neck forward and took the proffered nipple between gentle teeth and pulled it out deliberately towards him. Her breath came sharply at the feeling she experienced and he guessed this was one of the things which had been done to her before. To his surprise she began to speak!

He listened in wonder to his wife's adult voice speaking the words she must have uttered to her school friend years ago:

"Oh Dot my breasts are burning . . . suck it hard and pull it out with your teeth . . . ooohhh that's lovely! My cunny's so hot darling, your fingers are tearing me to bits . . . oh, it's naughty Dot, but it's so marvelous . . . it's wonderful, Dot, push your fingers in further and rub really hard. Oh Dot I want to wee-wee!! I can feel it . . . leave your hand there while I do it let me wee all over your hand. Hold it under me Dot . . . "

Martin was almost beside himself. This was developing into an orgy of eroticism for him . . . and now to have a schoolgirl actually asking him to hold his hand out to peed on nearly made him come there and then. In fact he had stopped tossing himself off and just left his enormous erection twitching in front of him as he put his hand to feel her warm yellow stream descend in a gush. He took his lips away from her nipple so he could watch. There wasn't much of it and he marveled. Clearly this had been part of the ritual between Dorothy and Jean and she was able to control it so her stockings and shoes didn't get drenched while they played in the school lavatory. It was just the idea of going in a friend's hand which was exciting to her. Indeed it appeared to be nearly the climax for Jean. Her hand went back immediately into her cunt and her thumb once more touched the little erect clitoris. Her other hand returned to her breast and Martin was able to lean back and watch his wife toss herself off lasciviously within inches of him.

The spunk rushed up his shaft in an enormous spurt of lustful enjoyment. He did not catch it in any way and it shot out from him in several forceful jerks as he watched the school girl near him shuddering in her climax, her gymslip and blouse all tucked up under her armpits, her black stockinged legs opened wide and her palpitating slit dripping with her own come. Into his mind's eye came the memory of thrusting his tool up into the tight twats of the two schoolgirls he had fucked and the blissful thought brought this glorious experience to an end.

Jean fell onto the sofa, her gymslip dropping down over her delectable buttocks. She was panting heavily and he marveled to see her excited for the first time since he'd known her. Wisely he didn't speak or move, he merely leant back and tried to composed himself a little. It had been a tremendously thrilling thing, this co-operative masturbation. He felt he could go on enjoying it indefinitely, without humping her. If only Jean had no misgivings about it all (he remembered the fits of guilt she'd had as a schoolgirl) it seemed to him their sexual problems were solved.

He mopped up the scattered blobs of his emission with his handkerchief, and zipped up his flies, knowing Jean's illusion was still important. He refilled their glasses with whiskey and lit a cigarette. When she showed signs of reviving he took a drink over to her and offered it with a smile. She took it from him, her glance as shy as though she were afraid he would make fun of her, or be disgusted. But he just smiled cheerfully and lifted his glass as a toast. She responded immediately.

"To us and sex!" he cried.

"Yes," she answered, "I'll drink to that," and raising her glass, drained the drink in one gulp and then threw her glass into the stone fireplace, narrowly avoiding the electric fire.

He was surprised at her defiant gesture, so unlike her normal reserved manner but he understood it immediately; she was burning her boats, refusing to be guilty or ashamed. He gulped his own drink down and threw his glass, watching as it shattered on the hearth.

They looked at each other triumphantly and laughed.