Chapter 8

The sound of laughter filled the living room and Suzanne smiled happily, seeing the glowing faces of her friends and, at the end of the room, Sam, who had just finished telling one of his more questionable stories. Brett looked up and shook his head.

"Psychologically speaking, I think that story was quite reprehensible," he said pompously. "And you 're full of shit," said Yvonne, grinning over the top of her martini glass, and obviously feeling the effects of the drinks she had been consuming.

"Physically, correct," said Brett. "Psychologically, no."

They all laughed again and Suzanne rose, moving to the kitchen as she heard the coffee pot perking. Carole followed her in and stood-by while Suzanne began arranging cups and saucers on the tea wagon. "It's been a wonderful evening," she said. "You and Sam make a gracious host and hostess." Suzanne laughed.

"And we're making a great husband and wife," she murmured. "Which is a miracle, I feel, after all that happened."

Carole nodded. "Yes, you might say that. But then, sometimes it takes a major tragedy to bring two people closer together."

They turned as Yvonne came in, swaying slightly, an overly bright gleam in her eye. "You know something?" she said, her voice slurring slightly, "I think Grant is really quite handsome. I might even say I have the hots for him." Carole glared at her in mock anger.

"And what has he got that I haven't?" she demanded, putting her arm around Yvonne and holding her tightly.

They kissed gently and Yvonne looked dreamily into Carole's eyes.

"Well, that'd be getting too personal," she said. "So maybe I'll just settle for you, after all."

"You'd better," said Carole and she turned to Suzanne, who was grinning broadly at them. "You know, Yvonne and I have been together almost three years, now."

"Crap," said Yvonne. "We've been together ten thousand years. And I hope we're together another ten thousand. Who says gay marriages don't last?"

"I think it's wonderful," said Suzanne, "because I love you both dearly, and especially after what we've all been through."

Carole nodded.

"Well, Yvonne and I have had our problems, too, but we've come through, just like you and Sam," she replied. "But I do believe Sam's been wonderful about the whole thing these last few months."

Suzanne nodded, remembering for a moment, the horror of the days following the arrest of the hoodlums, the ensuing fracas in court, and their final sentencing. But more than that, she remembered the awkward moments with Sam in the days following the gang-rape of her, the shyness, and finally the moment when they came together again, complete in their marriage, physically and mentally.

"Well, what the hell, it's love that counts in the long run, not sex," said Carole. Yvonne giggled.

"Yes, but sex still is mighty important," she said. "Tell me, Suzanne, do you ever think of Donald anymore?"

Suzanne shook her head.

"Nope. That last evening was my cure. I don't even have any fantasies over him. It took me long enough to chase the nightmares. I told you, didn't I, how I used to wake up screaming, and Sam would have to slap my cheeks to wake me, because I thought I was still dreaming, and was going through it all again. It was pretty bad for awhile. But I'm okay, now. And Sam and I are getting along better than ever before."

"I wonder why," murmured Yvonne, looking slyly at her. "Could it be he's gotten a little more aggressive in bed?"

"I'll never tell," smiled Suzanne, unplugging the coffeepot and putting it on the tea wagon with the cups and saucers. "Besides, that's really none of your business, dear." Yvonne made a face.

"Sorry, but I figured as we were such good friends, you might let me know."

"I might have once, but not now," said Suzanne. "After all, there's very little of my private life you haven't witnessed, so leave me one or two secrets, will you?"

"Come on, you drunken old dike," said Carole, tugging Yvonne and moving her towards the living room. 'You need some coffee just like everyone else. Suzanne, that dinner was delicious, love."

"Thanks."

Suzanne wheeled in the wagon and they all waited while she poured coffee and passed it 'round. Sam leaned back in his chair and winked at Suzanne.

"This coffee's pretty good, dear," he said. "Did you get the tip from Mrs. Olsen?"

They all laughed, remembering the ridiculous television commercial for a certain brand of coffee that always showed the wife as helpless and stupid when it came to making coffee until her friend, Mrs. Olsen, tells her about a particular brand.

Suzanne giggled. "It's instant," she said, and they all raised their eyebrows.

"In a percolator?" asked John.

"That's just a front," she replied, and then they all laughed again.

Suzanne looked around, glowing in the intense warmth of the friendliness in the room. How wonderful to have friends like these, she thought. Those young men who came to her rescue that night, Yvonne and Carole, who had stood by her and gone through so much. But that was behind them all. After the court case, they had met and promised not to bring up the subject again. It was understandably painful for Suzanne, who could scarcely face them after that night of degradation. But Sam's understanding, his love and compassion, had brought her back from the edge of insanity; and, now, their relationship was more solid than before. Even their life together in bed had improved, thanks to a frank discussion between them.

She looked over at him, thinking how handsome he was, how she could ever have considered him less than virile enough to satisfy her every whim and passion. After the episode with Donald, she realized that Sam was more than fulfilling her needs, and that what he may have lacked before in aggressiveness, he made up for in tenderness and love. And after telling him not to be afraid with her body, he had let loose a little more, and his increased lack of inhibition had given her even more wonderful moments in bed with him than before, so much so that her fleeting memories of Donald's sex were chased completely from her mind.

"More coffee?" she asked. There was a chorus of refusals.

"We have to be going," said Grant. "It's been wonderful, really wonderful."

"Our pleasure," said Sam, rising to see them to the door.

Suzanne kissed Yvonne and Carole, and she smiled at the young men.

"Come back soon," she said, "it's been such a happy evening."

She stood with Sam at the door and watched them all drive off, waving happily at the retreating lights of the cars as they disappeared down the street.

They turned, walked inside, locking the door behind them, and Sam took her in his arms, and kissed her on the mouth.

"You're the most wonderful wife in the world," he said, 'You cook, you serve great coffee and you make love beautifully, which is what I have in mind right now." She giggled.

"But, sir, I've got the dishes to do."

"Fuck the dishes," he snapped, his mouth coming forward again and his tongue pushing passionately into her mouth. They clung together and broke apart, breathlessly. Suzanne stared up into his eyes.

"I don't think I'll fuck the dishes," she said, "but I'll take you on."

He laughed, scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He dropped her on the bed and looked down at her.

"I do love you," he murmured.

"I know," she said. "Me, too. You want to undress me?"

"Always."

Slowly he undid her blouse and slipped it off. He reached 'round and carefully unsnapped her bra and, as it slid off, he bent down and kissed her breasts, his tongue licking her nipples gently. She sighed blissfully. "Oh, you're such a wonderful husband," she sighed, "I think I'll keep you after all."

He undid her skirt and pulled it off at the same time with her panties. He bent down and kissed her stomach, sliding his tongue down to her bush and licking around slowly before burying his face in her crotch.

Suzanne spread her legs and opened her outer lips with her fingers, allowing him deeper penetration with his mouth and tongue. He sought her clitoris, and licked it firmly, tantalizingly, bringing her juices flowing down her vagina and starting her old familiar tingle.

He raised up and grinned at her.

"Well, that should hold you for a while."

"I'd like to hold you for more than a while," she replied, her voice soft and sensuous beneath the rising passion in her loins. "Come here quickly, Sam."

He slipped out of his clothes and, as he came to her, she noted with satisfaction that his penis was erect between his legs, protruding firmly, and throbbing.

He descended upon her, holding her close, and she thrilled to the feel of his body on her own, his penis pushing up between her legs to its final goal.

"Now," she whispered. "I want it now."

Without hesitation, he thrust forward, entered her, and she began moving her hips, enclosing his shaft with delicious delight feeling her responses growing fast. His hips pounded up and down, driving his penis in and out of her, his length and thickness dispelling her thoughts of anyone but him; so he wasn't a telephone pole, as she told Carole once, but what's wrong with a coke bottle? And Carole had widened her eyes, commenting that if Sam was that big, she was sure glad she wasn't married to him.

No, Sam wasn't a telephone pole, but he was more than enough to set her vagina on fire and her insides into convulsions of supreme ecstasy. His mouth and hands upon her body were firm, but tender, aggressive but gentle. He satisfied her, not in the ghastly, fear-filled manner that Donald had done, but in a hotly passionate, yet heart-warming way. He had love as well as sex; and she wanted love, something which lasted long after the hard-on had gone-down.

Their bodies blended together, rotating and moving in unison, in and out, her vagina gripping his shaft, relishing the sense of abandon, thrusting all the way into her, then withdrawing, almost all the way out so that his glans touched her clitoris, and his foreskin wrinkled against it, giving her far more sensation than she ever got from violent sex. Then back in, and she gasped as she felt his length penetrate all the way, right up to the mouth of her womb, pushing aside her flesh in a supreme motion of sensuality and erotic fulfillment.

His hands searched for her breasts, kneading them gently, his fingers playing with her nipples, touching their hardness and sending new thrills through her loins. She began moaning, and her mouth sought his. He brought his lips down, covered hers, and pressed his tongue into her mouth.

She began making little animal noises, and her hips were increasing their movements; his body trembled and she knew they were both reaching their supreme moment.

He broke away and gasped, "Oh, Christ, I'm almost there." She increased her contractions, enfolding his penis even tighter within her cavern. She felt it throb, expand and then, as he cried out, she felt his sperm shoot into her; his organ throbbed and jerked as she held it deep within her.

Her own responses peaked. And she screamed out, her hands clawing at his back, her body arched against his, pushing her crotch up to get as much of his beautiful organ within her crevice as she could as her own juices flowed, letting the waves of pleasure engulf her totally, lifting her up, until she was floating in space, suspended on the end of his penis, her body one mass of pulsating desire and ultimate ecstasy.

Slowly she let herself relax, still keeping his penis within her; and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his shoulders. He sighed contentedly and looked down at her.

"You're a wonderful lover," he murmured.

"And you're a groovy husband," she replied. "And a better stud than those other three put together."

"Oh, Suzanne."

Their lips met, their tongues entwined, and Suzanne knew it would a long time before they went to sleep that night; and she prayed that every night for the rest of her life she would have Sam in her arms, his body in her bed and his love in her heart.