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So I did it once; so I don’t have to do it again! I won’t do it again.

Sexually satiated, an easy vow to make after three orgasms…

Oh, yeah! A very easy vow to make after three mind blowing orgasms within two and a half hours.

 However not such an easy vow to keep considering that Elizabeth Herzon/Lipshitz was the most beautiful woman Mitchell Lipensky had ever personally known, and—in his opinion—had the most perfect body of any woman he’d ever known! And, so he knew, liked him, really liked him… maybe, even loved him.

Indeed not such an easy vow to keep for a—in his opinion—love­, sex­ and affection starved young man considering the fact that this young man liked… that this young man indeed loved Elizabeth Herzon/Lipshitz.

In reality, to give up that which he had just found? To give up this beautiful, self assured woman with a sexual appetite matching his own? To give up this literal girl of his dreams? For what? A shrew that hated him? To give up this beautiful, self assured, sexual woman for a—in his opinion—frigid, sexless, hateful shrew?

Des Plaines, Illinois

February 27, 1963

Opening the door, walking into his home, hoping Marsha would—as she most always carried her anger into the next day—still be angry because her continued anger would fortify the rationalization for the reason of his infidelity.

However, awaking that morning with her blood sugar levels approximately where they should be. Awaking feeling rested and uncharacteristically cheerful and forgiving…

Actually, on this day, Marsha Lipensky—very uncharacteristically—felt remorse for the hateful, anger filled words she had spoken to her husband the night before.

Go Figure!

Opening the door, walking into his home, looking into the kitchen, expecting nothing in return but silence, “Hi,” said with minimal enthusiasm.

But, go figure, the one time in his life when Mitchell wanted Marsha’s anger…

“Mitchie, hi! How was your day?” said with maximum enthusiasm.

Surprised? No, actually shocked by the tone of her words. However just because she was no longer angry, didn’t mean he hadn’t the right to be angry after the hateful, anger filled things she’d said the day before. “Fine,” said harshly. “Just fine, Marsha!”

“I’ve fed the kids and have steak for us.”

Disarmed by her tone, heading upstairs, hating the fights, softening his tone, “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Since Mitchell’s construction working days when he would take a shower upon returning home, a late afternoon or early evening shower had become a habit so now had to do it to keep up appearances. Besides, just in case of a lingering scent, he felt the need to take another shower, his third for the afternoon.

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Hearing the water go off, giving him a minute to dry, doing something she’d never done, “Okay to come in?”

Drying his back, looking at the closed door, Why’s she doing this? The thought of the ardent kiss at Harding’s flitting through his mind. Someone saw us and called her! Fearfully, “Sure.”

Opening the door, coming into the steam shrouded room, going to him, pressing her fully clothed body against his fully nude body, her hands clasping his buttocks…

She knows!

But, kissing him lightly on the lips, her hand going to his limp penis…

She’s going to rip it off!

But, dropping to her knees…

She’s going to bite it off!

In Marsha Lipensky’s arsenal of secrete weapons… her equivalent of the atomic bomb.

…Her lips going to his dangling penis, drawing it into her mouth…

Jesus!

No longer limp and dangling, feeling it enlarging within her mouth…

Jesus!

Knowing her husband, knowing the fastest, easiest way to reduce his anger, or remove it altogether, intending to tease only, standing, kissing him quickly on the lips, “Dinner’s ready,” Marsha said, leaving the bathroom.

Having no idea what to make of Marsha’s uncharacteristic wantonness… Bewildered; so much so he felt, She’s got to know something!

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“Where are the kids?”

“Thought I’d feed them early so…”

Uh-­oh!

Shooing Mercy away with her knee, putting a steak in his plate, “…we can have a quiet, peaceful dinner.

Quiet, peaceful? Waiting for the shoe—or axe—to drop. What’s she mean by quiet and peaceful?

Ladling some mashed potatoes onto his dish, “So you had a nice day?” then some steaming peas.

Putting a chunk of butter on the potatoes. Why’s she keep asking if I had a nice day? “Yeah, it was,”—having fantastic sex three times in less than three hours with the girl of his dreams—“uh, okay.”

Not sitting at her usual place at the far end of the table, but to his right. “Good! I had a pretty good day, too.”

Shaking salt on the peas, “You, uh, okay.” If she knew anything, she’d have said so by now. “You sound like you’re feeling really well.” He considered saying, for a change, but thought better of it.

Never apologizing… for anything! “Yeah,” her hand going beneath the table, “I am feeling really well, and…”

Breathing a sigh of relief, she doesn’t know anything! Cutting the steak, he gave the Dalmatian a small chunk of gristly fat…

Squeezing his thigh. “…kind’a sexy.”

Watching from between his stomach and the edge of the table, silently begging for more meat, Mercy’s snout now on his lap, and his wife’s hand on his thigh, suppressing a giggle, Jesus, he thought, all of a sudden everyone wants’a get hold’a my dick.

On the one hand overjoyed that, She doesn’t know anything!

“Maybe,” Marsha said, “we can get the kids to bed a little earlier tonight, and…”

On the other hand however, Uh­ oh! Thinking, I’ve already come three times today and don’t know if I can. However…

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Taut where Elizabeth was soft, and soft where—well, nothing about Marsha was softer than Elizabeth… and small where Elizabeth was—well, nothing about Elizabeth was smaller than Marsha and…

Surprised that after this day he felt any, “Marsha,” said in the heat of his passion, “I love you!” Surprised also because he sincerely meant it.

Due to the game Marsha unwittingly, or knowingly played, Mitchell, in his opinion, was kept so sexually deprived that on the rare occasions they did have intercourse he became so aroused his ejaculations were almost always premature.

Surprised also because on this night, for reasons fully unknown to the wife, maintaining an erection, the husband was easily able to abstain from orgasm long enough for the wife to issue a silent sigh and an unnoticed twitching of her pelvis, and, “I love you, too, Mitchie,” Marsha said, meaning it wholeheartedly.

Holy shit! Mitchell Lipensky’s ego extended to heretofore unknown proportions. Four times! He thought, four times!

Go figure: feast or famine.

The last conscious thought he had that night was, I’m going to break it off! I’m not going to see Elizabeth again!