iA FBOW excerpt: The Beach on The 4th
July 4,1958
Lakeside, Michigan
R rated.
Be careful
if ‘extremely’ descriptive consensual sex between
a married couple embarrasses you.
“Mitchie...” breathlessly whispered, barely loud
enough to be heard, “...come in my mouth!”
Lifting his face, wanting to be sure… near breathlessly asked, “You sure, Marcie. You’re sure you want me to?”
“Yes, Mitchie. I want you to!” kissing his penis. “I want your cock in my mouth and I want you to come!”
Whereas true love is between two assenting people, physical or otherwise, it is truly a matter of what one might give rather than what one might receive…
She had certainly been given plenty of hints and once in a while in a joking/serious way Mitchell would outright ask if she would please…? But Marsha’s joking/serious answer had always been, ‘Nice Jewish girls don’t go ‘round giving their husbands blow jobs’!” So she never did. But now…
Whereas intercourse before—no matter what quality—seemed her ultimate ‘gift’, or ‘weapon’—intercourse being something Marsha considered a thing she’d ‘usually’ given more so because Mitchell wanted to receive it, rather than because she wanted to give it…
But now! At this time Marsha wanted to give more of herself. Marsha wanted to give something she’d never given in the past.
Truly, though. literally deluged by passion and her love of Mitchell, wanting to do for him what he’d so often wanted her to do. Strangely—because the ‘mere’ thought of it had always made her slightly ill—at that moment Marsha actually had a desire… Actually an obsession to take ‘him’ into her mouth, to feel within her mouth it’s hard, soft, cool, warm feel. To actually taste the taste of what came from within the penis of her husband.
Closing her fingers about him. Wanting to! Wanting him! “Mitchie, I love you!”
His eyes closed to the feel of her touch. “Don’t ever, Marcie—please don’t ever stop saying that!”
Standing alongside the bed Marsha’s hand on his penis urging him to come even closer...Wanting to! The tip of her tongue playing onto and around the glans… Her lips closing about the glans…
****
Marsha Remembered: Early on in their marriage, during the first year of their marriage, when she would have her monthly ‘period’…
Strangely it was usually her that would ask, ‘Mitchie, would you like me to tale care of you’?
Happily knowing what his wife was asking, ‘Oh, yeah, baby. I’d ‘love' it'!
Fully aware that the sight of her bare breasts instantly got the ‘rise’ that she was always excited to see… And to cause.
Sitting bare chested, usually wearing only panama bottoms, sitting with her legs crossed with her fully naked husband sitting before her with his feet to either side of her hips— Always sensing the rise of heat in her belly that had nothing to do with her ‘period— Taking hold of his… in Marsha Lipensky’s mind, ‘cock’, Marsha would masturbate her husband till seeing the stretching of his legs and the arching of his toes, then would come the— Marsha would usually count the bursts of usually seven ejaculations that would splatter onto her belly, chest and breasts… And the sense of her being able to do this, and the sense of him ‘coming’ onto her— surprisingly ‘always’ brought more heat into her lower regions.
Why shouldn’t Marsha Goldman Lipensky remember because nearly to the day, she and Mitchell had been married but for two and a half years...
***
Her lips closing about his glans...Wanting ‘him’ in her mouth, but knowing she had an easily reached ‘gag’ reaction; as ‘Chicago Police Officer, John Mahony’ had discovered, and puking on her husband’s ‘cock’ was a thing she did ‘not’ want to do..
Knowing how to achieve all she desired—which holding back for the first twenty-three years of her life was a lot that Marsha Lipensky now wanted to achieve… Minus the gagging part.
Mitchie...” moving to the centre of the bed and sliding downward, making a twisting motion with her hand, “...me on top, okay.”
Instantly knowing what she meant as this position had been a favourite within hundreds of sessions with only his hand for company.
Onto the bed, flat on his back with his wife’s knees to either side of his head... With her face directly above his already semen seeping penis. With his face directly below her black pubic hair, the closed slit of her vagina along with it’s small hanging lips and her puckered rectum. — Gladly realising that, as he was finely attuned to scents, Marsha also had carefully washed all of her cracks and crevices.
In the mind of Mitchell Lipensky, all of this could have come from his most revered masturbatory fantasies.
The crystalline drop of semen that Marsha had impulsively taken onto her tongue earlier, now as an aphrodisiac causing a need such as she never had.
****
Marsha Goldman growing up with— once she was able to formulate the though— a prostitute for a mother, could have gone completely the other direction easily becoming the neighbourhood slut.
Instead, ‘hating’ what her mother did and what her mother was along with a finely honed sense of what she considered to be ‘right’ and what she considered to be ‘wrong’ along with a lump of stubbornness growing as a cancer within the psyche of Marsha Goldman. ‘
Promising herself—quite possibly to spite her mother and what her mother was—Marsha Goldman swore to herself that she would remain a virgin until she married and—taxing her stubborn streak to it’s limits she had and in so doing perfected an outward aura of sexual ambivalence
However, submerged within the mind and body of Marsha Lipensky were years of imprisoned desire that now— as happenstance presented the three instances that came about to unlock the floodgate of Marsha’s restrained passion...
Her self imposed, unbearably lonely exile. Oddly enough the frightful sight of Gordon Nathenson and his horrible penis, and her masturbatory dream of ten nights ago that caused her to wet the bed… And, of course, the appearance of her husband.
****
The wife’s eyes inches from the penis of her husband… The husbands eyes inches from the vagina of his wife…
Moving her head downward, Marsha’s lips closed about Mitchell’s penis…
His hands about her buttocks, his fingernails making white indentations in the soft flesh, Mitchel urged Marsha’s pelvis downward...
Feeling the wet/warm sensation of his penis within the mouth of his wife ...The heavenly sensation of the sucking and drawing, and the sucking and drawing, and the sucking and drawing again, and again.
Marsha’s wet groin now onto the face of her husband… The closed slit of her vagina no longer closes as the tongue of her husband moves inward and outward, inward and outward and with each insertion and withdrawal his tongue making contact caressed the growing bud of Marsha’s clitoris.
“Baby...” catching her breath, “..I love your cock!” Marsha said as grinding her pelvis harder onto the face of her husband as sensing the strong inner contractions that telegraphs her forthcoming orgasm…
Due to the ultra-wet fully open vagina upon his face covering his mouth, Mitchell’s silent reply: Oh, baby, and I ‘love’ your cunt!
As sucking and releasing— with each release Marsha would quickly glance at Mitchell's outstretched legs…
Sucking, release… sucking... Seeing the out stretching of her husband’s legs… sucking… Seeing the upward curling of her husband’s toes…
Remembering, wanting… Remembering needing… Marsha grabed Mitchell’s buttocks utging him upward as he…
I’m coming!
Hands his hips, urging him to remain downward as within her mouth Marsha felt the jerking contractions within his penis… Mmmm… and three strong spurts of semen, then lifting her head, aiming his penis downward there came four diminishing ejaculations of warm semen splattering onto her chest and both breasts…
His tongue deeply implanted, feeling… Mmmm! Actually feeling the contractions within his wife’s uterus.
Breath coming in short gasps…
“Ummm, baby...I ‘love’ your cock in my mouth… I ‘love’ your ‘come’!”
Breath coming in short gasps…
“Mmmm, Marcie, and I ‘love’ eating your pussy”
Still laying atop, face to vagina, penis to face.
Rolling to the side, Mitchell took the face towel Marsha had wisely brought to the bed.
“Wiping his face and penis. “whatever happened to ‘good Jewish girls don’t go ‘round giving their husbands blow-jobs’?”
Taking the towel, wiping her chest and face… “Fuck good Jewish girls!”
Upon his side closely onto Marsha’s hip. His arm across her chest his hand cupping Marsha’s left breast… sensing a mild regrowth… “Want to fuck now, baby?”
Turning. Face to face. Kissing him lightly.. “Not now, baby. Now I think it’s time for a shower.”
“Together?”
“Don’t be dumb! Of ‘course’ together!”
****
Michael still asleep in his play-pen.
Three hours from the time it became dark enough to take their trip to the beach to watch fireworks.
Dressed in shorts and T-shirts. On their sofa, Marsha with her back resting against the armrest, Mitchell sitting in the middle with Marsha’s bare legs across his lap, his legs stretched forward resting onto a beat up coffee table.
Taking a drink from a bottle of Pepsi Cola, she handed the bottle to Mitchell who also took a drink then put the bottle onto the table.
“So...” Marsha asked, “...you planning to do that kind of work for long?”
“No. Matter of fact, one of the guys I work with, ‘Earl’ told me that his father’s place was looking for trainees and I went last week and applied.”
Her mood turning a bit dour because he’d made no mention of Michael and her returning to Chicago with him.
Quiet a minute. “I’ve been thinking...” Mitchell said. “...If you and Mikey could hang out here for the rest of the summer, it would give us another two months of no rent to pay and me some time to find someplace for us to live.”
Sitting up, getting onto her knees on the sofa and kissing him. “Thank you!”
“For what?”
“For wanting us to be together again.”
“Are you ‘nuts’! Of ‘course’ I want us to be together again!
Still on her knees, taking his face into booth hands. “For ever, Mitchie!… This time, I ‘promise’, and you know how stubborn I can be. This time ‘for ever’, Mitchie!”
...Sitting back again, Marsha’s legs again across his lap, now massaging her feet.
“The new job you applied for, you have any word that you’ve been accepted?”
“Oh, thought I told you. Yeah, I got a letter yesterday telling me that I start the day after Labour Day.”
“My, God, Mitchie, that’s ‘great’! What’s the job?
“Sales. They make all kinds of envelopes and I’ll be getting my own territory after I’m trained.”
“We’ll be moving, then.”
“Yeah. Unless you don’t want us to, and I’ll look for a different job.”
“No, Mitch, other than my dad, there’s no one I’ll really miss… ‘Money’? How much will you be making?”
“At first, even during training, we’ll be making more that I did at the studio. And whatever territory I get will have existing customers that will be commissionable, and then I get to work.”
His hand moving up her thigh…
“Da-Da!”
“Later, Mitchie.” Marsha said removing his hand… Repeating,
“ Later!”
“Better light the grill.”
“Yeah… Come on, Mikey, help your old man.”
***
Dinner through and indeed, the ‘little guy’ did eat a whole hot dog.
Darkness falling and this time driving to the beach access…
With Mikey once again on his father’s shoulders, with Marsha carrying a large blanket and a basket congaing a light blanket, a thermos of ice tea, snacks, a nipple bottle with apple Juice and a flashlight walking down the grass and weed chocked beach access…
Following directly behind, Mitchell realised that his wife was wearing the same cream coloured, button-down chemise that he had last seen her wear on the night of the encounter with Chicago Police Officer John Mahoney, and the chemise looked a bit large on her then.
At this time, though, it fit perfectly and remembering Marsha’s… ‘Later’. What Mitchell Lipensky particularly noticed was that beneath the well fitting cream coloured chemise there were no pantie or bra lines…. On the beach would be just fine with him!
Next FBOW excerpt in sequence: “An Old Whore”
