The Surrogate

"But I let Trevor do whatever he wanted. I even sucked his, uh, his cock. He taught me how to ride him cowgirl style--both ways, facing him and the other way. I'd done that once with Michael, but he came so fast that neither of us ever wanted to try it again. But with Trevor..."

She shook her head. "With Trev, I could just dance on it, dance and plunge around on his cock, and he could last forever. My orgasms were really, really strong."

She stopped, and Agnes could see she looked exhausted.

"I was out of control," she said. "After that Saturday I realized that things were totally out of control, and I knew I had to end it. But before I could figure out what to do, Michael ... confronted me."

"How did he find out?" Agnes asked.

"I have no idea. He's never talked about it with me. But he knew it wasn't just a one-time thing. He was brutal--not that I can blame him. Fired questions at me, like 'Does he make you come better than I do? Are you in love with him? Are you going to leave me?' And I didn't know what to say, I just cried and said how sorry I was."

In a gentle voice, Agnes said, "we're nearly out of time for today, Joanna. Can you tell me just a little about how things are now, between the two of you?"

Joanna reached for the tissues and wiped the tears off her cheeks. "Calm, I guess, but weird. I've already told you about how Michael said he didn't want a divorce, he wasn't willing to be away from the kids. And he's never nasty to me in front of them. But he's still sleeping in the guest room--for five months now!" She grimaced.

"I went to him a few weeks ago and suggested that we try to, to start talking again. So we've been better at, I don't know, handling the routine things. We talk about the kids, and work. Oh, and I told him about how Trevor had taken a job in Colorado and moved away.

"But he won't let me talk about our relationship. He doesn't want to hear me apologize any more about the affair--it just makes him furious. And he won't let me tell him what happened. He's never told me how much he knows or how he found out.

"So it's hard--really hard. Every day he hasn't left I think, 'okay, this is okay. Things will calm down, and we'll get our marriage back together.' But then I think, 'maybe every day he loves me a little less.' Or just that his anger is eating away at his love for me.

"We don't touch, you know? At all. No kisses, hugs, he won't even take my hand. I'm horny as hell!" She grinned crookedly.

"I'd give anything to be in bed with Michael again, if he'd just hold me; and I'd thank God for some of that ... fucking that only lasted one minute! And he must be feeling it too--I mean, five months without any sex?

"Unless ... he's getting it somewhere else."

Agnes asked, "do you think that's likely?"

"Before ... all this I would have said Never, absolutely not. Michael is so loyal, and such a decent person. But now .... I could hardly blame him for feeling he deserved it. And it does make me wonder what he's doing to uh, take care of his needs. He could be masturbating a lot, but .... I just don't know."

"Are you masturbating a lot, Joanna?"

She blushed a little, and nodded. "Not for a while. For a month or more I was completely turned-off. Just so guilty, and so horrified at what I'd done, and so afraid for my marriage.

"But more recently ... I've been using the vibrator again. I can't help it!" She looked a little defiant, staring across at Agnes.

"I'm only 31 years old, I'm a healthy woman, I need sex! And my husband won't touch me!" She started to cry again.

"Not that it's anyone's fault but mine ..."

**********************

"You're still practicing at home, right Michael?"

Marina was casually taking off her clothes and laying them across a chair; Michael was doing the same thing on the other side of the bed.

"Yeah, at least three times a week. And I make it to 15 minutes pretty much every time."

"Okay," she said, "do you have your computer in the room?" He nodded and she said, "start doing it while watching porn. That will make it more exciting, and raise the level of challenge a bit."

She grinned and said, "you DO know how to find porn on the internet, don't you?"

With a straight face he said, "no, I have no idea. Can you tell me how to look?"

They both laughed, and rolled together on the bed, pressing closely together. They never kissed on the lips, but in pretty much every other respect they behaved like lovers, kissing and stroking, rubbing together, enjoying each other.

Michael assumed they would masturbate each other again, but after they'd been caressing for a few minutes Marina sat up, grinned at him, and swung around so her head was near his groin.

"Tell me if this feels nice, okay Michael?" She held his cock in one hand and began licking it, sliding her tongue from the base up over the head.

He groaned and threw his head back. "OhmyGod. Oh, that's terrible. My God, I hate it--it's awful."

She laughed and smacked him lightly on the stomach. "Behave, you!"

She looked at him and said, more seriously, "just relax and enjoy it, okay? Don't try to fight your orgasm, just relax and breathe and feel the sensations."

She licked him a while longer and then moved to sucking him; and although she backed off as she felt him get stiffer and bigger, he still blew a load of come into the air after about five minutes.

Getting a cloth off the night table, she wiped the come off his chest. Michael was looking unhappy and she said, "it's fine, Michael--really. Men are SUPPOSED to be really excited by blow-jobs.

"And this was your first one in quite a while, wasn't it?"

"My first ever, if you can believe it. Joanna ... well, I've told you. Repressed upbringing and all, she'd never go anywhere near it with her mouth."

Marina smiled. "Then for goodness sakes, give yourself a break! Your first one ever? Believe me, by the time I've given you eight or ten more of these you'll be so bored you'll be reading the newspaper while I do it!"

They laughed together, and then got up to get dressed.

"Marina, can I ... would you mind if I asked you something?"

She smiled. "Like, 'what's a nice girl like me doing in a job like this?' "

"Uh, I guess some version of that," he said, feeling a little embarrassed.

She pulled her blouse over her head and adjusted her hair, glancing in the mirror.

"It's fine, baby. Everyone asks, sooner or later." She sat down in a chair and looked at him.

"Short version: I went to OSU, majored in psychology, thought about maybe being a doctor. But I fell in love, married my college boyfriend right after graduation and stayed home being a housewife because that's what he wanted.

"He turned out to be a controlling, abusive jerk. It took me nearly five years and a couple of beatings to get the hell out of there, and a year or two after that to put myself back together. I got a job in a clothing store and did some serious therapy--with Dr. Sandoval, actually.

"And then I started back to school, to get an MSW in counseling, because I really admired the work she did. I was interested in sexual problems, and a sex surrogate came to school to give a presentation on her work and I was fascinated.

"So I talked to Dr. Sandoval about it, since I knew the Center used surrogates."

She smiled at him. "I've always liked sex--except near the end of my marriage when I was being abused. So with Dr. Sandoval's help I applied to a training program in California, spent about a year out there, and then came back and took a job at the Center. I'm still working part-time on my degree, and at some point I'll stop doing this and become a therapist."

She laughed. "Probably in a couple more years when my tits start drooping so much that no man will want to touch me!"

Michael knew she was just kidding, but he still looked at her seriously and said, "Marina, you are absolutely beautiful. Inside and out. Men are gonna want to be with you when you're 75, trust me!"

"Thank you, Michael," she replied quietly. "That was a very, very nice thing to say."

"Can I, uh, ask one more question?"

She chuckled. "About my love life? Sure. There hasn't been a serious guy in my life in a while. I dated a little after my marriage broke up, but I wasn't at all ready to get serious about anyone. And doing the surrogate work makes it kind of difficult.

"To tell the truth, I'm getting a lot of sex and a lot of intimate connections with men, and it feels like there's no room in my life for a boyfriend right now. I figure when I give this up and start doing regular therapy there'll be plenty of time to find someone. I know I don't want to have kids, so I'm not in a hurry."

Tying his shoes he said, "when the time comes, there's going to be a line around the block."

Marina laughed again and said, "you really are a sweetie, you know that? I'm really looking forward to swallowing a lot of your come over the next few weeks."

And she giggled triumphantly at the blush that spread across his face.

****************************

Joanna was terrified but determined. She kept saying to herself, "what's the worst that can happen? He'll say No, that's all." But she knew it could be worse that that.

She'd bought a pretty new nightie--not totally slutty but certainly attractive, and sheer enough that her nipples and her pubic hair could be glimpsed a little bit. She waited until about 10:30--he'd been in the guest room about ten minutes and she heard him come out of the bathroom, so she figured he was in bed. She knocked lightly on the door, then opened it and slipped inside without waiting for a reply.

"What is it?" He looked surprised and maybe a little annoyed. Joanna's heart was in her throat, but she wouldn't give up. He was sitting in bed in his pajamas, propped up against some pillows, reading the newspaper. Trying hard to keep her smile, she came straight around to his side of the bed, knelt down and put her hand on his chest, stroking gently.

"Michael, I've really missed you," she said. He looked stunned, and before he could stop her she'd lifted his pajama top and slid her hand onto his bare chest, still rubbing and stroking gently. She'd planned this out a thousand times: she wanted to touch him in a way that would feel good but without being too overtly sexual--no sloppy kisses, no grabbing for his penis.

Michael was totally taken by surprise. He could have expected Joanna might try this, but why now, after seven months? So he had no plan for how to respond, though he knew that if she'd done it right after their confrontation he would have thrown her the hell out of the room.

Her heart pounding, Joanna kept smiling at her husband as her hand made circles under his pajama top. He looked uncertain, but made no move to stop her. She leaned forward and kissed him gently. Sensing no resistance, she kissed harder, more urgently, and slipped her tongue between his lips.

Michael felt that he ought to be thinking through what he should do; he felt annoyed that he wasn't prepared for this, and his hardening cock was complicating things. Having his wife's lips on his and her hand caressing his chest felt really good.

What would it mean if he went ahead and fucked her? Should he stop her and send her away, undoubtedly in tears? Why deny himself something that would feel really good?

Was he ready for intercourse yet? His work with Marina hadn't gotten that far--what if his old problem cropped up and he came after just two minutes? On the other hand, so what? It would feel good--and didn't he deserve a little pleasure from his wife, after the absolute hell she had put him through?

But would she read his giving in as forgiveness--as "okay baby, we're fine now?" Because that's sure as hell not how he was feeling!

As thoughts swirled rapidly through his head he found himself kissing Joanna back, giving her his tongue in return; and before he had made any conscious decision he was holding her by the arms, pulling her up on top of him.

It went through his mind to pull back, to say, "now listen Joanna, this doesn't mean all is forgiven or anything," but he didn't bother. They'd deal with it later. He just groaned, feeling her warm body pressing down on his hard cock. He pulled the hem of her nightie up and slipped his hands beneath it, running them up and down her back and over her ass, grinning at her absence of underwear.

Joanna was thrilled, and relieved, and excited. He hadn't yelled at her, stopped her hand, thrown her out of the room. They were going to have sex, finally! And his hands on her body felt fantastic.

Without a word Michael sat up, pulled off his pajama top and slid Joanna's nightie up over her head. He rolled her over on her back and began caressing her breasts, using his fingers and his lips on her nipples. She lay back joyfully, her eyes closed, thanking God for her husband's excited response to her advances.

Joanna was already wet, and his touches and kisses and bites increased the moisture between her legs. She caressed her husband's back and shoulders, then slid her hands down under his pajama pants to stroke his ass. A moment later one hand moved around his hip and reached under him, between their bodies, to grab his cock.

Michael was again caught by surprise--his wife had never been so aggressive before. In the past she would only touch his dick when she was very aroused and when he actually led her hand to it. He slid his pajama bottoms off and arranged himself on his side, still enjoying her breasts but giving her more room to play with his cock, which amazingly enough she continued to do.

His head was still swimming with thoughts--about forgiveness, anger, and fears about his own performance. But he was also really excited, and so pushing the thoughts aside he slid one hand down over her pussy hair, pleased to find her as wet as she had ever been.

One finger slid over her lips and curled up inside her, and Joanna groaned voluptuously. He stroked it in and out, using the rest of his palm to massage her cunt, and she rolled her hips against his hand. Without waiting any longer to think about it Michael climbed up on top of her, pushing her thighs apart. He grabbed his erect cock and stroked the head of it back and forth over her cunt lips, getting himself nice and wet; then, watching her face, he slid himself smoothly inside her.

"Ohh," she groaned, smiling up at him, her hands clutching his shoulders tightly. There were a couple of tears on her cheeks. He lay flat on her, his face against her neck, reveling in the heat of her pussy. As he had practiced he took a few deep, relaxing breaths, in no hurry to start thrusting too soon.

And then he began, slowly, trying to empty his mind, let go of anger, and fantasies, and everything but the feeling. The intense pleasure of that sucking glove of a cunt around his hard cock as he withdrew and pushed in, withdrew and pushed in.

To his delight he felt very much in control, not at all close to coming. He fucked her strongly but kept it slow, his head on her shoulder, his eyes closed, thinking of nothing beyond the sensations. His cock inside her hot channel, the softness of her body beneath his.

Michael gradually built it up, letting it grow more intense, hearing her familiar gasps and feeling her arms around him. It must have been more than five minutes before Joanna began to respond more actively, pushing her hips up at him, then grabbing his ass (she grabbed my ass! he thought to himself in amazement), pulling him harder into her.

It thrilled him, her response, made him think she might reach orgasm with him; and then almost as soon as he had that thought he felt the excitement cresting, felt his control slipping away. After another dozen strokes it was too late, and his intense pleasure mixed with dismay as the sperm leaped out of his cock. He shuddered, trying hard to enjoy the feelings and not worry about coming sooner than he'd hoped.

It was a fantastic orgasm, no doubt made even more fantastic by the fact that it was the first one he'd had with Joanna, and the first one inside a woman, in more than 7 months. He lay on her, breathing hard, feeling her rapid breathing beneath him, as her hands stroked his back lovingly. After a minute or two he rolled off her but pulled her close against him, his chest against her side, his arms around her.

It was okay, he thought. It was good. He hadn't had unlimited control, but he'd gone far longer than ever before in his life. It had been very exciting and pleasurable and he'd kept it under control, until the end when Joanna's eager response pushed him over the edge.

He felt an unexpected tenderness towards his wife. He'd missed her. He'd certainly missed physical intimacy with her--not only the sex but her scent, the feeling of her hair and her wonderfully soft body against him.

It happened in an instant, a single terrible moment. Even as the words left her mouth Joanna had a shudder of dismay--without knowing why, she wished them back, wished she'd stayed silent.

"Honey, that was fantastic! You've never lasted so long before!" She punctuated her words by kissing him lovingly on the cheek--but to her absolute horror, he reared back away from her like a cobra.

"Oh really?" His voice was cold, sarcastic, furious. "So glad you liked it! But not as long as 'Trev,' I'll bet! I'm sure he could go for hours, pumping you until you came like a freight train. Guess you really miss that guy, I imagine he rang your chimes like nobody's business!"

"No honey, I--"

"Just get out of here, okay Joanna?" He turned away from her, and his voice was disgusted. "I don't want to see your disappointed face. So sorry I couldn't give you a Trevor-worthy performance!" Without another word, without looking back at her, he stomped into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

Joanna was devastated. She wept, sobbing onto Michael's pillow, her fists clenched, her heart tightened in despair. It had been so good, so wonderful, they'd taken such a huge first step--and then this! Ten words, poorly chosen or at the wrong moment, and he'd stuck a knife in her heart!

She cried until she was out of tears, empty, hollow. Then she arose and went to the bathroom, knocking gently. "Michael? Honey?"

"Go away, Jo. This was a mistake. Just leave me alone."

With renewed despair she tried the door but it was locked. She pleaded with him to come out, but he was silent. Finally, in an agony of regret, she returned to the master bedroom alone.