My Mother My Wife Ch. 10

Our farewells with my parents were guarded and brittle. I hugged my mother and whispered, "I love you," in her ear. She hugged me hard, desperately, before letting me go. My father and I shook hands without saying anything, our eyes avoiding each other's.

Clara air-kissed Michael, dancing away from his clutching hands. "Goodbye, Mother, thank you for having us." Without kissing or hugging her she went and stood at the passenger door waiting for me to open it for her, her handbag held in both hands in front of her, her chin out, her nose up in the air.

I checked the car hatch was closed where I had loaded the cases, then went to the driver's side and climbed in, closed the door and started the car. Michael and Nellie stood looking at her. I put the car into reverse and started moving, then stopped. With a small squeal Clara jumped backwards, scrabbled for the door handle and fell in, all attempts at elegance forgotten as I reversed.

"You..."

"Shut up! Do you hear me? Just shut up!" I glanced at her. There were bright red spots on her cheeks as she slammed the door and put on her seatbelt. Not one word was said all the way to Port Elizabeth. At the airport I returned the car, fetched a trolley, loaded the cases and walked to the terminal building ignoring Clara completely.

There was a long queue at the check-in. When we finally reached the counter I placed the cases onto the scale, one at a time. "You're overweight," the check-in lady said.

"How much?"

"Fifteen kilos."

"No, I meant how much will it cost?" I asked.

The lady punched some buttons, "That'll be four hundred and twenty Rand."

"My wife will pay," I said loudly, looking away into the distance.

Next to me Clara started to say something. I interrupted, "It's your baggage, you pay!"

The check-in lady looked from one to the other of us, then said, "I think I can let this one slide." She looked down at her screen and asked, "Can I seat you on either side of the aisle? There don't seem to be any seats together." She did not look up.

Gratefully I looked at her; well, I looked at the top of her head, "Thank you. You are very kind." Her eyes flicked up then returned to the screen. The boarding cards printed and she stuck the baggage labels onto the cases. She handed the boarding cards over without the usual string of questions about sharp objects, explosives etcetera.

I thanked her again, handed Clara her pass and walked away. I was so angry with her that I could not look at her, be with her. I went through security, then to the restaurant where I ordered a glass of red wine.

I did not see Clara again until we were on board the plane; I was seated first and watched as she approached, her makeup bag in her hand. She was reading the seat numbers as she walked. When she reached her seat she stood there looking around. The man in the seat behind hers stood up and asked whether he could place her bag in the overhead compartment. "Thank you!" she said breathily, her nose in the air. I smiled to myself.

The three weeks that followed were difficult to say the least. I moved into the spare bedroom, we started living completely separate lives

On Monday evening, twenty two days after our return, when I got home from the office, I found that there were candles lit in the dining room, flowers on the table. There was a delicious smell coming from the kitchen, soft music playing. I kicked my shoes off and looked around; I hardly recognized the place. Everything was in place, neat and tidy. During the previous weeks I had not made any effort to tidy up after myself, and Clara certainly never cleaned up after her! That was for servants.

I walked into the kitchen; Clara was standing at the stove stirring a pot with her back to me. I was shocked! This was the first time I had ever seen her cook anything. She had not heard me enter. I looked at her; she was wearing a little black dress I had never seen before; short, tight fitting, sexy. She had on a red apron that seemed to go with the dress.

I did not want to give her a fright and have her burn herself or something, so I retreated to the front entrance of our apartment and made a noise opening and closing the door. I picked up my shoes and dropped them; they clattered on the floor.

Clara emerged from the kitchen, removing the apron. Without saying a word she walked up to me and put her arms around me, snuggling against me, molding her body to mine. You could have knocked me down with a feather! "I've been thinking," she started, "It's ridiculous that we're living this way. You're always at the office or in your studio. I stay away to avoid seeing you. I think we need to make an effort, a new start; try and make things work. Besides, I miss this." Her hand snaked between us and she softly caressed my cock.

My heart sank! What now? She had never missed sex; not with me anyway. Maybe she missed teasing me, but that's not what I thought she meant.

I had been without sex for three weeks and my body responded despite myself. "I can feel you've missed it too," she whispered seductively. "Go and take a shower, then we can have a little drinkypoo and then some dinner. And then... and then who knows what?" She simpered. Alarm bells were loud in my ears.

It is not in my nature to be hurtful or vindictive and I had spent the last three weeks examining my conduct towards Clara and was feeling desperately guilty. I went and showered, brushed my teeth, then pulled on a loose track suit.

When I returned to the dining room Clara had poured two glasses of wine, white for her, red for me. "Sit down, I'll serve you from the kitchen." She disappeared through the door and I heard pots rattling, cutlery. "I hope you're hungry," she called.

She returned with two plates, one piled high with food, the other with a Spartan helping. We ate in silence for a while; the food was delicious and I wondered where she had procured it. In all the time I had known her I had never seen her do anything in the kitchen besides open a can or make a cup of coffee or tea. I said, "This is a surprise. Hidden talents."

She fluttered her eyelids at me, "There's lots about me you don't know," she said in her baby voice. I shuddered faintly feeling like vomiting. "It's time you found out..."

The dinner passed smoothly, it was almost like our early dating days where I had hung on every word she uttered. Now I mistrusted everything she said, looking for flaws, lies, inconsistencies. Surely a person cannot change that much overnight? Perhaps she was a witch.

Clara kept my wineglass topped up while pretending to drink from hers. Sweets was ice cream with some kind of liqueur poured over it. When the plates had been cleared away she said, "Go and sit in the lounge. Can I bring you a cognac?"

"I don't think we have any."

"I bought some today. Would you like some?" She asked, eyebrows raised.

"Please." I moved to the lounge and sat on the settee. What was going on? Clara had never bought any form of alcohol before; ladies never bought drink! I felt I was missing something obvious here.

When Clara entered carrying my snifter she turned the lights down low, then came and sat next to me. This was also a change; she normally sat in a reclining chair in front of the television. She cuddled up to me and put her hand on my cock; I nearly choked on my brandy. Her hand remained still and I could feel the heat through the fabric; I was not wearing underpants and I felt my erection start growing down my leg. I waited to see where this was going.

I sipped the brandy, very nice!

"Put your arm around me. Hold me like you used to do," Clara said. I moved my arm, my hand resting on her shoulder; she reached round with her free hand and moved my hand to cup her breast. Wow!

Clara pulled my face towards hers and we kissed; tentative at first, unsure. Then I felt her tongue exploring my lips looking for entry; I opened my mouth and the kiss grew warmer, then passionate. Her mouth tasted of fresh mint. My body responded; I grew fully erect under her hand, still not moving, but warm. When we had started kissing Clara turned her body towards me dislodging my right hand from her breast; it now rested in the small of her back. I reached with my left hand to capture her breast again; I could feel her nipple through the fabric of her dress. No bra! This was more than a change, it was a revolution!

I gripped the nub between my thumb and the side of my forefinger and squeezed. Quite hard; I now know that she liked it hard, painful. She kissed me harder, biting my lip. I could feel the nipple get harder. She moved her hand into the loose waist of my track suit bottom, her small fingers taking hold of my raging erection pulling the foreskin hard back. I shuddered. "So hard! So eager! Does Big Boy want to visit C's little C?" What was she talking about?

We kissed some more then she whispered, "C's little C is ready for you. Wet for you." Clara's little Cunt! She sucked my tongue. "Let's go to the bedroom. I want you to ummm... I want you to fuck me." Surprise of surprises! Who was this person tugging my hard cock?

"Come, Big Boy." Clara stood up and, keeping hold of my erection, led me down the passage to the bedroom. At some stage during the evening she had lit candles and turned off the lights. I could smell a strange fragrance in the air, heady, seductive; possibly a joss stick. "Undress me, lover." I was through with surprises.

She turned to face me, letting go of my cock, arms at her side. I put a finger under the shoestring strips on both shoulders, moving outwards, the down. The fabric peeled slowly away from her body revealing first her perfect breasts, the nipples tight and puckered, down her stomach pausing at her hips. I bent, pulling down; after a moment's resistance it slipped down and I let the dress fall to the floor. Clara was naked, no panties, dressed only in strappy black shoes.

As I said, I thought I was through with surprises.

I stood back and looked at her beautiful body, her perfect breasts, her small waist, the feminine flair of her hips, her smooth and hairless pussy. She stood looking me in the face. "Turn around," I said softly. She smiled and slowly, seductively, turned, pausing with her back to me; my eyes devoured her soft buttocks, not thin, not fat; like those seen in exotic glossy magazines.

She completed the circle. "You like?" I nodded. She moved back to the bed, sat down, then scooted backwards till her head was on the pillows. She spread her legs, lifting her knees slightly. "Don't keep me waiting..."

I quickly stripped off my track suit, my erection jumping free and standing proudly out. I followed her onto the bed. "Come to me, lover." Her hands reached down.

I stopped when my face was level with her bald pussy, deep in shadow. I stuck out my tongue and licked. "No! Come to me, I want to feel you in me." Her hands gripped the side of my face trying to pull me away from her pussy. I resisted; I could taste the acrid taste of gelatin, KY Jelly, Astroglide, certainly a lubricant. I licked again, exploring. There was no indication of arousal, the lips neat and tucked in, the clitoris soft.

"Come to me baby!" Clara pulled me up. I moved up, taking a nipple in my mouth, sucking, biting; I moved to the other one. She held my face tight against her chest, then pulled me up. "I want to feel you in me...," Clara repeated.

I had lost some of my erection, but I had been starved of sex for three weeks and the hormones kicked in again. I moved up to cover her body, her groping hand taking my cock and guiding it to her entrance, slick with lube. "Fuck me!" She said. I pushed with my hips feeling the warmth engulf me; I felt her hands on my buttocks.

I started moving, at first softly, then at her insistence, the pull of her hands, harder. Then brutally, pounding into her for all I was worth. The bed was slamming against the wall, the frame protesting in time with my thrusts. Weeks of frustration, months of anger; I wanted to hurt, to smash!

I kissed her, brutally mashing her lips, my tongue hard. I grabbed a nipple and pulled, twisting, pinching. Clara responded, "Yes! Yes... Hurt me!" I pounded into her. For all my arousal, the pounding, the hurting, kept me off the boil; I felt like I could go forever. My mind was clear as I looked at her, my arms straight, my groin slamming against her. Her face contorted as I brutally twisted a nipple. In the faint light of the candles I could see the red flush darken the skin of her chest; her hips started to lift, meeting me thrust for thrust, smashing together.

"Aaahhh!" I felt her body go rigid, arching under mine, lifting my weight, "Aaahhh! Aaahhh..." She dug her nails into my shoulder and I could feel her cunt spasming, milking my cock and I came, hard, squirting deep inside her body.

I recovered before Clara, continuing to pump my hips. She was still grunting, panting, pulling me hard into her with each thrust, her nails scratching my back. Then she collapsed under me, going soft and still. I lay on top of her, both our bodies slick with sweat.

Her breath slowly returned to normal. I kissed her; she instinctively turned her face away, then, as though on second thoughts, turned her face back to mine and we kissed.

I was confused beyond confused. Who was this woman?

When I slipped out, Clara rose and went to the bathroom closing the door; well, that had not changed! When she emerged she was wearing one of her mini nighties. I went to the loo, brushed my teeth. I blew out the candles on my way back, climbed under the duvet. I lay for a long time in the dark thinking about the evening; eventually I went to sleep.

I dreamed that I was sitting in a park and the woman sitting next to me, a stranger, was slowly wanking me. I had my hand under her dress touching her; she was not wearing any panties. I opened my eyes. Clara was sitting on the bed slowly masturbating my cock. I lay there watching as her hand glided up and down my erection, exactly how I had showed her in Kenton.

I reached out and ran my hand down her back. "You just lie there and enjoy it," she said. "Tell me when you're ready to cum, I want your cum inside me."

"What about you?"

"This is about you. Last night..." Her hand moved up and down. She paused and picked up a tube of KY Jelly, squeezed some onto her hand, and rubbed it onto the head of my cock. I shivered as the cold goo touched me.

KY Jelly?

I lay back and closed my eyes, trying to relive the dream. My thoughts slowly morphed to include my mother; it was her hand pleasuring me. I felt my excitement build; I relaxed and let the sensations wash over me. It felt so nice!

"Tell me when you're ready..." I must have started to exude precum. Her hand stopped moving and I thrust my hips, disappointed. "So eager!"

That sort of burst the bubble and I quickly went off the boil, my cock softening. Her hand resumed its wanking, more urgent, harder, trying to regain control. I pictured Nellie; the excitement built. I started thrusting my hips. I felt Clara move, straddling me. I started ejaculating before I was in her, squirting up onto her stomach.

"Noooo!" She shouted, impaling herself on me, "No! I wanted you to cum inside me!" There were tears running down her cheeks, red spots visible. "Can't you do anything right?" She was sitting on my shrinking member. "I hate..." She bit off the rest of the sentence, jumped up and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door.

I lay there in the afterglow of my orgasm, eyes closed, trying to picture Nellie again, but the image had gone. I wondered what that had all been about.

That evening things had returned to normal except that Clara kissed me hello; pecked more than kissed, lips stiff. She had cooked dinner, typical girl-diet dinner of chicken and salads, but better than the beans-and-toast bachelor-fare that I had been eating the last few weeks. When we had cleared the dishes and were watching television she came and snuggled up to me. After an hour or so she said, "Come, lover, time for bed." She fluttered her eyelids in what she thought was a suggestive way.

In the bedroom I undressed, showered quickly, brushed my teeth and climbed into bed. Clara went into the bathroom, closing the door as usual. I heard the toilet flush, the shower run, then silence. Ten minutes later she emerged.

Naked. Wow!

She pulled the duvet aside, lay down on her back and spread her legs. The room was dark, the only light from the moon through the window, her body pale against the dark sheets. She reached for my penis, flaccid against my groin. She started rubbing it; nothing happened. She rolled onto her side and used the other hand to massage my testicles; still nothing happened. This went on for about five minutes. It felt nice, but not in any way sexual.

I heard a small huff of impatience, then she moved forward and after a moment's hesitation I felt the warmth of her mouth, sucking me in. I started to get hard; Clara had one hand between my legs massaging my testicles, her other hand holding the base of my cock, her head bobbing up and down. Every now and then she would stop and swirl her tongue over and around the head. Michael had taught her well.

When I was fully erect she lay back, saying, "I want to feel you inside me." I moved between her legs and l placed the head of my cock against her opening and pushed. I felt the opening was slick and slippery; I entered easily. Well lubricated. But not the woman kind, she had applied plenty of KY. Not that I cared at this stage, it was warm and wet.

It took me a long time to cum. Clara was urging me on but she was not aroused and I did not feel like being rough and hurting her. I kissed her and at first there was resistance but then she opened her mouth and let me explore her mouth. No passion.

Eventually when I had spent myself in her depths we lay there, Clara holding me inside her even after I had shrunk, her legs wrapped around mine, her feet on the back of my thighs. "Clara, what's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we've been married five months. In that time you've never once initiated sex. Now twice in two days, three times if you include this morning."

"Have you not enjoyed it?" She asked.

"Yes but..."

"But what? I'm not your mother?" This last was a harsh whisper; I did not respond. "We have to put that behind us. Forget it ever happened, not that I ever will! But we have to consider the future." I heard her sniff in the dark. "We can't go on living like this, two strangers in the same house. We must put on a brave face. I will not withhold any conjugal benefits in the future and in return I want you to be my husband again."

Conjugal benefits? Clara was from another planet!

When I did not respond Clara asked, "Did you hear what I said?"

"Mmmm," I replied. I was still lying between her legs, flaccid but still in, my body heavy on hers with my head on the pillow next to hers. "What do you mean by conjugal benefits?"

"Oh. You know..."

"No, I don't. Tell me."

There was a long silence. Then, "Intercourse, um, oral sex..."

"Anal?" I was pushing it but I wanted to get a response.

"You men! You're all the same!" I felt the violence of her reaction under my body.

"Well, does it include anal?"

She hesitated. "Yes, if you have to."

Silence followed, then she asked quietly, "You know that video..."

So that was what this was all about! "Which one?"

"Ummm. With me and Michael..."

Again, "Which one?"

She started squirming under me and I popped out, then she was kneeling on the bed her hands on my arm. "You took more than one? You horrible perverted little voyeur! I bet you and your mother..." Her voice choked off and she ran to the bathroom, slamming the door.

I wondered about the conjugal benefits.

Life sort of returned to normal. I moved back to the master bedroom; we had sex whenever I wanted it. Well, it was more like masturbation using a beautiful warm body to stimulate myself. When I tried to penetrate her anally she kicked up such a fuss saying it hurt her, that I was too big, and so on, that I relented and just fucked her normally. I found I enjoyed it most when she lay on her stomach and I came in from behind, with her legs closed inside mine; plenty of KY. The feeling of her buttocks nestling my stomach made me think of Nellie.