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18 A Girl Changes Into a Woman
18 A Girl Changes Into a Woman

18 A Girl Changes Into a Woman

CobraElizabeth Lin Johnson

Guilt combined with the need to allay hubby’s growing suspicions, caused me to decline Edward’s next Saturday night date request. The following Saturday after, however, unable to say no to Edward’s request, I announced.

“I’m going to girl’s night out bowling again.”

He was sullen, asked me not to, pleaded me not to. My mind whirled how to devise a subterfuge which would stabilize my domestic safe world swirling out of orbit but still see Edward. The canard, bowling with the girls, was a desperate stop gap but had to fit until I could figure out something better.

Again, he watched from the kitchen window, like Mom did, as I backed out the driveway to meet another, like Dad did.

On the way to Edward’s, I experienced a spasm of indecisiveness as guilt fought with desire and stopped at a supermarket parking lot. With my head on the steering wheel, I told myself to go home. I never felt so ashamed. My adultery guilt far surpassed the guilt experienced of puberty’s soapy showers sex. I loved my family, including hubby.

He’s so good to me. What am I doing? I’m betraying him. He’s the father of my children. I’m like Dad, sneaking off in the night.

I cried. With crying’s relief, I used Dad as my excuse. My head rose from the steering wheel, hesitation replaced with desire. I’m seeing Edward again, perhaps just to say goodbye.

I hurried into the store, brought cheese, crackers, and wine. The failed diversion attempt revealed the truth, I was Dad’s daughter, an adulteress.

Back in the car, I drove directly to Edward’s, parked in his parking space, vacated by him to conceal my car from street view. With swift determination, I walked through the parking labyrinth to Edward’s apartment, clutching my supermarket purchases, in a fog, the fog of love. Hubby, kids, home, were strew aside to peripheral thoughts of.

I must manage events to keep family intact as Edward’s love plays out. I’ll tell Edward I can’t see him, tell him goodbye for good.

At the first door tap Edward opened the door. Instantly I was in another world, his. He took my package, set it aside, kissed me. All thoughts of saying goodbye evaporated.

Instead of serving what I’d brought, he turned me around and led me to his car on the street. Sunk in its bucket seats, we zoomed to the Japanese sushi restaurant again. There, munching his favorite delicacy, Uni Maki, he watched me intently as I nibbled on a California roll. I drank sake while he drank Asahi beer. He claimed sake and beer enhanced the taste of sushi but I liked neither. His silent stare, as we ate, versus usual conversation leadership began to unnerve me.

After sushi, he hustled me to the Porsche and drove faster to his apartment than his usual fast. I was thrust back and forward with each gear change and jerked slid to side on the turns. Parked, he jumped out, opened my door, and hurriedly led me by the hand to his apartment and directly up to the bedroom, wordlessly. His rush and continued odd silence were upsetting.

Is he already tired of me? Has he met someone new, a nurse or is a woman doctor chasing him?

Leading me hurriedly to the bedroom, not pausing for a repast of my wine, cheese and crackers irritated me. Standing next to the waterbed, I thought.

He thinks I’m just a silly girl for him to use. Maybe so but I’m not being taken for granted!

He undressed me deliberately, led me to the shower, turned the water on, waited until it was warm, opened the glass door and told me to shower. I obeyed but as the water streamed on me, I thought.

Why isn't he joining me? Isn't he taking a shower? Why is he belittling me, leading me around as if I’m just to be cleaned before used?

Out of the shower, he wrapped me in towels, dried me thoroughly and sat me on the bed naked. As he undressed, I thought.

This is how it ends. I assumed too much. It's obvious, I'm just his sex toy. He didn't even shower. So be it. Get it over so I can go home, I should’ve known better than expect him to love me. I’m a simple girl, a stupid girl. He’s a jerk. He destroyed my world just to use me. I hate him!

After he undressed, he spread me on the undulating waterbed. I just wanted him to be done so I could leave. He moved my feet and hands near the bedposts, turning me into an “X”. Vulnerable, exposed, spread eagle before him I shifted from hate to fright.

Is he into some tie-up game? Don’t let him. Don’t submit. Get ready to resist. If he brings out tie-up stuff, run. Scratch if he tries to stop me.

Watching frightened, spread on the bed, prepared to leap out, grab my clothes and run, he started lighting candles in brass holders.

He’s going to drip hot wax on me! Oh, God, I’ve no chance to run. No one even knows I’m here, who he is?

I cried and in terror whimpered.

“Leave me alone. Don’t touch me. I want to go home.”

Surprised at my panic, he smiled to reassure me, said softly he’d never hurt me, to relax. He bent down and whispered.

“I’m only going explore your erogenous zones, to change you into a woman who fully enjoys sexual pleasure. I’ll never hurt you. The candles are for your romantic enhancement, their shadow’s light to enhance your pleasure.”

His voice calmed me. Its tone more assuring than his words. I nervously glanced back and forth at the candles but kept an eye on him. The tears of fear on my cheeks dried. He gently kissed them. I moved my arms and legs to no longer be an “X”. He didn’t object. I began to relax. As he continued to assure in his calm voice, relief replaced fear. He wasn’t a pervert. I was going to be okay. The shift from guilt to determination, determination to love, love to hate, hate to fear, fear to relief, a swirl of confusing emotion changes.

He moved to the base of the bed and massaged the heels and insteps of my feet. Moving on the bed he massaged my legs from my ankles to knees, then thighs, moving back and forth from one leg to the other. The waterbed undulated in assurance. Satisfied with my accepting his control, he rolled me over. I clutched a pillow to steady myself with the pitching water as he massaged my back. It was my first massage. He kneaded each taut muscle, their pent-up tension knots dissipated with his manipulations. Soon, fully relaxed, face down in the covers, I was smiling at the silliness of my recent panic.

He moved up and kissed the nape of my neck. I felt his firm penis and thought he was going to enter me but instead, he rolled me back over, spread my legs and kissed my thighs, each kiss a little higher up. By the time he reached my vulva, I was moaning pleasure. Eyes half-closed, I enjoyed the romantic enhancement of the flickering candlelight as he’d instructed.

He licked my labia area from bottom up. No longer afraid, I sought his lip and tongue caresses. He moved to my clitoris, gently stroked it in little circular swirls with an index finger, swirled his tongue around it and sucked gently.

When my back arched up to climax, he eased off until I receded from the cusp of sexual oblivion. He got up and put on a latex glove.

“Please don’t worry, this is only to avoid a fingernail scratch.”

Gloved, he gently probed my vagina from back near the cervix, then worked forward to my "G-Spot". While massaging my inner vagina his tongue twirled and his lips nibbled my clitoris. Suddenly, I arched back, shuddered all over and experienced an orgasm so intense I ejaculated a little liquid.

The doctor was pleased with his patient.

He brought a warm, damp towel and whipped off my perspiration. Calmed, the water still again, he renewed his erotic assault. As if playing a piano, he started with soft notes, increased the tempo and intensity as he caressed and kissed pleasure keys until I was twisting and moaning, receptive and pleading for more. With a condom on, he slid his penis in and guided it to my "G-Spot”.

I leaped about, thrust my pelvis up to his downstrokes, suddenly shrieked my first verbal sexual exclamation.


As I finished, my pelvis jumped in spastic rhythm to meet his.

When he finished and pulled out, I curled into the fetal position and fell asleep.

He shook me awake to tell me it was time to leave. As I arose, my body tingled. My skin was alive. Too late to touch the wine, we had tea and ate the brier cheese with crackers I’d brought. Sitting naked at his little kitchen table, the flavor of the tea, the crunch of the crackers and the tang of creamy cheese tasted different than before.

Aware of the time, I rushed upstairs, showered again and dressed. The shower’s water gave a shudder of pleasure to my skin. My clothes caressed me as I put them on. My body was alive with sensory sensations.

He walked me to my car. We had a last kiss. My lips hungered for another; my cheeks yearned for one more caress as we broke apart. Driving home at 2 AM, the range of emotions experienced swept me.

In a few hours, guilt shifted by determination to love's blind fog which shifted to confusion under his silent stare. His indifferent rush to take me as a sex object flared into pride’s hate. Spread X on the bed, the candles alight, hate fled into fear. With his soft words, kneading and kisses fear abated to relief and relief climbed to sexual ecstasy. The rapid emotional shifts, like gears shifted in the Porsche, jerked my emotions about and ended in explosive overdrive pleasure. Combined they changed me. That night he changed me forever.

At home, as before, my husband waited, only he waited longer. As soon as I walked in the door, he grabbed me and led me to the bedroom without words, stripped me, pushed me on the bed and entered me, his rough lust, rape to claim me as his.

As he crudely took me, I experienced another emotion, acceptance, love’s acceptance. I was his wife, the mother of his children, he was my husband. I had hurt him, I loved him too. I needed to turn his hate back into love for me.

When he withdrew, it was too late for questions. They would await until morning. Again, I curled into a fetal position and slept until noon. He was not in the bed when I awoke. Once up, I fixed lunch but didn’t know what to say or think and stumbled through motions awaiting my grilling.

Everything was otherworldly, my parochial repressed sexuality sloughed off, replaced by sensuality. I had to feel, taste, smell, hear and see all anew.

The night before I'd experienced guilt, love, hate, fear, ecstasy, and love again. My compulsive rush to see Edward, the rapid shift of confusing emotions, their ending in sexual ecstasy, had changed me. Acceptance of his hubby’s hate, his claim I was his wife, the mother of his children, my need to reclaim his love, changed me too.

I was no longer a girl who still had to grow up. I was a woman, a woman in love with two men, one sexually, the other my husband and father of my children. I had to understand who I was as a woman.

As soon as the kids finished their lunch and went to the backyard to play, the inquisition began.

Author Notes: From a husband's swing suggestion a woman enters an affair never expected on the wedding altar.

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About The Author
Elizabeth Lin Johnson
About This Story
28 Jun, 2017
Read Time
10 mins
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