Preachers Wife Chapter 9 and My WIfe and Wifes Fin
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Maggie's first thought on waking up in an unfamiliar room was, I've lost my clothes.
She turned over in the bed to see the man sleeping beside her, his back turned to her. He had hair on his shoulders, curly black hair on his head, and a bulge around his waistline. I remember that he's a lawyer from Boston and this was his first day in Thailand, but I've forgotten his name.
She was contemplating her situation when there was a tapping on the door. "Maggie and Andrew, are you awake?" It was her friend April. "It's time for brunch."
Andrew. So that's his name, she thought. She got carefully to her feet and walked to the door and opened it a crack, peered out at April and said in a whisper, "I don't know where my clothes are."
"You left them on the beach. I picked them up for you after you left with Andrew." She handed Maggie her flowery dress through the door.
Andrew rolled over on his back and watched as Maggie pulled the dress over her head. "Oh, what a night!" he said, rubbing his eyes with one hand while he scratched his testicles with the other. He climbed to his feet and began to rustle around in a suitcase for clothes. He looked at Maggie, who was attempting to put her hair in order with her fingers.
She looked at him. "I hope you don't think last night is a regular thing I do."
He smiled. "I hope it is. And I hope we do it again."
*
Seven months earlier, Maggie had gone back to Kansas after working in Kenya and Sudan. She was soon restless. The people in the small town where she lived were not interested in her experiences. She slipped back into church activities without a pause and appeared arm-in-arm with her husband, the picture of a devoted, Christian couple. Her husband, forty-seven years old, still expected sex every night.
Her daughter, now a senior in college and her son, a sophomore, were happy to see her again, but she realized that she was not a big part of their lives. I raised them to be independent, she thought, I didn't want them to grow up to be prudes as I was. I should be happy they are getting along without me. They like me, but they don't need me.
She resumed her accounting business. She found a lover in Kansas City and another in Omaha, but the sex lacked excitement. The men were pleasant and charming, but not blessed with the adventurous spirit she had enjoyed as a refugee worker. I've become a disaster junkie, she said to herself. My adrenalin doesn't flow in Kansas.
She telephoned John Bright, the President of the Christians of Faith, in Washington. He had been complimentary about her work in Kenya.
"John," she asked, "Could I go back to Loki to work with COF?"
"I'm sorry you didn't ask me earlier. I've filled your job. Is everything all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine, but I miss living and working abroad."
"I have a job open in Thailand in an isolated refugee camp near the Burmese border."
"I'm interested."
"When can you go?"
"Tomorrow," she answered with a laugh. "Well, in a couple of weeks. I'll need to finish up a few things here."
"You've got the job."
"What's the weather like in Thailand?"
"Always hot, but you're used to that. Six months of rain, six months of dry weather. Would you like to know how much we will pay you?"
"Yes, that's a question I suppose I should ask."
"Six thousand dollars a month, free housing at the refugee camp, free medical care and life insurance while in our employ, and an airline ticket home every six months."
And that was it. She told her husband, Clyde that night, telephoned her children, and wrapped up her business obligations. Her husband didn't seem disturbed about her leaving -- especially when she said she would send him two thousand dollars every month for the children's college expenses. She suspected her husband was having an affair with the choir director of his church, who was younger than Maggie and had big breasts and sang with an irritating nasal warble. Maggie hoped he was having an affair. It eased her conscience.
*
At Mae La Refugee Camp, the usual practice of the expatriate staff was to work three weeks straight and then take a week off. For her first break, Maggie traveled to Bangkok with April, an American she met in the camp. April was a nurse from Wisconsin, about thirty-five years old, buxom and blond, and she had the usual free and irreverent manner of people who work in refugee camps.
During the seven-hour bus ride to Bangkok, April commented on life in Thailand. "Bangkok," April explained to Maggie, "is the sex capital of the world. Look around you. Thai women are smiling and cheap. They all look like they are eighteen years old and they've got tight little bodies.
"Thailand is not the greatest place to be a 'round eye' -- a Western woman," she continued. "There are an infinite number of bars, massage parlors, night clubs, strip joints, no-hands restaurants, and other establishments where sex can be purchased quickly and easily. It takes five minutes for a man to find a sex partner. Factor that into your thinking. Men are accustomed to sex on demand.
"As for me," she said with a shrug, "I'd like to get laid. It didn't happen last month when I was on holiday."
Maggie took a close look at the Thai women on the bus. They were small. Rounded features and smooth skin made it hard to judge their ages. "At least I don't feel under-endowed here because of my boobs," Maggie said.
"I plan to go to Pattaya beach for a couple of days," said April. "Do you want to go with me?"
"Sure, sounds fun."
"Maybe we can find some men."
*
The beach resort of Pattaya was a sex emporium. Along a pedestrian mall called Walking Street lounged hundreds of young Thai women dressed in scanty clothing and calling out to the hundreds of Farang (European and American) men, plus a few Japanese and Chinese along the wide walkway examining the female merchandise on display. Thai barkers stood among the women trying to lure men into bars and massage parlors.
"My God," said Maggie. "Are all of these women prostitutes?" It was about nine p.m. and the two women were strolling through the noisy chaos of massage parlors, bars, restaurants, motorcycles, noodle carts, street vendors, and young women seated at tables, standing against walls, chatting, laughing. and negotiating in sing-song, broken English with Farang men. The men were of all ages, mostly dressed in shorts and Hawaiian shirts. Rock music blared from every doorway.
"Bar girls is the usual term for them, but, yeah, they are prostitutes, although a lot of them are part-timers who have a regular job during the day and turn a trick now and then to supplement their income. It beats a life on the farm, which is where most of them come from."
Several of the Farang men exchanged pleasantries with April and Maggie, and a few evaluated them like they were sides of beef hanging on a hook in a meat locker. April wore shorts and a cropped tube top that left her midriff bare. Her large breasts bulged out of the fabric and the dark shadow and shape of her nipples were visible.
Maggie wore her only going-out-to-party outfit: a flowery dress with spaghetti straps, the neckline low enough to suggest her modest cleavage, and falling to just above her knees. The thin cloth swished when she walked; her arms and shoulders were well-toned and tanned, her calves slender and long. She went braless. It was hot.
"How much does it cost for sex with one of these women?" Maggie asked.
"It's negotiable. Thirty to forty dollars would be average for free-lance girls on the street. Half that for a blow job. The girls who work in bars are more expensive because you also have to pay a fee to the mamasan. It can be a lot cheaper in poor areas of town."
"You know a lot about this."
"Yeah, back home no man would ever tell a woman that he was fucking prostitutes. But in Thailand, they all talk about it, compare girls, and make recommendations for the best ones to seek out. There's a bar in Bangkok called the '69' where the women wear numbers. I know a man who claims to have fucked them all, from number one to number 69."
April continued, "I don't think there's a man in Thailand, Thai or Farang, who hasn't fucked bar girls. We round-eyes just have to accept that. But you must demand that your sex partners wear a condom. Do you need some?"
Maggie answered with a smile, "I have several." She patted the small purse hanging by a leather thong around her neck.
"You're ready then. So am I. Let's eat dinner and see what happens." They sat at a table on the sidewalk, with the crowd flowing around them, and ordered bottles of Singha beer, a mild green curry for April, and fried noodles for Maggie. She poured fish sauce on the noodles and added diced chili peppers. She had learned to like spicy food while she was working in Kenya.
They were waiting for their food when a smiling, dapper man in his mid-thirties came over to their table. "Would you like to join us?" The women looked over at the table he pointed to where two more men sat. They were of about the same age and prosperous appearance. "We would welcome your company." His accent identified him as an American.
The two women looked at each other, an eager smile forming on April's face, and Maggie nodded and they rose and walked over to the table. Their escort introduced them. "This is my brother Andrew. He just arrived in Thailand today for a visit. And this is Doug, who lives in Bangkok, as I do. My name is Tim."
Tim, they learned during the conversation, headed a consulting company in Bangkok. Doug was the owner of an import-export company, also in Bangkok, and Andrew, Tim's slightly-pudgy brother, was a lawyer in Boston. All of them were polite, funny, and intelligent. April was clearly aroused, her face flushed, her lips parted, her hands reaching out to touch the men on their shoulders, their hands. The five of them ate, drank beer, and laughed together, ignoring the bustling street a few feet beyond their table. The street showed no signs of quieting down when the time reached midnight.
"Would you girls like to take a walk on the beach?" asked Doug, who was quiet, tall, and handsome. "We have a beach house nearby and we can walk that direction."
Before Maggie could respond, April said, "Yes, that sounds lovely. I've had enough of the noise and the crowds." The five of them finished their beer, got up unsteadily from the table, and made their way through the crowd to the beach a short distance away.
It was a serene tropical night. The moon hung in the sky like a lantern, casting dark shadows on the wet, yellow sand. They took off their sandals and walked barefoot, the ripples of the gentle tide lapping around their feet, the coconut palms swaying in a gentle breeze.
"That's our house," said Tim, pointing to a two-story wood-frame house hidden in the coconut palms at the edge of the beach. He was of medium height and unremarkable in appearance, except for the pleasant smile that never left his face. Andrew was excitable and funny. "Do you want to come in for a drink?"
Three men, two women, how is that going to work? Maggie asked herself.
April said, "First, I want to go swimming." With that, she turned away from the others, pulled the tube top over her head, eased off her shorts and panties, and ran into the surf, laughing and shouting with glee. She turned to face the others. "I am so happy, free from work, from worries. I want to play." The black triangle of hair between her legs was visible in the moonlight and her breasts bounced as she leaped up and down and in the shallow water.
"I'm with her," said Andrew, stripping off his pants and shirt and running toward the water to join April in the surf.
"Me too," said Doug and Tim simultaneously, taking off their clothes while looking expectantly at Maggie.
Maggie shrugged, pulled the dress over her head, then took her panties off and dropped them on the sand, adding the neck purse on top of her clothes. She ran into the water and Doug and Tim followed her, flopping penises visible in the moonlight.
The five of them cavorted, splashing water on each other, touching, giggling like children. Maggie found herself paired with Tim. She walked deeper into water up to her neck and Tim followed her. April, Doug, and Andrew were still at the edge of the beach, standing near to each other, talking and laughing.
Tim took her by the hand and pulled her to him and they embraced, his hands running up and down her back to her buttocks and pulling her to him, the wavelets of the sea lapping over her shoulder.
April was squealing with delight. Maggie and Tim turned to look at her. Andrew was holding her from behind and Doug was kissing her breasts. As they watched, Andrew lowered her to the sand, still holding her in his arms, and she pulled Doug close to her, her mouth closing on his penis.
"April is in heaven," said Maggie when they broke off the kiss. She turned back to Tim and gasped as his finger slipped deep inside her. "If we proceed with this, we'll need a condom."
"I like oral best. Does that suit you? Do you want a condom for that?"
"Yes, oral suits me, and no, we don't need a condom for that." She nibbled on his ear, brushed her lips lightly on his cheek, and whispered, "How are we going to do it while we're standing neck-deep in water?"
"I like that matter-of-fact tone of yours."
"I'm an accountant. Just the facts, no fluff, no fuss."
"That's funny -- but I don't think it's true." He ran his finger up and down inside her. She took his penis in her hand, stroking it against her thigh. "With your permission, I'll show you how," he continued. He lifted her up until her legs were locked around his neck and while she was floating on the surface, his mouth went to her crotch. He sucked hard on her clitoris, holding her head above the water. She stretched her arms out to float more easily. He took his mouth away and inserted two fingers into her vagina and she felt the warm water of the sea flowing in and out of her, and waves rippled off her hardened nipples
"How does that feel?' he asked.
"Wonderful. I'm going to come quickly. Do you want that?"
"Oh, yes. I love to make a woman come. Provided, of course, that our evening isn't over after you come. I have my desires also, you know."
"I assure you that I won't just come and go."
"Thank you, my dear. Shall we proceed?"
"Please do. I can't float forever and I'm curious to see how oral sex feels like underwater."
"You'll like it, Ms. Matter-of-Fact." With hands under her hips, spreading the cheeks of her buttocks, a finger inserted in her rectum while he held her on the surface of the water, his tongue deep within her, flicking in and out, and she, arms extended, climaxed and momentarily lost control of her body. Tim held her head above the water and she lurched back and forth in the motion of a hard and lingering orgasm.
"Oh, damn!" she said when she could speak. "That was good."
Tim lowered her to her feet and she stood with her body plastered against his, her arms around him to support her quaking knees. He kissed her. "When you're ready, use your hand and your mouth."
"Here? My mouth? Underwater?" She was puzzled.
"Underwater. Why not? Catch my cum in your mouth so we don't pollute the ocean."
"You're an environmentalist. I like that," she said, "but how am I going to give you a blow job without drowning?" She dipped her head into the water and found his penis and put it in her mouth and sucked it, then pulled away and rose to the surface.
"I like it," he said.
"Let me catch my breath and I'll do it again. Meanwhile--" she stroked his penis with her hand.
"Okay, do it again." She dipped down to his waist and sucked on his penis, then rose to breathe and then did it again, and he said, "I'm almost ready." He was hunching back and forth in the water.
"Finally," she said, kissing him on the lips and thrusting her tongue into his mouth, feeling his hard penis quiver in her hand. "Now's the time," she said, took a deep breath, submerged her head and took his penis in her mouth and felt the palpitations as he climaxed. Her breath expired and she rose to the surface, spitting out water and sperm and coughing. "I'm sorry. I got a mouthful of sea water and I didn't want to swallow it. I need practice at underwater blow jobs."
They laughed together as they embraced. "I hardly ever fuck a woman," Tim explained. "I prefer oral sex. Is that okay with you?
"It was fabulous. Except for the sea water."
Tim turned to look at the beach. April was on her elbows and knees and Andrew was standing behind her, his hands on her hips, his penis driving into her backside. Her head was in Doug's lap.
"More, more, more, harder, harder, harder!" they heard April say.
"She's a screamer, for sure," said Tim.
"I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming!" shouted April.
"She'll wake up all the neighbors," observed Maggie. Both of them were looking clinically at the scene on the beach a few dozen feet away.
Tim laughed and kissed her on the cheek. "Shall we join the others?"
"I'm coming too!" That was Andrew. He and April were moaning with pleasure. April's head was in Doug's lap and she collapsed on the sand, breathing hard as Tim and Maggie waded through the shallow water and onto the sand beside them.
Andrew got to his feet, and stripped the condom off his penis and looked at Maggie, "Who's next? I'm ready for another go."
They all laughed. "Hey, it's my turn, " Doug said. Doug detached himself from April and stood up. He looked at Maggie. Doug was very good looking. His penis was long and thin.
Maggie and Tim, arm in arm, looked at each other and at Doug. "Doug is my best friend," he said.
"Does that mean I'm to be shared?"
"If you wish."
Maggie thought it over. Why not? She wanted more than oral sex. It was a guilt-free adventure. How jaded have I become, she thought wryly. But should it be Doug or Andrew? No contest. She pulled loose from Tim and took Doug by the hand. "I haven't had enough swimming. Let's go in the water."
"What about me?" said Andrew, still standing knee-deep in the water, a used condom in his hand.
"Don't throw that in the water, little brother. There's a trash can over there," said Tim, pointing. Maggie felt a twinge of love for Tim creep into her heart. A lover with a social conscience! Tim looked down at April, who was still lying speechless and stomach-down on the sand. "If you're up to it, April, I'll take Doug's place with your head on my lap." He sat down. April roused herself, scooted across the sand, lifted her head, and put it in Tim's lap, taking his soft penis in her mouth.
Doug and Maggie walked into the warm tropical waters, but barely got waist-deep in the water when they locked their bodies together in a kiss, his tongue exploring inside her mouth. Two minutes later and they were on the beach, she, lying on her back on the wet sand. "There are condoms," she said, "in my neck purse."
He opened up her purse, found a condom, bit off a corner of the package, slipped it on his penis and lay down on top of her, finding her vagina and entering her. As Doug stroked methodically, she glanced down the beach. April was crouching over a reclining Tim, his penis in her mouth, their bodies silhouetted against a large yellow moon. Andrew was crouched behind April, fucking her. Again.
"Enjoying yourself?" asked Doug as he dug deep inside her and she breathed hard.
"Oh, yes, I am."
"You are the first round-eye I have fucked in more than a year." He paused. "Oops, maybe that was not the right thing to say."
"It wasn't, but I'm pleased to be of service," she answered archly.
"It's nice, having sex with a woman who is intelligent and who I can talk to in my own language. I like your dress." He pointed at her dress laying on the sand a few feet away. "I run a clothing business. My partner, a French woman, designs the dresses and I sell them."
"It's my only party dress. I live out of a suitcase." She could feel Doug softening inside her.
"Where do you buy it?"
"I didn't buy it. A man gave it to me in Greece. Four years ago. It belonged to his wife." Doug had slipped totally out of her. She wiggled her hips to induce a re-entry.
"I'd like to borrow it. To copy the design. I'll pay you royalties. Maybe you can model for me?'
"If you weren't already fucking me, I would take that as flattery to get me into bed. Actually, you're not fucking me right now. Maybe we could discuss business later?"
"Oh, sorry." He reached down between his legs, took his penis in hand and reinserted it into her. "Better?" he asked.
"I'd like to come before long. Everybody else has finished and is sitting there watching us."
Doug turned his head. Tim and Andrew were sitting naked on the sand a dozen feet away. They clapped and Doug acknowledged them with a wave. April lay between them, stretched out on the sand. "Okay," Doug said, "Let's give them a show."
"I'm ready. As always. A man once called me Old Faithful."
"How about you come first, and then I come on you?"
"Okay." Maggie responded by thrusting her hips forward, wrapping her legs tighter around him. "Now," she said. She climaxed with a squeak of passion and legs spread wide, waving wildly in the air, her teeth nibbling into Doug's shoulder.
Doug waited until Maggie recovered her breath and her body stilled from her quivering orgasm. He pulled his penis out of her and crouched over her, stroking his penis. Maggie raised her hands to his testicles and massaged them gently. He came in large spurts, the hot sperm falling on her breasts. She smeared it around with her fingers as he climbed off her.
The watchers clapped in appreciation at the show. Doug nodded his head in appreciation, and Maggie, still lying on her back, blew them a kiss, then licked sperm off her fingers.
Andrew got up from the sand and walked over to them. "I want some of that."
Maggie held her hands in mock protest. "Give me a minute of rest." She got up and walked into the surf and began washing the sand and sperm off her body.
Tim asked, "Do you girls want to spend the night at our house? It will save you a long walk back to your hotel. And brunch will be served." He was climbing to his feet. April still lay motionless on her back, her legs spread, the waves lapping around her feet and calves.
"Are you alive over there, April?" Maggie asked.
"I am totally exhausted. But yes, let's spend the night with these guys."
"You can share my bed," Andrew said to Maggie. "April can sleep with Tim and Doug."
"I'd be delighted," answered Maggie with a touch of sarcasm and kissed Andrew on the cheek. They wrapped arms around each other and walked toward the house and the others followed. She forgot her dress, laying on the sand, but April picked it up and carried it with her.
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