Preachers Wife Chapter 3 from Preadhers Daughter
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The Preacher's Wife, Chapter 8, "Maggie's Daughter" free porn video
"My daughter Rachel wants to come for a visit." It was morning and Maggie and Tim were seated at his kitchen table drinking coffee. Tim's Thai maid bustled around, cutting up a papaya and boiling rice for congee, the rice soup they both enjoyed.
“No problem," Tim answered. “She's welcome to stay here.”
“But I'm worried. She doesn't know the kind of life I lead. I am still married to her father.” Maggie nervously played with the gold band on her finger.
“How old is she? Twenty-one? She probably has an inkling that you have not been celibate during these years you've lived abroad.”
“But this house Tim!” Maggie said with anguish. “Parties every weekend. People fucking all over the house. And me! Fucking all over the house. What will she think? I'm sorry,” she continued, “I don't mean to be critical. I love living with you. But this will be scandalous for a young woman from Kansas.”
“Is your daughter a virgin?”
“No, I'm sure she's not. Rachel's had several boyfriends. But that doesn't mean she won't be taken aback by her mother, the wanton hussy.”
He kissed her on the cheek. “We'll keep her safe while she's staying here, but most women get into the swing in Bangkok quickly. She may like it.”
“I'm worried about that also. Your friends are charming and rich and she might like it all too much. She's just a little girl who's never been out in the world.”
“She might surprise you.”
“Warn Doug that I do not want him trying to fuck my daughter.” Doug was their friend and Maggie's occasional lover, as was Tim. And several other men.
“Doug will behave himself.”
*
Maggie had lived in Thailand for almost a year, first living and working in a refugee camp and then employed for the United Nations and living in Bangkok but traveling to visit refugee camps three or four days a week.
After a passionate night on the beach with Tim and two of his friends, Tim and Maggie had become friends and he invited her to live in his large and luxurious home whenever she was in Bangkok. Tim was thirty-five years old and worked as a consultant for several large corporations. She had her own suite in his house. She was his renter, he said, but she paid no rent.
Tim was one of many farangs (Europeans and Americans) who move to Bangkok not only for business opportunities, but also for sex, readily available in any variety a person might want and at an affordable price. “Sex is my only hobby,” Tim explained with a wicked smile. He was open in his passion for oral sex. Every day at noon he went to a favorite massage parlor for a blow job. On weekends he and several friends, mostly farangs, often had parties featuring large numbers of Thai “bar girls.” Maggie went to the parties, and now and then another “round eye” (American or European) woman showed up at a party and farang men flocked around her, anxious for variety in their hyper-active sex lives.
“That could be Rachel at one of those parties,” Maggie thought.
Maggie and Tim rarely slept together, never had vaginal sex and only occasionally oral sex. Tim was addicted to bar girls. He made no secret of his sex life. He would often appear at breakfast with a young, beautiful Thai woman. Maggie used the opportunity to improve her fluency in the Thai language.
Maggie was halfway in love with Tim. He was kind, funny, rich, non-judgmental, and treated her as an equal. However, she would have left him in a moment had she detected any mistreatment by him of women. Tim treated people fairly, including the women he purchased.
Tim made no attempt to dictate Maggie's sex life. She invited a man to her room when she wished to do so, stayed overnight elsewhere when an attractive opportunity presented itself, and had on one occasion had sex with a man on a sofa in Tim's darkened living room while other guests were doing the same with bar girls and round eyes on cushions on the floor, in lounge chairs near the swimming pool, or in an upstairs bedroom. Sex at Tim's parties was taken for granted.
It was a pleasant life of luxurious surroundings, good food, more than a little alcohol, drugs – although Maggie's only drug was alcohol – interesting and morally satisfying work, and sex as recreation. There were dangers. Falling in love with Tim was one. Another was the specter of disease. Condoms for vaginal sex were de rigueur for her and the men she bedded.
*
Rachel, arrived early one morning. Maggie met her at the international airport. Rachel was two inches taller and curvier than her mother. She had her father's thick, black hair, which was cut short in a bob, framing a handsome face, a teasing smile, and casual clothing that projected youth and friendliness. "I wish I had been like Rachel when I was twenty-one instead of being the dowdy wife of a preacher," Maggie thought. "But I did well with the children, or at least I did until I ran away from home."
“Mom!” Rachel shouted as she ran to Maggie and they embraced. “I am so happy to be here,” she bubbled. “To see you and the exciting life you lead. I've heard so much about Bangkok. I want to see everything.” They walked arm in arm to the parking lot. “Oh, my God! Is this your car?” Rachel looked with admiration at the BMW sedan.
“No, this belongs to the man who lets me rent a room in his house. I spend most of my time in a clunky Toyota Land Cruiser hauling supplies to refugee camps in the middle of nowhere.”
“You rent a room from a guy?”
“Yes, but don't draw any conclusions from that. It's a suite and separated from the rest of the house. You're staying there with me. You'll have your own room and bathroom.”
“Awesome! Mom, you look so cool.” They got into the car and Maggie drove out of the airport onto the traffic-choked highway that led to the city. “I love your style: the blue jeans, the man's shirt, the sandals, the ponytail. You look like a grown-up hippie who takes no shit from anybody.”
They chatted amiably on the long ride from the airport. Rachel turned serious, “Mom, did you know that Daddy is having an affair? With the choir director. It's been going on for two years.”
“I was pretty sure he was having an affair,” Maggie replied. “I don't blame him. For all practical purposes our marriage is over. I've carved out a different life for myself. I hope you'll be part of it.”
“I'm so glad you're not sad.” Rachel changed the subject. “I've heard about Bangkok's nightlife. Will you take me to bars and stuff like that?”
“Yes, of course. But you have to promise to be careful. There are a lot of weird men in this town. You hang with me. Or with Tim, my landlord and our friend Doug. They'll keep you out of trouble.”
*
Maggie took Rachel with her on a four-day working visit to refugee camps in the jungle along the border with Burma. Rachel endured with enthusiasm the long, bumpy car rides, monsoon rains, insects, primitive living conditions, and unfamiliar food. Through an interpreter, she spent hours talking to refugee women and children about their experiences. Rachel was cheerful and engaged and Maggie was proud of her.
“I want to work in a refugee camp,” Rachel declared. “Can you help me find a job?”
“Probably, but the life of a disaster junkie isn't comfortable. It's dangerous and the pay isn't good. Still interested?”
“Yes!”
On their long drive back to Bangkok their talk became personal. “Mom, are you sleeping with Tim?”
Maggie struggled for words. Rachel laughed. “That silence tells me what I wanted to know.”
Maggie's face turned red. “It's not what you think. For one thing, he's too young for me. He's a sweet and kind person and a good friend. We have a....uh....a relationship, but we're not lovers.” Should she explain that she and Tim only had oral sex and that infrequently? Did that count as sex to the younger generation?
She continued. “Tim is going to have a party at his house tomorrow night. I thought about keeping you away from it, because it may be kind of shocking.” Maggie had talked to Tim about inviting Rachel to a party at his house. “No bar girls,” she said, “only round eyes and maybe a few Thai and Chinese professional women. I have to keep up appearances.” Tim had agreed.
Rachel laughed again. “Mom, I've had a few parties at college that were kind of, like, shocking. What's going to happen?”
“Tim and four or five of his friends invite a bunch of women over and everybody drinks and carouses and some of them spend the night.” Maggie steered around a water buffalo that had found his way onto the highway, “You have to promise to behave yourself. These men are older and more worldly than you are, and they are all accustomed to casual sex. I don't want you getting hurt.”
“Oh, Mom, don't worry about me, I'm a solo poly. Do you know what that is?”
“No, and I don't like the sound of that word.”
“You probably know the word polyamory. Being a solo poly means I belong only to myself. I don't want to be part of a couple. I want to be free to love more than one man or woman and to do it openly and honestly.”
How long have you been a -- what did you call yourself -- a solo poly?”
“More than a year.”
“And this means you have more than one boyfriend?”
“Yes. I have three at the moment to be precise. And they all have other women they have sex with.”
“Please tell me you take precautions.”
“I knew you would say that!” laughed Rachel. She kissed her mother on the cheek. “I love you, Mom, but keep your eyes on the road. You don't want to hit that elephant.”
Maggie looked down the highway. Sure enough, an elephant was crossing the road. She slowed down. “Does this mean you're never going to be married and give me a grandchild?”
“Who knows? Maybe you're also a solo poly? Married, but only in the legal sense and independent in mind and spirit. Is there a man or two everyplace you've been? Don't be offended,” she added quickly, “Your sex life is a hot topic among the people back home who know you.” Rachel laughed again.
“I thought you would believe I'm too old to have sex.”
“You're forty-one and much better looking than you were ten years ago. All those creepy preacher clothes you used to wear! And that hair tied up in a bun! Awful! Now, you're my cool mom, a world traveler, an adventurer.”
Maggie digested what Rachel had told her. Perhaps Rachel was as sexually active and sophisticated as she claimed. Maggie found that alarming -- but in an odd way also reassuring. She had feared for her daughter's naivete; perhaps Rachel was not as naive or immature as she had thought.
*
There were more than a dozen people at Tim's party. Seven were women: Maggie, Rachel, two more roundeyes, and three gorgeous and well-dressed Thai women.
Maggie's friend Doug, tall, slender, soft-spoken, and very good looking was at the party. Although Maggie was closer to being in love with Tim, Doug was her most frequent sexual partner. He owned a company that designed and sold fashionable women's clothing, He had given her a wardrobe of dresses suitable for the unending heat and humidity of Thailand. She usually dispensed with a bra and panties for parties at Tim's house, but this time, with Rachel in attendance, she wore undergarments.
Rachel wore colorful harem pants she had purchased from a street vendor and a halter top with a bare midriff. She looked stunning, a relaxed young lady with flashing white teeth and a smile that radiated warmth. “My God,” thought Maggie, “Who would have thought my daughter would become a sophisticated and worldly woman?”
The guests lounged around the large, open living room of Tim's house or just outside the sliding glass doors that opened onto a patio and a swimming pool. Two of the men were newcomers to Bangkok, recent graduates of Ivy League schools who were interns at Doug's business. One of them was a tall, slender, good-looking African man. He played basketball for Harvard and spoke English with a slight French accent. He wore a white shirt that contrasted with coal-black skin.
Rachel attacked herself to the black man, whose name was Jean-Michel. As Tim's unofficial hostess, Maggie circulated among the guests, greeting each of the Thai women with a wei, a Thai greeting with hands folded in front of the face and a lowered head. She greeted each of the men with a peck on the cheek or cheeks and finally settled down with a gin and tonic and Doug on a sofa in a darkened corner of the living room.
“Your daughter is marvelous,” said Doug.
“She's getting along all too well with that young man,” Maggie responded. Rachel and Jean-Michel were standing close to each other, her arm over his shoulder, his hand around her waist,
Doug and Maggie's faces were also close, the better to hear each other above the throbbing beat of 1970s rock music in the background. Doug kissed her on one cheek and then the other. “I think Rachel can take care of herself.”
Maggie returned Doug's kisses, a little hesitantly and with one eye turned toward Rachel to ensure that she could not be seen. Rachel and Jean-Michel were dancing now, and it was overtly sexual, their bodies twisting with the music, coming together, hip touching hip, turning and thrusting, then backing off, to begin again what Maggie saw as a mating ritual. “I hope she doesn't do anything foolish,” she said to Doug. “I should circulate.” She stood up.
Doug stood up and embraced Maggie, first looking toward Rachel to ensure that she wasn't looking. “Could we meet upstairs?”
“Maybe,” Maggie responded. After several sexless days looking after Rachel, she had more than a little desire built up in her loins. “But I'm worried about what Rachel might think. I am her mother, and I am still married to her father. She seems accepting of me, tolerant, but that might change if the reality that I'm fucking another man sinks in.”
“We'll be discreet. I don't think Rachel is paying any attention to you at all.” Rachel and Jean-Michel were now seated on cushions on the floor, and as they looked on he kissed her on the cheek. Rachel did not pull away.
The party had become raucous with tipsy men and women gyrating on the dance floor, the high-pitched sing-song laughter of the Thai girls rising above the music. Maggie replenished her drink, while admonishing herself to stay sober, and circulated, dancing briefly with one of the men, exchanging pleasantries with others in halting Thai or English. Tim was seated on cushions with a Thai woman, and Maggie felt a pang of jealously. “I won't see him again tonight,” she thought to herself.
“I saw Maggie and Jean-Michel go outside. Probably to the swimming pool.” That was Doug speaking. He had appeared at her side, his hand on her hip. “Can we slip upstairs?”
“I don't know if I'm up for it, Doug.”
“Rachel is occupied for the night.”
“I'm afraid she is. What can I do about it?” Maggie's voice was filled with anguish.
“You might assume that she's an intelligent young woman and capable of making her own decisions.”
Maggie thought for a moment. “There's nothing I can do. Just reassure me.”
“How about upstairs?”
Maggie kissed him on the cheek. “Okay, but it will have to be quick. I don't want Rachel to suspect if she comes back to the party and I'm not here.”
The two of them walked hand in hand up the stairs. At the top, Doug turned toward the end of the hall where Maggie's suite of rooms was located. “No, Doug, not there. What if she came up there to find me and I was in bed with you? Let's find another bedroom.”
Doug opened a door along the hallway. “This room is empty, and the bed looks comfy.” They walked together into the empty bedroom.
The sex was quick and as they lay naked side by side on the bed Maggie said, “I'm sorry, Doug. I know that wasn't very good. I'll do better next time.” She kissed his cheek.
“You were tense and you didn't smile. What I love most about fucking you is that you are always smiling. You have a smile that melts hearts. Fucking you makes me feel good about the world. I fuck the bar girls,” he continued, “but that's just sex that I've bought, and of no more significance than the enjoyment of driving a fast car or drinking a good wine. You, Maggie, are a symphony of delight. You are to be savored and remembered. Forever, my dear.”
“You are full of it, Doug. But thank you.”
Doug got up and walked to the window, and looked out at the expansive walled garden of the house. “Can you see Rachel?” Maggie asked with urgency.
“Yes.”
Maggie leaped out of bed and rushed to the window. The two of them peered out at the swimming pool which was partially illuminated by lamps at either end. Rachel and Jean-Michel were sitting on a lounge chair talking, their faces close together, their hips touching.
“See,” said Doug, “you have nothing to be worried about.”
“You spoke too soon. Look at her now.” Rachel had stood up. She untied the halter top and slipped it over her arms and briefly posed bare-breasted for Jean-Michel. Then she stripped off her harem pants, walked to the edge of the swimming pool, beckoned him to follow her, and dove into the water. Jean-Michel stood up, quickly stripped off his shorts and polo shirt. The light was dim, but Maggie saw his penis, hanging loosely as he dove into the pool following Rachel. The two of them met in the center of the pool and came together, kissing, arms around each other.
Maggie was transfixed on the scene before her. She crouched over, watching. Doug was standing behind her, leaning against her, his penis between her legs. She focused her attention on the scene at the swimming pool. “She just met him! An hour ago!” she said in a loud whisper.
Rachel and Jean-Michel were swimming now, splashing water on each other, coming together to kiss, emitting cries of joy that were audible to Maggie and Doug in the upstairs bedroom. “Other people can see them, can hear them!” Maggie said. It was true. Two other couples were in the garden, and the pool was only a few feet distant from the sliding-glass doors enclosing the living room. The music had ceased and the living room was dark. Maggie knew what that meant. The guests had paired off or into threesomes. Tim would be in his bedroom down the hall with a woman in bed with him.
Rachel and Jean-Michel walked hand in hand out of the shallow end of the pool. They paused on the apron and kissed and he raised her to his waist, his hand under her hips and she wrapped her legs around him.
“Please use a rubber, Rachel!” Maggie muttered. As if they heard her, Rachel and Jean-Michel walked to the lounge chair and she picked up her harem pants, reached into the pocket and pulled out a small package. She bit off one corner, shook out what they could see to be a condom, and rolled it onto Jean-Michel's penis, now clearly hardened. They lay down side by side on the lounge chair.
“They're going to fuck,” whispered Maggie. “Thank God, they're using a condom.”
“Rachel seems like she knows what she is doing,” commented Doug.
“That's a relief. I can relax a little. I don't care that she has sex. I care that she takes precautions – and that her partner is appropriate.”
“Appropriate? Would that be me with you?” answered Doug with a chuckle.
Maggie shushed him. “Yes, because we are both adults who can take care of ourselves. Rachel is barely more than a child.” Maggie was suddenly aware that she and Doug were still naked and that Doug's penis was probing her vagina as he stood behind her, looking over her shoulder.
“Oh, look at that,” said Doug. Rachel was lying between Jean-Michel's legs, her head in his crotch.
“She's blowing him – and he has a rubber on. That's good. That's real good. They seem responsible – and safe.”
“You are relaxing,” Doug said. He spread her legs wider and guided his penis into her.
“Doug!” she whispered loudly. “I can't believe you're fucking me while I'm worried about Rachel.”
“She's doing fine. You don't need to worry.” Rachel was sitting on Jean-Michel now, her hand guiding his penis inside her and she was sliding her body forward to take inside her the length of him, her large breasts bouncing in rhythm with her movement.
“My, God! Where did she get those boobs?” asked Rachel. “ Everybody in my family is flat as a pancake.”
Doug was rocking back and forth, thrusting his penis deep within her, while peering out the window at the scene a few yards away. “We're not the only ones watching,” he said. At the far end of the swimming pool, another couple, one of the farang men and a Thai woman, had halted their lovemaking to watch Rachel and Jean-Michel.
“Rachel doesn't seem bothered by the audience.”
“You're not bothered. Why should she be?”
“She's so young!”
“The youth of today are more open than they were when you were twenty-one and married to a preacher. I can attest to that. Are you bothered because he's black?”
“No, of course not. I've fucked black men. Well, only one.”
“I'm getting hot watching this.” Rachel had climbed off Jean-Michel and was now kneeling on the lounge chair and he, standing behind, was thrusting into her vagina. Rachel had spread her legs to facilitate his entry and her hands were beating a tattoo of passion on the arms of the lounge chair.
“She likes it doggie-style,” said Rachel pensively. “I don't.”
“That's what is happening to you right now. Shall I stop?” Maggie responded with a twitch of her hips. “I take that as a no,” Doug said, thrusting harder into her, holding her hips in his hands to steady her body as he pounded hard. “My cock is bigger than his,” he commented.
“Men are so insecure about the size of their cocks,” said Maggie sarcastically. “He's going to cum on her. Not in her. That's better.” Jean-Michel had stripped the condom off his penis and was stroking himself as he positioned himself over Rachel's bare buttocks. He convulsed, and they could see the jerking movements of his hands and his body as he climaxed, both of them making little cries. When it was over, Rachel collapsed on her stomach and Jean-Michel sat down beside her and licked and sucked the sperm off her backside.
“You never lick cum off me,” said Maggie to Doug.
“Complaining, are you?” he replied. “All you have to do is ask. I usually come inside you, and I'm about to do that right now. Shall I take this rubber off and come on you?”
“In me, I don't want cum all over me. Next time on me. And lick it up.”
“I will and soon, I hope. Okay, Maggie, I'm ready.” He drove his penis into her fiercely and began rapid strokes, his hands pressed hard against her hips, while she continued to stare out the window at Jean-Michel and Rachel. They had now gotten up from the lounge chair and, holding hands, had jumped into the swimming pool.
“I think he's going to fuck her again in the swimming pool,” said Maggie.
“Does the man who is going to unload in you in about ten seconds, get any attention?”
“Okay, okay.” Maggie tore her eyes away from the couple embracing in the swimming pool and moved her hips in rhythm with Doug's pounding penis and they climaxed together, her legs weak and shaking, his body hunching over hers.
When they could move again, they walked to the bed and lay down side by side. “I'm all sweaty,” said Maggie. “I have to take a shower before we go back to the party or Rachel will know what her mother has been doing.”
Doug got up from the bed, still naked, and walked to the window and peered out. “You have time. It looks to me that Rachel and Jean-Michel will be occupied for a while.”
Maggie mused. “I cannot believe that I fucked you while we were watching my daughter fuck. My life has gone from boring to bizarre.”
“I wonder what position he plays?”
“What!”
“You said he was a basketball player, didn't you? Maybe we could shoot a few hoops together?”
She sighed with exasperation. “I just hope she doesn't regret this tomorrow morning.”
Doug got up and walked to the window and looked out. “She's not going to regret anything. I think he's a forward. He's too tall to be a guard.”
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