Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘love affair’

Good Pussy Bad Pussy review by Maplewolff (author John McGuin)

John writes:
An engaging tale about an intelligent young lady called Rachel, leaving the comfort of a humdrum marriage to explore pastures new. She soon finds that the new life has its ups and downs, both in the bedroom and the outside world.

As the title suggests, her decisions are often driven by desire. She discovers that love isn’t a black and white, take it or leave it situation. Satisfaction, both mental and physical can be found in unpredictable ways and places.

The heroine is a likeable girl who at times struggles to deal with the repercussions of her decisions. The gravity of her situation is explored well in the final few chapters and is an excellent page turner, with an unexpected finale.

Those seeking a rude read will enjoy the nicely written sensual scenes that occur frequently throughout the novel, sometimes alluringly descriptive, other times as simple as `we made love’. Never repetitive and definitely not pulp porn, Good Pussy Bad Pussy is a classily written erotic book. I look forward to more from this author. Recommended.”

To see reviews on Amazon, click here: http://www.amazon.co.uk/product-reviews/1782790845/ref=dp_top_cm_cr_acr_txt?ie=UTF8&showViewpoints=1 …

Read Full Post »

When I woke up the next morning, Stefan was already out in the bathroom shaving. He came out smiling and said, “Come on Rachel, hurry up and get dressed. I am going to take you sailing.”

No reference to the past night. He was just like he always was, cool, calm, and tightly closed upon himself. Not a trace of emotion on his beautiful face. My beloved Adonis went back to the bathroom, his face only half shaved, the other half still white with shaving cream. If I didn’t get out of bed right away and start dressing, I’d have to make a scene and leave him. But his lovemaking and the events of the night before had confused me. I had to wait and see. And besides, I’d had never been sailing before. I got up and got dressed.

Stefan and I grabbed a taxi at the Place Massena and drove out along the coast on the Lower Corniche. The day was warm and sunny. We got off at Villefranche, a fantastic bay and harbor which I immediately fell in love with. We walked down to the quays and sat at an outdoor café and had coffee and croissants. Stefan pointed across the water and told me that all the rich people lived over there on Cap Ferrat. I could see the hanging gardens and beautiful houses. Stefan reminded me that Albert had a house on Cap Ferrat too.

We spent the day sailing on a sea of blue glass.

But underneath the surface of amazing calm, I was volcano of conflicting thoughts and emotions. I simply couldn’t figure out what the deal was with Stefan and Albert. Here I was, Stefan’s girlfriend of the moment, and Stefan had just let Albert, his great hero and mentor, sleep with me, his woman. He even mentioned right before it happened that Albert had slept with other women he’d been with. What was with him? Didn’t it bother him? And what about me? Didn’t it bother me? Even though I vaguely thought it should, when I thought about the incredible night I just had with Albert, I realized there was no easy answer to that question either. Simply because making love with Albert had been such an extraordinary experience. Up until that night, I’d thought sex with Stefan was the best thing I’d ever experienced. But it turned out that sex with Albert was even better. It was simply out of this world. Way beyond anything I’d ever experienced before. The man had awakened this incredible tide of liquid desire in me that I didn’t even know existed. And the experience had been so powerful that it overshadowed everything else. So honestly no, the fact that Stefan had shared me with Albert didn’t bother me either!

All I knew for sure was that just the thought of how deeply Albert had touched me made me tremble all over.  And I couldn’t help but wonder how Albert felt about our encounter too. Was I just one more woman in a long line of women to him or had he felt the power of our coming together the way I did? There was just something about it, something about the intensity of our meeting that had blown me away.

So there I was, confused maybe, but feeling so very, very alive! Wondering what would happen next. But not much did… at least not for the next few days. In fact, the following days passed quietly enough. Stefan and I slept late and went down to the beach. We didn’t see Albert. Sometimes Stefan left me alone on the beach for a few hours to do some business, which I didn’t mind at all. In fact I liked lying on the beach all alone, savoring the feeling of liquid desire in my loins. Stefan and I never talked about Albert either or about the night I’d spent with him or about anything that was emotionally difficult. Nor did we talk about the future or what would happen to us. We took long walks in Nice, along the Promenade Des Anglais, looking at all the big hotels and the crowds on the beach. We explored the Old Town which seemed vaguely Italian and we ate the famous bouillabaisse there.

Then one day, out of the blue, my parents called and said they were coming to Nice, the very next day. I was so surprised. Of course they knew I was in Nice, but I didn’t in my wildest dreams expect to see them there. But they said they were on their way from New York to Israel to meet some friends and decided to stop over in Nice for a day to see me.

So the next evening Jerry and Isabel arrived and I discovered that despite the fact that my life was in turmoil, I was really looking forward to seeing them. Waiting at the airport, I made up my mind that I was going to try to be honest with them about what was going on in my life. I just had the feeling that if I had the nerve to tell them the truth, my mother in particular would understand me. I guess I felt this way because my mother was a very elegant lady who always seemed to know more than I expected. She’d been married once before she met my father and sometimes made references to a past that didn’t sound exactly typical. Her flair, her manner, her way of dressing spoke discreetly of a worldliness which the rest of us didn’t possess. She was very different from my father who was just a regular hard-working guy with a kind heart who was getting more and more sentimental with age. I was his only child so he really had a soft spot for me. I also had an older, half-sister, Marlene who was eight years older than I and was my mother’s daughter from her first marriage. I never got to know Marlene that well because she was so much older than I was. And besides, we were as different as day and night. Unlike me, she’d never really tested her limits or been a wild child, but rather followed the straight and narrow path. When she graduated from college, she married a doctor, and settled down. She lived on Long Island with her husband and two children and once in a while sent me emails with pictures of her well-dressed family.

I saw my parents coming through into the arrival hall. My father looked older and my mother looked tired, but when they saw me, they brightened and came rushing forward.

“Rachel! Why Rachel darling, don’t you look beautiful! How are you?” They both said, kissing and hugging me. My mother was looking at the elegant white suit I had on. Her right eyebrow arched ever so slightly as if to say – this is a change!

When we got to their hotel room, my mother went to the bathroom to freshen up. My father stretched and yawned and then put his arms around me, his sentimental side showing its head. There were tiny tears in his beady brown eyes. But they still sparkled like they used to do when I was little and had been particularly naughty.

“Oh Rachel, it’s so good to see you. Am I going to hear about one of your adventures again? Aren’t you a mother now with a beautiful son?” He sighed, let go of me and sat down tiredly in the big armchair. Then he smiled. “But you know I could never get angry with you, could I?  All I can ever see is the mischievous, little green-eyed girl you once were. I guess you will always be my little girl. After all, how many daughters do I have? Ah Rachel… I like to think you take after me!”

My mother came out of the bathroom and when she saw the tears in my father’s eyes, she said gently, “Remember Jerry, we promised each other not to get upset. Now go in and freshen up so we can go down and have dinner. I’m famished.”

My father disappeared into the bathroom.

“Gee Mom,” I sighed, “you look great, you always do. What’s your secret?”

“You know I only wish we had a few days to talk, really talk.” My mother looked at me. “I’ve experienced things I’ve never told you about and now that you’re 35, you’re old enough to understand.”

Then she examined the white suit I was wearing and added, “What a stunning suit this is… I’ve never seen you wear anything like this before. Are you really here in Nice all by yourself?”

“What do you think?”

“I figured as much,” she said and signed. “I only hope that whatever you have to tell us will not weigh too heavily upon your father. He’s not as strong as he used to be.”

“I really don’t want to upset him or you either, but I really do want to talk.”

My father heard my last remark as he came out of the bathroom.

“Talk? Of course we’re going to talk. I want to hear exactly what’s going on. Do you think I came all the way to Nice just to look at the beach? Now let’s go down and eat and you can tell us everything.”

As soon as the waiter left with our orders, my mother started, “So you walked out on Jan and Daniel to come to Nice with whom?”

“He must be something,” my father said and sighed. “You know I’ve never said a word against Jan, even though I wished you had married someone who lived a little closer to New York, or who at least had a little more money. But done is done and I’ve never complained. And now you are going to tell me things aren’t working out?”

“Yes,” I said, tears welling up in my eyes. I couldn’t help it, I started crying. “I’m so confused.”

“Come, come Rachel,” my father patted my hand rather ineffectively, “there must be more to it than that. You can tell us.”

“Well,” I said slowly, “As far as appearances go, things were pretty okay. It was just…”

“Just what?” my mother said, looking at me rather sharply.

That only made me cry more.

“It was just…” I said again slowly.

“Just what?” my mother repeated more slowly and more gently.

“Well just…” I was struggling to find the words, “I felt like I was suffocating. Like my life was going down the tube! It was all just so meaningless.”

My parents were silent, both looking at me with their kind eyes, so I rushed on, “Not only was our life together such a bore, but Jan is so….”

I paused, not knowing how to explain.

“So what…” my father asked.

“So mean and cold – and so small-minded!”

There I’d said it! I’d blurted it out!  Jan was a bore, an asshole. My life sucked!

Now that it was out, I rushed on, “I mean our life together was just so uninteresting… I don’t know if you can understand but I just felt like I couldn’t breathe anymore,” I paused for a moment and then plunged on, “I just couldn’t figure out what I was living for… And Jan never really saw me anyway. He just took me for granted, like I was a piece of furniture or something! It seemed like my only job was to make him happy!”

There it was!

My truth. What a relief to finally say it! Up until then, I hadn’t fully understood it myself. But now that I said it, there it was, lying quietly on the table before us. Like a smooth, round stone, silent and hard. My truth! My life was a bore! My husband was a jerk! Hearing my own words was such a revelation.

“It was just so frustrating, having a small child and all that and Jan being so closed in upon himself. In the end it was just the same old, same old routine every day. It was like I didn’t feel like a real person anymore.” I cried some more. “I know this sounds really stupid, but it was just such a drag… In the end, it was like I didn’t exist.”

“Ah Rachel,” my mother sighed and said thoughtfully, “This is something that happens to many women your age. Suddenly your youth is gone and you think, is this really it? Is this really my life? Is this all there is to it? It happened to me too so I know how scary it can be. So many of us go through this… one way or another. What it really means is that it’s time for you to find something interesting to do with your life whether or not you stay with Jan. It’s high time you start making a life for yourself! But Rachel darling, it doesn’t mean you have to leave your son, your precious child!”

“Oh I know,” I said crying even more. “What a mess I’ve made of things! My poor baby! I miss him so much… I really do…” I blew my nose and then added, sniffing, “I probably wouldn’t have left him if I hadn’t met Stefan.”

“So,” my father said, fingering his napkin and looking down at the table, “you wanted to go to bed with this Stefan and instead of being like we used to be when we were young, you actually did go to bed with him. And you liked it very much.”

Hearing these words from my father really surprised me. He never seemed to understand my generation before so this was really a change.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“Don’t you think we know a little about sex too my dear?”

“I just didn’t think you could possibly understand what I’ve done. I feel like such a fool.” I started to cry again.

“We all make mistakes Rachel,” my father said, “but that doesn’t mean you abandon your child… Think about what you’re doing sweetheart! Is this guy Stefan worth it?”

It was true; I didn’t know what to think.

There was a loaded silence. Then I said what I guessed we were all thinking, “So you think I should go back or what? I mean what would I do? Go back to Jan? Get a divorce?”

“How should we know Rachel? But for starters you could go back and have a talk with Jan,” my father said. “I mean he is your husband – so why not tell him exactly what you just told us? Why not tell him the truth? Why not tell him how unhappy you are with your life.”

“I don’t know if I can – he’s so hard to talk to.”

“Well you could try. Don’t you think you owe it to your son?”

I was grateful that the waiter came with our food. Not that I was hungry, but I needed a break, and time to assimilate what my parents said. Of course I had expected them to scold me, but did they really understand? Could they possibly understand how difficult living with Jan was and how dissatisfied I was with my life? And what about the whole sex thing? The whole good pussy bad pussy thing? Could they possibly understand how strong that drive was? And how it drove me to experiment and do things I couldn’t possibly tell them about? Like sleeping with Stefan’s best friend and loving it too? How could they understand when I hardly understood it myself! Stefan! Albert! Good pussy bad pussy! I didn’t know what to make of it… or her.

All I knew for sure was that when I met Stefan, I just wanted to forget everything else about my life. All I wanted was to disappear down the rabbit hole into the ecstasy of our sexual encounters. Being with Stefan had made me feel so real again, so alive. There was just something about it that made me forget everything else. It was so deep, like total annihilation. I just loved it. I loved disappearing into the bliss. And when that happened, I didn’t want my real life anymore. I didn’t want to wake up anymore with a husband who was as cold as ice and always lost in his own worries. I just knew there had to be more to life than that. With Stefan it was different. When I was with him, all my frustrations disappeared into this shining passion that seemed to consume everything. Maybe it wasn’t real life, but who needed real life? Our passionate encounters were so much better than real life; in fact being with Stefan felt like a dream come true. And it was happening to me. When it was so intense like that, I felt that for once in my life, everything had come into focus. Everything was clear. I was present, alive, thrilled in the moment.

But sitting there at the table with my parents, I knew what they were going to tell me with their down-to-earth, common sense view of life. They were going to say Rachel darling, no matter how good it is, it won’t last. They were going to say that life doesn’t work like that, that life can’t be that good, that much fun. To them, life was work, responsibility, sacrifice and so on. In their world, you couldn’t always get what you wanted. And to them, the bottom line was that whatever I was doing there was my son to think about.

I knew that was what they were going to say but I didn’t want to hear it. Right then, all I wanted was my shot at ecstasy.

To be continued…

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts