Part Fifty-Four
All day Wednesday, John couldn't take his mind off what had happened the night before. Both his and Jo's pleasure had been almost incomprehensible, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that George had faked the orgasm Jo thought they'd given her. Those simulated gasps and that final cry of ecstasy, that had fooled Jo perfectly, had been nothing more than a very good act. His George was incredibly complicated he knew that, but he really couldn't find a satisfactory reason for her latest bout of sexual disinterest. It wasn't anything he had done, at least he didn't think it was, but anything he did in bed for her lately just didn't seem to work. The night after the visit from Shell Dockley hadn't been all that successful either, he seemed to remember. Then a thought struck him. It was a very long time since he and George had done anything out of the ordinary. Well, maybe that was it, George was hankering after something different, but was too reticent to ask for it because of Jo. Well, Jo didn't have to know, now did she?
As he drove over to George's that evening, he wondered what she might be in the mood for. His thoughts strayed back to that night, so many years ago now, when she had finally plucked up the courage to tell him what was for her, her most shameful sexual wish. She had been drinking more than usual, which had told him that she was very nervous about something. It was a Saturday night, and with Charlie not yet even thought about, they had been languishing in front of the fire with some romantic music on the stereo, gently and sensually making love. Every kiss, every caress was lingered over, as they had all the time in the world to reach their peak. But George hadn't quite been able to achieve her release. When he had gently withdrawn from her, she had cried bitter tears over her failure to be moved by his touch, when he had been so tender with her all evening. John had simply held her, trying to soothe away all the self-reproach that was coming from her. She had kept telling him how sorry she was, and how much she loved him, as though her lack of orgasm was her fault. They'd been in the bath upstairs when she'd finally told him. He'd cajoled her into talking to him about what was bothering her, and she had tentatively explained that it was something she really shouldn't want him to do to her. She'd said that she didn't want to tell him because she didn't want him to go off her altogether. John had laughed at this, and told her that no matter what she appeared to find sexually arousing, he would definitely still love her, but she wasn't convinced. "It can't be that bad," He tried to persuade her. "You never know, I might have tried it before." She'd done a deal with him, against her better judgment, and told him that if he began making love to her again, here, now, she would tell him. In the end, she had shown him, not told him, because the up and coming barrister, George Channing, simply couldn't put it into words. "Is that all," John had said in fond realisation. "There's nothing wrong with that. Sure, it isn't everyone's cup of tea, but I certainly don't have a problem with it. I would with a perfect stranger, but not with someone whose body I know inside out already." "You would tell me if you loathed the idea, wouldn't you?" she needed that reassurance. "Yes," He told her honestly. But as his hands had moved over her as she internally gripped him, with her legs wrapped round him in the warm, scented water, he found a certain curiosity in doing what she wanted. He had done this for her, taking her to a height of almost shameful ecstasy that he hadn't seen in her for some time. When she had collapsed against him utterly exhausted, he'd gently kissed her. "Don't ever be afraid to tell me anything," He told her seriously. "I love everything about you, even the bits of you that routinely drive me to distraction, so promise me that if you ever want to try something that you think is a little odd, just remember that I will at the very least give it due consideration."
When he arrived, George was lying on the sofa, wearing just a thin, black nightie and listening to some soft though depressing music on the stereo. She wasn't surprised to hear him let himself in, thankful that she didn't have to move from in front of the fire. "This is a nice surprise," She said as he appeared, though in truth she would rather he had stayed away. The lights were low, casting a subtle glow on her body, with her face in shadow. "I wanted to see you," He said, joining her on the sofa. "Any special reason?" She asked as he kissed her. "Or is it just my body you're after." John winced at this, because it was to discuss her body that he had come to see her in the first place. "I want to talk about last night," He told her gently. "What about last night?" She asked, slightly stiffening. "It was fabulous." "George," He said almost disappointedly. "Did you really think I wouldn't realise that you were putting on the best act I've ever seen from anyone?" Turning her face away from him, George remained quiet. She didn't know what to say, because he was right. She had faked it last night, more to appease Jo than to fool John, because she knew the latter was virtually impossible. "George, look at me," He gently encouraged. "I'm sorry," she said bitterly, turning back to face him. "I wanted to enjoy it, really I did. To tell you the truth, I really don't know what's wrong with me at the moment." He could see the tears shining in her eyes, and the struggle it was taking her not to let them fall. "I think you're depressed," He said seriously. "I'm not sure why, but I think that might be part of the problem." "So then, master of all philosophy," She fondly teased him. "What do you suppose the rest of it is?" John looked very pensive at this question, because he wasn't entirely sure how to broach the subject of her out of the way sexuality. "It occurred to me," He began carefully. "That it's been a considerably long time since we did anything out of the ordinary. It also occurred to me, that something a little different might be what you are currently looking for, but are hesitant to ask for it because of Jo." Her eyes widened as he said this, because she hadn't in actual fact thought anything of the sort. "It's not something I'd really thought about," She said with a slight smile. "Though I suppose anything's worth a try." "Is there anything in particular that grabs your interest?" "I don't know," She said thoughtfully. "It's so long since I ventured into the unknown so to speak." "I wondered," John said slowly. "If you might like me to do for you, the thing that it took you so long to tell me about." Instantly, her body went rigid with mortification. She knew exactly to what he was referring, and it almost frightened her that he had voluntarily raised this subject. "I didn't think you'd still do that for me," She said quietly. "Not after all this time." "George, if you still want it, if you still find the idea of it a turn on, then I am perfectly happy to give it to you." "Why are you so good to me?" She asked, the tears finally trickling down her cheeks. "Because I love you," He told her simply, gently kissing away the few stray tears that speckled her face.
As they went up the stairs, George's body slightly tingled with anticipation. What John was about to do for her, at the same time as one of their usual activities, wasn't something she'd had done to her for more years than she cared to remember. She half wondered if she would still like it as much as she had done back in the early days of their marriage. Their hands feverishly removed each other's clothes as they waited for the water in the shower to warm up, John being almost as excited about this as George herself. This wasn't something he'd ever done to anyone else, though there had been the odd woman who'd asked it of him. When they stepped under the shower, their hands were everywhere. "Are you absolutely sure about this?" George asked him breathlessly between kisses. "One hundred percent," He assured her, sinking to his knees and kissing his way along her beautifully toned thighs. Knowing precisely where he was heading, George leaned against the wall for support, a hand resting on his shoulder to steady herself under his onslaught. Why did she always taste quite so divine, he wondered, his mouth fastened over her feminine flesh. She groaned luxuriously as his tongue alternately dove inside her and swiped across her clitoris. He had his hands on her hips to steady her, but as her pleasure mounted, he reached behind her for the bottle of shower gel on the side of the bath. Squeezing a large blob into his hands, he thoroughly lubricated his fingers. Keeping his left arm round her waist to hold her in place, he delicately ran the tip of his right index finger down the cleft of her buttocks, eventually circling her puckered entrance. "Mmm," She groaned as he did this, all the shameful enjoyment of this act sweeping over her. When he gently inched his lubricated finger inside her, she cried out, the sensation of it feeling incredible though at the same time foreign to her. As his lips nibbled on her clitoris, his tongue stimulating the surrounding nerve endings, he silkily moved his finger in and out of her, feeling her reflexively clenching around it. As his movements sped up, her breath came in quicker and quicker gasps, finally pouring out of her in a cry of sheer pleasure.
When her legs gave way under her, he caught her in his arms, laying her against his chest. Her whole body was shuddering from the force of her emotional release, the tears pouring over his bare chest, mingling with the spray from the shower. He softly stroked her shoulders, trying to soothe away some of the torrent that seemed to be never ending. Eventually she calmed down, yet she still hadn't said a word to him. This wasn't unlike the first time he had done this for her, he thought with a smile. She had been so overwhelmed by it, that she had remained utterly silent for some time afterwards. Gently helping her to her feet, he switched off the shower and reached for a soft, thick towel. There was something so tender in the way he carefully dried her, that it almost provoked a further surge of tears from her. Not long after when they were in bed, she finally spoke. "Thank you," She said quietly, not knowing what else to say. "My pleasure," He told her with a smile, which reminded her that he hadn't achieved any kind of release this evening. "I ought to have returned the favour," she said apologetically. "I wanted tonight to be about you, not me," He told her seriously. "So don't think any more about it." "I love you," She said drowsily as she drifted towards sleep, meaning these three simple words more than she had any others of her entire life.