This is chapter 23, part 2 of the Pleasing María novel. If you are under 18 years of age, or are offended by explicit descriptions of sexual activity or violence, or by strong language, please exit this site immediately. To view the Table of Contents of the novel click here. To go directly to the first chapter, click here. To read the latest novel post, click here. This is a rough second draft.
Chapter 23 – Part 2, Last Taste of María
The next day before PP returned late to the house, María came to see me in the hobby room. She was dressed up, in street clothes, stunningly beautiful and sexy. She sat on the couch, her skirt modestly below her knees, and I sat nude on the floor in front of her. She said they were going on a trip that evening for two weeks, to Rio de Janeiro, their celebration of a new life together. I would be moved on Monday to the new apartment that was physically isolated from the house. I would have my own patio, entrance on a side street, and the housemaid would come by twice a week to clean and leave food and money. María would never be allowed to communicate or see me again.
María said that PP had shown her the videos he made of sex with her, and the video of my initial castration. I expected a grimace when she said that and was surprised to see her expression of wry pleasure. I think she understood I accepted the castration to please her.
I began to cry. I told her of my loneliness, my desperation, and María said she had seen me fondling and feeding my penis to the snake. She had this strange look on her face, in her eyes, and the start of teardrops in her eyes. It wasn’t the look of pity, nor disgust, nor love, nor hate, nor …, it was regret, unrecoverable regret, the look of a great opportunity lost which would and could never return. The regret of many years of marriage and companionship now finished. Of adventures and experiences shared, of wild sexual abandon, of a son raised together, of all my indecisions, inadequacies, and failures to act, failures to channel her sexual energy to my benefit. I remembered something I cynically told a friend once back in the USA, “At the end of your life, you are just the sum total of all your bad decisions.” Now I sat naked, ridiculous, and broken in front of her, at the end of our relationship, the sum total of all my bad decisions.
I begged her for a touch, a kiss, to which she said simply, “Yes.” I sprang off the floor, straddled her body pushing her back against the couch and kissed her, first superficially, then open mouth, then deeply. She responded, not with passion, she didn’t love me anymore, but with the automatic familiarity of three decades years of life together. It was enough. After a few minutes, I climbed down to sit again on the floor. I must have been radiant – I was so happy for that female touch from my beautiful, sensual wife, María.
Clambering over her, I pulled her skirt up to mid-thigh, and I saw her legs were as beautiful as ever. She grabbed the hem, pulled the skirt down towards her knees, and simultaneously raised the skirt for a long instant – the INVITATION! I saw her pale blue, open-mesh panty and the outer lips of her closed vulva through the lace. I grabbed her legs, pulled her out to the edge of the couch, opened her legs and embedded my face in her panty. I was overcome by the scent of her and I breathed deeply for a few moments, her scent evoking years and years of memories, of fucking her, of licking and sucking her vulva, clitoris, and vagina, of watching other men ravish her, of salsa ‘dances’, of Larry discovering her innermost secrets and leaving her pregnant, of the perfect penis firmly filling her vagina.
I leaned back, grasped her panty on both sides, and pulled it off as she lifted her body, and I dropped it on the floor. PP’s name tattooed above her vulva again warned me he had marked her permanently against the claims of all other men, yet here I was once more.
I began to lick her vulva, cleaning it from bottom to top. As I inserted my tongue into her vagina, she knew what was coming and she became aroused, her natural lubrication began to flow out where I licked it up. I started tonguing and sucking on her clitoris, which engorged and she began the rhythmic rocking of her pelvis. Her orgasm came much sooner than I expected, and when she stopped shaking, I cleaned her vulva again with my tongue. When I finally sit back on the floor, she remained as she was, legs open, skirt thrown up on her body. She looked at me, a ridiculous spectacle, A-cup breasts, golden bangles over fake testicles, broken penis, naked on the floor at her feet. I, in return, only looked at her vulva, with the same adoration I felt many years ago when she lay exposed on a couch before I gang-raped her – the most beautiful genitalia that had ever existed. She had the perfect vulva.
And at that moment, my perspective shifted drastically once again – the PerfectPenis and the PerfectVulva were joined together. PerfectPenis had destroyed me to claim his birthright, his exact complement among all the women in the world. She had always belonged to him, and I was free to see what I should have known when I first saw the videos of them together.
I let her go …
I let her go.
I acknowledged she had never been mine even though I desired her fiercely. Legally, she was still my wife, my beautiful, sensual wife María, but I would give her an uncontested divorce immediately. And I flushed with gratitude to María and PerfectPenis for the many years of extraordinary adventure and happiness that I, an ordinary guy, was granted at her side.
I wondered what would become of me. No man, much less an ordinary guy, ever gets a chance for two Marías in a lifetime. She ruined me for any other woman, what would become of me.
I heard a car door shut outside, the house door opened, then PP calling to María. She didn’t answer, and moments later, PP appeared in the doorway of the hobby room. María had not closed her legs nor lowered her skirt and PP saw her panty on the floor. The shock on his face was replaced by anger, then by rage. His slut, still my beautiful wife, had betrayed him.
I wanted him to hit me, to beat me, to stomp my genitals, to show her he would be the sole owner of her sexuality, but he just stood there shaking with rage. I remembered the German guy in the club so many years ago, and I provoked him more – I picked up her panty, held it to my face, and breathed in her fragrance deeply. All he had to do was hit or kick me, I was defenseless on the floor. But he just stood there, looking more at me than at María. I swiveled my body to face him, laid back on the floor, opened and raised my legs to him, an unconditional surrender, my genitals exposed to his attack. I spoke boldly, “Termíneme, aplásteme, máteme, tú la has ganado, llévesela.” (finish what you started, crush me, kill me, you have won her, take her).
PP charged at me, glanced at María, and came-up short. He turned to María and extended his hand. She took his hand, he pulled her from the couch, and they walked from the room, embraced. I wondered if he made the same mistake I made those many years ago. I also wondered who won over whom – his affection for her was unmistakable, and maybe she would break him also. Yes, she would break him. He was old-school traditional and she was free, he wouldn’t be able to control her.
I heard the doors lock behind them and I knew I’d never see either of them again. I felt blessed by her company for so many years, and that I had played a small part in reuniting the PerfectPenis with the PerfectVulva. I picked up her panty again, held it to my face for a moment, then sealed the panty inside two zip-lock bags to preserve her scent and taste. It was not a trophy, but a fragment of María I could use on special occasions to remind me of the beauty of women, of her. I wandered around the room aimlessly, reflecting on my past and future, and finally started sorting and packing my few belongings in a box to distract me.
Then I sat down at my laptop and started assembling this story. I wrote and organized in a continuous frenzy. It was easy, I simply ordered all the fragments of the story of my life with María, not the entire lifetime, only the significant events that changed my life. I added thoughts and emotions. Her sensuality and sexuality had broken me since she gave me that first INVITATION decades ago, and I consistently failed to channel her passion for life and for sex. On my watch, she fucked dozens and dozens of men, many in front of my own eyes, and she bore another man’s son. Now, I had lost her and had been sexually destroyed for my failures, yet I still felt redeemed at this moment. And I was proud that I had unequivocally pleased María.
End of book content.
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