Not Your Ordinary Housewife: How the man I loved led me into a world I had never imagined by Nikki Stern

Egon was perhaps a little authoritarian, although he had doted on me. He always pushed me academically and it was his idea that I study science—I think I needed his approval, so I agreed. He could be extremely forceful, but he meant well. He had been very angry when I told him I was going to art college.
    On our way out of Canada we had to transit through JFK airport. When the customs officer stamped my passport there, he noticed I was Australian. It was late September 1983; he told me we’d just won the America’s Cup. How amazing, I thought, imagining that it would be a big deal back home.
    Nothing prepared me for the shock that awaited me on my arrival back in Amsterdam. Because I’d previously been in Holland for over 90 days, the immigration officials wouldn’t let me back in. Now I needed a guarantor.
    So Paul called his mother and stepfather and begged them for this favour. Reluctantly, they agreed. I think that by then they’d resigned themselves to the fact that we were together. Luckily, Saskia didn’t see the engagement ring that Paul had bought me—for 29 cents from the Toyworld Fairview store in Montreal, but remarkably realistic nonetheless.
    Back in ‘the cell’, as Paul called his room, we were able to have some privacy again at last. We spent the next few days in bed, surfacing only to eat and feed Chaimie.
    Paul emerged one day from the shower pointing to his groin:
    ‘Look, I’ve shaved my balls. It feels great—really sensitive.’
    ‘It’s going to grow back prickly,’ I warned him.
    ‘I might even shave off the whole thing—it looks a bit like a Hitler moustache at the moment.’
    Indeed, it looked bizarre.
    ‘Why don’t we shave you?’ he suggested. ‘I reckon you’d love it and it would really turn me on.’
    ‘Well, I like my pubes, and besides, they’ll itch when they regrow.’
    ‘No, just keep it shaved. Trust me—you’ll love it.’
    I had never heard of any women doing this, but was prepared to give it a go. So, with lashings of lather cream, we shaved each other’s pubic hair. I had to admit it enhanced the pleasure of our lovemaking.
    Next, Paul decided he wanted to give me a master class in how to give head: ‘I mean, really give head. Not that you aren’t great, but I know what feels best and I’ve done it myself, so I know.’
    I had always tried to put Paul’s gay experience out of my mind. ‘Years ago, I had a lover who could suck himself off . . . not that I ever saw it, but he did have a particularly flexible torso. It’s a pity you can’t do that!’
    But Paul was serious. ‘You’ve got to tease me more. Too many women just go straight for it, and sometimes it can even hurt. Just play with my balls and run your tongue up and down the shaft, and then deep throat me.’
    I loved to please him and set about following his instructions.
    Paul lay on the bed, his head propped up by a pillow as he wanted to watch what was happening. I began by running my long red fingernails all over his torso, skirting around his groin. My tantalising touch elicited an immediate erection—bold and proud as his perfectly formed penis inflated to bursting point. Only then did I gently take him in my grasp—twisting, turning and teasing.
    Paul moaned with pleasure and I could feel myself getting wet with desire in response. I reached down to my cunt. Spreading my lips, I dipped in my fingers to coat them with my fluids. Placing my fingers in his mouth, I let him suck my juice from them.
    His groans goaded me on as I kissed his balls—cupping them in one hand, lightly caressing them with the other. I began flicking my tongue around his shaft, and then licking the head before taking it into my mouth. I kept alternating between head and shaft, head and shaft, until I’d consumed his entire cock.
    I felt Paul writhe as I continued to bob my head up and down, occasionally licking his length while grasping him firmly with one hand. The deeper I went, the louder he moaned as he