She sits across the room as we finish our drinks, shooting fleeting glances at me and nervously moving her feet. The light from the window is soft, filtered, kind to her face. She is lovely.
I deliberately look her over through light but awkward conversation that always seems so necessary at times like this. She tries to take it in stride. The little lines around her eyes and the softness around her jaw are all that give away her age: probably early forties. She's tall, five-ten, maybe more, with frosted blonde hair and pale blue eyes. Decent, married, not the type to do this sort of thing at all. If I had to guess, I'd say that she had rarely, if ever, strayed from the marital track. Maybe once or twice, earlier, back when she was the knock-out that she obviously had been --- and still is to those who can see it. Maybe not all of the heads that turned her way were turned away. But not for a long time, now. And here, presented to her out of nowhere, is a chance for adventure.
Women like her, who are often overlooked, are easy to attract, especially if you are twenty-eight, six-four, have passable looks and are well-off, as I am. They provide fantastic, fiery sex and are grateful beyond words for not being dismissed as out of the game due to age. Personally, I've never understood the yearning after cheerleaders and coeds that seems to be the only taste my contemporaries have. Women like the one sitting across the room from me now have so much more to give that there's no meaningful comparison.
Nothing is said about the outcome of our encounter, but we both know where we are headed. We consented to it silently this morning in the biography section of the bookstore, confirmed it by mutual eye-contact over coffee and croissant and now, in the early afternoon in my apartment, we slide ever closer to it over early-afternoon drinks. A bit early for me, I admit, but she had nervously requested "something strong" so I fixed us both Bloody Marys.
I purposely took the easy chair across the room from where she sits on the couch. It had confused her at first, put her off balance a little. She is recovering quickly and expertly as we drink and converse, politely if inanely. She looks around at the room, at the furnishings, at me. And I look her over deliberately.
A well-preserved figure under quietly expensive clothes: a generous curve of breast beneath the jacket, long, tapered legs, a fullness in the thigh of which I am, perhaps, overly fond. A flush rises on her cheeks as I look straight into her eyes. Finally she puts down her glass with a little thud of finality and returns my gaze levelly. The moment has arrived. She's regained her self-possession and is telling me that she will not be played with like a hapless mouse, that she's here for the purpose we're both aware of, telling me to make a move or end it. I like her instantly, and very much, for that.
"Come over here," I say firmly, "here next to me."
She rises from the couch and crosses uncertainly to the chair. I take her hand and pull her down till she kneels by the chair. She sighs a little as I caress her hair and cheek, her breath a little ragged with nerves. I tilt her face up until I am looking into her eyes.
"I'd like very much to be with you," I say. "Will you? Will you say yes?"
"Yes." It is so soft that I see her say it rather than hear her. I place her hand, palm down on my thigh and squeeze her fingers around it a little. She squeezes a little on her own, so I move it to the bulge growing hard along the inside of my leg and hear a sharp intake of breath. Her fingers explore the length of it and her breathing deepens. Her eyes close and a soft sound escapes her when she feels the size of it, the promise.
I unzip and ease it out into the open, place her hand around it. For a moment, I think she might lose her nerve, that this is too much, but she is not deterred. She only gasps and opens her eyes. She gazes at it for a long moment, sitting there in the sunlight that filters through the windows. The shadows move across her face as the breeze stirs the branches of the trees. She raises her eyes to mine again.
"Go ahead," I encourage her.
Slowly she bends it toward her face. Her tongue slips out and touches it carefully. Then, with a small, eager sound, she covers the head with her lips.
Ohhh! The warmth of that eager mouth! The lips pull and the tongue slips deliciously around the head and under the ridge of it. Waves of lust flood me and I barely restrain myself from grasping her head and thrusting hard and fast until I come. But I steel myself and contemplate the red spots of excitement high on her cheek bones. I want her complete surrender; I want her to beg me to take her again and again. After a few minutes I reach down and stop her.
With my lips near her ear I whisper, "Go into the bed room. Take off all of your clothes -- all of them! Lie on the bed and wait for me --- on top of the spread where I can see you."
She rises and passes out of my sight behind the chair. I sip the rest of my drink and force myself to wait five more minutes. When I enter the bedroom she is as I had ordered: naked and lying diagonally across the bed. I am thrilled to see that her thighs are full and round with mature, ripe female flesh, soft and yielding. The light fuzz where they meet matches her hair. Her breasts are smallish but a firm, delightful and satisfying handful, pointed, with large pink aureoles and sharp little nipples standing up now, stiff and inviting. She is a prize worth winning!
I cross and stand a few inches from her feet so I can se the full length of her. Her eyes fasten on my cock, heavy and half hard, still protruding from my fly. I take a chance.
"Would you like to know what will happen?" I asked.
She looks up at me and nods. I wait to judge her reaction, see how much she can take. When the tip of her tongue snakes out to wet her lips and the flush mounts higher on her neck and face I know she wants it all.
"I'm going to come in your mouth." She gasps and closes her eyes, her hands convulse on the bedclothes. "Then I'm going to eat you till you come in mine; after that, I'm going to fuck you hard and long."
Her stomach tightens and her back arches off the bed. Her hands clutch the bedspread and those voluptuous thighs move against each other, one on top of the other, down again. She opens them and for a moment I can see her soft blonde bush, damp now. When she looks back at me, I strip quickly, letting her watch, then circle the bed. Her head swivels as I walk; her eyes never leave my cock. I grasp one wrist and pull till her head hangs off the edge of the bed and her face is directly under my erection. She strains toward the taut, round head as I lower it to her mouth; her lips part and her tongue begins again to make its little trails around the crown.
"Suck!" I order in a soft, commanding voice.
I feel her shiver. Her lips close and her mouth works and her tongue lashes insistently back and forth. I look at her body while she works on me. Long and spare, still with a neat nipped-in waist. Not too many kids. Long from hip to knee, providing gorgeous thighs of alabaster flesh laced with delicate blue veins. I long to spread them and bury myself in her even as my climax rises toward her sucking lips. I force it back in exquisite torture. My hand starts to drift toward her breast but I restrain it. Up to this point I've touched only her hands: to help her out of the car pull her down beside me in the living room, and position her on the bed. I want to come in her mouth before so much as kissing her.
It isn't long. The cum boils up and shoots into her mouth. She utters a muffled cry and grasps the shaft but she swallows and sucks and swallows some more. A little escapes her lips and trickles down the side of her face. When it's over, I walk around the bed till I am between her legs. I lower myself to the bed and push her magnificent thighs open with my hands, then pull them close around my face, soft and fragrant, warm and velvet. Her slit is drenched and her rank aroma drives me wild. I dive into her tongue first and hear her suck in her breath. Her hand grips my hair. I lick and probe. She moans and rolls her head above me, raises her legs and locks her ankles behind my neck. I catch her clit and tongue it, glance up to see her belly flutter and convulse. I settle in, making long slow strokes on her clit and gradually increase the speed. She moans out loud now, her thighs open and close around my face in soft, damp ecstasy.
Soon, her voice is higher and tighter, her movements more urgent. I snake my tongue deep, curl it, probe, twist, withdraw and lick her labia with rough strokes. I nip her clit again between lip-covered teeth, lash it with the tip of my tongue. Her movement urges me on, undulating hips, thighs scissoring against my face, hips bucking gently up and down. I flatten my tongue against her clit and lap hard and fast.
"Oh, God!.......Yes!"
She is close. Her voice is ragged and hot with need and desire. I grip her ample bottom. My fingers sink into the delicious warm flesh and grip hard. My tongue thrashes her oily little clit.
"AHH!!! YES!! ..... There!....Right there!! More! More! ... ...Uh-huh! Uh-huh!! Please, don't stop!! .... Please, Please! PLEASE!!"
I don't and she erupts in a long slow orgasm that arches her off of the bed and stiffens her, quaking, with her luscious bottom in my hands.
