Winter Nights 2

He drove slowly past the house, in the dark, checking the number, then parked on the opposite side of the street. He walked to the house, climbed the steps, and checked his watch. 7:30, right on time. He rang the doorbell as she had told him to. DingDong...DingDong...Ding...dong.

He waited one minute, then opened the door, climbed the stairs to the second floor, and looked to his right, as she had told him to do. The door was open, the lamp on the bedside table was on. He walked in to the room, and laid down on the bed, on his back, then he turned out the lamp as she had told him to do.

He laid there, in the dark, going over her rules..."You can't look at me. You can't feel me. You can't cum." She meant business. This would be all about her.

In the bathroom she tightened her robe about her. She was insecure and lonely. She had never been happy with her body, especially now. Age had not been kind to her. But she had needs, and she was determined. She peeked through the keyhole, and saw the room was dark. She turned out the bathroom light, opened the door, walked to the edge of the bed, and loosened the tie on her robe. She glided over him, onto the bed, straddling him. She carefully unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped him, then pulled everything down below his knees. She threw open his unbuttoned shirt, and felt him up like she had planned.

When she was ready, she lifted herself up on her knees, and with one hand spread her lips. The new lube felt silky and smooth. She knew she needed it, and thought it felt luxurious, better than the real thing. Her other hand put the tip of him where she wanted him, and gently settled down onto it. They both remained still, savoring the erotic feel of full penetration.

And then she found both of his hands, and placed one on each of her shoulders, outside the robe. "You can't feel me" he remembered. He knew not to move his hands.

Gently, slowly, she began her gentle lifting and sinking back on to him, slowly, enjoying every inch, in then out. As they adjusted to one another, and as their flesh began to glide more smoothly, her riding became more intense. She flung open her robe, and leaned forward, allowing her nipples to drag across his bare chest. The one contact pleasure she would allow herself, and him, in the play.

Her motion changed from the gentle lifting, and wiggling down on him, to a more aggressive hip rolling and thrusting. Her hands on the bed, her hips grinding, with her clit caught between his pelvic bone and hers. Oh! This lube was good! She concentrated on the sensations between her legs, and abused her compressed clit until she knew the edge was near. Her orgasms had always been spectacular. The shivers and loss of control still amazed her. Her contractions had always been strong and continuous, and something her long-ago lovers had once appreciated.

Her breathing synched with the rhythm of her body. Her breasts bounced and swung, bumping her partner. She could feel the muscles in her crotch beginning to think without her, they were beginning the slow relaxation that told her it was too late to change her mind. She felt the tingle, the deep breathing, the involuntary eye closing, toe curling, and then...

She felt the clenching, the repeated relaxing and squeezing deep inside her, and she knew he could feel it too! She knew she still "had it" and she wanted to reward him for all his patience, his endurance, his cooperation. Oh! Oh! She wanted to fall forward, mash her flesh against his, have him know her secrets, her flaws, her ardor. But instead, she sat up straight, continued to spasm and clamp him until her cunt had run its course.

They were both motionless for a minute or two. Breathing hard, both still having sex. Her on the downside, he still building. She didn't care about him anymore. She was done, she arose, and smoothly lifted from him, thanked him softly, and, with her robe tightened about her, returned to the bathroom and closed the door where she did what she needed to do.

A few minutes later he buttoned, zipped, and buckled. He turned on the light on the bedside table, as she had told him to do, and walked briskly out of the room, closing the door behind him.

When she was done in the bathroom, she saw that the light was on, and returned to the bedroom. She ran her hands over the bed coverings. No surprises. She didn't like those sticky surprises. She turned off the lamp on the nightstand, lay down, and basked in her experience, re-living each moment, and wondering...

The doorbell rang.

DingDong...DingDong...Ding...dong.

She looked at the bedside clock. It was exactly eight o'clock. She smiled. She stood up, opened the bedroom door, and turned on the nightstand light. Then she walked back into the bathroom to prepare. She loved these long winter nights, and this one had just begun.