Willing myself to get up, I got off the couch and headed back to my bedroom. I took another shower, a long hot one this time. That always seemed to help me relax. Wrapped in a soft fluffy towel I surveyed my closet. What to wear tomorrow when Oliver came over.
Was I really thinking about dressing up for a boy? How long had it been since I did that? It seemed so odd, yet... it felt good too. Knowing how I had aroused him for all these years, feeling desired for the first time in a long time. Nothing really jumped out at me, maybe I needed to go shopping, there was a lovely little boutique that sold vintage style clothing over on Redwood. I sat down on the bed, picked up my phone and did a quick search. Open until 3 on Saturday according to their website. I got dressed and headed over.
A 20 something girl looked up from her phone and gave the obligatory hello, can I help you find anything. I declined her assistance and started browsing. I hadn't been in here for a few years, but it hadn't changed much, a section dedicated to 50s style clothing, another for 60s and the rest a hodgepodge of other things. I made my way to the 50s areas, if he wanted sexy June Cleaver, he was going get sexy June Cleaver.
I spent several minutes going through the racks, then I spotted it, it was perfect, dark blue with small white polka dots. It was buttoned up the front with 5 large white buttons ending in a collar. A thin white belt went around the waist. I went to the fitting room and tried it on, it was pretty snug in the bust, but I was used to that, and it definitely had the sexy but not revealing look he seemed to like. I paid for my purchase and got back in my Yukon, wondering what to do next. Well, I was treating myself today, might as well go all in. I headed down the road to another little shop.
Another boutique, this time a somewhat older woman greeted me, and I again declined the offer of assistance. I was in this store rather more frequently than the last, but it had been a while since I was shopping in the intimate section. I found a few promising items one a sinfully beautiful corset, but alas they didn't have my size, such was the hazards of being a busty gal. I was about to give up hope when I came across it. A gorgeous white lace bustier, strapless with quarter cups and straps for stockings, and miracle of miracles, in my size. A matching set of tiny white lace panties completed the look. I picked out a new pair of white stockings to go with it and went to see the sales woman.
I spent the rest of the day cleaning the house, and finishing the novel I had been reading. The next morning, I somehow woke up before my alarm, filled with a nervous energy like a girl before prom. I went for a run; it was a beautiful crisp morning and one of the reasons I had bought this townhouse after my divorce was due to the proximity of a running trail that wound through a beautiful park.
A quick breakfast and a hot shower finished off my morning and I was soon fixing my hair and makeup and putting on my new outfit. I turned the TV onto the pregame show and sat down to watch when the doorbell rang. Oliver was standing at the door, a bouquet of flowers in one hand, and a black gym bag in the other.
He handed me the flowers with a big smile, and I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Come on in," I beckoned and he stepped in out of the cold.
"They are beautiful, thank you very much."
"Not as beautiful as you are."
"Awww, that's very sweet of you," I gave him another kiss, "Why don't you go sit down, I'm going to put these in some water. Need a drink or anything?"
"I'm fine thanks," he replied.
I turned the stove on to start pre-heating and found a vase for the flowers. Satisfied with the arrangement I carried them into the living room and placed them on the coffee table. Oliver was sitting on one side of the couch. The pregame show was over and the announcers for the game were discussing the matchup as the teams took the field. I sat down on the couch, and we watched the Jet's kicker send the ball through the back of the endzone. They cut to a commercial and I heard the oven beep. I excused myself and went into the kitchen and put a sheet of cookies into the oven.
I sat back on the couch just as the game was getting underway, this time sitting closer to Oliver. After a moment, he shifted a bit, putting his arm around me. I nestled in a little closer, his hand was resting on my arm, I felt it start to move, slowly, tentatively until it was resting on my breast. Looking down, I could see the bulge forming in his pants, as he began to cup my breast. We both pretended to focus on the game despite the circumstances. The game went to a commercial just as my kitchen timer dinged. I patted Oliver on the leg, and extracted myself from his arm.
Back in the kitchen I pulled the cookies out of the oven, and arranged them on a plate, then poured a glass of milk. Oliver was engrossed in the game as I came back into the living room. He looked up as I placed the milk and cookies on the end table beside him.
He picked up a cookie and took a bite.
"You make the best cookies," he said after he swallowed, "Thank you."
"You're very welcome, now watch your game."
He drank a little milk then picked up another cookie, eyes back on the tv. I moved between his legs, kneeling down, my hands on his knees spreading his legs apart. He looked down at me in surprise.
"Enjoy your game, I want a little snack too," I told him as I began unbuckling his belt. I soon had his cock free, and began to gently run a finger over it. Feeling his smooth hardness, then wrapping my hand around it, starting to slowly stroke, up and down. Inching closer, leaning in, placing my tongue on the very base, tongue following my hand on my upstroke all the way to the tip. Swirling my tongue around the head, then running it back down along the left side, licking around the base of his shaft, then up the right side. I teased the tip with my tongue, hand back on his shaft, slowly stroking as I did.
He looked down at me, and our eyes met.
"Watch your game, silly," I gently chastised him, then took the head of that beautiful cock in my mouth. Slowly taking him in deep, my lips chasing my retreating hand as it stroked down, then went to cup his balls as I reached the base. I stayed like that, the feel of him, the taste and smell, it was intoxicating. Friday when I had done this it had been in a hurry, but not today. Today was going to be nice and slow, and I was going to enjoy every second. With my ex I'd always had to worry if he came there wouldn't be any for me, he wasn't an insensitive lover, but you could measure his recovery time with a calendar. I already knew with sweet Oliver if I popped his cork too early, he'd be ready for more in no time.
With that pleasant thought warming my heart I began to slowly bob up and down on it. I felt his hand on the back of my head, fingers in my hair, just gently resting, occasionally softly caressing me as I worked. I noted with some perverse satisfaction that it was NOT the hand closest to the plate of cookies.
I began varying my pattern, sometimes up and down quickly, sometimes a languid pace, shifting side to side to vary the angle of my mouth on him. Sometimes pausing to stroke him with my hand as I teased the tip of my tongue. Several times I felt that tension in him, the sense he was getting close, his hand on my head suddenly a bit firmer. Each time I slowed, then paused, trying to bring him back from the brink.
