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Fair Play

By: AmysNewFreedom



Standing in the pale moonlight cast from the four open windows in the middle of my bedroom, my skin shines alabaster, taking on an unearthly shimmer as I slowly turn in front of the mirror. Flaws hidden in the soft glow, the curves accentuated by the gentle light, my eyes roam everywhere over the vision in the mirror. Taking in the line of my jaw as it sweeps into the graceful arch of my neck, my collarbone hardly visible beneath the soft skin. Flowing into my round shoulders, their soft presence adding strength and stature to the ultra feminine pose. Gliding my eyes over my breasts, taking in their gentle weight as they rest on my chest, the nipples pebbled in the soft night air. Down my torso to my soft rounded belly, cupping it gently in the palm of my hand, taking in my hips whose curvy sweetness shows my mound to perfection. Sliding my hands down through my curls at the apex of my thighs, I frown slightly in the mirror, tugging and twisting my fingers over them.

"I can remove them for you." Startled, I turned around to find him standing there. Leaning against the doorframe, his pajama bottoms riding low on his hips, his chest bare and gleaming in the moonlight. My roommate for just over 6 months, we've never invaded the privacy of each other's rooms, this being the first. Hardly ever speaking except to throw a dry comment, or a flippant remark, I was startled to hear his deep whisper. 

Shocked, embarrassed to have his experienced eyes on my virginal body, I quickly grab my comforter, wrapping it around me. "What did you say?" I demand.

Straightening from the door, and moving into my bedroom, he stops in front of me, his hand lightly toying with end of the blanket. "I said, 'I can remove these for you.'"

"Remove what?" I ask. My eyes wide staring into his shadowed ones.

He grins, his teeth flashing white in the moonlight, leaning forward, he whispers, "Your soft little curls." Opening the blanket slightly, he continues, "I saw you frown when you tugged on them, let me take care of them for you."

Slipping his hand down my tummy, his palm flat and warm against my skin, he lightly slips his fingers through my curls, tugging gently. Helplessly, I lean into his soft touch, spreading my legs apart as his thumb finds my clit, gently circling. "Don't you want to see it, bare and smooth? The tiny pink flesh peeking out, your pouty lips fully exposed showing satiny flesh?" he whispers into my ear.

Taking my hand, he leads me, pink comforter and all, out of my room and across the hall to his. Taking in the interior, the dark tans and browns giving the room a purely masculine feel, the king size bed dominating the room. With its four posts, and mounds of pillows and blankets, the satin sheets reflecting in the soft light, it was clearly an example of total self-indulgence. Grabbing four silk ties as we walk by his wardrobe, he leads me to the massive bed. Scooping me up in his arms, comforter and all, he gently places me in the center of the huge bed. 

Holding my hand in his, he begins to wrap one of the ties around it. "Why are you doing that?" I ask. Gently tying my arm to the bedpost, he says, "Because I don't want you to squirm and cut yourself while I'm shaving you." 

Placing a light kiss on my startled mouth, he quickly finishes securing me to the bed. Making sure that I stayed warm and snug in the soft comforter, using the pillows to prop me slightly up so my view wouldn't be obstructed.

Disappearing into his bathroom, he shortly returns with an old fashion cup filled with frothy lather, warm towels, a bowl of steaming water, and a leather pouch. Lighting a few small lamps, casting a warm glow onto the bed, he climbs into the center, settling himself between my far spread legs. Lifting my hips off the bed with a few small pillows, he places one of the warm wet towels on my nest of curls. Whispering "Shhhhhhhhh" at my startled reaction to the heat, he gently runs his fingertips idly up and down my inner thighs, teasingly. Leaning forward, he places a small sucking kiss on my lower belly, right above the towel, leaving a tiny love mark in its place. 

Removing the towel, my damp steamy curls lightly stand on end as he fluffs his fingers through them. Working the brush through the thick lather, he begins to sooth it onto my curls, spreading it in every tiny little nook, easing my lips apart to reach every hidden little piece. The brush fuzzy and feathery, making me squirm at the pleasure. From its resting place inside the leather pouch, he pulls a tiny straightedge razor, perfect for this delicate task. Urging me to be still, he makes the first swipe, a strip of pure white skin showing through. Moving his lips closer, he slowly drags his tongue up that newly exposed flesh, looking into my eyes, and whispering, "Yummy."

Easing his fingers around, tugging on the lather-covered flesh, his thumb purposely making contact with my clit, he continues shaving me. My pussy, enjoying the touch, the feeling of the thick lather, and the smooth sensation of the blade removing the curls, helplessly begins to grow moist. My hips, unable to control the roll of pleasure running through them, sway slightly on the pillows. Fingers stopping in place, his eyes meet mine as he sternly whispers, "If you don't stop moving, I'm going to stop."


"But....." I whisper, my voice coming out like a sigh, "it feels so good."

"What does?" he asks, his finger idly making circles around my tiny clit.

"Your fingers on my clit..." I gasp, loving the sensation his fingertips were causing.

"You better hold still, or I'm going to stop," he reminds, firmly placing my thrusting hips back on the bed.

Taking a deep calming breath, I try my hardest to hold still as he continues the shave, his fingers still lightly toying with my clit, his eyes glancing up to make sure I was keeping my end of the bargain.

Finishing the last stroke with a flourish, using the warm towel, he gently wipes away any remaining thick lather. Sitting back on his heels, warming baby oil in his palms, he sooths it onto my newly exposed flesh, his eyes eating my pussy alive with their heated gaze. My juices mixing with the warm oil as he tenderly strokes his fingertips over me.

Reaching down, he quickly unties my feet from the bed. Sliding his body up mine, he straddles my waist, reaching up to untie my hands from the bedposts, before leaning over, looking intently into my softly dilated aroused eyes. Licking his lips, he heads for my neck, gently placing sweet, soft kisses, and long slow licks up the sides. Nibbling lightly on my earlobe, causing my hips to wiggle again against the pillows, my exposed pussy bare to the night air. Easing back down my body, placing kisses along the way, his lips sucking my nipples as they pout and form hard little peeks for him.

Working his way down my tummy, tonguing me the whole way, nudging my belly button with his nose, before nibbling with his teeth. Gently cupping my pussy in his hands, opening it with his fingertips, then softly, slowly, gently, giving it a long dragging lick, ending at the top, wrapping his tongue around my clit. Sucking the hard little bud into his mouth, gently grazing his teeth over the little ridge. Holding it firmly between his lips, the tip of his tongue fluttering, making tiny waves of pleasure slip up my thighs. 

Kneeling between my wide spread legs, he slowly starts sliding his pajama pants down his hips, the tip of his cock peeking through the waistband. Sliding them down his thighs, exposing his hard and heavy cock to my virgin eyes. I lick my lips as I watch a bead of cum form a perfect little drop on his tip. Watching my reaction the whole time, he takes his finger and gently wipes at the drop, before moving his finger to my lips. Wordlessly my mouth opens as I slowly suck his finger inside. Gently strumming my clit with his thumb, he watches as I suck his finger clean, my tongue giving it long and loving strokes, seeking every last taste.

Easing myself into a sitting position, I lean forward, watching his reaction as I gingerly lick the tip, sucking another bead of cum onto my tongue. Sitting down, resting back on his elbows, he watches to see how far my next step would go. Opening my soft pink lips, I gently take the head into my mouth, looking up into his eyes as I do so. Gently cupping his balls in my hand, I give the tip one firm suck before swirling my tongue, dipping into the little hole, licking around the ridge. Licking down the underside, teasing the little patch of nerves at the base, sucking on that soft spot gently, before placing light tiny kisses around his balls. Gently, I stroke the soft flesh leading my finger down towards his puckered asshole, teasing lightly with my finger, as I slide my mouth down on his cock, my eyes meeting his, before his head falls back, moaning in pleasure. Taking him deeper into my mouth, I slip my finger down deep into my pussy, getting my finger very wet, then gently soothing that wetness onto his asshole, allowing my finger to gain entry. One finger buried in his ass, my other hand cupping his balls, and my mouth taking another inch as I suck firmly, I continue as his hips start thrusting, his body lightly spasming as he works towards his orgasm. Feeling the tension build, I suck harder, as with one final groan he explodes in my mouth. Sucking as wave after wave shakes his body, taking every last drop of cum into my mouth, a little dribbles onto my chin as I sit up, meeting his eyes again. Like a cat with her bowl of cream, I scoop up the last little bit onto my finger, licking it completely clean. 

With a deep growl, he reaches for me, our naked bodies tangling in my pink comforter, as he whispers, "Turn about, is only fair play."

Fair Play



Her life had become a jumbled mess of unanswered questions and uncontrolled confusion. Oh, and not to mention indescribable amounts of fun. 

Not all of it sexual, but certain the recent escapades with her love first in the shower and more recently with him and her sex kitten of an assistant, had prompted her to explore new areas of her personal life.

And explore she would, she had decided.

For several days she after the last experience she felt as if she was in a non corporeal fantasy world, one in which she drifted by without notice. Memories of the experience were quite hazy, but what was still quite clear now as it was that day was the feeling.

That incredible high of sexual release to not only give of yourself, but to also watch what was going on around her. 

She had made a discovery that day, as did her lover she found out through subsequent discussion, that the sensual act held not only no boundaries between them, but also that one did not even need to be fully physically involved to gain a great measure of satisfaction.

Certainly they discussed the ramifications of group sex, and had come to an understanding that nothing in their private lives would bring them apart, certainly nothing like they did. 

If they were to move forward, they would do so as one loving pair, not two greedy individuals. In fact, her assistant while cute and quite desirable to both, was not the allure that made the event so very delicious.

It was the thoughts, the feelings, the desires.. and the teasing.

She did not deny the pangs of jealousy that swept over her frequently throughout that night as a broom over a dirty porch under midsummer's gray sky, but they were also the source of much of her pleasure.

The fact that he paid more attention to her during the experience than to the other girl certainly helped, and of late their lovemaking involved quite a bit of wild words and naughty fantasies. Kinky overtures tossed back and forth, and she never felt more alive, not to live for any others, but to live for him. To love him, and to please him in any way she could.

Oh, he was most possessive, and that was what made the evening ahead of her so much fun. So appealing. 

After all, he had surprised her, shocked her, and very well could have destroyed their relationship with his stunt. How dare he, she thought as her lip curled into a sexy snarl. She wasn't mad, not at all, quite the contrary.

She was determined to get even. How she would do it had to be carefully planned and executed, and she had spent much of her recent free moments plotting and strategizing just how to make him want her more than he ever has before.

After all, turnabout is fair play.

And play she indeed would.

Quite the shy young woman with the proper upbringing and the formal appearance, she would shed the shackles of conformity this night and be someone she perhaps was not, but would enjoy performing as.

She quickly unraveled the items from the earlier week's shopping. Uncoiling soft wrapping tissue, she pulled out a pair of black leather thigh high boots with 6" stiletto heels. There was a thin red line that trailed down the inside length of the boots where the zipper was kept.

Just looking down at them and running her fingers over the smooth finish of the boots brought vivid thoughts to the forefront of her mind. 

She grinned knowingly as she traced the red line.

Opening her closet door and hunting to the back on the floor she pulled out the rest of the bags. She pulled out a red halter top made of rubber, and the excitement of not wearing a bra and having her rather full bosom showing through the fabric appealed to her greatly. 

She uncoiled a pair of fishnet stockings, and threw it on top of her red leather thong that was resting on her unmade bed. 

The finishing touch was the leather black miniskirt that if she wasn't careful exposed enough of herself that any intent onlooker would see most of her world. She could feel a slight tingle just at the mere possibility of some gawking male becoming aroused watching her.

She smiled to herself, and quickly removed her clothing purposefully before calling her lover. She got his voice mail, but hung up and rang him again. He picked up on the first ring and sounded groggy. "I'm just tired, it has been a long stressful day, and there is no end in sight."

Normally she would have comforted him, and offered to do anything within her power to ease his weariness, but not tonight. Not this night. Coldly she replied, "Well, you better save some energy for tonight, I plan to wear you out. In more ways than one." He slightly chuckled, but she could tell he was still lost.

"So you still plan on going through with this? It sounds pretty crazy to me." he prodded her.

She took it all in stride and coolly responded, "Oh, not nearly as crazy as tying me down and fucking my assistant in front of me, you're lucky I'm only making you do this for one night." She licked her dry lips absently awaiting his predictable protest.

That would not come. "So what do I have to do again? Just not touch you unless you say, right? Won't be so bad."

She chuckled in an almost sinister way, and he caught the edginess in her tone. "Oh, not quite, love, basically you're going to do whatever I want tonight, and you can't touch unless I say so. No matter what I do. Period. To you or to me or whatever. Understood?" She was stern with him, and she was enjoying it quite a bit, a little bit of a dominant side to her usual submissive nature. 

"Whatever pleases you, babe, but I need to get back to work, just come get me when you're ready. I'll just finish this crap tomorrow. Love you." he said and hung up.

She stood there motionless until the blaring tone of the phone brought her out of deep thought. She hung up the phone, and began the tedious task of getting ready. She was going to look amazing tonight. 

And she could not wait to see the look on his face, not only when she picked him up, but throughout the evening. 

The night would entail things that were never much their style, and perhaps that was the appeal to it, either way there was no going back now. The damp panties she just dropped to the floor was evidence of that.

She sped down the avenue well exceeding the speed limit but not particularly giving a damn about doing so. So unlike her. She was thrilled at the prospects of the evening, but the tension of the unexplored was gripping. She wanted to be gripped, she thought with a wry smile.

And she would be damn it.

About twenty minutes passed as she navigated the streets of downtown and she pulled up alongside one of the towering office buildings, and hit the speed dial on her cell phone. Two words, "I'm here," beckoned her lover to make his way down to the car.

Moments passed on into an eternity of thoughts colliding randomly in her head before she was brought back to the present by the tapping of his knuckle on the passenger side window.

She popped the lock and he fell into the seat, wearing slacks and a light blue dress shirt with the tie loosened and the sleeves curled up. 

He lay back in the seat before she sped off again, and the suddenness of her move caused him to glance her way. He froze. What in the world was she wearing. How she looked was astonishing. To say he was not turned on at all would be quite the deception. It was as if he wasn't even looking at her. She ignored his reaction, though deep down her stomach was doing flips in excitement over his surprise.

With casual grace she flipped the note over to him. His inquiries fell on deaf ears before he finally ripped it open and began reading.

Though his eyes never strayed too far from her body. She liked it that way. Men were so easy to manipulate and control.

He skimmed through the note quickly, before slowly looking up at her, his jaw a bit open and his eyes widened in wonder. "You can't possibly be serious."

Oh, but I am. Why? You dislike it?

"You're damn right I do, you can't do that. It isn't right at all, you don't even approve of that sort of thing and neither do I." he said bitterly.

She reached over and grabbed his crotch, and she felt quite the raging hard-on. She whispered to him, "I think you're turned on by the idea, and whether or not I approve is irrelevant, neither of us approved of sharing our bed until someone decided to do so anyway."

She had a point, but that really mattered little to him at this point. That wasn't the issue at hand, really, logic that is. The point was he didn't like her proposition, and there was no way he was going to allow for it.

She just started with steely determination that he had already given her his word that he would do whatever she wanted this evening and would not be involved unless she decided it was necessary regardless of what she did.

She had him there, and he could not deny the appeal to it. I mean, she was now playing on his insecurities as he had her's. Though he had his fun, he was wary not to make her feel anything less than the amazing woman he was in love with, and her eyes promised him the same.

With mixed emotions and aroused apprehension the car ride continued into the seedier part of town. She pulled around back of this club, and they both got out and she set the alarm on the car. She walked ahead of him and rounded the corner to many catcalls and whistles from the drunk college students outside.

They walked into the nightclub and she proceeded directly to the manager's office where a girl sat in front taking down names. 

They exchanged dialogue and she returned to his side. She whispered into his ear as she began sipping a drink he had gotten her, a Hurricane, and said that she was up next. 

He looked at her with a confused expression, since surely she would be further down the list. She just kissed him gently on the cheek and walked up the stage as she heard her name being called.

The lights quickly flared onward and the pop music of the day began blaring out of the speakers, some dance tune he had never even heard of, and he turned his eyes slowly to center stage.

She began dancing slowly, unsure of how to work the crowd, before getting into the props left on stage. She was of course at a strip club's amateur night, and she kept her eyes on her lover for most of the time.

Imagining herself alone with him in the bedroom, she swiveled herself around one of the wide columns supporting the roof, placing her back firmly to the post, and lifting her leg upward and resting it against the beam as well. 

Then she looked down and saw the eyes on the guys in attendance as they stared in between her legs, and she saw it so clean as day. Desire. They wanted her. And it seemed pretty badly, some she even saw rubbing themselves, though attempting to hide it. 

However, she saw it. She saw all from where she was. And the rush of excitement from the exhibitionist behavior was unlike any other. She had placed on long black gloves extending to her elbows right before she went on stage, and slowly she shifted her weight revealing a nice peek at her ass while removing one of the gloves which she promptly threw at her lover.

Weak throw as it came up short and some older gentleman picked it up and smelled it before smiling at her. Guys actually began throwing money up on stage imploring her to show them more.

She slowly removed the other glove as she ground her legs together, and this time was on target with her toss. He'd moved closer and was watching her intently, though occasionally he looked around the room. He was fidgeting incredibly, not knowing what to do or what not to do.

One thing was for sure, he was quite aroused, and she was loving it. She shook her chest out at the audience and unzipped the right boot and slowly pulled it off, revealing a good show of cleavage. Off came the next boot, and more pleading was upon her. 

She wasn't doing half bad at this, she thought, and her daring once more proved to be a crowd-pleaser. She turned to face the stage with her back to the crowd and slowly unzipped the skirt, but kept it in place with two fingers, dancing and teasing them.

Guys were begging now with their screams as well as some dirty names could be heard echoing over the loud music. She thought she would dislike hearing such words, but she could hardly argue with them, and that was appealing. Erotic to her. After all, she was acting the part.

Slowly she let it drop, and the skirt was on the floor, and the audience was staring at her ass in the thong. The enormous cheer had her enthralled, and though she had no intention of removing anything else, she kept on with it, removing her top, teasing the male populace several times to more temptation and financial incentive.

She pulled it off her body, and she started dancing around the large marble column, and shaking her chest. She could see the look on her lover's face was one of incredible desire, and with that her set ended and she retreated off the stage with her clothing as the curtain folded inward. 

She didn't expect that kind of a wild response, and she had to admit to herself she loved every second of it. The power, the passion, the sensual connection she held. Teasing and taunting. Being their sole source of pleasure. She even made enough cash to pay for the outfit and then some. 

She put on her clothing and escaped back into the crowd, more than a few guys commented on how they were going to pleasure themselves that night to her, and even a few grabbed her ass. 

She would have normally turned around and slugged any man who did that, and on few occasions she had.

Not this time.

Instead she turned and winked, before securing her lover's arm and exiting the club.

There was silence in the car before she reached over quietly and began rubbing him through his pants. "Are you okay, sweetie?" she asked honestly. His reply was one that further increased the warm sensation in between her legs.

"I know I should have hated that, and in a lot of ways I did. But I want you so badly right now. That was hot." he struggled through the words.

She continued massaging him through his clothing, and asked more of his thoughts, and he related to her how exciting it was to see her acting so naughty. To watch other men aroused and craving her, knowing she was his completely. She shared the same response from when he brought the perky little bitch from the office home. She smiled at the label.

He closed his eyes enjoying her touching him and reached over to rub her, before she stopped completely and smacked his arm.

"Remember, lover, the night is not over and you can't do anything unless I say so." she grinned darkly at him.

He knew not what to make of that comment, but could not deny the fact it excited him, he tried once more to touch her, but her wrath was evident and he dared not do so again. Not this excited. He wanted release. 

Where were they going anyway, he wondered aloud.

Before she could reply, once more she pulled the car into a lot and paid the exorbitant price to park and they got out and he followed her across the street into some hip hop club.

They were a bit older than the crowd there, but the place was packed full of people. You couldn't help but rub into another person, and there were quite a few hot girls about. He was liking this, until he realized that as they made their way to the dance floor a lot of the guys were rubbing up against her. He pushed one of them who grabbed her ass and she winked at, before she pulled hard on him and whispered loudly.

"Remember, you can't do anything. I mean it. You promised." she kissed him softly on the lips, and pulled him back into the sea of people.

She began dancing and guy after guy made his way over endlessly, and she had told him she was going to dance with anyone so that he could do the same. He ended up dancing with the nearest girl, and ignoring her in favor of watching his lover.

It was an incredible sight to behold.

She began shaking her body and started dancing around this thick pack of guys, but some of them seemed to be dispersing as two large black guys started dancing around her exclusively. He watched as she got in between them and started rubbing her backside up against the larger one's crotch, pushing into him, and he put his hands on her hips while the other almost wrapped himself around her leg and was grinding against it. 

He could hardly contain his jealous, as it was one thing to watch when a couple guys can't touch and they see and crave your love as she teases them, but these guys were actually rubbing against her.

She looked over and seemed to be in heaven as she was grinding up against these two guys. She winked at him and he could see her talking to the guys.

He wanted to leave, but again his arousal level was sky-high. He had taunted her and preyed on her jealous nature, but not quite like this. While he enjoyed the fact these two guys probably wanted to make her their score for the night, he wasn't about to let that happen.

The girl in front of him turned around and then started rubbing up against him, and he couldn't ignore the sensation of her ass against his throbbing erection. He started moving up into her and he could hear her moaning when he glanced back over and she was kissing the guy in front of her while the guy behind her was feeling her tits through her top.

He froze and just stared while the girl in front of him kept grinding against him. The stark contrast of their ebony skin and her pale self was so erotic to him, he was incredibly aroused, and by the body language she displayed she was adoring it. He slipped his hands down to the girls waist and began rubbing harder against her before his love came over and interrupted.

"Having fun?" she whispered softly into his ear. 

He just glared at her, and said, "I want to go home. I want you!"

She nodded and smiled, and led him out the door, the girl frowning who was dancing with him.

They got in the car and sped off, and he reached over and massaged her breast, before being smacked again.

"What? Oh come on, do I still have to play?" he whined. She nodded yes, and said she would pleasure him soon enough and they would be fast asleep.

"So did that bother you? Watching me? I know you have always been one who doesn't share, and touchy about the interracial thing." she asked curiously.

His answer pleased her once more, because she was soaked from the experience of being fondled by two large guys, their cocks were huge. "Yeah, but to be honest it turned me on a lot more than I'll ever admit." 

She leaned over and kissed him as they pulled into her driveway. She smiled deviously.

They got inside the house, and they began kissing their way to her bedroom. She had already set out a video camera and one of the comfortable chairs from the living room.

Attached to a leg of the chair was a handcuff with an extended length. She sat him down and said she was going to perform for him on camera. His smile grew wide. He wished he had been able to save the earlier strip she had done in the club, but this would be just as good if not better he thought.

She settled him comfortable, and removed his clothing, kissing his neck as she locked him into the chair. In his extended hand she placed the key, and folded his fingers inward. He held onto the key as she stroked him gently, his cock already slick with desire.

Whispering into his ear she started teasing him, talking about earlier, the two guys she was with. How much would he like to see her perform with them. Would he enjoy watching that? Seeing her open herself for another guy as he had teased her with another woman.

At times he struggled through the answer yes, but undoubtedly each time it came back positive. His arousal coupled with her own had them on vacation from clear judgement, their wills bent by what aroused them.




Fair Play



He was growing harder than she had ever felt with her talk of being with other men, with dark skin sexual beasts. And then came the knock upon the door.

It was loud and echoed throughout the house.

At that point realization hit him, as he looked up at her. Her smile was great and she leaned down and kissed him.

"Don't you want to watch? It is up to you, baby, I'm happy either way." she looked him in his eyes as she began stroking him again.

He looked over at the video camera and realized it was pointing at the bed, not at the chair where he and she were. Again he stared into her eyes, and he kissed her back hard, biting her lower lip.

His passion was unmistakable and his desire unfulfilled. She ventured to the front door and opened it after peeking out, two heavy voices could be heard from the other room, and it seems she had already explained to them the situation as they were expecting to be told to go.

Instead she told them to stay, and he could tell by their speech and lack of proper grammar that they were likely just a couple of inner city kids out having a good time. He unlocked the handcuffs, and tossed them under the bed. 

He sat back and waited for what seemed like an eternity as she brought them inside, they pretty much ignored him as he sat there in boxers now, watching. 

She turned on the camera, and they began removing their clothes. 

They were out to have a good time alright, as they were about to taste the fruits of a classy white working woman.

That excited him almost as much as it did her.

They were now down to their shorts, as the larger man pulled his down revealing an enormous erection. He was thick all around and quite long. She kneeled down as the other removed her top, and she looked over at him before kissing the head of his cock.

The guy let out a soft moan, as her lover watched her take the enormous dark cock into her mouth, making love to it with her tongue. She was into it, rolling it around and slapping it against her face gently.

She seemed more into that blow job than any one he had ever given her, and he found himself absently stroking himself, watching as the one behind her unzipped her miniskirt, and pulled it down exposing her ass.

He began kissing it and slapped it at one point, and she smiled as she stroked and sucked the other. He slowly pulled down her panties now, and slid his finger inside of her, and commented to her. "Damn yer pink pussy fuckin wet." And he soon began licking it, and sticking a finger into her ass.

She moaned in between licking the other guy's cock, and he was now pulling on her head and slamming into her mouth. "Oh ya like ya ass played with," he said to her as he slid his tongue in and out of it, rubbing her clit. He pulled down his boxers, and moved up underneath her. 

She began sucking him harder, and the guy grabbed some lubricant from the floor and smeared it all over his incredibly thin and long member. He propped her ass cheeks open while kissing on her nipples underneath her. 

Her lover sat there watching, beating off now for the second time, as he saw his love slowly take a long black cock into her ass, while sucking on one, thought it was more like she was having one forced into her mouth.

She seemed in control, though, as she started bouncing up and down on his cock, sliding it all the way into her ass, and he could see it disappear, the stark contrast of the dark meat and her pale skin bringing him to a second orgasm as the guy began moaning about cumming inside of her.

He kind of went limp and laid there on the ground, with his cock still in her ass, she pulled the bigger man's dick out of her mouth and stroked it, jerking it off all over her mouth and tits, much to his delight, by this time her lover was now climaxing for the third time, seeing the load spray out over her chin and lips, and drip down her breasts. He could also see when she moved at times the thick fluid pouring out of her rear.

She slid off of them, and they got dressed and quickly left. She shut the door, still naked with only fishnet stockings on, and she walked over to him, and whispered into his ear.

"Now, I want you to fill my other hole."

She climbed onto the chair, and slid her swollen lips around his cock, and began bouncing up and down on it, whispering into his ear about how she loved the taste of their cocks, but nothing filled her like him. He began moaning and pulling on her hair as he exploded.

He sprayed his warm liquid into her, filling her warm and soaked pussy with himself. She loved the feeling of being shot into.

Nothing was quite like it, taking all of a man into you, and swallowing it, be it his cock, tongue, or cum.

She began kissing him softly, and with as much strength as he could muster, he carried her to the shower, and turned it on, slipping her in and following her.

He laid down on the floor, and she dropped to her knees sucking on his flaccid penis, bringing it back to life, feeling it swell in between her lips.

With that she turned to face the shower head, and as it washed away the makeup and the bodily fluid on her chest, she bounced up and down on his cock once more, making love to him underneath the waterfall.

They slept soundly that evening, her in his arms, and his in her own. As she was dozing off, he whispered into her ear, "You don't play fair, now I have to get even."

She only smiled up at him and said, "I love you."

"You too," and with that sleep bested them both. 



Fair Play



Martin Murphy listened for the sounds of the nurse bringing his afternoon meds. According to the radio he had been listening to it was about that time. The nurses were punctual enough to set your watch by. He heard something. No mistaking that sound, he only ever heard it on Monday mornings when the nurses stood inspection on each ward. The rest of the time, they wore rubber-soled shoes. 

These sounded different yet familiar. He knew he had heard that exact sound before. Where? The clicks got closer and he heard them enter his room he was sure. They slowed and stopped beside him.

He heard a sob and gentle hands touched his. Hot drops fell on his hands. Soft lips pressed briefly against his.

"Oh! Marty, I am so sorry! So God damned sorry! I just heard yesterday morning. I didn't know anything until your mother called me before I was leaving for work."

"Hey, Mi Lee, why should anyone tell you? We are separated, waiting for you to sign divorce papers."

"Marty, I couldn't sign them until I could talk to you in person. I just couldn't do that."

"Why not? You said you were through with me, you were ready to move on."

"I was wrong. Terribly wrong! I knew it the second you walked out of the door. It was like half of me left. Then when I heard you volunteered for active duty I wanted to die. I called every Marine Base in the country and couldn't find you. No one would tell me anything. Then your mother called to see how I was doing. I cried with her for a long time. I even went and spent the night with her. She said you had called her but couldn't tell her where you were."

Her hands were holding and caressing his. He felt the hot tears again, "Marty, when is your operation?"

"Tomorrow, then in another day the bandages come off and I will know if I will ever see again."

"Marty, I am still your wife, I never stopped loving you. I just thought you were controlling my life too much. I thought I wanted to be free. I was so wrong. I didn't know how much I needed you to tell me what to do in many cases. You wouldn't let me go wrong. I thought you were being bossy, you were protecting me. I was a damned fool."

"Were you a complete fool? Did you go to that Romeo who was trying to get in your pants?"

"No! I talked to some other girls at work about him. I told them what you said. They all said you were absolutely right about him. He has screwed almost every one of them. I felt like such a fool. A stupid fool. I had the best husband in the world and didn't know it until I ran him off." 

"Well girl, I tried to tell you. I think you wanted him as bad as he wanted you. You wouldn't listen. I'm sorry things didn't work out like you wanted them to. Thanks for stopping by to see me, it was very sweet of you."

"Marty, I am not going anywhere, I am going to stay with you until you are well. I took a leave of absence to be with you. Work was wonderful! Just as I was leaving the big boss called and told me that since my husband was wounded in action they would put me on paid leave until you are well. I can't believe they did that."

"They must like you."

"No, it was for you they did it. You are a hero."

"I am happy to hear you voice, I will not pretend I don't wish I could see you."

He felt her take his hand and place his fingertips on her face. He gently touched her face, her eyes, her little pug nose, her eyes and her lips.

"I can tell you are still beautiful, girl. I wish I could see all of you."

"Marty, I never stopped loving you. I never cheated on you. Ever! I never really wanted to cheat on you. I just thought Fred was a nice guy who liked me as a friend. I never wanted him as a lover, I had you."

"Well, I think you were spending more time with him than you were with me, you met him for coffee in the morning, had lunch with him, then stopped with him for a drink on the way home. How would I believe anything else?"

"Honest, Billy, I thought he just wanted a friend to talk to, his wife didn't understand him. I told him you didn't understand me. He said you were a fool, and that I was so nice and wonderful you didn't deserve me. I can see what he was doing clearly now. Seduction, he is very good at it. You knew it, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I listened to you brag on how nice and sweet he was and I knew what he was after. I am a guy too! I knew you are a beautiful, sexy, sweet and wonderful desirable girl too! I knew what he was after. My wife! So she chose him and I left."

"I guess that is how it seemed to you. Only I never went to him. I knew I was wrong when you were gone. I tried to find you. I hunted all over town. I was heart broken the next day when I called and asked for you at your work and they said you had called in and quit and were leaving town. I never dreamed you would go back on active duty. Then when I found out I had nightmares that you had gone off to get yourself killed because of me. I wanted to die. I couldn't find out anything."

"I gave it my best shot."

"You wanted to die?"

"Yeah! I guess I did. I really didn't care one way or the other, my life was over."

"OH, NOOO! Marty, I did this to you. I hurt you and blinded you. Oh god, how can I live with that?" She put her face in her hands and sobbed. He was very distressed to hear her sobbing and pushed the nurses call button.

The nurse came in and asked what the problem was. Mi Lee sobbed and said that it was all her fault he was hurt. She had almost killed him and had blinded him. The nurse calmed her down and told her that she would have to leave if she could not control herself. The nurse took his blood pressure and was upset that it was elevated.

The nurse said his wife would have to go. Marty said, "If she goes, I go with her. She is all I want to see after the operation, if she isn't here I don't need the operation."

"Let me come back in ten minutes and see how things are going. OK?"

"I'll be good, I promise, I just realized I was the one who caused him all this pain and suffering. It is hard to handle, when you know it was all your fault."

The nurse smiled at Mi Lee, "Honey, I don't know what you did, but I do know he has already forgiven you. You are all he talks about. His doctor will meet with you at four this afternoon as you requested."

Tears ran from Mi Lee's eyes as she looked lovingly at her husband. Mi Lee and Marty talked quietly for an hour before She told him she had to go talk to his doctor. She tenderly kissed him an said she would be back as soon as she could.

When she returned she was excited. "Marty, they have a room for us for a few days with a double bed. I can stay with you. Isn't that great?"

"Do you really want to?"

"Hell yes! Do you?" He heard the half sob in her voice.

"More than anything in the world, yes, yes, yes." he answered.

An hour later Marty sat in an easy chair. He heard Mi Lee moving around the room putting their things away in drawers and in the bathroom. She was humming softly as she worked.

"Mi Lee, you sound happy, are you really happy to be here?"

"Oh! Yes, I really am. I will always be happy to be with my man anywhere."

"Come and sit on my lap, girl, I want to touch you." He felt her weight as she settled on his lap. He felt her soft lips against his. He sighed. She felt damned good. He put his arms around her. She kissed him harder. He rubbed his hands over her body and knew she had to feel his erection growing.

He heard her giggle. "Marty, would you like to take a little nap with me?"

"Jesus! I sure would!"

"Let me call the nurses station and see if they have anything scheduled for the next hour or so." He heard her talking to the nurse.

Then he heard her giggle, "Yes I will, you can count on that. Bye!"

"What can she count on, Babe?"

"That I will fuck your brains out. She said she thought you needed that."

"I DO! Yes I really do.?"

"Me too! Let me lead you to the bed. Here. Now turn this way and step a short step back. Now back a little more."

"Good, I feel the bed. The head of the bed is to my right isn't it?"

"Yes Dear. There you are, all set. Lift your rear end off the bed and I'll pull your briefs down. OH! My goodness you are ready to play. Wait just a second and I'll be right with you. "

He lay still on the bed then he felt the bed shift a little bit. A small hand grasped his erect cock, soft lips brushed the head of his rampant penis and were gone. Her lips touched his own lips softly and slightly open. His lips opened and her tongue slipped in to twist and turn with his. His hands reached out and found her. He pulled her up close to his chest. He felt her breasts rub smoothly over his chest. He turned her a little so his hand had free access to her body. He found her breasts instantly. His warm hand closed gently around one breast, softly kneading it and squeezing it. His fingers located the fully erect nipple and pinched it delicately. He twisted it and manipulated gently between his finger tips. She moaned a little.

She heard him suck his breath in sharply as her hand found his cock again. "God! That feels so good, Mi Lee. Just hold on to it."

She said, "Let me get on my back and you can move to the side and play with me all you want. Then it will be my turn to play with your body."

"Wait just let me hold your body against mine for a minute, it feels so damned good. God! How I have missed you girl. I hurt so bad when I left you I wanted to die."

"I know, I cried for hours and hours and wished I could die. I never knew I could ever miss anyone so damned much. It was like half of me was dead. And at night it was horrible, I just knew I would never see you again and I knew I couldn't endure that. I was so lost without you, everything was hopeless."

He moved down and moved his lips to her chest with his hands, his mouth found her breast and he kissed his way around until he found her nipple. He sucked it right in. he nursed at it like a baby. She loved how that felt. She tingled right down to her pussy. She grasped his head and moved it and herself until his mouth fastened around her other nipple. It was so delightful and she never wanted him to stop.

She didn't complain though when his hand rubbed down over her flat little belly and slipped over her smooth bare mound. She pushed his head down too. He ran a fingertip over her pussy. Then he parted her labia with his thumbs and licked the tip of his tongue along her slit. A shudder coursed through her body. His fingers pulled her inner lips apart and he licked his flat tongue from her opening to her clit again and again. She felt a strong orgasm sweep over her. She keened deep in her throat, holding his face into her wet pussy.

His tongue probed deep inside her vagina then slurped at the juices now gushing from her. He did not recall her being that wet before. He found her clit hiding in its small cave and sucked it out for his tongue to love. She trembled and shook harder and harder. He inserted two fingers inside her and touched every place he could reach. She let out a scream and jerked violently. She pulled at his head and then his shoulders trying to get him up over her body.

"Inside me, I want you inside me. Yes! Let me help, there he is in. God that is good. I love it. Really, really love it. Oh! Yes, fuck me just like that. That is just what I have needed for so long. Anghunnn, Unhunnnn, Unhuhhhh. Unhuhhhh. I love you so much Billy, Ahieeeeee! I need to feel you cum inside me. Hurry, my Darling Lover, I am still cumming. Yes, I feel it. I feel you spurting your cum inside me. Give me your babies! No! Don't get off, I want to feel your body on top of me. I can't get enough of you."

"Mi Lee, Wow! That was amazing. Was I able to please you at all?"

"Please me? I have never felt so loved in my whole life. Your love filled my whole being. It was awesome."

"Sweetheart you have had me in heaven since you first touched my cock. I love you."

"I love you too, I always will."

Early the next morning Martin was being prepped for his operation and asked if Mi Lee where there. The nurse told him she would be with him during the whole operation. She would join him after they finished prepping him.

Later he felt the gurney moving and turning various ways. When it was still he felt a small hand holding his. "Mi Lee?"

"Yes, Dear, I am here with you. I will be here for you if you need me."

He heard a voice he did not know say it was the anesthesiologist speaking and that he was going to start injecting something in his IV and that Marty would start feeling drowsy. Then everything went quiet.

He woke up and lay still for a few minutes. Then he said, "Mi Lee? Are you there?"

"Of course I am. I told you I would be here for you. How do you feel?"

'I feel fine. What time is 

"Eight o'clock."

"Wow, the operation was real quick, wasn't it. Oh! No! Does that mean they weren't able to do anything?"

"No Dearest! It is the next morning. They kept you sedated all night. They should be coming for you very soon to remove the bandages. I have to tell you that both your eyes were destroyed. They had to give you a transplant. Just one eye though. The other eye's nerves and things were too damaged to salvage. They will try to replace those in about six months. You should have one good eye to see with until then."

"Hey! That sounds great! Where did they find a donor for the eye? They couldn't find one yesterday."

"They had a volunteer show up."

"They had a live donor? Wow!"

Martin heard someone enter the room. "Are you guys ready to go get the bandage off? You know it will only be off for a short time then you will have to wait for a couple of days before it comes off for good."

"Let's go. I can hardly wait."

They took Marty to another room and sat him in a chair. He was told to not try to move his eyes at all. He was to look straight ahead. When the bandage came off the room was very dark. One light was shining in his eye. He could see the light. Then he could see the doctor and the machine the doctor was using to look in his eye.

He wanted to see Mi Lee. He asked if he could see his wife. He was told she was there with them but he wouldn't be able to see her for couple of more days. He heard her ask how the things he could see looked to him. He told her that the things he could see looked a little blurry but he could tell what they were.

The doctor said that was normal. That the vision should clear up in a few days. The doctor asked Mi Lee how her eye felt. She said it was fine.

"Wait!" Yelled Marty, "OH NO! She was the donor?"

The doctor said, "Mi Lee, didn't you tell him?"

"No, I was afraid he wouldn't let me do it."

"Oh! Mi Lee, how can I ever thank you? Sob!"

"Just love me a little. That's all I want, I know you would do the same for me without hesitation. Right?"

He sobbed, "Right, I'll always love you."



Fair Play



I couldn't help notice my neighbor when we were setting up our stalls. For one thing, hers was right next to mine. For another, her compact, curvy frame moved with efficient grace as she set her paintings out for display. The big thing, though, was her cropped hair - an elegant cap the color of burnished steel. That, plus a face full of laugh lines (and a few others) really set her apart from the generally younger crowd of artists setting up for the fair. Having someone my own age right there made me feel a bit less ancient.

We were both set up comfortably before the gates opened, so she had time to change from jeans and sneakers into her "show" clothes. On her, that meant a linen jacket and slacks, barely-there sandals, and a gray blouse. The scoop neck wasn't especially daring, but her soft, heavy bust showed plenty of cleavage - and a pleasant bobble as she moved around the stall. She wore a wedding band, too. (C'mon, I'm a jeweler. I notice jewelry.) Outside of that, she had an un-fussy look: no makeup that I could tell, and short, neat nails.

She introduced herself, during the lull before the gates opened. "Hi, I'm Bette." She extended a hand in businesslike greeting.

"Beth?" My hearing isn't the best any more. "Dan. It's a pleasure." Her small, cool hand took mine in formal greeting. It always makes a good impression on me when a woman gives a real handshake.

"That's Bette." She accentuated the last 'T' sound. "You have some nice work here." She looked around the cases near the entrance to my stall. A lot of those pieces were priced to help a teenage boy impress a girlfriend. A few were meant to attract more discriminating buyers - Bette had zeroed in on those immediately. 

"I'll be happy to show you more when things get quiet. And I'd like a tour of your paintings, too." A few of them were 'safe' subjects, mountain landscapes or girls in white dresses. They showed competence. I'm sure one or another would go with the colors in just about any living room. The abstractions really caught my eye, though. They covered a range of moods, often in colors that really wouldn't go with the couch - but good art never does.

"Sure. When do you take a break?"

"Monday," I answered. "It's just me here." 

"Me too. I'm sure a moment will come up."

Once the gates opened, it didn't come until late afternoon. She's a social type, greeting anyone who came in, chatting with anyone chatty. I tried to look busy - an easy thing to do, when I had about six hundred more jump rings to link into the choker necklace I was working on, and more work after that. Some customers get a kick out of seeing me making the jewelry they might buy, and maybe buy it for that reason.

When the day warmed up, Bette hung her jacket over a chair. The blouse was short-sleeved, and showed a surprising tattoo on her upper arm. I offered her bottled water from my cooler, when a quiet moment came for both of us. I pointed to her arm and asked, "May I see?" 

She showed me a relatively recent tattoo, still sharp-edged, not blurred with time, but completely healed. Two gold rings linked together, side by side, with a roses' stem woven between them. The name 'Mark' appeared below, along with three numbers. They looked like a year just a little after I was born, another just two years prior to the current date, and a third one between the two. Two years might be birth and death, the middle one puzzled me. I read it aloud, with a question inflection.

"That was the year Mark and I married."

"Wow. Not many couples last thirty five years, any more." She smiled, but somehow her eyes weren't smiling along. Cautiously, I asked about the third number.

"That's when he died." She could say it conversationally, despite the emotion behind the words. Then, rather than let me fumble saying something inept and sympathetic, she added. "Life goes on." I took the hint that the topic was closed. 

Later that afternoon, the cell phone in her jacket pocket rang. She got to it and answered on the third ring. "Hello?" A pause, "Speaking. What can I do for you?"

I had a customer at that point, so didn't catch any more. Her tone of voice and gestures took on an angry edge. My non-buying customer wandered out about the same time she flicked the phone shut with a sharp click.

"Damn." 

"What was that?" I asked cautiously - sometimes, anger overflows.

"That was my hotel, telling me I don't have a room after all. A construction crew broke the water main that supplies the place, and the board of health shut them down until the water comes back and they can flush the pipes. That will probably be tomorrow, but I'm still stuck for tonight."

"Ouch." I wasn't quite sure what to say. "So, what now?"

"They're trying to find another room for me, but they said it might take a while. Everything else is booked for miles around, because of this fair, and another hotel with the same problem was competing with them to find rooms for their customers. What about you?"

"I have a camper and a spot over at the state park. It sleeps two." Oops - that came out before I realized what I was saying. It does sleep two, but two together.

"Uh, Sam?" Here it comes, I thought, the appeal to my chivalry that I won't be able to turn down.

"Yes?"

"Could you ... would it be OK if I ..." She wasn't quite sure how to ask. 

"Stay in my camper? Sure - but when I said 'sleeps two,' that means one big bed. Big enough two and some space between them."

"Well, we're both grownups. Just sleep, right?"

I imitated a Boy Scout salute. "Just sleep."

----

The fair closed for the night long after dark. We both packed our stock up for the night. She loaded the paintings into a small pickup with a hard shell over the bed, and I moved my cases into a compartment in the back of my van.

"That's your camper?" She looked a little askance. Really, it's just a largish passenger van with a sleeping platform in the back. Extra headroom keeps it from being too claustrophobic, but two people in there would have trouble avoiding each other.

"If you don't want to ..." 

She cut me off. "The only room the hotel could find for me was over an hour away." With a late night and an early start in the morning to set up again, that wouldn't give her rest. "Just sleep, right?"

"Just sleep."

She parked her pickup in the exhibitors' lot and grabbed a small overnight bag. I put it in the back of the van, and she got into the passenger's seat. The park was only a little way away. I parked and said, "I'll be right back." I rummaged for my toothbrush and toothpaste.

"Where are you going?"

"Men's room. I'll just be a minute."

"Wait, I'll go with you." Once she had her toiletry bag in hand, we walked to the only building in sight. She entered her door and I went into mine. After I finished, I waited outside and we walked back together. She stepped hesitantly through the side door of the van, into the lit interior.

I offered, "I could sleep on the floor. I have an extra blanket somewhere."

"Don't be silly. I'm not kicking you out of your own bed. The deal is, just sleep, right?"

"Right."

"Grownups should be able to handle it." She started taking off her jacket. "Now, if you don't mind ..." A little twirling motion with one finger.

"Oh, right." I turned around and started undressing. I usually sleep buff, but kept my boxers and T-shirt tonight. I heard the zipper on her bag, some rustling, and the zipper again.

"OK, I'm all set." She had a black, over-sized T shirt on, and modest black panties. She crawled over to one side of the platform, and I moved as far as I could to the other side. 

"Good night." I turned the lights out.

"G'night." She must have been dead tired. Her breathing turned slow and even with sleep in just a few minutes.

----

Some time later, I don't know when, I woke up in darkness. I was sleeping on my side, faced away, and found her hand on my hip. Looking over my shoulder, I saw that she had rolled halfway across, facing me. I tried to roll a little closer to the wall, out from under her hand. Her sleepy grip followed me, and she rolled closer. I had pretty much run out of running room at that point, and looked at her trying to figure out what to do next.

Then she woke up, all at once. She opened her eyes, saw me, and the dim light showed a terrified look. Her hand jerked away from me like I was a snake, and she started babbling.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Dan, really, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean, I didn't ..."

I wanted to say, it's OK, you were asleep, let her know that I wasn't offended, but she kept on in an escalating stream. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry." She'd grab my hand, then flinch away from it, over and over. This was getting strange. She'd just touched me, but she was going on as if she'd just run over my daughter.

That teary catch worked into her voice, and grew. As she worked herself deeper into this frenzy, her voiced failed altogether, leaving only sobs that convulsed her whole body. At that point I had no idea what I was looking at, afraid to do anything and afraid to do nothing. I reached over and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

A moment later, she collapsed in onto herself and wailed, "I miss him so much."

It wasn't about me. This was about her, and about the marriage that lasted more than half her lifetime. I edged over and spread my hand across the corner of her shoulder, where she could brush it away if she wanted. She put her hand over mine and held it there, while the sobbing went on. "Dan? Hug me, please?"

I moved over and pressed my chest against the backs of her shoulders. I moved my hand from her shoulder to around her waist, trying to keep it brotherly. She backed into me, her round, soft hip against my lap, and laid her arm over mine.

After a while, the tremors quieted to sniffles and occasional sighs. She still held my arm around her, and my nose picked up the citrus scent of her hair. She seemed to ignore the erection pressed against her backside, and I tried to ignore it too. We lay in the darkness for some timeless time that seemed to go on forever. My next thought said, 'This will either work really well, or really, really badly.' I took the chance.

"Tell me about Mark."

Her breathing halted for a moment. She tensed under my hand and curled tighter, then rolled away from me. Her clothes projected blackness, she projected silence. I blew it. Wrong thing to say. I reached out to her shoulder again. 

My hand held her upper arm for a moment, then she said "Mark was tall."

She and I froze, then the torrent began. Slowly at first, the words spilled out. The early years, including his residency, a birthday dinner, their children, his underwear on the floor, moving when her career demanded, all of it, in no order. After a while, she backed a little closer to me. I approached her too, carefully and cautiously. I let my arm curl around her just a little more, and she put her hand over mine. Soon, her back pressed against my chest, my arm encircled most of her little round tummy, and her thighs pressed against mine. I knew that awkward moment was coming.

Her bottom pressed into my lap, and against my erection. I have to take responsibility for it, of course, but this time I really can't accept blame. She bucked her hip forward, away. Damn.

Then she reached back and cradled it in her hand. Tears started again. She scooted back against me, moved my erection between her cheeks, and hugged my hand around her waist. The sobbing continued, but differently. I could have sworn there was a laugh mixed in. "Oh, god. Mark did that every night for thirty years, up against my bottom like that." 

The babble continued, but differently. She hugged my arm around her waist, and backed into me until we touched almost from shoulder to knees. She kept talking as if her life depended on it, but something changed. What they did together, still, but more of how she felt. That flat tire in the rain, an inlaw dinner that melted down, being in labor for the first time. 

She still had an arm over the one that I held around her waist. She moved it up, a little, til my thumb pressed the edge of her breast. I had my decades of happy marriage, too. Half-asleep, my hand fell into its old habit. I cupped the breast, outside the T-shirt, and her hand followed to cup mine in a heartbeat. I hadn't felt that in my hand in, well, too long. 

Older women have charms that the under-forties don't even think about. Her breast had that rose-petal softness that firm young figures can't imagine. I had to shift my hand a few times to hold it properly, but it flowed into my grasp. I just held for a moment, until her story continued. Little moments of her life still spilled from her mouth, but they turned toward the warmer, more affectionate moments, even intimate one. Her hand cupped mine, she wanted it there, and I nuzzled her neck. 

Her talk slowed and stopped. After a long silence, I whispered, "Bette ..."

"Please, I need a moment." Silence drew in again, but a different one. It wasn't about me, it was silence with meaning.

She held me closer, hugged my arm like a teddy bear, and said, "Mark says it's OK. He wants me happy." I didn't know how to answer that.

Her hand surrounded mine, mine surrounded her breast, and she tugged me close. She rolled toward me then, flat on her back, so all of my 'spooning' hold stopped making sense. She looked up into my eyes, through the darkness. It was my move. I shifted my hand across to the far breast, the far side, to cup that miracle softness until it mounded on her chest. I got up on one elbow, and looked down at her. I kissed her forehead, barely a touch, and leaned back again to look at her. She smiled, and pulled my head down again for a real kiss.

Our kisses lacked precision. Lip to lip happened often enough, but eyebrows, earlobes, even the edge of her nose came under my kisses. I wanted to touch every spot - perhaps, something special would open under the right kiss. She did the same, learning my unfamiliar landscape.

Then she found it, my earring. Just a click of teeth against it drives me close to the edge. A tug between the teeth, a gentle stretch of the lobe, drives me off the map. Did anyone wonder why I'm a jeweler?

The breast in my hand still filled it with womanly warmth. I massaged it with my thumb, feeling that delicate softness through her T shirt. My thumb found a gumdrop nipple, and she sighed when I stroked it.

My kisses trailed down the side of Bette's neck, to when it joined he shoulder. Her hand on the back of my head just held gently and followed. I worked farther down, across her shoulder, to the top of her chest. That hand on my head gave continued permission. My cheek found the softness of her breast, next, and the nub nipple. Through the cloth of her shirt, I took it between my lips. Her hand moved, then, to press my face into that pool of softness. I didn't resist. She pushed me away for a moment and lifted the shirt to expose her breast. I lifted the other side so they both showed pale in the moonlight, then my hand and mouth went back where they had been. I leaned up to kiss her face again, and carefully let the breast in my hand settle back to its natural, soft shape.

My roaming hand ranged down across her tummy. That little sway outward is one of the most feminine of curves, the one that so many magazine covers promise to "cure." I enjoyed it for a moment, and found her navel's indentation. I reached down, and touched that Maginot line, the elastic of her undies. I stopped. She stopped. Then her whole body sank into acceptance. I could touch.

Low on her tummy, where the abdomen curves into pubis, that's one of a lady's most enchanting curves. My hand slid outside her lingerie, lingering, and pressed against the full, fleshy bulge. Her legs parted, and I explored that wonderful curve. The thin cloth did nothing to hide the split between her labia, and I ran my finger along the indented line.

Bette tugged at my shirt until her hand could touch my skin directly. She explored, too, stopping when she found my nipple. I shivered - she pressed her palm against it, and moved on.

My fingertips had worked to the edge of her panty, near the crease of her thigh, but the cloth was stretched too tight to move easily. I went back to the waistband again, and slid my fingers just a half-inch in. Even though I wasn't touching her genitals, this seemed even more intimate.

"Oh, Dan. Go ahead. It's been so long." Her legs parted more widely, then my whole hand slid past the elastic. I stopped when my finger found that arch where her labia separated. It's one of the most magical spots on a woman's body. My fingertip fit it perfectly, so I let it nestle there before I moved on.

Then she took her hand out of my shirt, leaned up, and said, "This is ridiculous. We're not kids. Get that stuff off." She reached to peel her shirt off and I did the same. Then she lifted her hips, tugged her panties down to her thighs, sat back down, and kicked them off.

My boxers went in roughly the same direction, and we joined again. Bette lay on her back with arm up, beckoning. I lay down next to her again, and rolled a little on top of her. She made a small sound and said, "Could you lift up for a second?" She shifted her breast to a more comfortable position, then pulled me back down. Despite the light color of the hair on her head, he pubic showed dark in the dim light. My hand moved back to cover it, cup it. Then my fingers resumed exploration. I pressed against the soft folds, shifting to cover every part. I could feel that her open legs had moved the labia apart, exposing a new softness between them. I touched, gently, but didn't invade. Working back upwards, I found her clitoris. I wasn't sure she was ready for that much yet, so moved my hand to avoid over-stimulating it. Instead, I pressed deeply against the mons above, so that indirect pressure would touch her instead.

That seemed to be what she wanted. Her arms wrapped around me and pulled me down onto her. Her hands guided my head back for a long, deep kiss. She guided my head away, but kept it close and stared into my eyes. "Dan, I want to feel you inside. I've been empty for years and M-" she almost said his name. "And that's enough time."

My fingers moved lower to explore her invitation. The inner folds parted easily. A little lower, I felt the deep softness leading inward. A fingertip pressed in without resistance. I wasn't in a hurry. Just at the ring of muscle, the real entrance, I drew little circles with my finger.

"I don't have any protection." 

She laughed and stroked my face, "You're such a gentleman. I'm long past needing that."

"But what about ..."

"Do you give blood?" Talk about mood-breakers.

"What?" I really had no idea where this was coming from.

"Are you a blood donor?"

"Yes," I answered truthfully. "I gave about three months ago."

"And I've donated twice this year. They screen every donation these days, so we've both had AIDS tests. And Dan - I'll just take a chance on everything else. It's been so long and M-" She stopped again. "It's OK. Really. Now get up here." 

She tugged me on top of her - just direction, really, she wasn't strong enough to move me. I crawled up, then between her legs, supporting myself with both hands. I reached down between us, but found her hand there already. She held my penis gently, and rubbed it up and against her vulva. My pre-come let it slide easily. Then she guided it down to the edge of her vagina. She shifted her hips under me and lifted up. I was in, not all the way, but at the entrance. I lowered myself a little and pressed. I found that ring of muscle again. It stood against me for a moment, then parted. I stopped when the tip of my penis held it open and savored the moment. 




Fair Play



"Bette, it's been a long time for me too." She held my face in her hands, too far away for a kiss. I got down on my elbows, still keeping my weight off her, and accepted the invitation of her lips. My hips moved in small motions, small steps forward and back. Her slickness, combined with mine, made inward steps easy. Soon, I was in so far our pubic hair merged. She hugged me close, and I let some of my weight onto her. One of my hands reached up to a soft breast, slid to the side, and I cupped it toward the center.

"I had forgotten that full feeling," she crooned into my ear. "I thought I remembered, but real life is always so much more." I knew exactly what she meant. My hips rocked against hers in slow strokes. The feeling inside was almost like the first time, instead of just the first time in a long time.

I do OK for a greybeard. I soon had to restrain myself, so I wouldn't come to soon. Bette felt me slow down, and said "It's OK. You can come inside me. I don't think I'm going to come this time."

I liked the way she said that, 'this time.' I started to object but she stopped me.

"It's been a long time, Dan. For now, I just want the feeling of fullness again, like this." Her hand on my bottom pulled me into her.

"But ..." She stopped my mouth with finger, then a kiss.

"You really are a gentleman. It's been almost forty years since I had someone new inside me, though, and it takes my body a while to learn. At least, it always did. I like having you inside. I like what you're doing. That's enough for me, really." I leaned down and kissed again, and my hips bucked against her. "Now come inside me, before these old bones get too sore."

I took the hint. Leaving her raw wouldn't do her any favors. Maybe she wasn't going to come, but I still wanted her happy. (It surprised me how much her happiness meant to me, so soon, but sex has always done that to me.) I let myself go. A few minutes later, I held her hip from underneath and pulled it to me, hard. Up on one arm, I looked down at my midnight angel, and released myself into her. With each new spasm, I pulled against that lovely soft body again. Bette smiled up at me and stroked my face.

To say that her body accepted me is much too weak. I'm looking for some word I don't know, something that describes receptive feminine strength as a massive, quiet power. It seemed as if, no matter how strong I was, no matter how tight I held, her soft skin and delicate frame could absorb it all.

I stopped, frozen at the end of my orgasm. My panting mixed with laughter - I was so happy just then, I couldn't contain it. I leaned down, almost collapsing on her, and peppered her face with kisses, still laughing.

My erection subsided and I slid out. Only then did I roll off.

"Do you have some kleenex?" Of course - the things you forget when a few years go by. 

I couldn't think where they were, so I picked up my T shirt and offered it. (The white cloth was the only thing I could see on the floor.) "Here, you can use this. It's going in the laundry anyway." There's no graceful way for a lady to wipe up after sex, but I enjoyed that awkward intimacy anyway. I remembered a box of tissue near the front of the van, felt around for it, and brought it back. I took a couple for myself, and offered her the box. 

"Oh, I didn't have to mess up your shirt." 

"It was going in the wash anyway. Now come over here, you sweet lady." She lay in my arms, cuddled close. I pulled the blanket over us. It warmed after a while, and added to the warmth of this lovely silver fox in my arms. I stoked the back of her head, and waited for sleep to complete our night.

Always before, I had been a 'roll over and go to sleep' guy, no matter how I tried to stay awake for my wife's afterglow. Tonight, I was too wound up, in a happy way. Bette was awake, too, her hand gently taking possession of my penis. Even though we had just made love, it started to fill again.

"Let's take a shower." Bette made me feel like I was twenty again. I guess that included a bit of twentyish impulsiveness.

"Where? Not here?" My van doesn't have water - that's why I camp at parks that have it.

"Over in the restroom building. They have showers - with walls and doors that close."

"You're serious. You want me to sneak into the men's room with you."

I groped for my cell phone, hit the button on it's side, and read the time. "It's 3:00 in the morning. No sneaking, we'll just walk in. No one will see us. And, if they do - so what? We're consenting adults."

"You're a nut, you know that? Look what you talk me into. Turn on the lights so I can get into some clothes."

We both slipped on jeans and a shirt. I put my dirties from last night in my laundry bag, found some towels, and led my barefoot lady into the night.

She had added her black T shirt from last night to a pair of dark jeans, so only her arms and head showed in the dim moonlight. Her hair almost glowed, though. We got to the restroom building. Out of habit, I went to the men's side, and Bette followed.

"You go first," she pushed me ahead of her. 

I looked around, and said, "It's empty. C'mon in."

She peered in cautiously, then followed me to the farthest shower stall. This had the wheelchair on the door, so it was bigger than the others. I closed and latched the door behind us, then turned to Bette. Even though we had made love, I had still never seen her naked. She hesitated with a vulnerable look on her face. I started to undress. It seemed to jump-start her, so she did too.

My god, that woman was gorgeous. Her face had some lines on it, and the skin behind her arms was soft. The rest of her, though, would have looked good on a forty year old. With her back to me, I saw a smooth, round hip, with muscles nicely defined in her thighs. Her head turned to look toward me before her shoulders did, and I saw her arms crossed to cover her breasts. "I wish I didn't look like an old lady - I wish I could be beautiful for your." Then she turned, almost as if expecting me to be angry.

I finally got to see those incredible breasts. "Bette, you're beautiful." Because of their softness, they lay low on her chest. I pulled her to me and we hugged, under the room's fluorescent lights. I leaned down and lifted one heavy breast. "Your breasts are gorgeous. You nursed?" She nodded. "That's why they feel so lovely." I didn't even know if I was making sense, but I really did love this strong, soft figure. I traced a pattern of kisses across the top, following delicate blue veins down as far as the nipple. I set the breast down, then lifted and kissed the other. 

"That's nice," her voice echoed on the cinderblock walls, "but weren't we taking a shower?"

I kissed her again, grabbed the soap and shampoo, and moved to the back of the stall, where the shower was. I turned on the water and started to adjust the temperature. "Do you like warmer or cooler showers?" I really hoped she didn't like cold ones. If it was just me, the water would be lobster-hot.

"Nice and warm." Somehow, everything about this silver fox seemed to work for me.

When the water was steaming nicely, she stepped into it with me. "Is it OK if we turn this up a little more?"

"As much as you want." I worked up a lather in my hands. "May I?"

She turned and offered her back. I started on her shoulders, sliding over the muscles with soapy pressure.

"Oh, that feels so good." She put her arms out and leaned against the wall. I worked down each arm as far as the elbow, then started on her back. I as got lower, where it curves inward, and she shifted to wider stance. Cautiously, I started across the back of her hip, across the round part of her bottom. She purred happily as I worked the muscles there. I did the other side, too and her purring went on. I grabbed the soap again, knelt, and started on her thigh. She shifted her feet again, more than shoulder-width apart. Clearly, she wanted me to do every part. I massaged the muscles deeply, including the parts between the legs. I worked upward until the first tuft of pubic hair touched my thumb, then downward. Then I switched to the other leg and worked my way up. This time, I soaped under the crease at the top of the thigh (the part that makes her bottom look like it's smiling) and the crease where her legs came together.

"Front now." She turned around closed her eyes, and stood with a trusting smile. I started on her shoulders and started on my top to bottom route. This included long, loving attention to her breasts. That mature softness made them hard to let go, but her quiet smile said I could take my time. Eventually, I rinsed them, taking care to lift each one and get the soap out from underneath. 

Then I lathered again, and soaped her lovely stomach. It still had that womanly roundness, down low - flat abs just never looked right to me, not on a woman. Her quietness and smile never changed, so I took that as an invitation. I cautiously started to soap her pubic hair, and the purring started again. It continued as I caressed her labia, and when a finger slid in to touch the inner folds. Her clitoris thickened a little, as I toyed with it, but never got to the fullness I felt last night. My probing touch worked downward again, until it found that deep softness between her legs.

"Ohh, no. I'm a little sore there."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's not your fault. I'm just out of practice. Nothing's been in there since Mark died, except during pelvic exams, and even those leave me sore. Don't worry, it's a good sore." I stood and kissed her, then turned her under the water to rinse. She squatted and splashed up under her legs to get the soap out, then felt around with a distant look.

"Are you OK?" 

"Yes," she answered, straightening back up. "I just wanted to figure out whether you were going to be dripping out of me all day. I don't think so, and that's good. I almost never use panty liners any more, and don't have any with me." She took the soap. "Your turn now." 

I leaned against the wall, as she had done, and felt those small, strong hands lean into me. She lingered over my buttocks. I'm not real athletic, but still ride a bicycle for most of my chores around town, and she seemed to like the result. I did, too, and my half-erection turned whole.

I stood with my legs apart, also as she had done. The shower was hot, so my balls hung very low. She avoided them mostly. When her fingers bumped them, my erection nodded, out front where she couldn't see it.

In a little while, she had me turn around. Her eyes widened at the erection, and she cooed, "Well, look at you. Again? So soon?" She soaped her hands and started directly on it. One hand held the shaft, the other reached under to cup my balls. I flinched but ignored the defensive instinct. Maybe she was out of practice, but I sure couldn't tell. After years of solo sex, once or twice a week, two in one day surprised me too - but her inspiration gave plenty of reason. Soon, white blobs fell into her hand, then onto the shower floor. I kicked them to the drain and made sure they went down. 

She hugged me again when the orgasm passed, still cupping my balls in one hand. "Did you get a transplant from a sixteen year old, or what?" The hug lasted longer than I expected, and she whispered, "Mark liked that, too."

We lathered each others' hair, making foam sculptures, and played in the water for a while longer. At the end, we toweled each other, dressed, and left. Back in the van, we undressed each other and went back under the covers. This time, we did sleep. 

The alarm went off much too soon. I hadn't set it with morning playtime in mind (the last time I made that mistake), and we both had to get back to the fairgrounds. We did have time for a quick cuddle, though. Then we had a rushed breakfast at Denny's, a trip back to the fairground, and just enough time to set up for the day. 

Some time during the morning, her cell phone rang again. Half way through, she covered the microphone with her hand and called me. I looked up, saw her come-here motion, and said, "What's up?"

"It's the hotel. They're back open, and my room is ready. If I want it. Do I?"

She almost dropped the phone when I grabbed her in a bear hug. "Tell them to get lost."

That became a ladylike "other arrangements." I grinned, and couldn't stop grinning for the rest of the day. Maybe that helped explain one of my best sales days ever.

Her body didn't learn during the next two nights, but we gave it plenty of chances. It didn't learn at the next fair, either. But, shortly after she set up her painting studio in the back room of my house (our house now), it did. It hasn't forgotten in all the years since.

And, if anyone asks, I don't mind a bit that she wears two wedding bands. In fact, it was my idea. I could never replace her experience of Mark, and wouldn't want to if I could. I'm very happy that Bette adds me to her experiences. I was so honored when I slipped the new band on next to the old one that I practically cried. She did cry.



Fair Play, A Second Time



Bette and I had different travel schedules, so I couldn't see her again for a couple of months. We both had booths at that last big fair of the season, though, and planned to get together then. "And this time," she told me, "I'll get us a real room." My camper-van is fine for just me but not the best for entertaining a lady, even if it had given us a magical first time together.

Later during that call, she asked, "Do you dance?"

No. Never. Not in a million years. "Well, I could give it a shot." Bette had that kind of effect on me.

I could tell that made her happy. "It will be fun! I'm looking forward to it." She made a kissing noise into the phone. "Bye."

I'd make it fun if it killed me. "Bye."

----

We didn't see much of each other during the fair, since our booths weren't together. It had just been a fluke that they were next to each other that first time. In fact, I didn't see her at all until the fair closed and I had put my cases away. She told me where her booth was, and we had arranged to meet there.

Bette's silvery hair practically glowed under the artificial lights, against the dark sky. She was looking away as I approached, going over some papers. She looked great in that outfit, a linen jacket and matching slacks. Nothing fussy, but neat, businesslike, and easy to move in.

"Hey pretty lady," I called out. She turned then, with a huge smile. She has one of those faces that smiles all over, with lots of laugh lines. I could see the low scoop neck of her dark blouse, and decolletage that bobbed as she ran over to me.

She leaned into a big hug, and I felt her deep, soft breasts against me for a moment. "Give me one more minute, I'm almost done here." She turned back to her paperwork. I sat on one of the empty display tables and enjoyed the view from behind. I wasn't sure, but I thought I could see a dark panty line under the light slacks. It might have been my imagination, though, or wishful thinking. 

Finally, she zipped her notebook shut. She came over, took my arm, and said, "I'm exhausted." It was almost ten o'clock, and neither of us had had dinner. "Let's get to the hotel." Still holding my arm, we went to my van and drove off. 

She told me she had already checked in, so we went to the 24-hour Denny's next door to the hotel. As we looked over the menu, looking for something not too greasy, she said, "Think of it as field rations. We can get real food tomorrow." 

We had only known each other since we met at the last fair. If not for that screw-up at her hotel, we might just have said goodbye and left it at that. Instead, we fell for each other like - well, like I never thought I would. That meant plenty of getting-to-know-you chat over dinner (such as it was), and we talked easily. It surprised me, since I'm not normally much of a talker, but I felt comfortable with her, and somehow open. She had me talking about things that I never discussed. Like Allison.

"How long were you married?" 

"Almost thirty years." I got a little choked up. "A lot of good years."

She heard the catch in my voice. "I'm sorry, if you don't want to talk about it ..."

"No, it's OK." Well, not really, but I felt like I had to tell her. "There were a lot of good years." Then, some kind of nerve degeneration set in, and weakened the strong, active woman I had loved, still loved. Once the disease had taken almost all of her body, it took her mind, too, by inches. Bette stopped eating while I talked and just looked at me, a hand on my arm. I didn't go into details, not wanting to bring my own memories of her last months back to life. I stopped after a while, and just looked down into my plate.

A few moments passed, and Bette rubbed my arm. "Dan ..." There really wasn't anything to say. 

I shook myself, took her hand in mine, and said, "It's OK." No. No it wasn't. No one should go that way. "We had a lot of good years." Even her last years couldn't take those away. 

I had to do something to break the somber mood, so I asked "Are you done?" She nodded, I paid the bill (less than I thought), and we left. It was a short walk to the hotel, and I liked the warmth of her up against me. 

There was an uneasy moment when we got to the room. Bette ended it by giving me a warm hug, pressing those soft breasts against me again. She sniffed, and said, "You need a shower, and I hate going to bed dirty." She looked at me with a playful smile (that all-over smile again) and asked, "Wash my back?"

I turned it into a bear hug and asked, "Just your back?" She shook loose and started undressing. I did the same. Next time I looked over, she was down to a bra and panties, a matching set in dark blue. The bra had wide straps and side panels, not a young woman's little stringy thing, but had lacy trim that matched the panties. 

"Wow, you sure dress nicely when you undress." 

"Thanks," she nodded. "It's something I got from Mark." He had been her husband, the one I first learned about from her tattoo. "He told me for years that I was beautiful, and I somehow never believed him. After a while, though, it sunk in. I really did learn to like what I saw in the mirror, as if I were looking through his eyes instead of my own. Nice underwear made me feel pretty so I indulged myself. I still do, and it still makes me feel good." Maybe that was part of the confidence she projected, one of the things I loved about this lovely lady.

She reached behind to unhook the bra, still facing me. I tried not to stare. I was down to my boxers, and stepped over to her. "May I?"

"Go ahead."

I took a loose strap in each hand, and eased it down her shoulder. The swell of her breast started high on her chest. I kissed one side, then the other, and kept kissing as I worked my way down. Bette held my head gently and traced my ear. Finally, dark areolas came into sight, then nipples. I tugged the bra out from under her breasts, dropped it on the floor, and took a soft nipple in my mouth. Bette's fingernail clicked on one of my earrings, and I made a little noise. She tugged it a little, and my lips clamped onto the nipple with a moan.

"Ahh," she said, "you like that."

"I like it way too much, and we have a big day tomorrow. Let's get to bed." We both finished undressing. She went ahead of me into the bathroom, letting me see that lovely body from behind. That lovely round bottom, those sleek legs would have looked good on a forty year old. Really, it was just her face that showed her age, and not all of her age at that. She leaned over the tub to turn on the shower. I took her hips in my hands and bumped up against her. 

"Oh, you," an unconvincing attempt to scold. She adjusted the temperature, still leaning over, and wiggled her bottom against my erection. When the tub was steaming nicely, she turned the shower on, stood up, and stepped in. "You get in here."

Bette looked just as good from the front. Heavy, soft breasts lay low on her chest, and a dark pubic patch stood in contrast to her pale hair. She luxuriated under the stream for a moment and turned the temperature up a notch, which I liked. If she had been a cold-shower type, this would never have worked for us. I picked up the soap, unwrapped it, and discarded the wet covering. Then I turned her around and started soaping her shoulders. I leaned into her with slick hands, and she put her arms up against the tiles to support her weight. Quiet happy noises followed my way down her back, and turned to purring when I kneaded her bottom. I lingered there, feeling her muscles flex under my hands. After that, I worked my way down her legs thoroughly, but a lot more quickly than I really wanted to. 

Once I got down to floor level, I said "OK, front now." When she turned, her bush was just at nose level. Round breasts stared down at me, as did her eyes above. I resisted the temptation and worked my way back up to the tops of her thighs. I stood, soaped my hands again, and reached between. Bette shifted her feet to the sides, opening to me, and put her hands on my shoulders. I soaped her mons and outer labia thoroughly, exploring the crease between each thick fold and her thigh. We looked into each other's eyes and I traced the crevices between her legs, feeling the hair untangle in front of my touch. Bette's eyes fluttered, and she relaxed toward me. Then she looked up and said, "Mmm that's nice, but not now, OK?" 

"OK." I leaned over for a quick kiss, soaped my hands again, and moved up to her breasts. I lifted each one and soaped it two-handed, top and bottom, enjoying that butterfly softness that comes with real maturity. I played for just a moment, then rinsed. I used the sprayer, and had fun directing the warm water up between her legs and up under each breast. The she took the soap and started on me. 

She worked more briskly than I had done, but still stopped to tease me with slippery hands once in a while. When I turned to face her, my erection led the way. Bette took it in both hands, cooed, then looked up at me again. "We'll have to take care of this, now won't we?" More soap, so she was slick as an eel, then strong hands held my penis and started working back and forth.

That two-handed grip put the whole length of each hand along the side of my penis - it felt wonderful. I moaned and leaned toward her as she stroked. Every now and then she'd look down, but mostly kept contact with me through her eyes as well as hands. I could feel waves of tension building, gradually becoming deeper and more regular, and she felt it too. Her two-handed touch got fast and strong as each wave built, then slowed as it receded. The space between waves grew shorter, and she moved her hands. Now, one wrapped around my penis and the other reached under. My balls hung low in the shower's heat. Still looking into my eyes, she felt behind them and found that ridge of muscle. Massaging that as she stroked my shaft just drove me harder. I moaned as the pulses of tension radiated out from her hands. Then the waves crashed together. I no longer had that respite between them, the tension just went on and on. Thick, white semen spurted, then again. Bette's smile must have been as big as mine just then. I stopped ejaculating after a moment, but aftershocks of orgasm kept pounding me. Her hands held my genitals tightly, as if pulling me through them. Finally, it ended. My erection shrank in her hands. 

She pulled me close, kissed me and said, "You're beautiful." She leaned her cheek against my wet shoulder for a moment, then got back to business. We rinsed off, played with the towels for a few moments, then turned back the covers on the bed. When we were both in bed, she reached over and turned out the light. I cuddled behind her, and went to sleep a lot faster than I thought I would.

----

The alarm clock sounded much too soon. I had slept like a log, and woke with my hand cupping Bette's labia. I reached back to the noisy clock, and groped around until something shut it off. Then I rolled back to Bette. "G'morning."

"`mornin," a sleepy mumble came back at me. I reached over and started massaging the fronts of her shoulders. Her eyes were open, but not fully awake. "That feels good." I could barely make out her sleepy slur.

I asked her to roll over, and she presented smooth shoulders to me. I worked on them, and her happy purring started again. It guided me to all the favorite spots around her shoulders, the ridges of muscle along her spine, and those deep spots where bones in her thigh joined her pelvis. That loving touch had me turned on in just a little while, and I started leaving slick trails along her thigh. Still lying on her front, she took my erection in one hand as I worked, and fondled it with a firm hand. Soon, she turned toward me and took it in both hands. "You're incredible, you know that? And you're not going to leave me alone until we take care of this." I wasn't quite sure about her tone.

"We don't have to ..."

She interrupted me, tenderly this time. "We don't have to, but I want to and you want to." She took one of my hands and put it on my erection. "Here, you do this part."

"You're sure ..." 

She pushed me flat on the bed. "Very sure. You take care of that. I have lots of other parts to work on." She leaned down and nibbled my earrings, already knowing the effect that would have. One of her arms had to support her, but the other ranged up and down my body, touching my balls, my nipples, my face. A leg swung over mine, and I felt the scratchy warmth of pubic hair against my thigh. My free hand reached behind her, to the small of her back, and held her tightly against me.

To tell the truth, I was starting to feel kind of selfish, but she seemed happy just sustaining and being part of my excitement. I finished quickly, so I wouldn't feel that I was imposing too much. After a little flurry of kisses, she lay her head on my chest. Her fingertip toyed with the white blobs across my stomach. Then she reached for some tissues and wiped up. 

"You wait here." I heard water run in the bathroom, then she came back with a wet washcloth and a towel. When she was done, she knelt next to me and toyed with me, back and forth the length of my body.

"I didn't think old guys could do that," she said happily, "at least, not that often."

"When I'm around you, I don't feel old," I answered. "Old ladies need attention too ..." I started.

"Shh." A fingertip touch on my lips. "Old ladies do just fine, and will let you know what they want." I started again. "Shh. Really. I'm fine."

Argument wasn't going to do anything good, so I just pulled her shoulders down for a long hug. I broke it this time. "What time is it? We have an early start today."

She looked at the clock. "You're right. We have time, but none to waste." We started dressing again. Her lingerie ensemble was black today, the same as our first time but a slightly different style. I had never thought much about women's underwear before, except as a matter of her comfort or sometimes as a kind of gift wrap. I suspected I was going to learn a new appreciation. I could feel it starting. 

She wore the same pants and jacket as yesterday, but with a burgundy blouse. I wore my usual, jeans and a clean shirt that could probably have used ironing. The hotel restaurant was open for breakfast, so we didn't have to subject ourselves to Denny's again. I didn't have time for a second cup of coffee, and really didn't want one since bathroom breaks were few and far between.

Back at the fair grounds we parted with a quick hug and a kiss - the social kind, suitable for company, not the passionate embrace so fresh in my mind. Bette and I parted ways, and agreed to meet at the end of the day.

----

The fair closed earlier on the second day, the last day, so it was still light out when we had put everything away. I helped her fold her tent and tuck it in the back of her pickup, under the hard shell in back. Then we both drove back to the hotel. "Do you want a shower before we go out?" I remembered the promise to go dancing. "I want to get the dust off."

I agreed. A moment later, she, I, and my erection stood under the steaming stream. We each washed quickly. When she was done, before getting out of the shower, she took my half-hard penis in one hand and wagged a finger at it with the other. "You'll just have to wait." I laughed at the school-marm tone of voice, and she laughed too. 

I watched her dress, curious to see what she'd start with this time. The panties were a little higher cut, and the bra seemed to push up a little more - not that she needed help in that department. Bette saw me staring, stopped, and posed in front of me. "You approve?"

I leaned down and kissed the top of each breast, and said "Very much." Instead of the linen slacks, she wore dark pants with a sharp crease and a silvery, silky long-sleeved blouse. This time, her shoes had a little heel. She brushed her hair and examined the mirror for a moment, then was ready to go. I was definitely outclassed in the clothing department, but wore my best jeans and a sport coat - maybe that would fool people into thinking I was respectable.

We lingered over a slow dinner. Bette had told me a fair bit about herself when we first got together, so I did a lot of the talking over dinner. I described my years in high tech, in the CEO/CTO/IPO circuit. What I made during that time would keep me going for the rest of my life. I really didn't need the income from selling jewelry. 

"I had wondered about that," Bette offered. "Other vendors seemed to charge more for work that doesn't look nearly as good." 

"I'm not trying to undercut anyone. Most of them make their living at it. I just want to cover costs, get out, and see people. I didn't get out much in the years when Allison was sick. After she died, I turned into a hermit for a while. After couple of months, I realized the effect it was having on me. It wasn't fair to her memory that I should let her death do that to me. Everyone dies. Everyone else goes on. This gets me out, going places, and seeing people. Seeing you."

It turned out that Bette sold her paintings for much the same reason. Her own career and her late husband's had left her comfortably well off. She turned to painting when she retired and loved doing it. After a while, though, every wall in the house was covered, and most of the walls in most of her friends' houses. Starting at a local flea market, she discovered that other people liked her paintings, too. She got involved in the local arts groups, did well in juried shows, and realized just how high the prices could go and still sell. It let her travel, and she liked the ego kick from seeing people value her work enough to give her money for it.

I asked her about that. Her abstractions really moved me, with their intense compositions and driving energy. If I had seen them, not knowing Bette already, I would never have guessed that they came from a hand with age spots. It seemed hard to believe that the landscapes and pretty-girl pictures came from the same brush as the abstracts, too. "The abstractions are for me. Once in a while someone buys one. The others are for someone's living room. They pay the bills. And, they make people happy."

I was content to linger over coffee and dessert. Bette checked her watch a few times, though, and eventually announced that the music was starting in the lounge. We charged the meal to our room but left a cash tip, and started out.

Bette and I found a small table and ordered drinks. The DJ was playing something lively that I didn't recognize, and a few younger couples were already dancing. To tell the truth, I was a little on edge. I never liked dancing and had never learned to dance - maybe the two went together. When Bette suggested it, I agreed anyway. For her, of course, but maybe I could learn to like it. My first thought, as with anything new, had been to take some lessons, but there hadn't been enough time for me to find instruction. I was going to make a fool of myself, I supposed I could deal with that, but I didn't want to disappoint Bette.

The music stopped and most of the couples went back to their tables. Then the DJ started a slower tune. Bette stood up, took my hand, and led me onto the floor. She stood facing me, expecting something, and I whispered, "I don't know how to dance. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do."

She looked annoyed for a moment, then smiled and pulled me close. "You sweetie. It's easy, you just move. Go ahead." She was already swaying, so I held her and tried to follow along. A little while later, I was usually going the same direction as her and it seemed to get easier. I can't say I was really comfortable with it, but Bette felt good in my arms. I enjoyed her warmth and the feel of her muscles moving under my arms, and the soft pressure of her breasts. The music came to a stop and we did, too.




Fair Play, A Second Time



After a moment, Bette took a step back. She faced me with a big smile, and took my hands in hers. She leaned forward for quick kiss, then took my arm in hers and we went back to the table.

"You didn't tell me you don't dance." It seemed more like a question than a statement.

"Well I do now, if you could call that dancing." 

"But why?"

"It sounded like something you enjoy, and I hope I'm not too old to learn new things. Was I that bad?"

"You did fine. And you're a sweetie, doing it for me. I won't make you do it again."

"I said I would, and here I am. And I liked it. Really." The next song had already started, so we sat it out. The one after was another slow one. This time, I stood up first and gave a little tug on her hand. She sat, giving me a quizzical look, and I tugged again. She came with me this time, and we held each other on the dance floor again. I was still focused on getting it right, so I can't say it was that much of a pleasure in itself. I was with Bette, though, holding her close, and that's what I really came for.

When we got back to the table, I tried to sound more positive about it than I really felt. "I think I could get the hang of this." That much was true. I might even learn to like it.

"You really never danced before."

"Never. Not even when I was a kid."

"And you're doing it for me."

"It's kind of fun." Yes, I was doing it for her, but any way I thought to say it wouldn't sound right.

She didn't answer, but leaned warmly against me and put her hand on my leg. 

We danced two or three more numbers. I don't think I got any better, but I did get past feeling like an idiot. An inept klutz, maybe, but I could fix that by putting some work into learning.

"You know," she said when we got back to our table, "dancing has been called a vertical statement of a horizontal intent." She was leaning against me again, whispering, one breast pressing my arm.

"Is that an offer? If it is, it's the best one I've had all day." 

"It's an offer." We paid our waitress and left, holding each other close.

Back in our room, I finished undressing before she did - my jeans and shirt could take being dumped in a pile, but she took the time to hang her blouse and slacks. She was just starting to unhook her bra when I reached. "Allow me. Please."

"It's all yours." She turned away, but looked back at me over her shoulder. I undid the hook-and-eye catches. Those things always remind me of my embarrassing first encounter with them, back when I was a teenager, but they opened easily enough. Then I slid my hands up to her shoulders and out toward her arms, pushing the straps aside with the backs of my hands. Even as wide as they were, I could see where they had dug into her shoulders. I started massaging the marks.

"Mm, that's lovely." I could feel her relaxing under my hands. I stepped closer, then pushed the cups off her breasts the same way, sliding my hands along her curves. 

Bette has the most amazing breasts. I remember enjoying the firm, young ones when I was younger, but that was because I didn't know any better. An incredible, delicate softness comes with age. I had forgotten how electrifying it is to feel that - spreading my hands across them, the sensation drove everything else out of my mind for a moment. Then I lifted one breast and pulled the cup out from under, and did the same on the other side. Bette shook the bra down her arms and set it on the dresser. I went back to rubbing her shoulders.

After a moment, I said, "Would you like to continue lying down?" She answered in movement, bending to slide the last of her underwear off then moving to the bed. 

She lay on her stomach, with her face toward me. "How do you want me?" 

I suppressed a hundred eager answers to that question and said "You're fine like that." I knelt next to her on the bed, and went back to her shoulders. Gradually, I worked up to a deep pressure that seemed to squeeze happy moans out of her. I worked her arms, next, enjoying the strong, soft feel of her muscles, then returned to her back. My thumbs pressed into the ridge of muscle along her spine, then along her pelvis, where the muscles attach. I moved quickly over her bottom, saving that for later.

I turned to face her feet, next, and knelt with one of her legs between mine. I lifted one foot and flexed it for a while to loose it up. Then I probed the sole of her foot with my thumb, feeling around just behind the ball of her foot.

"A-ahh" I found the spot I was looking for. "Whatever you're doing back there, don't stop. You're hired." I did stop after a while, and kneaded the muscles in her calf. Then I did the other foot and calf.

I turned again, keeping one of her legs between mine, and worked my way up one wide, womanly thigh. It embodied all the best of a woman's beauty: curvy and soft, but with clearly defined strength just below the skin. There was that lovely warm spot too, at the top of her thighs and between the them. When I got there, I switched to the other side and did that thigh too. 

I dismounted her leg and knelt next to her, starting on her bottom. That's where the body's biggest muscles are, and I gave them deep, loving attention. Bette had been purring the whole time, with little moans to emphasize the spots she really liked, but this treatment had her moaning non-stop. Then my thumb found that deep dimple near the middle of one cheek. It worked kind of like that spot on her foot, only more. 

"My god, what you're doing!" Her hip lifted up, to return the pressure. I explored the whole, warm width of her bum, returning to that pressure point each time my hand crossed it. I climbed over her, then went to work on the other cheek.

She turned her head to look at me. I felt her hand flopping around my legs, and moved my knees apart. That let her grasp my erection, which had been streaming steadily for the last half-hour. 

"You know," she said looking up at me, "I expected that when we got back to the room, you'd undress me and we'd make love. Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

I answered, "Well, you were right, weren't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"This is making love." 

"How so?" She sounded happy, but a little puzzled.

"Making love is about nice body feelings, isn't it? That's what I'm doing. At least, that's what I'm trying to do." I didn't tell her, but I had actually studied for this part. I had dug out my ancient copy of The Massage Book and spent hours going over every page repeatedly.

"You sweetie, you're right." She relaxed into my attention, still holding my erection in a possessive grasp. 

Bette didn't have an orgasm the first time we had sex, and told me she might not have one for some time to come. Despite her assurances that it was OK, that she really liked the feelings of what we did, I had come away with the sense that I hadn't done enough for her. I wouldn't argue with her, I'm sure she was telling the truth, that it really was OK and that she enjoyed it. I was grateful that she wasn't faking it for me, but I'm stuck with my male view of sex and orgasm. I couldn't feel right unless I gave as good as I got, and she had given me so much already. If I couldn't give her orgasms, I'd give her what I could, including this. It still didn't seem like enough, but she was certainly enjoying it. If I knew of more to do, believe me, I'd be doing it.

My touched lightened after a while, until I just held the curve of her bottom in my open hand. "May I do the front now?"

She opened her eyes with a sleepy smile. "You mean I have to move?"

"Just a little." She rolled over and closed her eyes. I started with a light touch on her face, a little pressure a the temples and above her ears. Then I worked my way down the muscle groups in her neck, to her pectoral muscles. I know how much those enjoy deep pressure. I had to work carefully, though, so as not to press too hard on her breasts. I drew slow, deep circles with my fingers, being extra careful as I got lower on her chest. Then I lifted her breast from the side, so it mounded on her chest, and did the same again but more gently. When I had covered the whole breast in touch, I started on the other side and worked my way down. Arms next, with attention to each finger and deep pressure on the palms of her hands. 

The I scooted down the bed a little, so I could really lean into her thighs. The happy purring continued and she opened her legs so I could reach between. Her intimate folds unfolded when she did that, just a little, and showed a line of pink behind her pubic hair. I resisted temptation, for the moment, and continued on those long, strong thighs.

When I had finished with them, I lay down next to her. My hand found her mons, and started little circles of wide pressure on that lovely, soft swell. She opened her eyes and looked into mine. "That was incredible." She reached over and kissed the tip of my nose.

"`Scuse me for a second." Still holding her vulva, I backed away slightly. She shifted to a more comfortable position, then said "Now you come back here." I moved so our bodies touched almost whole length. She lifted the breast that was being pressed between us, then settled back. "Carry on," she said, "I love what you're doing."

I did too. My touch worked its way lower, into her pubic hair. She opened her legs a bit more, and I explored the valley between her thigh and labia. My touch continued: press, massage for a moment, then move on. Down one side, between her legs, and up the other. Across the top, again, where pressure might be transmitted in to her clitoris, and back to the side. Her hand hand found my erection again. She stroked it gently or squeezed it from time to time. Once in a while her thumb would cross the round top, collect a clear, slippery droplet, and spread it. Neither one of us felt any hurry - we wanted this timeless time to go on forever.

My finger found the spot in front where her labia began to separate. I knew that the pad of my fingertip would fit it perfectly, but the sensation was new all over again when it did. I pressed in, a little, and felt the clitoral ridge. I massaged that, too, as far up as I could feel it. It slid back and forth under my fingertip, against the solid bed behind it.

"Dan, kiss my breast." She cupped it for me, lifting it from the side up into her chest. I leaned up over it for a moment, awed again by the delicate tracery of blue veins barely showing, then leaned down to kiss. I pressed my face into that incredible softness and felt it envelop me. Then, with my fingers still exploring her vulva, I nibbled around the edge of the areola. It felt stiffer, thicker than the skin surrounding it, but yielded between my lips. After working my way around, my kiss moved to her nipple. I wiped it with a warm tongue, took it between my lips, and tongued again. Bette's hand behind my head held me gently in place. 

Her clitoris had thickened too. My finger traced its way down to her vagina, where I felt slick wetness forming. I spread that around. My mouth left her breast long enough to taste her on my fingertips and to moisten my fingers some more. Then I went back to kissing that miraculous, soft breast. My thumb and middle finger spread her labia, and my slick index finger went back to massaging that delicate crease.

The hand behind my head shifted, guiding me to look up at into Bette's eyes. "Come inside me. Please, I want to feel you inside." I leaned up to kiss her, then climbed between her legs. She had opened wide for me, with her knees bent up and out. I spread saliva across my penis, then lowered myself onto her. Her hand found my erection between us. She used the tip to tease her labia apart, then lowered it to the edge of her vagina. I was already rocking against her, in small motions, when I felt that deep softness start to open before me. 

She brought her Bette-scented hand to my face. I turned to catch her fingers in my mouth, and she let me catch them. That turned into a caress of my lips and face, then a touch that guided me back to her lips. 

My penis felt the ring of muscle at the edge of her body, and felt it open around me. I stopped at that magical moment, to savor that delicate grasp, that most intimate of welcomes, then started rocking again. Some times, I would move farther in. Some times I would just feel the shifting tissues within her and feel her pressure around me.

Bette worked her hand between us again. I lifted up to make room for it, then lowered again when it had found her vulva. Her fingers moved between us pressing where intercourse couldn't press and touching what my arms couldn't bend to touch. I felt her lower body tense, all along her legs and through her pelvis. She had said she might not come, but I could feel the beginnings building inside her. The pace of her touch slowed, then sped again as another wave of tension built. After three or four more of those deep pulses, she moved her hand away. "It's not going to happen today."

"Are you sure?" I asked, "Is there anything I ..."

Her sweetened finger on my lips again, stopping my words. "I love what you're doing. Really, this is what I want." I squeezed her in another hug. "Do you think you're going to come again?" I had already come twice in the last twenty-four hours. At my age, she might not expect more. 

Heck, I wasn't sure I could do it again either. "Let's give it a try. Even if it doesn't work I love the feeling of being inside you, being part of you."

I started pressing deeper into her. Bette shifted her legs up, and the change in position made her feel tighter inside. One hand on my hips, the other on my shoulder, she pulled me into her with surprising strength. I could feel orgasm starting to build inside me. 

I leaned up on one arm and worked the other behind her, under her bottom. Each time I rocked in to her, I lifted as well. The feeling built and built. Bette looked up at me with that brilliant smile, touching my face and cooing encouragement. 

Then it came. I pulled her close with all my strength, and felt my orgasm erupt into her body. The second wave came, and I pulled again, then the third. Even when my body had nothing left to pour into hers, the waves kept coming. It seemed as if they would never stop. The time between them grew, however, and they lessened in magnitude. Finally, I collapsed onto the softness of her belly and breasts. Even as exhausted as I was, I still felt occasional tremors of joy. That's really what I felt, joy. Joy and the passion of closeness that I could only feel when her body accepted me into it. I didn't roll off her until my erection shrank and fell out.

The hotel had tissues by the bed. Bette stood, grabbed a few, and wiped herself in an ungainly squat. She grabbed some more tissues, wiped herself again, and examined the tissue. "I'll be right back."

I cleaned up too, while she had her moment in the bathroom. My tissues ended up not too far from the garbage can, close enough for now. Then my silver goddess reappeared. She lay down beside me and nestled under the blankets. Then she leaned up on one elbow, with her breasts hanging, reached down to my penis again. Trying its best, it thickened a little in her hand. She looked at me and wagged it, saying "Doesn't this thing ever stop?"

I just pulled her down onto me for a kiss. Holding her in place, I turned out the light. I guess I'm not much to sleep on, because she crawled off a moment later and turned away. It wasn't an escape or rejection, though, but an invitation to cuddle. I hugged her from behind. My hand found her breast and supported its heavy softness. She wiggled her bottom, playing, pressing against my lap and settling my half-hard penis between her cheeks. Her hand held mine against her, and we slept.



Fair Play, A Visit with Bette



The neighborhood seemed neat, quiet, and well-established, a lot like Bette herself. The little apartment building fit the surroundings comfortably. I checked my directions one more time, and found her door, number three. I noted the silly coincidence -- this was to be the third time we'd been together. As I raised my hand to knock on the door, I noticed that my mouth had gone to cotton, like a nervous teenager. I guess you never outgrow some things. (I hope not!)

I knocked. A moment later, the door stood open, framing beautiful Bette. We just stood for a few seconds looking at each other; maybe she felt a little of the same happy jitters I did. That lasted only a moment, though. She smiled, the kind of smile that takes over her entire face, squeezing the laugh lines around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. I let my bag fall, and we both stepped forward for a welcoming hug. The jitters vanished as soon as we touched.

Bette stands a few inches less than my height, so my cheek pressed against the side of her head. I wrapped one arm around her shoulder, the other around her waist, feeling her soft warmth. She held me close, too, pressing her ample bosom against me. Silvery hair, laugh lines, and all, I felt the first stirrings of my body's response to her. I knew she wouldn't mind, we're both old enough to know how all that works. We just held for the moment, and started to rock gently together, making me think of our slow dances last time.

After a moment, she disengaged. Still holding me with both hands but at arm's length, she looked me up and down. I'm nothing special, but in pretty good shape for an old guy. "Come in, come in! I'm so happy to see you again!"

I moved my bag inside and closed the door behind me. The scoop neck of her sleeveless blouse showed soft skin that bounced as she moved, framing tasteful but enticing cleavage. The lower hem of the blouse hid the top of soft, flowing slacks, and I noted that her small, neat feet were bare. Taking that as a hint, I kicked my sandals off into the coat closet, then looked around.

She followed my gaze. "Welcome to my humble abode." It seemed large for a one-bedroom apartment, probably because there was so much light and because she had no need to fill it with furniture. Some book cases promised an interesting exploration, and of course her own paintings appeared on the walls. I had learned to recognize the subtle textures and bold forms of her abstract paintings. You would have thought that images like that had come from much younger hands, but hers still had plenty of energy under the soft skin and occasional spot.

Easy jazz filled the background. A small table was set for two, with candles even though the summer sun kept dinnertime bright. She waved me toward one of the chairs. "I'll be there in a moment." I opened the wine set out on the table while she brought a few more things out. I stood, as a matter of habit, when she was ready to join me, reached for her hand, and gave it a kiss. We sat.

I raised my glass, and said, "To you!" She touched hers to mine with a crystal sound and answered, "And to you, too." We sipped the wine, then started on the food. A bed of linguini cradled a mound of dark greens, fat white beans, and dots of pancetta. I spooned a little cheese over it, too. The salad dressing smelled of balsamic vinegar and something else, so I stirred it and spooned a little onto a colorful salad. I tore a bit of warm focaccio, opened it with my knife, and drizzled olive oil into the fold. The meal somehow typified Bette for me: simple, elegant, satisfying, and a sensual delight. 

We chatted as we ate, and let our hands touch each other often. I complimented her on the apartment.

"Oh, it's not much," she answered, "but I don't need much." Her husband had passed away a few years ago, and her children long since had homes and families of their own. She had seen huge houses full of white elephants that her own older relatives had left, mostly for her to deal with. She didn't wish that on anyone, so downsized into this small apartment. "And I have better things to do with my life than housework. That big place was taking up all my time. It was OK when we all lived there, but I was just rattling 

around in it."

I asked, "Do you keep your painting stuff in the other room?"

"Oh, no, I rent a studio space not far from here. I'll show you tomorrow."

Dessert came, a fruit salad marinated in some dry liqueur ("Calvados," she told me), with bits of dark, aromatic chocolate on the side. We chatted as we ate, so I hardly noticed when my bowl was empty. 

"Would you like more?" I was all set. "Then give me a moment to clean up." The apartment kitchen wasn't big enough for two, so I left her to it. The closer book-case beckoned. It was filled with large-sized art books. An unfamiliar word appeared on more than one spine: 'shunga.' Of course I had to find out what it meant, so I pulled the colorful book out and took it to the couch.

Page after page, I saw the most incredible Japanese woodcuts. And, page after page, I saw the most incredibly exaggerated genitals, male and female, approaching and joining each other in every way imaginable. I was a bit shocked -- this certainly wasn't what I expected to see in a gray-haired old lady's house -- but fascinated. Whatever else they were, they were undeniably beautiful. 

A few minutes later, I heard the dishwasher start. Bette was right there, I couldn't just put the book away and pretend I hadn't seen it. Instead, I continued thumbing through it, trying not to look like a guilty little boy caught with a girly magazine. 

She sat next to me with her legs folded under her looked over my shoulder. "What do you have there? Oh, you!" She whapped me playfully on the shoulder. "Just like a man, I should have known you'd go for that first." Despite her scolding tone, she wrapped her arms around one of mine and leaned against it.

"I've never seen anything like this."

"Aren't they beautiful?" she answered. "Do they give you ideas?"

I closed the book and turned to her. Looking over, I said, "You give me all the ideas I can handle." I touched her cheek with my loose hand, and felt its softness. A little uncertain, I leaned toward her. She moved toward me, too, looking up at me as if the answer she wanted was written somewhere on my face. Her eyes closed and her lips parted, just a little. Something deep inside me, far below my reasoning mind, responded to the implicit request.

I brushed her lips with mine. There was no need to hurry. I tipped her chin up and let my kiss wander across her cheek, to her ear, and back. Her eyes had opened, and she responded with pressure of her own. She held me around the shoulder at that point, letting her other hand stray across my chest. I shifted, too, and slid my hand down the back of her shoulder. At her side, under her arm, I felt the heavy swell of her breast. As if to answer that touch, she came forward and kissed again. I leaned back into the curve of the couch's arm, and she followed, lying half on top of me. My other hand roamed down her back, low on the swell of her hip, and I spread my fingers wide across that broad curve. Bette sighed a bit when I did, and settled a little more weight on top of me. Wide, soft breasts pressed against me. After a moment, I felt her quiver all over and settle her hand where my pants were bulging in response. She looked up at me, laughing quietly.

"What?" I asked.

"You and me, necking on the couch like teenagers. At our age." 

"Oh, I was enjoying it."

"C'mon. The bedroom is this way." She unfolded herself and tugged on my hand. I got up and she led me. She opened the door and turned on the light, then all certainty seemed to go out of her. Holding my hand, she looked up at me with a shy smile. Her eyes glanced around, as if looking to read in my face the words she wanted to hear. I hugged her again, but my hand had gone up under the hem of her shirt. Skin touched warm, soft skin, and my hand worked its way up her back.

Still standing, I leaned over to kiss a bare shoulder. Skipping over the blouse's shoulder strap, my lips touched the curve of her neck next. I could feel the quiet purring in her throat. The open expanse of the scoop neck invited, so my kisses ranged lower. That magical something happened again, the one where the actual touch of skin always has more in it than my most vivid memory. This time, it started to happen on the upper slope of her breast, just where the full softness begins. My lips trailed lower, to the fuller part of her décolletage, and I experience that wonderful softness again. Any touch, no matter how light, seemed to sink in. That rose-petal softness brushed everything else from my mind -- it's a treasure that comes to a woman only later in life.

My hand behind her reached the hem of her pants and stopped. There wasn't enough room or give in the fabric to allow more than a fingertip into the waistband. I knelt lower, brushing my cheek against each breast as I went. The relative rigidity of the bra under her silky blouse only tantalized me, like the wrapping on a longed-for gift. Lower still, I lifted the hem of her blouse with one hand, and touched the soft curve of her belly. She's in great shape, and a woman's shape includes that elegant roundness down low. A woman's body also carries a warm animal scent that wafted toward me.

I looked up, past the full shape of her breasts, and saw her smiling down at me. It invited me to continue, so I opened the button at her waistband. I moved slowly, brushing each newly-exposed inch with my mouth. Bette shows her age only in her hair, and a little in her face. Everything lower down would look good on a forty year old -- if that was a forty that took care of herself. I eased the zipper down a little at a time, while she toyed with my earring. (She knows how much that turns me on.) A lacy edge of underwear soon appeared, a dark, vivid green. She had told me how nice lingerie made her feel beautiful, and always wore something elegant. I held her hips in my hands as my lips explored that scalloped edge. The slacks' waistband opened by itself, then, letting my hands slide downward. Once I reached the wide part of her thighs, the pants fell in a heap around her ankles. That moment exposed lowest, panty-clad curve of her torso, framed between long, sleek thighs. I pressed my face to it in wide, warm pressure, and tried not to be too obvious about inhaling her intimate aroma. 

Bette took a step backwards, out of the pants, and picked them up. She led me farther into the room and folded them onto a chair next to the bedside table. I came up behind her and put my hands on her hips again. When she stood, I worked my hands up, lifting the soft blouse. I didn't get the angle quite right to lift it off her, so she helped. In a moment, I saw the bra to match her panties. It had the wide shoulder straps and sides needed to contain the rich softness of her breasts, but added style to its practical aspect as well. I reached for a strap, but she gently deflected my hand. "My turn," she said, and reached toward me. 

One by one, my shirt's buttons opened to her touch. Her hands and lips traced each new discovery as the opening shirt revealed it. She also stepped toward me, pushing me backwards, until I felt the bed behind my knees. I lay back. She knelt up on the bed, one knee on each side of me, and finished unbuttoning my shirt. Once my chest was fully exposed to her, she sat back and started on my belt. That opened too, and the fly. My erection pushed the front of my underwear forward. Taking it between her hands, she felt the cloth-covered ridge before undressing it. Then she pulled my clothing lower, exposing my genitals completely. Her gentle touch grasped my erection again. A fingertip discovered the clear droplet at the opening, then spread its slickness around the tip. She examined the finger, rubbed the droplet between fingertip and thumb, then lifted it to her lips. An inhalation brought its scent to her, and a cat-like tip of tongue licked at the slickness. She closed her eyes, sighed, and murmured, "god, you're beautiful."

Bette stood again, and said "I need the ladies' room. I'll be right back." She turned, showing the panty-wrapped curve of her bottom, and walked away. I've heard the term 'granny-pants,' but that no way describes the high-cut line along her thigh. And 'granny' isn't what I think when I see hips like hers sway. 

I finished undressing while water ran in the next room, and tried to do something not too untidy with the clothing. Bette was back in a minute. Just inside the door, she reached behind and undid the catch on her bra. Looking at me, she peeled the strap off each shoulder, then pulled it out from under her breasts. She folded the underwear and added it to the pile on the chair. A two-handed gesture common to every woman I've known rubbed up and down her chest as if rubbing the last of the bra's constriction away. Still looking at me, she hooked her thumbs in her panty, pushed down, then stepped gracefully out of it. This time, she left the clothing on the floor.

Her neatly trimmed bush offered dark contrast to her silvery hair. She came toward where I was sitting on the bed, pushed me back, and straddled me again. Those deep, soft breasts dangled and she leaned over. Their tips brushed upward as she climbed along me, until I could reach up and guide one toward my mouth. Her nipple, darkened by long-ago motherhood, fit easily into my mouth. I offered it wide, gentle warmth, and felt the areola thicken between my lips. After a moment, my mouth let go. I wrapped my arms around her and puller her down onto me. The delicate weight of her breasts settled onto me and spread, then the whole of her slender frame lay on me. My erection found its way between her legs, but I ignored that for the moment. I had no need to rush -- quite the opposite. 

After a moment, I rolled us over, still holding each other. Supporting myself on my elbows, I looked down into her glowing eyes. This put me in an awkward position, though, with my legs dangling off the side. "Let's get up on this thing properly." 

We disengaged, then shifted around and found the pillows. "Now, where were we?" Up on my elbow, looking down at her, I reached for her cheek. She turned when my hand got close, and caught a finger between her lips. I pulled that away, then leaned down for a kiss. My free hand stroked her breast, and charmed me all over again with that loving softness, the kind that takes so many years to develop. I reached around, cupped her breast from the side, and mounded it on her chest. My mouth explored the whole of its curve, working upward toward the colored peak. I pressed my cheek deeply against the buttery warmth, and nibbled briefly at the gumdrop tip.

I let go and let her breast relax back into its low, wide shape. I brought my face back up to hers at the same time that my hand ranged lower. We kissed, with warm touches peppering lips, cheek, ear, throat. At the same time, my hand explored her hip and thigh, feeling the sleek strength of her legs. She shifted as I caressed her inner thigh, giving more access to her lower body. In passing, I felt the soft rasp of pubic hair, but lingered for only a moment on the way to her other leg.

We went on and on, feeling the warm haze of arousal thickening between us. I'm male, it comes easily to me, but I wanted to give Bette as much as she gives me, and that takes time. After a while, I stroked that crease at the top of her inner thigh, alternating from one side to the other. Her labia felt full and warm, a perfect fit to my cupped hand. Using the full width of my fingers, side by side, I pressed inward against that softness. Low, down between her legs, I found the softest spot of all. Soon, that softness would turn to depth. For now, I moved my touch upward, fingertips drawing firm circles as I went.

I love that feeling, touching her labia from outside, but feeling the folds of her body shifting, unseen, underneath. Higher, where her mons divided to form her labia, I felt that thickest of folds -- her clitoris, long and full. Bette sighed happily as indirect touch started to explore it. I lifted my hand so I could smell the womanly scent on it, wet my fingers on my tongue, and reached down again.

My lips brushed hers as my moistened finger parted her lower folds. There -- that thick, pink crease, I found it with one fingertip. The slickness let my finger slide along its delicate length, one side then the other. The pink pearl at its tip might be too much, just then, so I stroked its hidden shaft. 

Bette's body responded. Her legs parted, making exploration easier. When I tried a light, quick touch, her hips pressed down into the mattress. She had warned me, early on, that full arousal might not come easily to her -- back in the day, it never did with new lovers. That tension, that rocking in her hips gave me hope, though. I let my touch slow, and her thighs relaxed. Quick touch tightened them again.

I developed a slow, easy rhythm: tiny, fast motions to tighten her lower body, then slow caresses to let her relax. When the wave of tension rose in her, I offered inarticulate sounds of encouragement. Soon, each wave raised a visible ridge of muscle across her tummy. My leg across hers felt the thigh flex, my foot felt her lower leg tighten as well.

"Dan, come inside me. I want to feel you inside."

No, not yet, not when her body's rhythm was building so strongly. "In a bit. I want to enjoy this part for now."

She didn't argue. Reaching lower between her labia, I found a new source of slickness. That let my touch slide more easily over along her clitoris. The rhythm in her hips continued and deepened. Pulses of tension came at a more even tempo, and that tempo gradually quickened. More than that, each moment of inner strength lasted longer, and the intervals between them shortened. It was a struggle to keep my touch light and quick, but that was the silent request that her body made of me. 

Not just her hips, but her whole frame joined in each wave of strength. Each one came deeper than the one before, and the intervals between them shortened. Then, the gap between pulses vanished. The next came before the last one faded, and built on it -- then the next built higher, and the one after, and the one after. It was the slowest, most gentle arrival an orgasm had ever made. Little singing sounds came between her gasps. Then the waves of strength merged fully, creating one long plateau of tension.

My touch on her clitoris continued, and I let myself press more firmly. I held it hard against its solid, supporting bed, and felt it toggle back and forth under the ball of my fingertip. Then I just held, strong and soft, watching the beauty of her orgasmic face. Her wide eyes echoed the silent 'O' of her mouth, looking straight into mine. I think I was her whole world, for that moment, me and the magic inside her body. 

Her breath came back in gasps as her shoulders relaxed, settling her head back on the pillow. Then her arms came around me in the hardest, tightest hug I'd felt in years. It took me by surprise, so my position was a little awkward, but that didn't matter. I worked my free hand under her shoulder and returned the hug, as best I could. Small sounds came from her throat. I couldn't quite tell whether it was laughing or crying, and I'm not sure Bette could either. After a moment, the embrace loosened so she could tug me upwards a little.

"You come here." I finally withdrew my touch from between her legs, as she took my head in both hands. She just looked at me for a moment with watery eyes, then pulled me in for a huge, sloppy, playful kiss. "Dan, how did you do that? I haven't felt that since ... well too long." She hesitated for a moment, looked down, and whispered, "I didn't think I was going feel it again."




Fair Play, A Visit with Bette



After a moment, Bette got up on one elbow, pushed me over, and said, "Now it's your turn." Her free hand grasped my erection, and she leaned down to kiss my chest. She knew that a guy's nipples could be almost as sensitive as hers, and made the most of that. She lay her head on my chest, looking down toward my legs, and brushed a clear droplet across the tip of my penis. "Now, I want this inside me." She looked up. "If that's OK with you?"

"Very OK." I laughed.

Bette sat up and opened the drawer in the bedside table. She took out a small plastic bottle and squeezed a little clear gel into her hand. Then she closed her hand around my penis and spread the slippery goo all over. She put a dab on her fingers, and reached between her own legs. "You're a love," she said, "but I get a little tender inside. I hope that isn't too cold on you."

"It's fine. You should have said something, I didn't know I was hurting you those other times."

"You didn't. I wanted to feel you inside, and that just comes with the territory these days. Now, I want to feel you again." She lay down again, facing me. "Now put that thing in me before this slick stuff dries up."

I crawled over, and positioned myself between her legs. She reached down, and I felt her gentle hand on my erection again, guiding it to her open warmth. I slid in easily, more easily than I expected, until my tip reached that ring of muscle at the entry to her vagina. I slowed, and start rocking in an easy rhythm. No longer needing to guide me, she moved her hand around to the back of my hip, her other on my shoulder. "God, I love the way you feel in there."

I felt a little foolish saying, "Me too." I was in almost all the way at that point. One more slow push, and our hips pressed together. I just held there, pulling her close to me, for a moment. Then my body took over setting its own pace. 

I know we talked, but I can't remember a word of what we said. My attention split itself between her and the feeling building within me. Still supporting myself on one arm, I circled the other under her bottom and lifted her up into my thrusts. Her feet pressed down on the mattress and lifted her hips to meet me, too. I was nearly kneeling as I pulled on those round hips, watching the happy bouncing of her breasts. Her face glowed with an encouraging smile. "Come on, big guy, come on. How's this?" She shifted her legs and squeezed inside. I nearly roared. "You like that, hmm?" She grasped me again, and my own orgasm hit me. I rose up, kneeling, roaring, pulling her hips with me, and pushed hard. I felt myself erupting inside her, and pushed again. A smaller jet spurted into her, and another. After a few more deep pushes, I held. I closed my eyes, in silent worship of this goddess who gave me her body, feeling as if our bodies joined somewhere inside her.

The moment passed, and I sat back down. Holding her hip in my lap, with her head down on the bed seemed a little ungainly, once our coupling ended, but Bette managed even that pose gracefully. My erection subsided and left her, leaving a shiny trail across her leg. Once we uncoupled, I pulled the box of tissue from the night stand. We each took a few and wiped up. There's no dignified way for a lady to do that, but I liked the animal moment of intimacy anyway -- she felt no need to hide it from me.

We pulled the sheet up and turned out the light. Nestled like spoons, I mumbled into her ear, "Bette, you are beautiful." I meant it. "That was beautiful." I reached around and let a soft breast fill my hand. "How do you feel?"

"Not at all sore." It wasn't the answer I expected, but was happy to hear it. "And, Dan," she hesitated, then softly said, "I meant that. I really didn't expect I would come again, maybe ever. It's been so many years. Thank you." A happy wiggle settled her bottom into my lap.

My penis had risen again into a half-erection. She reached back between us, settled it between her cheeks, and sat back again. I couldn't imagine a warmer, happier way to end the day.