10 comments/ 9670 views/ 7 favorites A Grandmother's 50 Years of Sex By: ModRom1964 A note about verb tense. I use present tense when writing about sex acts. Present tense makes the action seem more immediate, and, one thing for sure, sex is immediate. There's a second advantage, present tense uses fewer words than past tenses. None of those annoying little helping verbs. That Gretel! I met her a long time ago, 52 years ago. I had become "sexually active" that year, so I have been sucking and fucking and being licked and stroked since before over half the people in the country were born. To set your mind at ease, I'm still doing it, just not so often at 76. Lot of reasons for that; many men in my age group find it difficult or impossible to get hard. [Too true also, there're many fewer men in the 65+ age group.] It's more difficult for me to have an orgasm, but they still come and feel as powerful and satisfying as ever. As you'll see, I don't restrict sex to men; I like women, and I like small numbers of both. Another comment on getting old. Those of us with pussies don't have to get hard, so we're spared that humiliation of age, but all of us have lessened desire, reduced "libido, "if you like big words. That can make it difficult for two women to find each other at a time when both are hot. GRETEL AND ME. I was in graduate school and had been seduced for the first time that year when I was 24 (yes, there were 24-year-old and even older virgins running around in the early 60s.) I liked sex from the beginning, and, lucky for me, I came quickly and easily, from stroking and licking, and rare as I had a chance to do it, in group sex. If I've ever cum from a straight fuck by one man, no hand or mouth on my pussy, I don't remember it. The boy who'd "popped my cherry" was gone for the summer. I missed his cock and mouth and brain, which in the long run turned out to be most important, and thought about sex pretty often. I wasn't terribly surprised when my panties were wet with pussy juice on long, lazy afternoons or warm evenings when I thought about fucking and coming. I am a mixture of recently lost innocence and recently earned wanton knowledge. As the first weeks of summer roll by, my desire to screw grows stronger and stronger. And, lucky for me, the Pill is available - had been for a couple years - and I and any other woman "on it," could screw without the biggest worry from fucking - getting pregnant. I wanted to get laid so that my boyfriend wouldn't learn know about it, by someone who knows what he's doing and will never be more than a "fuck buddy." No one had heard or used that term in the 60s, but it describes exactly what I wanted. I know just the man. He'd already fucked a couple of my acquaintances, had married one of them, and, by all reports, still pushes his prick inside other girls. He's a professor of religion, which, meant so far as anyone could determine, giving two lectures to small classes every week and preaching a sermon once a month. Leaves a lot of time for counseling pretty members of his class, naked, at least from the waist down, on his desk or couch. In my usual procrastinating way, I do nothing meaningful to contact the man. In May, a roommate left the house I was sharing, and my two roomies and I looked for a replacement. We found a few applicants and disagreed about everyone. Two of us liked Gretel, the oldest, about 30, and the nearest to graduation with a PhD in history. The other roomie objected to the way Gretel dressed - much better than the rest of us - but the complaint was she dressed "too sexy," and the worry was that she'd bring men home. We had a "rule" against that, only infrequently violated because none of us dated much. When Gretel said she'd be leaving in January at the end of the semester, the objections died away. She moves in and gets the smallest, least desirable room, next to mine. It's especially bad in summer because it lacks cross-ventilation and no graduate student has air conditioning in 1964. She's easy to get along with, and she stands out against the motley girl graduate students. Taller than average, she's 5 foot 9 inches or so, with sparkly blue eyes, black hair, and very light, really white, skin. She teaches history, part-time, at a junior college, and has more money than the roomies or I. She dresses better, not in an overtly sexual way, but no matter what she wears, she looks sexy. Her coloring and her figure, especially her tits, makes her alluring. It's clear that she sometimes doesn't wear a panty girdle (for those of you under 50 or 60, ask an older woman what a panty girdle is, or look it up on Wikipedia), and when she doesn't, her ass has a wonderfully curved shape. You see too that she has two cheeks. You don't often notice cheeks on early-60s women. Panty girdles enclose them and make them into a "unibottom." [I just made up that word.] As summer rolls along, I'm frustrated as hell some of the time, but I can't jerk off and come and get over it. I like the way my pussy feels when I put my hand on it, but before long, I remember or think about the fact that it's my hand playing down there, and, somewhere, I learned that that was a bad thing to do. I quit well before I cum. On a pretty warm late afternoon, I lie on my bed, naked under the sheet, sort of diddling my cunt. Gretel walks in without knocking, see my hand moving under the sheet and says, "Oh, I'm sorry, Sally." She doesn't turn to go out. "Do you make yourself cum?" "What?" I can't imagine answering. She's not put off by my surprise. "If you ever want to do something with a girl, I'm next door. Don't worry; I won't pester you about it, but if you want to, let me know. I'm leaving, and you can go back to doing whatever you were doing." I am relieved when she leaves, but I have no desire to put my hand back on my pussy. I try to forget what Gretel said and try to forget what she'd seen, but I don't. As days pass, my thinking about sex with the professor gets mixed up with thoughts about Gretel. I see her every day, often nearly naked and a few times completely naked - we share the shower and bathtub. When her breasts are bare, and I think she's not watching to see where I'm looking, I stare at her tits. They're beautiful. They look heavy with brown nipples dark enough to be noticed but light enough that they are pleasant for me to look at. My tits are smaller, have pale pink nipples, and aren't, and certainly don't look, heavy. On a steamy hot afternoon when the roomies are gone, I wander down to the bathroom, take a cool shower, and head back naked to my room. Gretel, sitting at her desk, turns when she hears me in the hall. "Oh, I thought you'd gone out with the others." I pulled my towel over my tits, and her eyes shifted to my cunt. "It really is red, just like your hair. I've never seen a red-haired pussy before." She sees me blush red. "Oh, I shouldn't have said anything." Her tits are neatly and clearly outlined, under a thin, close-fitting tee-shirt, and her hands brush over them. Accidently? Intentionally? I can't tell; it's over in a moment. But it does something to me. All the frustration of the summer runs through my veins, and I drop my towel to the floor. I feel air all over my body. I'd never stood naked before anyone but my boyfriend. I shiver a little, not from being chilly, from excitement. She stands up and without a word walks to me. I know it's time to make a move if I want to go no farther with this girl-girl thing, wherever it's going. I don't make a move; I want to see - wouldn't "feel" be a better word than "see"? - where she wants to go. She wraps her arms around me and kisses me lightly on the lips. I'd never kissed a girl before when I was aroused and excited. Her mouth is so soft, and her lips so smooth, a little slick and a little scented from lipstick. I'm startled by how different she feels from a man. She breaks off the kiss; I wouldn't have. She says, "You're lovely, Stop me anytime you want to, but I really want you." She wants me! Me! She wants me so much that she tells me. She cups my tits in her hands and squeezes them so that they stand out from my chest. My nipples are alive, feeling like electricity sparking is inside them. She moves her lips from my mouth and bends down to kiss between my tits. She turns her head left to right, kissing as she goes, her mouth moving closer and closer to my nipples. I open my eyes. My nipples look bigger and more erect than I'd ever seen; they somehow scream that they want to be sucked. They grow stiffer and stiffer, harder and harder. I want her lips around my nipples, and it seems that she'll never get there. I wait and wait, wanting more and more. She gets there! I literally jump when her mouth sucks up a nipple, but she doesn't suck it; she holds it in her mouth. I open my eyes again, watching her head move to the other tit and suck its nipple into her mouth and hold it. When will she suck them? Is she going to suck them? Maybe she doesn't like to have hers sucked; maybe being held in her warm moist mouth is all I get. The first tug of her mouth is gentle, but it's unmistakable. I expect that I sigh or made some other sound, and she looks up to say, "Is this OK?" I feel pussy juice moistening my pussy hair "Yes," is all I can say. She grabs one of my hands and puts it on her tit. She has to say or do nothing more. I pull up the bottom of her tee-shirt, pull it up over her tits that spring out a bit as they're released from the shirt. We both squirm around so I can hold one of her tits with each hand. They're heavy, just like they looked. Her nipples, erect as mine, stick out more than mine and are a little thicker. I have never sucked a tit, of course. What would one feel like in my mouth? She puts a hand behind my head and pulls my mouth to a nipple. "Suck me, Baby. I love it." I love it too. Later I wondered - still do at times - why sucking tits excites me so much and gives me so much pleasure. Even after thinking about it now and again for 50+ years, I can't find the words to describe how a young woman's tits feel. I miss feeling them too. We kiss and suck for a long time, lying on her bed, standing in her room, going outside onto the second floor back porch when it's really dark - she wanted to do that. "We're both covered with sweat. There'll be a little breeze, and it'll cool us off and feel wonderful." She's right. Our hands never move below the waist. I want to feel her ass and cunt, but I wait for her to make the first move. I know how my cunt feels and how it makes me feel when a hand or mouth is on it or a cock's inside it. Will Gretel feel the same things when I touch her cunt? She doesn't make a move; I'll have to wait for another day. The roomies are expected back about 11:00, and we quit kissing and sucking in time to make ourselves presentable. We're in the living room when the roomies came in, and we sit around drinking gins and tonics and beers for an hour or so. I'm amazed that the other two don't realize that something had happened between Gretel and me. I've French-kissed a girl, and she's sucked my tits and I've sucked hers. I'm not surprised that Gretel is calm, drinking and chatting. This is probably old hat to her. She'd seduced other girls and been seduced by them, but I was surprised that I acted normally and coolly. We go to our separate rooms to sleep. We agree not to get together again except when both roomies are out of the house and we know how long they'll be gone. Knowing what I want, as soon as I strip and lie under my sheet, I caress my cunt. I want to cum. I know my pussy is wet but not how wet until I slide my hand along my slit. I'm still throbbing or so it seems from Gretel's hands and mouth and from squeezing and sucking her tits. I'm sure that my hand is a blur - I can't see in the dark - as I jerk off. There's no question about where to rub. I can feel my stiff clit near the top of my slit. I avoid my clit's tip; it's too sensitive. I jump when I touch it. No thought intrudes to tell me that it's my hand and that I shouldn't play with myself. That "no-no" disappeared when I was naked with Gretel. It takes, what a minute? My whole body contracts. My ass lifts off the bed, and my thighs vibrate in time with the contractions that run from my vagina up into my trunk and down my legs. My toes curl; curl so much they hurt, and then they relax. I'm exhausted, and I fall asleep almost before my ass is back on the bed. I wake up sometime during the night. Still excited I think about Gretel's mouth on my tits as I whack off. I have another wonderfully strong orgasm. When the roomies are gone, and they're often gone to classes at other universities or to visit friends and family, Gretel and I are together. She leads the way, and a day or two later, we're naked from the waist up, kissing and sucking. She says, "Look," and I open my eyes to see her unzip her skirt. It falls to the floor, leaving her naked all over. Her very white skin makes a dramatic background for her black pussy hair, as dark as the hair on her head. Her pussy hair always looks as if she's combed or brushed it. Not like mine. My red - orange, really - pussy hairs curl everywhere. She cups her hand around my cunt and slips two fingers into my slit, unerringly touching just around but not directly on my clit. I kiss her madly, she strokes me, and I cum in, what seemed, seconds. For a couple days, we masturbate each other, all the time. I think the smell of her cunt, which I like, will never wash off my hands. No fuss accompanies my masturbating Gretel. I know how to do it to myself, and it seems like all I had to do is turn my right hand around to do her. Most times, I put two fingers of my left hand inside her vagina. Not far in but far enough to stretch it a bit. I like to feel her contractions course down her vagina when she cums. When her orgasm approaches and I don't have a finger or two in her, she almost always says, "Put your fingers in me. I want you to feel it." The next surprise comes when she lifts my hand from her cunt and puts it on mine, "Do yourself. I want to watch you do myself." She was right if she thought it would excite me. I literally tremble watching her hand move over her cunt and feeling mine doing the same thing. Does she feel what I feel? I felt unrestrained pleasure and satisfaction. How could all this pleasure have been in me all the time and not released until Gretel came along? If Gretel hadn't come along, would I have found it by myself or would someone else have come along? I'll never know. I know it was there as Gretel and I watched each other masturbate and did ourselves. Neither of us is multiply orgasmic as some women are supposed to be. After we cum, we rest or nap or sleep, depending on the time of day and how much time we have to be with each other. If we have time, we do it again after a rest. The second orgasm, as enjoyable and exhausting as the first, feels very different. I don't know the words to write how they feel, especially on the inside of my vagina. I remember the line in Our Bodies, Our Selves that goes something like: We can't tell you how an orgasm feels, but, don't worry, you'll know it when you have one. Every woman who's had an orgasm, knows it. My orgasms don't always feel the same, but I know they're orgasms. Another surprise rises up when we jerk each other off. She touches someplace just inside my lips and along the sides of my erect clit. I cum in seconds. I touch her cunt there; she gasps and her hips jerk up and down. It's superfluous when she says, "I'm going to cum." I know from the way she moves. That really magic spot is elusive, and neither of us always finds it on herself or on the other. I'm a biologist and thinking about evolution's selection of desirable features and traits comes naturally to me. In the apes the position of the vulva allows entry only from behind and the movement of the vulva from there toward the front as it is on women was a fundamental step in making us human. It allows eye-to-eye contact and kissing and, after the discovery of speech, talking during coitus [I hate to use "fuck" when I'm talking about science], which are fundamental to the development of intimacy and commitment. [And I hate the use of "intercourse" or "banging" when the talk is about fucking.] I like lying on our sides, head to foot, with Gretel's mouth on my tits and hers in my mouth. Women's tits and mouths are delightfully arranged that way. Probably there's no evolutionary advantage, but it works out well for me. The biggest surprise (maybe) comes when Gretel moves her mouth from mine to my tits and keeps on going down. She kisses me with little kissing sounds moving slowly until she reaches the top of my pussy hair. Then she moves quickly and her lips are on my pussy lips. A touch or two of her tongue into my slit at the level of my clit is all it takes. I cum with my hips jerking forward and back and my legs clamped together. I don't eat her. She didn't ask, and I didn't want to put my mouth down there. I didn't like the idea of kissing hair. But so many things I want to do, and we do them. I love it when she moves my hand to her cunt, clothed or unclothed, and when I reach under whatever she's wearing and hold her pussy. Whether through a skirt, slip, and panties, through shorts and panties, through panties, or naked, I feel the curve of her cunt and the hair over it. I stroke her to a climax in a minute or two if she wants or keep her hanging on the verge of contractions for 10 minutes or longer. [I told you I was a scientist, and scientists time everything. I know how long things took because I sometimes sneaked looks at a clock when Gretel and I were "doing" ourselves or each other.] Often we do each other at the same time, but I like coming more when I'm not distracted by doing her, I keep that a secret from her. It was no burden, we do ourselves often enough when we're together, and I do myself when I am alone. I wonder how many times I came that summer. As many as in the rest of my life? Not so many, but maybe close. When I bring her off, she clamps her hand over mine and says, whispers, really, "Just hold my pussy [or cunt]. You don't have to move your hand." I pull my fingers out, cup her cunt, feel the heat, and the slickness of her juices. [I look for a pattern for when she says "pussy" or "cunt," but don't find one.]. Those two months in the summer teach me all that I'll ever need to know about two women's bodies - Gretel's and mine. As I expected, knowing Gretel's and my body meant that I knew a lot about all women. Oh, faces and mouths are different - we all know that because people look different. What's surprising and not known unless you undress and look at a few or many women is that every woman's' tits and cunt are different from every other woman's. Looking back, those two months were all sex. I went to a few lectures, read some things I needed to read, socialized with other grad students, even had a couple dates with boys. One boy was at the university only for summer and would go back to his own university in the fall, and I seduced him. He was a virgin, I think, although he denied it. What I liked best was playing with his cock. He wasn't, as you can imagine a good fuck; he didn't know enough, but he got better. He apparently had had more experience eating girls, and he was good at it. We did d69 a few times. I liked it because I cam. He too polite to cum in my mouth. At the last minute he jerks his prick from my mouth and cums on his handkerchief or on the grass - it was summer and we did it outside. Gretel and I tell each other about dates. She has more than I do, and she fucks at least two of them. Our conversations about men, boys, and cocks didn't make us jealous of the other. On the contrary, they excited us, and our sex after those talks was especially gratifying. We are both on the Pill, and let our dates cum in our cunts. Back home afterwards, we get over our squeamishness about putting our fingers in the other's cunt when it's dripping cum. I even get to like it. Does anything else feel like cum? A Grandmother's 50 Years of Sex In mid-August, about two weeks before fall classes would start and the easy-going days of summer would end, Gretel says, "Let's get a man who knows how to fuck and have him at the same time. I want for you to see me fucked, and I want to watch you fuck. Want to ask a man to fuck us?" For once I'm ready for one of Gretel's questions because I've been thinking about the same thing. "I know the man. His name is Joe." "We'll call him. Don't worry. I've done threesomes before, and I know how to make 'em work." I say nothing but think, "I'll bet you do." To be continued with GRETEL, JOE, AND ME. GRETEL, JOE, AND ME. I'm lying on my side, naked, and hot - not from the August heat for a change; the hotel is air-conditioned. A man with a nice cock - maybe average length but thick - "girth" it's called - is behind me, his cock pressed against the small of my back, leaving a wet spot of mucopolysaccharides, the slick stuff that we all make to ease the course of cocks into cunts. I bend over a little. He reaches under me and feels between my lips, "Plenty wet." That's me, juicy. My cherry-busting boyfriend says it better, "You're one juicy cunt." The man slides his cock into my cunt with a grunt. My 24-year-old cunt is as tight as before it was ever used. It's not quite that tight now, after a half-century of pretty hard use, but the only exercises I've ever done on a regular bases have kept it tight. The man is Joe, the religion professor, and it's a week after Gretel and I talked about having a man and a week before school's start. A day after we talked about a man, Gretel called Joe. After polite small talk about who she was and that she was my friend, she asked, "Interested in a threesome? You and two girls?" She listened in silence then said, "That's OK. I have." Minutes later, she and Joe arranged for the three of us to meet in a suite in a hotel in a near-by city. I had no idea of this at the time, but the fact that Gretel had done threesomes and Joe hadn't immediately made Joe deferential to her. He told his wife that he'd have to be out of town for a few days to help a former student who was losing his congregation. He and Gretel checked into a hotel, almost 50 miles from the university, as man and wife, taking a suite. Joe embarrassed Gretel by objecting to the price. She told me that she'd said, "Honey, don't worry, if it doesn't seem worth the price, we'll leave." He paid. All that seemed a long time ago, lying there with his cock pushing deeper inside me, but it had only been two nights; we were into the third day now with one night to go. One combination or the other of us - all three, Joe and Gretel, Joe and me, Gretel and me - is nearly always in the bed. Afterwards I thought that if I had some sort of odometer on my pussy it might have worn out while we were in that hotel. Those three nights and two days have faded in my memory, of course, but I remember some of it. Looking back the most amazing thing was the energy we all had. A half-century later one session leading to an orgasm leaves me exhausted. In memory anyway, we did "it" one way or the other, continuously for those three nights and two days I adjust my position so that Joe's cock goes deeper inside me. I contract my pussy muscles to massage his cock. He responds - how could he not? - and thrusts more vigorously inside me. Gretel, wearing only a skirt sat on the sofa across the room to watch. "All the way in?" He says something that sounded like yes. She stands and slips her skirt off her slender hips. The afternoon sunlight slanting through the window, brings her dark nipples and pussy hair into sharp relief on her pale skin. She walks to the bed, gestures to us and said, "Scoot back." Somehow Joe and I mange that without becoming unattached. Tight cunt, thick cock. Those have to help. She lay down in front of me, face at my crotch, and her pussy in my face. She strokes my pussy and the cock nestled inside it. She spreads my lips, and I feel her tongue on my clit. She knows about clits. She licks it gently, and tremors of pleasure from my clit join those from my cunt where the big cock is working away. From licking, she goes to little bites. I never know where her next bite will come; she goes from lip to lip and, very gently, to my clit. I look at Gretel's pussy. The hair is neatly trimmed - it doesn't stick out from under her panties - and the faint tan line from her swimsuit makes a neat line above her pussy hair. Looking from her tits down: There's the stark white of her untanned tits, below that a lightly tanned band where the two parts of her swim suit leave her midriff uncovered. Then it's stark white again down to her black cunt hair. Although it's sparse enough that I can see her skin under it, her hair grows sideways over her lips toward her slit, where the hair from both sides collide turning a little tuft or bristle upwards. I say, "Fuck me hard!" and Joe pulls farther out and rams harder into my cunt. I feel and hear his belly slap against my ass cheeks. His more violent thrusts cause his cock to move side-to-side in addition to going in and out. My cunt stretches to the sides. Gretel's mouth slides over my cunt and sucks my clit into her mouth and nibbles. A couple of minutes ago, her biting would have been too much, now, what was too much minutes ago is just right and feels very, very good. I doubt that I could cum from Joe's prick alone. Being fucked from behind is great for penetration - and God knows, I like that - but it does little for my clit. Gretel's mouth did a lot, her lips and tongue and teeth were all over my clit. Hot from watching and eating me, Gretel's hand moves to her cunt. She lays her fingers on top of her slit and strokes up and down. She pushes her fingers inside her slit and parts her lips. I see the top of her vagina, pink and open. Her hand moves faster and faster. Her excitement is contagious and some transfers to me, making me hotter and hotter. Joe, first to say it, as men often do, says, "I'm going to cum. I can't hold it any longer!" He thrusts more violently into my cunt. The head of Joe's cock hits deep in me and pulls my cunt from side to side. Gretel's mouth, comparably gentle, sucks my clit in her mouth. It all comes together. The violence inside my cunt and Gretel's mouth all over the outside set off a really good, deep orgasm. My contractions run from the opening of my cunt to deep inside me, seeming to pull at my insides, pulling my knees up, and pulling my cunt off Joe's cock. I'm close to rolling into a ball. Joe plasters himself against my ass, keeping his cock up inside me. Gretel licks along my slit, my now too-sensitive slit, and I jerk away from her mouth, causing Joe's cock to fall out. It makes no difference to Gretel's busy hand. Her hand is a blur as she strokes her cunt. She stops stroking suddenly. Moans, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming. Put your fingers in me!" Her contractions run down her cunt, and her body goes stiff. The contractions end and her body relaxes. We all doze off, our hands and other parts drifting away from where they'd been so busy. We all wake up when someone moves. Joe's prick has left a little streak of sticky wetness where it slid down my cheek. I smell cum. Gretel speaks first. "God, that was great, what fucking is intended to be. Next time I get to fuck." I stretch my arms and legs and get a little space on the bed and roll on my back, my legs slightly parted. Gretel looks at my cunt and sees a bit of cum on my pussy hair. She bends down and makes a big production of licking up the cum. She looks at me, opens her mouth, and shows me the little dab of cum on her tongue. She closes her mouth, swallows, and opens her mouth again, "All gone." Then she lifts herself up on an elbow to look at Joe, still dozing behind me. "Joe, put on some clothes - we know you'll be good for nothing for more than an hour - and go down and order dinner for us." Joe, figuring that Gretel will be at each other again, lets us down as all men do, and whimpers, "I've got to rest, but I could stay and watch." "No, Sally and I know what would happen. You'd get turned on and want to join in and be all frustrated because you couldn't get hard enough to fuck. Then we girls would have to devote ourselves to getting you hard, and I, at least, have done too much of that in my short life. Not, so far, I'm happy to say, with you, and I don't want to start. Go on. See about dinner." As the door closes, little aftershocks still pulse through my cunt. Gretel, impulsively, presses her hand against my cunt. It's a comfort. I do the same for her. I don't think about it; it just happens. Two of my fingers slip between her lips and into her cunt. She's hot, wet and soft. She and I lie there, happy, and somehow united as women who've cum with a man, but not so much with him as with each other. It was OK with me. Joe returned an hour or so later. It was clear from his breath and behavior that he'd had more than a few drinks, but he'd done what was needed. "Room service should be along in 10 or 15 minutes." His eyes shift from one part to another of our naked bodies. Gretel goes into the bathroom, leaves the door open and pees. Joe (and I, I confess) look toward the open door and listen intently. Gretel peels off some paper, walks back into the room, dabbing at her crotch, walks to Joe. "Do you like the taste of girls' pee?" "I don't know." "It's time you found out. Well, find out how mine tastes." "I don't think I want to." "I want you to, Joe. I want you to." Gretel spreads her legs a bit, hands on naked hips, and thrusts her pussy forward. "Go on. Lick it. All good things will come to you when you do. If you don't the good times ends. RIGHT? NOW." He bends over toward her cunt. "No, not that way. On your knees." How often do you see a man on his knees? That's where Joe goes to lick Gretel's - I suppose damp or a little wet - cunt. He grinned up at her, "Not much there." "I can make a lot more for you, pretty quick." She didn't push it; she'd done what she intended, illustrating her dominance over Joe. She continued, "If you can't wait, Sally must have some readymade." It embarrasses me. I don't pee in front of people. "Look," I said, "Room service is going to be here pretty quick, and it'd be better if they don't see me." Still naked, I scurry into the bathroom, close and lock the door, turn on both "hot" and "cold" in the lavatory - "good girls" were taught such things in the 40s and 50s and probably before and probably after - to cover up the sound of my tinkle, and pee. Neither Gretel nor Joe looks especially happy when I begin dressing, but Gretel follows suite, and Joe, to his credit, neatens the bed and makes sure there're no clothes on the floor. They go into the sitting room. In a minute or two, there's a knock, and I hear two room service people, with a lot of noise, set up a folding table they've brought, set the table with two sets of tableware, and load it with food. I hear Gretel say, "Tip them, Joe." After a pause she says, "No. Two dollars." There was another pause, then, "No, Joe. Two dollars each." The minimum hourly wage in the summer of 1964 was a dollar. The tip was generous. The hall door closed, and I went back into the sitting room. Joe looked like he was about to say something, but Gretel shut him up. "You're getting fucking from two good-looking women and you're not paying for it. You can goddamn remember that and don't be miserably stingy when I tell you to tip." Whatever he'd been going to say died without being said. I pull the desk chair to the table. Joe had ordered two big meals. Gretel and I share one; Joe eats most of the other, but always asks if we'd like something from his servings. Plenty of food, with a wonderful mixture of sliced watermelon, cantaloupe, and muskmelon to end. Gretel and I eat melon and drink coffee, and, without intending to, somehow exclude Joe from our conversation. He breaks in. "Does either of you want to go to a movie? 'Strangelove' [Dr. Strangelove, the antiwar movie, with Peter Sellers and many other big stars was a top movie in 1964] is still on, and I've not seen it." "We've seen it. You go on. It's really good, but it's tough to watch in some places and I don't want to see it again." Displaying his total lack of imagination, he says, "You two be good. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." We groan. "I'm fucked out." I say it, realizing it is one of the first times I use "fucked" in what amounts to ordinary conversation. "I'm not, but I don't count on Joe for much this evening. He's been hard most of the day and cum twice - in me this morning and in you this evening - he's started drinking and he'll probably have a few more before or after the movie. He'll be up in the morning. Whatever else is wrong with him, he wakes up hard. But I have something I'd like to ask you." "OK, sure." "Sally, you've never licked my cunt. Is there a reason? You don't have to answer, but I would like to know." I stammer around and decide, finally, to tell the truth. "I'm not sure, but I know I don't want to put my mouth in a lot of hair." Gretel shakes her head, grins at me, and asks, "What if I shave?" "I don't know. Maybe." "Come on, Sally, you suck cocks and swallow cum. There won't be any cum from my cunt, and I can get my cunt as clean as any cock you've ever had." I sit there, thinking. Really thinking. She makes me think about doing things I think I don't want to do. I think about licking, how much I like it when it's done to me, and the more I think about it, the more excited I get. Would I lick her shaved cunt? Gretel jumps in, "I've got it. You can help me shave and then you can wash my pussy until you think you'll be able to kiss it, at least." "OK. We'll see." "Great. Did you bring a razor?" "No, did you?" "Nope. It's OK, Joe's sure to have one in his bag. Let's find it." We find it. "We'll do it in the shower. Who knows, maybe you'll want to shave yours too." I shake my head, and the two of us undress. I look again at Gretel's tits. How can anyone, at least how can I, refuse a request from a woman with those tits? But, I do my best. "I don't think so. One shaved cunt a night should be enough." The shower is a fancy one; it has nozzles on three sides and it's big. Gretel and I easily fit into the space where the three streams of water converge. "Why haven't we done this before? Taken a shower together?" "Because two people won't fit into the shower stall at home. That's why." "I'll do you; you do me," Gretel said as she rubbed my wet cunt, stroking her fingers inside my slit. "No, I won't do that now. I'll wash you," and she does, working a lather up on her hands and rubbing her soapy hands, one after the other from the top of my pussy hair back to my asshole. She looks at me expectedly, and I do the same to her. "That's enough soap." She steps back and lets the water run down her flat belly onto her crotch, pushing the clear water into her hair. Then she squirts some shaving cream, also from Joe, onto her pussy hair. "Here goes," and she takes a short stroke with the razor. I'm fascinated by seeing skin on her crotch being revealed where it's been covered with her fine dark hair. She shaves both lips, leaving a little line of hair running up from the top of her slit. She pulls on her left lip, pulling it open. The hairs she missed at the edge of her slit and barely inside it stand up, and she slides the razor over them. The pink flesh inside her slit is clearly visible. She shaves the right lip the same way. "I'm going to have to ask for your help. I can't quite bend over enough to see under my cunt, but I can feel hair there. I can get a mirror and try to do it myself, but I'd like for you to do it. Can you?" Everything with Gretel can get complicated, shaving her pussy becomes complicated when she asks me to help. I feel as I often do, like a push-over for her and her power over me, but I say, "Give me the razor." I step out of the shower and bend over to get my eyes below her cunt. She raises one leg so that I can see, and terribly afraid I'd nick or cut her tender, girl flesh, I shave one side. It looks fine, and I do the other. I cup her cunt. It's so smooth. It's sexy, wet with water, and slick inside her slit. I forget about getting my hair wet and bend forward and lick her slit from as low as I can reach to its top. I planned to stop there, but I am curious, and I go back down far enough to stick the tip of my tongue into her hole. Her juices have no real taste, and her vagina doesn't either. "There, I've licked it. I'm wet and getting cold out here; scoot to one side, and I'll get back into the warm water." We stand in the shower. I realize how tired I am, and I think Gretel's tired too. We kiss each other, open mouth but no tongue, and I lightly stroke her pussy and tits while she caresses mine. "You know, we've never spent the night together. We slept in the same bed the last two nights but Joe was with us. Let's lock him out. We deserve each other. Gretel left a note in the living room, closed and locked the door. "What did you tell him?" "To sleep on the couch and that I'll fuck him first thing in the morning." "Think he'll jerk off before he goes to sleep?" "I'd bet on it." Gretel and I cuddled, like, I've read, girls are supposed to do. We were naked and couldn't avoid tits touching and our hands on the other's hip or ass, but it was all a comfort instead of exciting. We slept until about 8:00 AM and wake up when Joe knocks on the bedroom door. Gretel opens it. Joe stands there naked, his face covered in shaving cream, razor in hand, and blurts out, "Did one of you use my razor. What'd'ya do? Shave your legs? Both of you? The blade's so damn dull that I can't shave. Goddamn it, you didn't ask." Naked, Gretel steps from behind the door, puts her hands below her tits, sweeps them downwards. Joe's eyes focus on her hairless cunt. His face goes from anger to something else, "Oh, I see." "I should've asked, Joe, but I didn't. If you're really angry with me, you probably don't want to fuck me." "No, no. I mean, yes, yes; I want to fuck you." "And you'll forget about the dull razor?" "I already have." I expect he would have drunk some "girl's pee" at that moment. To be continued with GRETEL AND CHRISTMAS AND ME.