15 comments/ 49162 views/ 50 favorites Mona and Me Ch. 01 By: SmallTitFan I intend to write several chapters of this story. The incest will appear in the later installments, so please don't leave a comment telling me that I have placed this story in the wrong category. ***** On a mid-summer day in Florida, the humidity is oppressive. The heat can be in the mid to upper 90's but actually it's the humidity that makes it so damned uncomfortable. There are only two things you can do on those days; you can either stay inside in the air conditioning or you can get in a pool. I had been in my house for three days getting over a summer cold and I needed to get out, so I chose to go to the pool. I live in an apartment complex near Jacksonville and every reputable complex in the area has at least one pool. Complexes that have more than one pool often will designate one pool for adults only and another pool for families. My complex only has one pool but there aren't many kids living in the complex. There are a few teens but they usually don't get too rowdy during the day. Besides, I can handle kids as long as they're not crying babies. It was a Thursday afternoon about 2:00 pm and I expected that I might have the pool to myself since most responsible adults would be at work. I pulled on a pair of swim trunks, fixed myself a frozen margarita, and headed down to the pool. As I rounded the complex office and approached the pool, it appeared that my expectation was correct. There was not a soul in sight. "Ahhh!" I thought to myself, "I'll have some peace and quiet." Don't misunderstand me; I'm not 89 years old and looking for a rocking chair to sit in whilst bird watching and preparing to die. I'm a 38 years old, single (divorced, actually) male and I'm looking for fun when it's time to party, but I still wasn't feeling 100% after battling the summer cold. I was feeling a bit tired and even a little stiff in the joints. I spread my towel on a chaise lounge and settled back to enjoy an afternoon of baking and dipping. I enjoyed the margarita and it caught up with me sooner than I expected, probably potentiated by all the cold medicine I had been taking. I fell asleep and dozed quite comfortably for a few minutes before I was awakened by the sound of a splash. I looked at the pool and could see that someone was swimming a lap below the surface. I quickly concluded that it was most likely someone I didn't know, for two reasons. First, I really didn't know very many people who lived in the complex, and second, my friends would all be at work at this time of day. When the swimmer's head popped into view, I confirmed that it was no one I had ever met. The swimmer was a young girl - I would guess 14 or 15 years old - who had a very cute face. She had a clear but tanned complexion, a somewhat long and narrow face, and platinum blonde hair. She was looking right at me. "Hi," she said, sounding a bit sheepish. "Hope I didn't wake you when I jumped in." "Well, actually, you did . . . but I'm glad you did. Falling asleep in the sun can lead to a pretty nasty sunburn. You may have just saved my life!" I was obviously "hamming it up" just a bit with this little cutie. "Does that mean you'll be my slave for the rest of your life?" she asked. "I suspect that your mother and father would have some big problems with me hanging out with you all the time, so the slave thing probably isn't going to happen, but . . . I would be willing to buy you a cold drink from the machine in the club house." "I only have a mom to worry about but you're right, she'd probably shit a brick if I brought a slave home, so I guess I'll settle for a cold drink. My name's Macy but my friends just call me Mace." "Well, my name is Jack and I'm as Southern as an ole Southern boy can be, so I'll just call you Miss Macy, if you don't mind," I said. "No, sir, I don't mind at all, Mr. Jack," she responded. "I wouldn't mind getting that drink now . . . if you were serious about the offer." "Serious as a heart attack, Miss Macy," I insisted. "A gentleman never breaks a promise to a lady." Miss Macy walked to the pool steps and starting coming up from the floor of the pool. As her body came into view, I could instantly tell that she was a little teen dream. Her legs looked like she swam laps every day and her yellow bikini revealed that her torso didn't have even an ounce of fat. Her breasts were not large; in fact, she probably wasn't bigger than a 32B, but she was only 15 years old (as I later learned) and they were perfectly proportioned to her lithe and nubile body. Miss Macy accompanied me to the vending machines and I purchased a diet cola for her. When I turned to go back to my lounge, she followed me and sat in the lounge next to me. "What kind of work do you do?" Macy asked. "I'm an attorney. I have an office in Jacksonville. How about you? Are you . . . what, maybe a . . . secretary or a . . . nurse . . . no, you look more like a model," I said. She giggled briefly. "I couldn't be a model. I'm too young and, besides," she paused and looked down at her chest, "I don't have a model's body. You know, I'm just in school!" she corrected me. "Why, I had no idea, I thought maybe you were 19 or 20 years old," I pretended to defend myself. "No, I'm just 15, and, hopefully, part of me is still growing," she said with hope. "Maybe I will be a model one day." "Hey, don't put yourself down. You're a cute girl and you could be a model right now. If I was a 15 year old boy, I'd want you to be my girlfriend," I told her, immediately realizing that perhaps I shouldn't have made that last remark. "Are you married?" she asked. "Hey, I said if I was a 15 years old boy . . . but I'm not. You're a little too young for me but I'm very flattered that you asked, Miss Macy," I said. "No, silly, I'm not asking for me . . . you're an old man," she laughed, letting me know that she was just teasing me. "No, my mom is single and she hasn't had a date in like forever. Do you want to go out with my mom?" Obviously, Miss Macy didn't lack confidence or assertiveness. "Well, honey, you know you shouldn't try to set your mom up with dates unless she asks you to do that. She might not want to date, or she might think I'm a dork, or maybe I remind her of her grandfather, or . . . you know, that's her decision to make," I explained. "She's real pretty," Miss Macy responded. "She's an eighth grade English teacher and she just doesn't meet many guys over the age of 14 and, you know, 14 year old boys are all such big jerks. So, how about if you meet her and then you could ask her out?" Macy seemed really eager to have me meet her mom. "Well, I'll tell you what. The day after tomorrow is Saturday and I'm going to be down here at the pool then around 11 o'clock. If you want me to meet your mom, you can bring her to the pool, but I'm not promising anything. For all I know, she might look just like the first girl who broke my heart," I warned her. "That wouldn't be good. My heart's still mending," I feigned resignation to a moribund attitude. "But, if she's as cute as you . . .." "Okay, I'll see you Saturday," Macy said, "and you'll see . . . she's beautiful." Macy stood and walked away while I watched her. She wasn't wearing a thong but her bikini revealed enough to make me wish that I was 15 years old again. * * * By Saturday morning, I felt much better than I had during the week. I remembered my promise to little Miss Macy. I am always a bit nervous about getting "set up" with a girl; it usually means that she looks somewhat less than divine. However, it was hard to imagine a butt-ugly woman giving birth to the little teen goddess who I had met Thursday afternoon. I got down to the pool about 10:50 am and I saw Macy sitting on the edge of a chaise. She was talking to a woman who probably weighed at least 300 pounds and, even if she lost those 180 pounds of ugly fat, she wouldn't be much to look at. I walked over to Macy and said hello. "Hey, Jack. Are you feeling better?" she asked. "Much better," I answered. "Is this your mom?" "No, this is one of our neighbors, Cindy. Mom's not down here yet. She said she'd come down by 11 o'clock. I just told her that I had something I needed to show her, so don't act like this was all set up in advance, okay?" she asked. "Okay, but I won't tell your mom any lies, either. That's not cool at any point in any relationship," I counseled her. "Oh, you score major points for that," Cindy added with a chuckle. "I wish I had a dollar for every lie a guy ever told me!" "Golden Rule, Cindy. You've always got to treat people the way you want to be treated," I said. "I learned about the Golden Rule when I was a child but I really learned about it the first time I got into a serious relationship. So, Macy, where's your mom?" "She just texted and said she'd be here in like one minute," Macy explained somewhat plaintively. A few seconds later, she said, "There she is!" I turned to look and saw an older version of Macy approaching. This woman didn't look like a goddess . . . because when you call a woman a goddess, that means she looks like she's probably not approachable. This woman looked approachable but she was also very pretty . . . very, very pretty. Like her daughter, she had the same platinum blonde hair and blue eyes, and the same slightly long, thin face. She definitely had some Nordic heritage. Her breasts didn't appear to be very large - probably a 34B - but, like her daughter, they looked very proportionate to her body. She appeared to be well-toned without looking athletic and she certainly did not look muscular. She walked with confidence and poise and I could understand some men looking at her and being afraid to approach. You know, some guys just don't like confident women. She walked up to us and looked at Macy. "Macy, is this gentleman what you wanted to 'show' me?" she said. She sounded somewhat irritated. She turned to me and said, "If you want to meet me, you should approach me directly instead of using my daughter. What kind of loser are you?" she said in a louder voice. She immediately turned and started walking away. Macy ran after her mother and stopped her. "Mom, you've got it all wrong. He didn't ask me to introduce him to you. I begged him to please meet you . . . 'cause he seems like a nice guy and I thought . . . well, I guess it doesn't matter now, 'cause you called him a big loser . . . and he's not." Macy's mom stood there and didn't say anything for about 15 seconds. Then she turned and walked back over to me. "Apparently, I owe you a tremendous apology," she said. "I had the wrong idea about what my daughter was up to and I get kind of flustered about this sort of stuff and . . . I don't know what gets into her head sometimes," she said, then she offered her hand to me. "Hi, I'm Mona." "I'm Jack. I met Miss Macy by the pool a few days ago. She interrogated me rather well before she asked me to meet you; I think she was concerned about trying to set you up with a loser. She may be awkward in doing this but it's obvious that she really loves you and she's concerned about you being alone, and . . . her heart's in the right place, which says you've done a good job with her." "Thank you. That's kind of you to say that," she said. "It's not kind; it's just the truth. Miss Macy told me it had been at least 100 years since you had a date because you teach school and don't meet many guys. Of course, I didn't believe any of that when she told me and, now that I've met you, I really don't believe it. . . . I mean, I believe that you teach school, but . . . a lady as pretty as you must have a lot of offers from guys." "Well, yes, I occasionally have an offer, but either he's married, or he's only interested in one thing, or . . . occasionally I have an offer from a 14 year old boy who has a crush on me, but . . . decent guys aren't easy to find. You know . . . I would say that I ought to kill Macy for saying I haven't had a date in 100 years, but . . . somebody would report me to the child abuse registry an I'd lose my teaching job, so . . . let's just say that she's going to receive some discipline for this," Mona explained. "I'm not sure whether I should take that as an insult, you know, punishing your daughter for introducing me to you," I offered in jest. "Oh, no, I didn't mean it in that way," she said. "I just meant . . .." She was flustered again, so I had her where I wanted her. In my experience, when ladies are flustered or "off balance," they are less defensive than normal. "I know what you meant," I interrupted her. "I'll make a deal with you. Let me take you out to dinner tonight . . . that is, of course, if you don't already have plans, and . . . if you don't have a good time, you can do whatever you think is appropriate to Miss Macy, but . . . if you have a good time, instead of disciplining her, you could maybe thank her or just, you know, have a talk with her. She really does seem to be a good kid." "Well, you're giving me all kinds of flattery and, then, you're kind of sure of yourself, too, aren't you?" Mona asked rhetorically. "I don't think I have much of a chance against those weapons." "Well, I just don't want to see Miss Macy get disciplined for introducing me to her lovely mother because, if I had seen you, I would have wanted to meet you anyway. And I would have approached you directly, so . . . how about it?" "Well, it has been a hundred years since I went out on a date, so why not?" she asked. "Try to restrain your enthusiasm. Just in case you're wondering . . . I am a gentleman . . . I'm a man, but I'm not an animal and I'm not 'all hands.' We'll have a good time, I'm sure," I promised. "Since you're a gentleman, you probably expect to pick me up at my place, so . . . I'm in apartment 507. Tonight at 7 o'clock?" Mona asked. "I'll be there," I confirmed. "If it's okay with you, we'll go to that New Orleans restaurant on Southside Boulevard in Jacksonville. It's casual attire but great food." "See you at 7," she replied, then turned and went back wherever she came from. Apartment 507, I guess. * * * Teachers are almost always anxious to have a roll in the hay. I've dated a few and never had a problem getting them naked between the sheets. And . . . most of them have no problem with kinky stuff their first time doing the horizontal mambo with me. Most of them are politically liberal and they would rather die than be thought of as 'normal,' so they're quite anxious to prove that they don't follow social conventions and traditional mores. They can be tremendous fun for even a few dates but, eventually, there is a 'teacher' brand of craziness which starts to infiltrate the relationship . . . and then it's time to call it quits. A few years ago, I dated this first-grade teacher and, after we had been dating for a few months, we had an argument about something. It wasn't a big argument but she wasn't having her way with me and she couldn't handle the frustration of not being in charge, so she turned to me and said, "We need five minutes of silence . . . beginning now!" She didn't have a smile on her face when she made that statement; neither did I. Guess what? That was our last date. However, I had the impression that Mona was not that kind of girl. I actually thought that she had some potential as a long term relationship and that inspired me to take a different approach. If we didn't have sex on the first date . . . well, think about it. If a girl will hop in bed with me on the first date, it means that either I am the king stud of all time, or . . . she hops into bed with everybody on the first date. Now, I'm not a dud, but I don't think I'm a king stud, so . . . if I just need to get laid, an easy night between the sheets is okay, but, if I'm looking for something with some long-term potential, maybe I shouldn't choose a girl who's that easy. Anyway, I got all "dolled up" for my date Saturday night: I took a shower and everything, wore clean clothes, the whole nine yards. Actually, I have good sense about dressing for dates, not too formal, not too casual. I drove around to her apartment about 6:55 but waited until 7:00 pm sharp to knock on the door. Miss Macy answered the door. "Hey, Jack. Mom's still getting ready. Come one in," she invited me as she stepped aside. I entered the apartment and looked around quickly. I didn't want anyone to think I was prying too much, but I was looking for clues about what kind of person is Miss Mona. "Mom's been getting ready for two hours already," Macy complained. "I think she's kind of excited about having a date tonight. "You know, that's not really the kind of things you should be telling a gentleman calling on your mom," I warned her, "because it would make some people think that your mom's kid of desperate, which I don't believe, but some people might think it." "Oh," she said. "Where you guys going tonight?" "Dinner," I replied. "Duh, I kind of figured you were going to dinner. Where you going?" "Well, Miss Macy, if your mom wants you to know where she's going, I'm sure she'll tell you. For all I know, she wants to keep it a secret 'cause she's afraid you'll try to come and snoop on us," I said with a grin. "You wouldn't try to do that, would you?" "Absolutely never," Miss Macy facetiously assured me. About that time, Miss Mona emerged from what I assumed was her bedroom. She was a vision of loveliness. The word "smitten" aptly describes the way I felt when I saw her, and that made me feel like I was in junior high school again. I could easily understand her male students having a crush on her. She was wearing a form-fitting red dress that was around knee length. The neckline didn't plunge too low but it was at least suggestive. It had buttons up the front but apparently they were decorative as I noticed a zipper in the back when she turned around. The dress fit like it had been made especially for Mona. "I'm sure the Idiot's First Book Of Dating says you should never tell a girl how gorgeous she is on your first date, but . . . I rarely follow the book. You look absolutely . . . stunning!" I confessed. "Well, I'll confess to something I probably shouldn't say, but . . . flattery always scores points with me." "Mom, I need to know where you guys are going," Macy interjected. Mona pulled her cell phone out of her purse. "You know the number for this cell phone, right? Well, I'm going to be within hearing distance of my cell phone, that's where I am going to be." "That's no fun!" Macy said. "Why do you need to know where we're going to be?" Mona asked. "Well, what if something happens?" Macy quickly replied. "If something happens . . . which it better not . . . call me," Mona said with a sound of finality to that conversation. "Okay," Macy said after a pause. "You guys have fun." Mona and I walked down to the parking lot and I opened her car door for her. "Aren't you quite the gentleman?" she commented. "I do no less than what a proper Southern man should do," I replied without bragging. I know that treating a lady right gets her attention. "Didn't the guy open the car door for you on your last date 100 years ago," I teased her, "or had cars even been invented then?" We both laughed. I asked a few questions about her job and Mona started telling me about how difficult it is to teach English to kids who think text lingo is standard English. I could tell that she was dedicated to her profession and I like that in a woman. We arrived at the restaurant and were seated fairly quickly. I offered Mona a drink and it looked like she wanted to say 'yes' but she hesitated. "Mona, I'm not going to drink because I'm driving. I'm going to do the responsible thing and protect you, protect me, and protect everybody else on the roads. I'm too grown up to let myself be irresponsible. But you can have a drink if you want." Mona and Me Ch. 01 I paused momentarily and then continued. "I'm not the kind of guy who is going to try to get you drunk and take advantage of you and you look like the kind of lady who knows how to control herself, so, just relax. You know, first dates can be stressful because you don't know what to expect, so I'm going to tell you what to expect. When I take you back home, I'll open your car door and then I hope you'll let me hold your hand while I walk you to your door. When we get to your door, if you want to kiss me good night, I'll consider myself to be a lucky guy. If you don't want to kiss me good night, I'll just hope that it happens on the second date." "Well, you just spilled the beans, didn't you?" she said. "Actually . . . I'm impressed that you can be so . . . forthright with someone who is a relative stranger and, yes, hearing that does put me at ease. It's nice to be with someone who thinks about someone other than himself." "And I'm impressed that you would use the word 'forthright' on a first date. I like intelligent women and, obviously, you're one of them." I told Mona about my law practice while we were waiting for dinner to arrive but the wait was not very long. The food was very good and not horribly expensive and we both enjoyed the meal. "Well, I've had a very nice time so far and the night is still young. Would you like to go somewhere else?" I asked. "You mean like your place?" "No. You don't know me . . . I understand that, but every guy on the planet is not expecting to have sex on a first date, just like every girl on the planet is not a slut. Maybe you've had some bad experiences but I'm not one of those bad guys from your past. I'm just a guy who met a very pretty, intelligent, charming lady and I'd like to spend more time with you tonight. What I had in mind was actually either going to a piano bar for a drink and some quiet music, or if you would prefer, driving down to the beach and going for a walk." "I'm afraid I've embarrassed myself again," Mona admitted. "Don't beat yourself up about it," I said. "If you've lived life and had some experiences, then you've had some bad experiences, and . . . well, all of us are damaged merchandise in some way. Just try to not let it control you, okay?" "You're right," Mona replied. "You're absolutely right. So far, you've been a perfect gentleman and I'm giving you grief because of how a few guys tried to treat me in the past. I'll try not to let that happen again. So . . . if the offer is still available, how about a walk on the beach and maybe on the way out there we could pick up a bottle of wine and two glasses?" "The offer is still available and I'd love to," I replied. "One of the things you might learn about me is that I try to let go of things quickly instead of carrying things around and letting them fester. Life's too damn short and anger, grudges, resentments, and the like are a cancer on your soul." "Very well said, Jack. I'll try harder to do the same." We stopped and picked up a chilled bottle of a semi-sweet white wine and two cheap glasses at the liquor store, then we drove to the beach. Hanna Park was closed but there was a public access just south of the park; it was easy to get on the beach and then walk north and into the park. Inside the park, the beach was undeveloped and it was so much prettier than looking at beach houses and condominiums. I opened the bottle of wine and poured us each a glass. Mona looked up at me and asked, "Do you want to make a toast?" "Sure," I said. "Here's to friendship . . . and wherever that leads us." "I'll second that motion," she said with a smile. We started walking north along the beach, talking about whatever came to mind. I told Mona about law school and my brief marriage when I was fresh out of school. She told me about her first husband and how he abandoned her after Macy was born. "Dating's difficult for you," I said, "and, no, I'm not trying to get you to apologize once again. I just wanted to point out that, sometimes, women think dating is so much easier for men, and . . . well, maybe it is for some guys, but . . . I think if a guy has some intelligence and he's sincere, you know, not just looking to add another notch to his belt . . . dating's difficult for guys, too. So, I want to challenge you to tell me why dating is difficult for you, and then I'll tell you why it's difficult for me." "Wow! Okay. Well . . . first, when a guy asks me out, I don't know if he's some pervert who's going to hack me up into pieces after he rapes me. If he asks me out to dinner, I don't know if he considers Burger King to be fine dining. I don't know if he's going to burp in the middle of the meal and act gross. I don't know if he's some guy who wants to talk about himself constantly. If he's not a total pervert, I don't know if he's going to expect sex on the first date. I just really feel vulnerable being alone with someone who I don't know very well." "You don't know me very well and you're alone with me right now," I observed. "Yeah, but I can tell that you're different," she said. "How can you tell I'm different?" I asked. "All those guys I was talking about . . . they'd never start a conversation like this . . . and they'd never open the car door for me . . . they'd only have about half of your IQ points, and . . . I wouldn't want to hold their hand," she concluded. "You want to hold my hand? Aren't you the little hussy?" I teasingly asked. I very consciously and deliberately changed my facial expression to something a bit more serious. "Actually, I'm flattered that you want to hold my hand and I think that's nice. So . . . your wish is my command." She extended her right hand over towards me and I took it in my left hand. "Much better," I said. "Okay, your turn," she said. "First, I can't date clients and I don't want to date other attorneys, so I don't meet lots of eligible ladies who seem nice enough to date." "That sounds familiar," she interjected. "When I do meet a lady, I can look for a wedding ring but maybe she's living with a guy and there's a chance I'm going to get shot down as soon as I ask. That's no fun," I said and then paused before I resumed. "I don't know if this lady is the real thing or a gold digger just looking for someone to bleed dry. If I take her to a nice restaurant, does she have enough class to not do something that might embarrass me? Is she going to think I'm a pervert if I try to get a good night kiss on the first date? Or, is she going to think I'm queer if I don't try to have sex on the first date?" "Okay, I get your point," Mona conceded. "But, it gets even better," I continued. "The second date is pretty much like the first date. When we get around to the third date, does she observe the three-date rule? Whenever we get around to developing a physical relationship, it gets worse. Most women expect men to be the aggressors in bed, so I can't just wait for her to make a move on me. When I start trying to get amorous with her, she's probably not going to tell me what turns her on, so . . . do I stick with the missionary position or go for something a little different? Do I try to impress her with my oral skills or will that make her feel obligated to reciprocate, and maybe she's not interested in that. If I suggest anything else, is she going to get turned on or will she think I'm a pervert from the word 'go?'" "So, what do you do?" Mona asked. "Well, you can have conversations about those things in advance and try to get some idea of what to expect," I answered her, "but, with most women, I have a sense that they wouldn't be comfortable with it, so I never make the suggestion." "Very clever, Jack. So . . . how do you feel about having that conversation with me?" "Well, if I thought you wouldn't be receptive, I wouldn't have gotten this far with talking about it," I explained. "Since we have gotten this far, I'm going to assume that you want to have that kind of conversation so . . . you want to take turns asking questions?" I asked. "Sure," Mona responded. "Do you want to put any subjects off limits for tonight?" "No, not unless you do," I suggested. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable." "No . . . nothing's off limits tonight. So I'll ask the first question. How do you want this date o end tonight?" "Well, I'm very attracted to you, so I'd love to be intimate but . . . I wouldn't want you to think that's all I'm interested in. And . . . if you got in bed with me tonight, it would feel good, physically, but I'd think that maybe I had misjudged your character. I don't think that's the kind of girl you are . . . unless I'm just misjudging how horny you are, or maybe I'm such a special guy that you'd make an exception for me. I hope you don't think less of me for admitting to my desires but . . . I'm just telling you how I feel." "No, there's much to be said for honesty and candor," Mona assured me. "Okay, now, ask me a question." "Okay. How long do you feel a couple should wait before becoming intimate, assuming that they're going to be more than just casual fuck buddies?" "Excellent question. I don't follow the three date rule because I think it depends on the individuals involved," she began. "I get that," I interrupted, "but I really had you and me in mind and not a hypothetical couple." "I'm very attracted to you and it's been a long time since I had a sexual partner, and I'd really love to feel you in me tonight, but I don't want you to think less of me, so it's pretty unlikely that I'd want to do it on our first date," she confided. "My turn again. What's the wildest thing that you enjoy in bed that you're afraid I'd think is weird?" "That's an easy question but . . . do you really want to hear the answer?" I asked. "Well, I did ask the question," she hinted. "Okay. This is something that would never be a deal breaker for me, I mean, I can certainly live without it, but I've enjoyed it a few times in the past: anal sex." "I don't think that's totally weird. I mean . . . I've tried it a few times in the past but I never really got anything out of it and . . . it wasn't exactly painful but it was sort of uncomfortable. So, I don't know if I'd want to try that again." "I've done it with a couple of women in the past and both of them swore they had very hard orgasms from anal sex. I think a lot of guys don't realize that they need to use a lot of lube and start out slow and gentle, but if you do, well . . . they never said anything about it hurting I thought they had orgasms and . . . the bottom line is, they asked to do it again," I explained. "Well, I don't think I'd want to do that the first time we were in bed," Mona cautioned me, "but maybe we could do it if I had a few drinks first so I was relaxed. So, it's your turn to ask me a question, but I think I know what you're going to ask me." "Yeah, lucky guess. What's the wildest thing you want to do in bed that you're worried I'll think it's kinky?" "Yeah, I saw that one coming. So . . . quite a few years ago, I had a boyfriend who let me blindfold him and tie him to the bed and then I could do whatever I wanted to him, you know, within reason, like no hot wax dripping on him, nothing that would cause pain. Oh, and I love to give oral sex . . . and I swallow. How about you?" "Why, yes, I think I'd love to have my tongue inside of you and lick and suck on you until you cum real hard. Yes, I fancy that, maybe at the same time you're going down on me. And, by the way, I have the opinion that women who like to talk about sex . . . really enjoy sex . . . a lot . . . hot, wild, steamy, uninhibited sex." I paused for dramatic effect, as if a pause was necessary to add drama to this conversation, and then reminded her, "It's your turn to ask a question." "Okay. How hard are you right now?" Mona asked unabashedly. "Harder than titanium steel. How wet are you?" "Dripping," she responded. "Tell me something else you think is a little kinky." "Okay . . . I'd really like for you to take off your panties and let me smell your juices." "Really?" she asked. "Okay." We were standing near the edge of the water. There was another couple maybe fifty yards further down the beach. Mona looked at them, then turned and walked up towards the dunes, and found a place where there were some palmettos that provided some visual cover. It appeared that she was pulling her dress up just enough to reach under and it certainly looked like she was removing her panties. She walked back down to me and held her hand out. "I made sure they were really wet before I pulled them down." In her hand was a pair of bikini panties. I accepted her gift and brought them to my face. Her panties were very damp and the odor of an aroused woman was unmistakable. I inhaled deeply. "You can't imagine how much that turns me on!" I said. "I'd love to be exploring between your legs with my tongue . . . right now." "Jack, my nipples are hard and my pussy's wet. I need some release and I'm sure you do, too, but . . . you said you wouldn't respect me as much if we did it on our first date." "No, no, no. I didn't really mean that," I claimed. "I'd really respect you if I could come inside your pussy and feel your hard nipples against my chest. Just tell me that you don't do this on every first date." "No, of course I don't, but you already told me how you feel and I heard you say something about not just wanting to be fuck buddies. So . . . no horizontal mambo tonight . . . but . . .." Mona apparently enjoyed teasing men, or, at least, she was enjoying teasing me. "But what?" I insistently asked. "Jack, have you ever masturbated while you watched your partner doing the same thing?" "No, but if that's an option tonight . . . if that's my only option . . . I'd love to give it a try." "Then why don't we go back to your apartment and you can give me another glass of wine and that's probably all it'll take for me to drop my dress and finger myself while you watch." "Let's go," I suggested. We returned to my car and headed home. We stopped and got another bottle of wine, then resumed the journey to my bedroom. When we got to my apartment, I remembered my manners and opened the car door for her. When she swung her legs to the side to exit her car seat, I got a flash of her pussy, as she had not put her panties on. I know she had not put her panties back on because they were in my pants pocket. "Jack, you're being a bad boy looking at my private parts on the first date!" Mona facetiously chastised me. "I'm not looking at your private parts, Mona, I'm looking at your pussy, and I like what I see. Besides . . . I think you like me being a bad boy," I responded, "don't you?" When she got out of the car, she reached for my hand and we walked through the parking lot hand in hand. Once we were in my apartment, I poured us both another glass of wine. "Shall we toast?" Mona asked. I raised my glass in her direction and said, "Here's to having your panties in my pocket!" "I'm happy for you, but . . . I'd rather have something of yours - something hard and throbbing - inside something of mine that's hot and wet," Mona replied in a blatantly seductive voice. "I think I have an answer to our dilemma of not having sex on the first date, if you're interested," I announced. "I'm very interested," she admitted. "Our first date is going to be over in about 10 seconds and you are going to walk out of that door. About five seconds later, you can knock on the door and I'll let you in to start our second date. What do you think?" I asked with some small amount of pride for my clever solution to our problem. "I think I like the way you think," Mona said, and I felt encouraged. "I bet I'm going to like the way you do other things, too!" "Only one way to find out," I challenged her. "Okay, but before we go ripping each other's clothes off . . . Jack, you can tell that I don't have big boobs. In fact, they're just 34-B's and, well . . . I've had a guy point at my chest and laugh when I got naked and you can't imagine . . .." I put my arms around Mona and held her body tightly against mine. "No, I can't imagine, but if you can give me the guy's name and address, I'll make sure he has a very miserable rest of his life." "You don't need to do that. All of that happened about 10 years ago and I heard that he died in a car wreck a few years back. But . . . you do get some points for making the offer," she said with a laugh and a brave smile. "Okay, now this is just you and me here, and we need to be very open and honest with each other. I know you don't have big boobs . . . and I can't wait to lick and suck on them. I really can't stand 'watermelon tits' and I'm glad you're not overly endowed. You've got enough to make me very happy, and, you know . . . I'm not hung like a horse. Hell, I'm not even hung like a Great Dane . . . but I am big enough to reach all the right spots and I promise that I'll try to make sure that you feel just as good as I do. By the way, it's not microscopic, either, uh . . . I guess I'm about 5½ inches when I get bonified. But, the point is, how you use your equipment is much more important that how much equipment you have. Understand?" "Why are you acting so terrific?" she asked. "I've never had a guy act like this." "Well, honey, I don't know about other guys, but I do know that the Golden Rule is a pretty fine way of having good relationships. I wouldn't want you laughing at my willy and, the truth is, I really am much more turned on by small and medium-sized breasts. Floppy, flabby jugs don't do a thing for me. So, I accept the fact that you aren't built like some Hollywood silicone-enhanced starlet and you seem to be okay with the fact that I'm not hung like a porn star, so how about we stop talking?" "Okay. Well, I guess I need to leave so our first date'll be over," Mona said. "Okay. See you later," I said. Mona and I walked to the front door and embraced in a very passionate kiss. "It was one hell of a first date, Miss Mona. It was award-winning!" "Ditto," she responded. "See you soon." I opened the door and she stepped out. I closed the door behind her and waited. About two seconds later, I heard her knocking. "Who is it?" I asked in a sing-song teasing voice, then I jerked the door open, pulled her inside, and slammed the door shut. I began another hot and tongue-filled passionate kiss while my hands freely roamed over Mona's delightful body. "I could rip the clothes off your body right here or we could retire to the bedroom and perhaps you would allow me the pleasure of undressing you," I offered. "Yes, I want you to undress me, please," she responded. I held her hand and led her into my bedroom. I turned on a night light in the adjoining bathroom so that there was very dim ambient lighting in the bedroom. I returned to the bedroom and stood directly in front of Mona. I held both of her hands and looked into her eyes. "Fucking is what lesser creatures do. A woman like you deserves to be loved and to have a man make love to her. I want to make you cum with my fingers and then I want to make you cum with my tongue. Then, I want to be inside you and I want to feel you cumming when I release my seed inside you. Then, I'd like to roll over and go to sleep with my arms around you . . . but I know you have a daughter at home and you need to be there when she wakes up in the morning. So . . . afterwards, I'll walk you home and then I'll go to sleep and dream about having my arms around you." "Undress me, please!" she requested. I reached behind her and found the tab for her zipper. Most women savor the build-up and anticipation of sex and a slow seductive foreplay makes sex so much more intense. I slowly inched the zipper down until it reached the extent of its travel. I put the tip of my middle finger between the two sides of the zipper and found the soft, warm skin in the small of her back. I lightly traced circles at the bottom of her spine and then brought my finger slowly upwards until I was at the middle of her back. Then, I extended all of my fingers and used the palm of my hand to pull her body towards mine. Mona and Me Ch. 01 Our lips met and I kissed her with intensity. "I want you!" I said with urgency. I pulled away from her and then pulled on the shoulders of her dress and lowered it until I could simply allow it to drop to the floor. "You're not wearing any panties!" I said. "Do you want to be a bad girl, Mona?" "It's been so long!" she said. "I need it bad!" I reached behind her and unfastened the clasp of her bra. That, too, soon fell to the floor and Mona was in my arms nude. "Now you're naked and I'm not. Why don't you do something about that?" Mona nodded her head. She unfastened my belt and removed it from my waist. She began unbuttoning my shirt. When she reached the bottom of my buttons that were visible, she unhooked my pants and lowered the zipper so she could reach the last shirt button. She pulled the shirt away from my torso and then she knelt in front of me, reaching down to remove my socks and shoes. A simple tug on my pants and they slid over my hips and fell to the floor. I stepped out of them and all that remained was my boxers. There was an obvious tent in my underpants. "You look rather excited," Mona commented. "I am rather excited," I acknowledged. Mona was still on her knees as she pulled my boxers down. My stiff dick sprung up in her face. She raised her hand up to fondle my balls and she began to lick the underside of my hard shaft. After a few lollipop licks, she began moving her tongue in circles around the crown of my man meat and then she swallowed me whole. Mona was in no danger of gagging or suffocating but her mouth was full. She began moving up and down on my unit but I stopped her after a few seconds. "That feels wonderful, baby, and I'd like to have you finish that another time, but I want to save that for somewhere else tonight. Lay down on the bed," I requested, and she complied. "Earlier tonight, you offered to let me watch while you did yourself. I hope that offer is still open." Mona nodded her head affirmatively. She brought both hands up to her breasts and began playing with her nipples. "Do you like my little boobies?" "Mona, every square inch of your body is a beautiful treasure and I'm going to suck on those boobs in just a few minutes . . . and I'm going to love it." I scanned her body with my eyes and tried to absorb the beauty of the treasure before me. Mona's pussy was shaved clean and she wasn't one of those 'full bloom' girls with the inner lips that protrude. On Mona, all that was visible was a simple slit. Her nipples were hard. They were a medium brown color and stood about ¼" from her small, rosy pink areolae. When she stood, her breasts were the size of small oranges and I wanted to touch them so badly! But I also wanted to watch her bring herself to orgasm and I knew she'd stop if I started to touch her in any way. Mona placed her right hand between her legs and she started stroking up and down the slit between her pussy lips. She raised her legs up so that the heels of her feet rested on the edge of the mattress. This had the effect of changing the angle of her pelvis so that her little anus was now almost exposed to me. "Mona, how often do you play with yourself?" I asked. "All the time," she replied. "I'm a horny little girl and I need it almost every night." She continued to massage her left boob with her left hand while her right hand kept busy between her legs. "Do you usually use your fingers or a toy?" I asked. "If I'm in bed, I have a vibrator I like but . . . sometimes I do it in the shower and I use the shower head on my pussy. But . . . I'd rather have you inside me." I could see that Mona was getting wet and her nipples had been hard since her bra had hit the floor. "You're wet. When I penetrate you, I want to have all of my dick buried in your hot pussy. Put your finger inside your pussy now, show me how you want to be fingered." Mona slid her hand down until she could extend her middle finger and plunge it in her love hole. As soon as her finger was in her, I could hear her breathing getting ragged and raspy. "You're close, aren't you? Are you thinking about the way my finger's going to feel when I do that to you?" I asked, then paused. "Or are you thinking about the way it'll feel when my tongue sets your clit on fire?" "Yeah, I need it . . . all of it?" "Are you a naughty girl, Mona? Do you ever touch yourself . . . back there?" "Sometimes," she admitted. "Do you want me to help you get off now?" I asked. She simply nodded her head affirmatively. I knelt by the side of the bed, directly in front of her pussy. "Put your feet in my shoulders," I told her. She was very good at following my directions. I had a tube of K-Y which I had retrieved from the bedside stand. I opened it and applied a little bit to the tip of my right middle finger. I then placed the K-Y tube on the floor and turned my attention to Mona. I reached down with my left hand and pulled her butt cheeks apart, then I placed the tip of my right middle finger on her anus. As soon as she felt my fingertip, she began thrusting against my finger, trying to get my finger into her ass. When it became obvious that she wanted more penetration, I have her what she wanted and slid my finger, up to the second knuckle, inside her ass. I then began thrusting in and out while also twisting my finger to one side and then the other. Mona had speeded up her hand so that she was stroking her clit very rapidly and almost roughly. She began to arch her back upwards and I knew he was starting to cum. "Oh fuck, yeah! Oh, yeah!" she said. I felt her ass contracting in waves, squeezing my finger and then relaxing. After four or five waves of anal orgasm, I slowly pulled my finger out of her cute little behind. I put my hands behind her knees and pushed them back towards her chest, then I bent forward and put my tongue directly on her hot clit. I sucked the little nubbin onto my mouth and held it between my teeth while I licked little circles around it. This caused Mona to start cumming again and, while she was rocking from the second wave of orgasmic bliss, I placed my finger on her little pink pucker and lightly traced circles without making any efforts to again penetrate her sacred sphincter. Suddenly, I felt her ass cheeks squeeze together and she begged me, "Stop! Please! I can't breathe!" Obviously, she was breathing, but I understood that she had become so sensitive that her orgasm was probably teetering on the border between pleasure and pain. I released her clit from between my teeth and I ran my tongue down between her pussy lips, over her perineum, and then I allowed it to linger on her anal ring before I withdrew from the playground. "Holy fuck!" she uttered. "That was so fucking hot. I haven't cum that hard since . . . I can't remember ever cumming that hard before." "And we're not finished," I said. "Not until I cum inside your cute little pussy." Mona slid around in the bed so that her head was on a pillow and her feet were at the bottom of the bed. "Come and get me!" she challenged me. "How do you want me in you? Like, what position do you like?" I asked. "What I really want right now is the good old-fashioned missionary position, man on top. I want to see your eyes when you're inside me," she said. I lay beside her and bent over, taking a nipple between my lips. I licked like a cat lapping up milk from a bowl. "Your boobs are perfect . . . and delicious!" I declared. I moved on top of Mona and positioned myself so that the tip of my dick was near the entrance to her pussy. She reached down between us and guided my unit and I slid forward. I felt the wetness of her pussy on the tip of my meat and then I began to feel her wet warmth as I slid in between her tight and hungry lips. She was tight, not like a teenaged virgin, but like a fit woman who does her Kegel exercises regularly. "You feel so damn good!" I uttered. "You're so tight I may not last very long!" As soon as I bottomed out, I reversed direction and slowly began retracting the vulvar probe. When I felt myself close to the point of withdrawal, I again changed course and began plunging into the depths of her female receptacle. I kept thrusting in and out of her at a slow pace, hoping to prolong the experience for me, and for her. "Faster!" she implored me and I responded by slowly increasing the tempo. As I continued pistoning into her girl hole, I bent forward so that my chest rubbed against her nipples. This also increased the stimulation to her clit and the sum effect was to push her closer to another orgasm. She began softly moaning. "So good, Jack! So good!" She looked me in the eyes and said, "I'm close. . . . Cum with me!" As soon as she said that, I increased the pace of my thrusts so that I was now plunging into her honey hole like a jackhammer. "You're so . . . incredible. I'm so . . . close . . . I want to cum in your pussy so bad!" I exclaimed. Her moaning got louder and quicker and I knew she was very close to her orgasm. I felt the pressure behind my balls that signaled the impending torrent of sperm spewing from my meat. "Here it comes," I said as I felt my body beginning to release my male fluids. I placed my lips on hers and engaged in a passionate kiss as the sperm flowed from my body and into hers. I felt her hips thrusting up to meet mine and I could feel her pussy squeezing my dick, milking the cum from my rod. As my orgasm subsided, I stopped thrusting and I stopped kissing her. "That was incredible . . . and you are incredible!" I exclaimed. "Ditto!" she uttered, still catching her breath. I lay on the bed beside her and rolled over onto my side so that I was facing her. She rolled over to face me. "Well, so far, I think you are very sweet, nice, smart, and beautiful. Your face is stunningly beautiful and your naked body is all of my dreams come true. I know you're self-conscious about your boobs, but I think they're perfect and I look forward to having many more opportunities to lick and suck on them. Your little behind is so cute and sexy; it inspires me to be a very naughty boy. And this thing down here," I said as I placed my fingers on her pussy, "either I'm going to fuck you 'til your eyes pop out or I'm going to fuck you 'til my eyes pop out. I want you . . . all of you!" "You've got me. I'll try to set it up so Macy spends next weekend with one of my relatives and that way I won't need to leave in the middle of the night." "That would be wonderful," I said. "But . . . if you're going to be a part of my life, than Macy needs to be included in some of the things we do. That's the way it is when you're a good parent," Mona explained. "Mona, I don't have any kids of my own, but I know about good parenting, and it's one of the things I like about you. Don't feel like you need to be apologetic or even defensive about it. Besides, I've known Macy longer than I've known you!" I teased her. "So maybe we can all do dinner together sometime during the week?" Mona asked. "I'd love to," I responded. We both got up and got dressed, then I walked Mona back to her apartment. It was about 1:30 am and the world was quiet. All of creation was at peace. We reached her front door and this is where I would say 'good night.' "You know I don't follow the Guy's Playbook, right? So, here's something you're never supposed to tell a girl on the first date: Miss Mona, this was absolutely, without a doubt, the best first date that I have ever had." "Jack, I feel the same way. A lot of folks think it's stupid, but I don't like playing those cat-and-mouse games, playing chase. I'll tell you straight up what I'm feeling or what I'm thinking. This was better that I thought any first date could ever be. You made me feel so relaxed and not . . . judged, and . . . I feel like I could open my heart to you and you wouldn't use something to attack me, you'd just try to protect me. I guess part of it is the Southern gentleman thing; I thought that was just something out of the movies, but . . . wow, you swept me off my feet." I put my arms around her and gave her a long, warm hug, followed by a steamy kiss that would have led to more sex if we hadn't been standing outside of her front door. "You'll call me soon?" Mona asked, apparently needing some reassurance that what was happening was real and not pretend. "How about tomorrow late morning?" I asked. "That would be perfect!" Mona said. "Good night." "Good night, Miss Mona," I replied. As I walked back to my apartment, I'm not sure that my feet were actually touching the ground. I couldn't remember meeting a girl who made me feel so comfortable, so not challenged . . . so good about myself. Sometimes, life is great.