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May & December

By: Katherine English 2



“May and December: The Journal of Bleu_Light_Special”

My life has changed so much since my introduction to womanly passion in the arms of my beloved Amora (Bisexual Awakenings: The Journal of Bleu_Light_ Special). It’s hard to believe that almost a year has gone by since our tearful parting on the shores of Cholla Bay. So much has passed my way since then…so many experiences…and not all for the better… 

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Journal Entry: March 8

He said he loved me.

He said I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, and that he only wanted to be a part of my life. That was when I still believed him…when I thought his youthful, blue eyes were smiling just for me. But no more…

Scott was the kind of man who knew just what to say, what to do to get me to drop my defenses. He was experienced far beyond my tender years, and as I came to know him, I came to trust him.

But…Scott turned out to be a “user”…a manipulator of women, a man of great disguise. I wish I’d known that before I went to his estate that night. It would have saved me a great deal of mental, and physical pain.

Scott’s elaborate home was set far out in the desert to the north of town, away from the bustling byways of Tucson where his “pastimes” might have been more noticeable. It was a beautiful place…a mansion in fact. Built amid a series of courtyards, it boasted huge, Spanish-tiled greatrooms and massive fireplaces…chandeliers and imported tapestries. But, it was the bedroom that demanded center stage.

Scott’s large bedroom suite was masculine in design. This was no surprise, but the heavy, iron rings set in the walls and ceilings, and the odd leather structures scattered about should have alerted me immediately.

Scott laughed them away…a joke set in place by a former owner, he said. Then he cradled my face in his palms and looked deep into my soul. “Trust me…” he’d whispered.

And I had.

We’d eaten on the patio that night, beneath the smog-free brilliance of the clear, desert sky. We had lobster and a light pilaf…and wine…so much wine. My head began to spin with the indulgence of it all…or was it truly the libations alone that had sent me into such a stupor? I remember closing my eyes, the table beginning to waiver ever so slightly, and when I awoke I was in a large, sparsely furnished area adjacent to his bedroom.

But, something was wrong…seriously wrong. I felt myself bent forward over a saddle of sorts…something like that used by gymnasts. I tried to move my arms, but found them bound below me. My ankles were spread on the far side and likewise restrained. I felt the cold leather padding beneath my naked form. Open and exposed, I cringed. Where were my clothes? What was happening? Why was I…?

And then I knew.

Scott sat before me, naked, the familiar warmth gone from his eyes. Now instead, the cold, icy stare of a sadist remained, and I knew I’d made a serious mistake.

“Jillian,” he said, abandoning my preferred nickname of “Bleu”. “It’s about time. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to see you bound on this thing, helpless and naked…spread…”

Circling, he moved across the room towards me then, a leather riding crop in his hands, and with a savage slash he whipped it across my buttocks once…twice, and a third time until cold flames began to widen and spread over my vulnerable skin.

Hot, salty tears began to stream down my cheeks. Terror and pain, confusion and shame overcame me. I whimpered at first, then cried out as I felt the crop lay a crimson path across my pale flesh once more.

He laughed, and groping between my legs he grabbed my pubic hair in his fist. “I see the collar and cuffs match,” he observed crudely. “I always wondered if you were a natural redhead.”

I felt him move closer, his heated flesh pressed close against my tortured buttocks, his fingers exploring my rounded orbs in perverse delight.

“So pale…so untouched, until now” he murmured. “We’ll have to change that.” And then, in one hard thrust he forced his massive erection deep into my belly, abusing my tender sex with his savage penetration.

I screamed in shock and pain. Nothing had prepared me for this! Humiliation swept through me, and I heard him grunt in satisfaction. Again he lunged, harder this time until I felt that he would rip me asunder with his monstrous proportions.

“No…no…”I pleaded. “Why are you doing this…Scott? Why? Don’t…please. Please!”

His breath came in ragged gasps now, his lunges slowing finally…and then he withdrew. I whimpered in relief, but only for a second. Then I felt his finger probing between my buttocks…pressing against my narrow portal until, with a sigh he thrust it deep inside.

I gasped, squirming to evade his digit, but he held me fast. “So tight, Jillian,” he murmured huskily. “You’ve never been fucked there before, have you?” he laughed. “Good! I like being first!” Then, removing his finger, he parted my trembling buttocks with his hands and ran his tongue along my quivering fissure.

“You’re going to hate this, Jillian…”

“Oh, please, Scott,” I begged. “Don’t do this! I can’t!” I cried, remembering the tiny dildo my former lover had used in that place, and the pain it had caused.

He laughed all the harder at my protestations. “Go ahead and beg,” he said. “I like the sound of it. Scream, if you want to. I like that even better! No one can hear you way out here, Bitch…so scream your lungs out if you like!”

And with that he positioned his throbbing knob against my untried opening…pressing…pressing as I cried out in torment. Then, with a long, hard thrust he hilted himself deep in my narrow passage.

The pain was excruciating! I cried. I begged. Long wails tore from my lungs, piercing the air in their desperation, but my agony only increased his pleasure. With savage intensity he ravaged me over and over until I grew light-headed from my tortured screams and the room began to swim. Finally, as darkness overcame me I felt his hot offering filling my abused body…and then nothing.

Scott delivered me to my apartment the next morning, bruised and battered, warning me of the folly involved in reporting the incident to the police. No one would believe me, he said…his family was too well known. If anything, all of Tucson would believe that I’d engineered the whole episode to capture myself a rich husband, and then turned on him when my plans had failed to yield results. I’d best keep it to myself…or else.

So much for a pretty face! There has to be more to men than this. Why am I doomed to see only the crude underbelly of that peculiar gender! Perhaps I’m looking in the wrong direction.

I think more and more of my beloved Amora, and the sanctuary she holds in waiting for me at Cholla Bay. It would be so easy to run to her…to have her kiss the bruises from my body and soul…but I mustn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to pop in and out of her life like a jack-in-the-box, then leave her alone in the end. But, I long to see her so very much, to have her give me the assurance that only she can instill.

I finger the delicate silver chain with its tiny key dangling between my breasts…her gift. I wear it always now…a reminder that I’m never alone, that I’m loved and that I always have a home. 

I must send Amora an e-mail and tell her that everything is all right, that I’m moving to Tempe in a few days to attend Arizona State University. She’ll believe that, and in fact it’s the truth, but it’s also the truth that I can’t bear to stay in this place any longer. At every turn I turn I see memories of my tormentor. I can’t eat…I can’t sleep. He seems to be everywhere.

I have to leave…and start again…

Chapter 2

July 7 – Tempe, Arizona

It’s been so hot in this place! Someone told me yesterday that Arizonan’s never go to hell, because they can’t take the cold. 

I can believe it! 

I burned my hand on the door handle of my car yesterday, if you can imagine that, and now I can hardly stand to use it. How did people ever live here before air conditioning?

I parked in the small lot by Payne Hall today. My assigned parking place is almost a mile away, and I had too much to carry to deal with it on the ASU parking trolley. So, I paid the extra $5, and was glad that I at least had the option.

Slowly I gathered my books and paperwork, my backpack and purse and climbed the stairs into the shady breezeway that separates the two halves of the building. Ah…whoever designed this building must have been a genius, I thought for the umpty-ninth time as the cool swirl of air lifted my long, auburn hair from my neck.

Summer school had seemed like such a good idea last spring in Tucson, such an easy way to gather an early twelve credits before the fall semester started, but I hadn’t counted on the heat. Now, at the onset of my second summer session, I was wondering if I’d been mad to ever think of such a thing!

Sweaty, and uncomfortable, I shifted my new texts into a tight embrace between my body and my left elbow, trying to adjust my pack and purse in my right. Then everything fell apart. My purse strap began to slip, and making a mad lunge to save it only sent the remainder of my load helter-skelter across the pavement. Books flew in all directions, and my small collection of vital paperwork swirled outward across the neatly trimmed yard like leaves on a whirlwind.

I was in a panic…what to do first, save my purse, my books, or the paperwork that I so desperately needed for my first class? I looked frantically around me for help, but it seemed that the heat had robbed even the most ardent do-gooders of their tendencies. People just hurried on by…rushing desperately toward their next fix of canned air.

I would have to fend for myself.

And so, grabbing my purse, I turned and began to scoop up my errant papers, chasing them here and there as they traveled from one dust devil to another. Did I find them all? Did I…

“Is this yours?” a gentle voice questioned.

Quickly, I turned, and found a smiling, knight-in–shining- armor clutching the last of my documents.

He was tall, this kindly soul, and very attractive. He was perhaps in his fifties, with a smattering of steel gray streaked dashingly across his temples, and the muscular build of a man who loves to work with his hands. The deep tan of his skin told me that he was no novice to the desert sun, and his casual dress spoke of local informality. But it was the warmth of his infinitely blue eyes that attracted me the most. They spoke of concern, of caring…a Samaritan in an age if infidels.

“Are you okay. Miss? Can you get all this?” he asked, nodding at the unkempt pile that sat on the pavement before me. “I’m heading across the breezeway to Farmer if you need some help.”

The name of the familiar, atrium-filled building gave me hope. That was exactly where I was headed! My class in statistics was due to begin in just a few moments, and at this rate I knew I’d be late.

“Oh….thanks! Are you sure?” I hesitated, thinking that he too might be heading somewhere in a hurry. “I’m not going to make you late, am I?”

Again he smiled. He had such a great smile! It just drew you in and made you a part of his world. “Well…maybe a little. But don’t worry about it. I’ve got some leeway.”

With that he gathered the last of my load and headed across the pavement toward the Farmer Building, his pace brisk and step sure. In a few moments we found ourselves standing on the south side of the atrium, at the base of the stairs leading upwards into the catacomb of classrooms above.

“I might as well finish the job,” he joked. “Where to?”

Again I hesitated. He was just too good to be true, and you know what they say about that! “The third floor,” I replied, my better judgement warring with my tired and aching arms. “Room 315.”

Quickly he nodded, and taking the steps two at a time he rapidly covered the distance, with me puffing along behind. “It’s over here on the left,” he nodded, heading in the direction of the door.

“Oh! I can get it now.” I responded, reaching for my books. “You’ve done enough…really!”

“No problem,” he replied, opening the door to 315 and walking into the semi crowded room. “Saving ladies in distress is a hobby of mine.”

Warily, my defenses began to take over. Why didn’t he just leave now? Why was he still standing there? Did he want a tip? “Listen…can I give you a little something for your time?” I asked uneasily, reaching for my purse.

Immediately, the shutters dropped on his sunlit eyes, and a look of saddened resignation took over. “Most people would just say ‘Thanks”,” he replied, leaving my belongings on the nearest desk, and walking toward the front of the room. Then, to my amazement, he turned and walked up to the huge chalkboard attached to the front wall. He paused only a second before taking a piece of chalk in his hand and beginning to write:

“Dr. Benjamin Gates”

“Alright everyone. I’m sorry I’m late,” he smiled, addressing the waiting class. “I’m Ben Gates. You’re welcome to call me Professor Gates or Ben if you prefer. This class is ‘STP 226, Elements of Statistics’. Does everyone have a syllabus?”

My eyes widened, a sinking feeling curling tightly in the pit of my stomach. What were the odds, I wondered? It couldn’t be! My luck with men was holding strong, and all of it bad.

I breathed a sigh, resigning myself to whatever fate might come my way, and buried my nose in my wind-crumpled syllabus. This was going to be a very long semester, and from the look of it, all uphill.

The class lasted for the rest of the morning, as so many of the summer crash courses are wont to do, but finally, my head swimming with descriptive statistics and correlations, I was set free to once again melt in the afternoon sun. 

Nervously, I glanced at Dr. Gates, weighing the idea of throwing myself on my sword by way of making amends…but I was too late. Already a group of my peers had gathered around his desk, “add and drop” slips clenched tightly in their sweaty palms, pleas for appointment slots on their lips. It would take forever to get close to him, and even then I would be forced to air my faux pas in a public forum. It was a lost cause.

Resigned to my fate, I gathered my belongings, securely this time, and made my way toward the door. I needed a Coke…and a taco. Maybe some churros and a milkshake would be nice…comfort food to uplift my downtrodden spirit. Cheesecake…that was it, I needed cheesecake! Surely, somewhere in the maze of eateries at the Memorial Union there must be a slice of Sarah Lee’s finest! What would the MU be without forbidden delights?

Quickly I made my way to the ground floor, inhaling the last sweet smell of cool oxygen before braving the blistering day once more. Then, gathering my burdens against my body, I made my way unwaveringly through the blinding rays toward my objective. Already I could feel the faint trickle of sweat trailing between my breasts. Oh, God…let there be cheesecake, I whispered to myself…and if it has nuts and caramel, I’ll do a good deed every day for a week.

Finally my destination loomed before me, and in an instant I slipped through the glass doors and into the blessed embrace of canned air. My body, by now trembling with heat exhaustion, was sweat streaked and wilting. If only I could go braless as my lesser endowed sisters had the option of doing, I would indeed be a happier person at the moment. As it was, my clothing, bra and all, was stuck to my body like a second skin. Every curve and freckle stuck out as though I were wearing the “Emperor’s New Clothes”…absolutely nothing. I had to rid myself of some of my excess wardrobe…it was a necessity. But, ever since the abuse I’d suffered at Scott’s hands only a few months ago, I’d taken to dressing in layers of loose, concealing clothing. What was I to do?

Quickly, I bought an icy Coke from a nearby vendor and tossed back its contents, hungry for the chill relief it promised.

It was a mistake.

Suddenly, my body was wracked with pain, a brutal cramp tore at the core of my chest, and I doubled in agony.

“Hey!” a familiar voice intruded. “Don’t you know any better than to…”

Then, as the shadows darkened, I felt the floor rise up to meet me, and a hush fell over the room. The sweet smell of cheesecake began to fade in my mind, and the cool tile of the marble flooring caressed my cheek.

The day, so long and tortuous, was not yet through with me…not by a long shot.

Chapter 3

I felt the cool. Wet trail of his tongue long before I opened my eyes. His hands, so delightfully chilled, enticed my nipples to attention and I moaned in rapture. He was here, my white knight…Professor Dr. “call-me-Ben Gates”…stroking my body and whispering words that sent my blood racing in intimate profusion. “Oh yes,” I whispered, my voice a soft hush amid the rhythmic waves of compressed air. “Touch me there, Ben. Touch me…”

Rhythmic waves?

Ben?

My eyes flew open. This couldn’t be happening…not this too! Had I really said…?

Then I cringed. There, before me sat none other than Ben Gates himself, a cool cloth in his hand, stroking my clammy brow in the dim light of the college infirmary.

“My Dear, “ he said in amusement, “if I touched you anywhere else I think we’d both be in trouble.” Then he laughed. He thought this was funny! What an ass!

I could feel the ire rising in my craw. I’d drop his class…drop all of my classes and transfer to another college. I didn’t need this kind of…

“How are you feeling?” he asked, the concern evident in his voice. “You just can’t chug a cold drink like that when you’re overheated in this climate. It reacts like an extreme brain freeze. Don’t you know that? Your system can’t take the shock. You have to sip…”

“Ohhhh,” I moaned, my head pounding. “I can’t believe how that felt. And here you are again. You were touching…ooohhhhhh!”

I could feel the crimson fire spread from beneath my collar and up along my cheekbones. If it hadn’t been for the warmth of his smile, the understanding twinkle in his eyes, I would have gladly curled up beneath the infirmary cot and died a grateful death. As it was, I felt once more in his debt, a position I found anything but comfortable.

“So you’ve saved me again.” I replied, trying to make light of my embarrassment. “You may need to keep an eye on me,” I laughed. “I’m an accident waiting for a place to happen, it seems”.

It was his turn to laugh then. “I’m sure there are any number of young rescue workers here on campus who’d like that job.” he smiled. “They’d stampede right over a senior citizen like me!”

Senior citizen? Him? I couldn’t imagine it! The cool touch of his hand on my brow drifted once more through my mind, and I felt my nipples stiffen. If Ben Gates was an example of American aging, then I had a lot to look forward to.

Ben rose then, and offering his hand he helped me to my shaky feet. “The nurse says that you can head along as soon as you’re able, but that you shouldn’t drive. Have you got a way to get home?”

Immediately I thought of my sun-baked Beetle, sizzling in the heat by Payne Hall and realized that the nurse had been right. Driving this afternoon was out of the question. Even now my head continued to pound and my vision blurred. I felt as though a million tiny jumping beans had taken over my system. Driving like this would be criminal.

“Oh, sure.” I replied shaking my head. “It’s not far. I can just call a cab and…”

“A cab?” he echoed, amazed at my naiveté. “After what you’ve just gone through, you’re going to go out and wait for a cab? You’ve got a lot to learn, ‘My Girl’, if you’re going to survive this summer. You just came close to a heat stroke. You’re not used to this temperature. You need to stay out of the sun for a little while until you get back on your pins. Don’t you know anyone who can drive you home?”

I thought for a moment, not the easiest task I’d attempted today, and silently shook my head. I didn’t know anyone here, not a single soul. Who could I call to help me? Who’d care?


May and December Ch. 01



Author's preamble:

May and December is a fictional story containing graphic descriptions of a sexual relationship between a 67 years old man and a woman in her early 30s. 

The story contains elements of cunnilingus, fellatio, fisting, mild bdsm, water sports, pot smoking and heavy drinking.

If material of this nature is illegal where you are viewing it, please surf away now.

If this kind of story is in any way offensive to you, may I respectfully suggest you hit the back button on your browser and select a different category. I have no wish to offend my readers.

Note: I try to write a story so the build-up is slow but gets hotter for those who are patient;)

To those who have chosen to stay and read this story, I hope you enjoy it ...

~oOo~

May and December.

Rock bottom! That's where my life was as I take up this story. I won't go into the bitter details but I was a reformed heroine addict. I'd been 'clean' for two years but my habit had cost me everything: husband, my two lovely daughters, my home, my dignity. Everything. 

Three years ago I had been sleeping rough when the social workers got onto my case. From then, for the most part, at least I had a roof over my head when I slept. Mostly it was run-down B&Bs so I was once more trying to get warm on the streets during the day. Eventually, after I had come off the drugs (except for the odd spliff,) they found me a place in a semi-permanent 'half-way' hostel. There, through the girl in the next room, I met Billy -- he was such a sweet lad even though he was totally fucked up on drugs. One thing led to another with me and Billy and we had sex a few times. Then the silly bugger got into an argument and got himself wasted by a dealer's minder. But I had his baby in my womb.

Time passed, as it does. 'They' thought it was inappropriate for me to have my baby in the hostel so, with the help of the local council, they found me a flat of my own. It was in one of four identical blocks, each having twelve identical flats, surrounding a grassy courtyard, if that wasteland could be called grassy. Most of my neighbours were the jetsam of society. Next door to me was the local dealer; that was John, and he put the word out on the estate that I wasn't to be touched. 

But my flat had been a doss for up to a dozen of John's customers until the place was raided and the official tenant was evicted. The council sent their cleaners in but it was still a mess when my social worker, bubbling with enthusiasm, took me to the flat, opened the door and handed me the keys. 

I stepped inside cautiously, aware of the smell of disinfectant, unsuccessful in the battle with urine and other obnoxious fumes. I looked around at the filth on the walls -- the graffiti partially obscured by other daubings of god knew what. I slowly walked onto the concrete floor inside the door. There were four doors off the central passage, all of them open. To my right was a living room, to my left, a bedroom. Both rooms were carpeted. The carpets were rank.

The social worker said some furniture would be delivered that afternoon. I was to be given a bed, table and chair, an electric kettle, a couple of pans and some basic crockery and cutlery. Surprisingly, the kitchen was relatively clean. The bathroom was disgusting.

So that was it. Of course it needs a bit of work, I was informed by the social worker. What did they expect me to do with a belly full of a baby due next month? It would take Pharoah's pyramid squad a year to clean that place. I did the best I could in the bedroom. I ripped out all the old carpeting and bought myself an offcut of cheap new carpet down at the market and put it down, though not fitted. 

Three weeks after I moved into my flat I was taken to hospital. My son was stillborn. A few days later, New Year's Eve, I was back in my own place. It would have been so easy to knock on John's door and get a deal but I was so depressed I couldn't even summon the energy to do that. I just crawled into bed and cried myself to sleep.

The next few months were just a bad dream. I hated the flat and refused to do anything to clean it up, except the bedroom and kitchen. I was just drifting from day to day. My social worker would often tell me I could do better. Yeah, it was all right for that stuck up cow with her big car and her patronising 'pep-talks'. She didn't live on the Downton estate!

One day in late July dawned with the promise of a beautiful day. I opened my window to let some fresh air in and heard a couple of blackbirds trying to out-sing each other. I felt something kind of 'snap' in my head and thought it would be nice to get out and about for the day. Yes, I thought, I could go and have my hair done properly. But I had been wearing the same very minimum set of clothing since I got back from hospital so first I had to do some shopping.

I've never let on to any of the people I met in the various hostels, or my neighbours now, but I had only drawn enough from my bank for everyday essentials so my social security money had been building up quietly. I wasn't rich but I could certainly afford some little luxuries.

I drew some cash at the post office and went to the local shopping centre where I bought a sexy bra and pants for today. No, I wasn't thinking about sex but I knew I would feel good. I saw a lovely pale yellow gingham check summer dress in a charity shop. In the same shop, I picked up a pair of patent leather shoes with a three-inch heel - they were still in the box - and a narrow black patent belt. I also picked up a small handbag to match the shoes. I bought some basic cosmetics and returned home with my treasures. I gave myself a good strip-wash (no way would I use that bath,) washed my hair and tied it in a ponytail then put my new clothes on. Truly, I felt like a new woman.

It was now getting close to lunch time so I decided to get the bus a couple of miles to the centre of one of those villages swallowed up in the city conurbation which was a lively shopping centre. There was a hairdresser there who had been praised by one of the friends I had before I started on the drugs. I wanted a good cut and shampoo and everything to make it nice and make me feel pampered. I used to be so proud of my blonde hair and always had it looked after by my favourite hairdresser in the old days. I wanted it back again.

The salon couldn't fit me in until 4:30 after I had confided to the receptionist that I had neglected my hair for too long and it would need a lot of work. No problem, I could get some lunch then sit and watch the world go by on this lovely day. I had a delicious salmon salad sitting in the sun outside the café then had a walk around the village square.

My new shoes were pinching a little so I decided to sit down on a bench right next to a flower bed to rest my feet. There were a few bees buzzing around but I'd always lived with the philosophy of I don't bother bees, bees don't bother me. On one end of the bench, when I arrived, sat a woman of about my age, eating from a pack of sandwiches; on the other end sat a little grey-haired man who was smoking. Pulling out a ciggy of my own, I asked if I could sit between them; there was lots of room so they both murmured their assent and the man flicked a lighter for my cigarette. 

After a few minutes, the woman finished her lunch and hurried off down the street, glancing at her wristwatch. The man and I started talking - the usual stuff about the weather and so on. He offered me another cigarette and as we smoked, I noticed he quite often glanced to my left to an attractive redhead who was making a charity collection outside the convenience store. "It's her first day," he told me, indicating the woman. "I'm just showing her the ropes. She's OK: doing well."

Our conversation drifted along and I found myself telling him about my day, and how I had another hour to wait for my appointment. One thing led to another and parts of the sad story of my life came out. At one stage he excused himself, asking me if I'd like a coffee. He had a word with the redhead then disappeared only to return a couple of minutes later with three steaming cups. He gave one to the redhead, sat down and handed me a cup then stuck his hand out. "My name's David. Call me Dave if you prefer."

"Hi Dave," I shook his hand, "I'm Beatrice - yes, it's a bit old-fashioned but my Mum was like that. I answer to Betty or Bet."

"Beatrice is a lovely name. What do you like to be called?" 

"Betty," I smiled.

He smiled back and for fully a minute he looked at me quite intently. Not staring and trying to dominate me and, even though he cast a look up and down my body, I didn't get that creepy feeling you sometimes get when a man is mentally stripping you naked. No, it felt more like he was committing my looks to memory.

I took the opportunity to look him over, too. He was a short man. His hair and beard were both neatly trimmed grey all over and his exposed skin was deeply tanned. The eyes behind his rimless spectacles were a pale blue-green with laughter wrinkles at the corner. He was wearing an open-neck lemon sports shirt and light fawn slacks with a pair of open sandals on his feet. On his left hand he wore two identical gold bands, one on his wedding finger and the other resting next to it on his little finger. Two chains dangled round his neck, both worn outside his shirt: a large piece of amber was on the heavier chain while the smaller held a cylinder of lapis lazuli.

We both broke off looking at each other at the same time and both looked away, slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he murmured in apology, but I told him it was OK and I was staring, too.

We got to know each a little better: I told him of my home before drugs and what I had lost through my own fault. I learned that he had nursed his wife through emphysema until her death five years ago. "That was her ring," he said pointing to his little finger. I swear his eyes rimmed up with moisture. He heaved a deep sigh then smiled at me.

Where had the afternoon gone? I wondered. It was only a few minutes to my appointment. I almost didn't want that magic afternoon to end. 

"Betty," he said, a little unsure of himself, "Look, I know I'm a stranger, but would you like to have a drink and maybe a meal with me this evening. No," he assured me, "not a date or anything like that. I've enjoyed this afternoon and would like to extend it into the evening with no ulterior motive. You have your hairdresser to see, I have to take Celia home," he indicated the redhead, "but I could come and pick you up from the salon afterwards. We can take it from there."

I had had nothing but good vibes from Dave all afternoon and he didn't come across as a dirty old man. When we stood up I saw that I was much taller than Dave; I could even see the bald patch at the crown of his head. As he 'escorted' me to the salon I told him, "That would be nice, Dave. I'll be about an hour getting my hair done."

"I'll be back before then."

"Come into the salon, they'll let you wait."

"See you soon." Dave smiled, turned and got into his car which, by coincidence was parked close to the salon.

About 45 minutes later he popped his head round the door of the salon. I saw him in the mirror and waved him in. "This is Dave, who I was telling you about." The hairdresser welcomed him and pointed to a chair near the window. She was almost finished her work and had done a lovely job. It looked so healthy and shiny, I couldn't believe the change from the stringy mess it had been when I woke up this morning. 

The stylist finally finished all those last-minute pats and tucks then removed the cover off my body. I stood up and smiled at myself in the mirror. OMG I looked as pretty as I used to look. Smiling right back at me in the mirror was a young woman with blonde hair set in a loose ponytail. She had eyes as blue as the deep sea. Her skin was pale, almost the classic 'peaches and cream'. The bodice of her dress was nicely filled and the narrow belt accentuated her slim waist. The skirt flared out over her broad hips, ending just above her knees, showing her trim calves and ankles.

"You look lovely, Betty," said Dave with a big smile. I paid the stylist and, as we walked to the car, I linked my arm in his. He opened the door for me, ushered me into the car then went round to the driver's seat. "That's Bonzo in the back," he said by way of introduction to a medium-sized dog of obviously mixed heritage. Soon we were heading out of town and onto the motorway. About 15 miles up the road, he took the exit and, after not too long, he parked up by a canal. "I thought we might go for a walk before dinner," he said. "Not too far, just a stroll along the towpath. That lazy bag of bones on the back seat needs some exercise."

There were quite a few people, often with dogs, on the towpath. Bonzo didn't wear a leash but Dave kept him well under control as we passed other dogs. Bonzo was obviously well-trained. We chatted about almost anything under the sun; Dave often interspersed the conversation with amusing anecdotes gleaned from his life. If we had differences of opinion, he would listen to my ideas, not just ride roughshod over them. We had been walking slowly for maybe half an hour when Dave suggested we turn back and find somewhere for dinner.

I won't mention it again but whenever I got in or out of the car, he always opened the door and closed it behind me. His old-fashioned courtesies made me feel special. I think we women paid a big price for our 'equality'. We didn't return to the city via the motorway, but along the older country road which ran more or less parallel. He pulled into the car park of a country pub which was advertising carvery meals and escorted me inside.

"Let's find a quiet table," he said and we looked around. I spotted a table in the corner. The customers were just leaving. 

"Will that do?" I tugged his arm and indicated the newly vacated table.

"Perfect," he replied, "let's grab it before anyone else." We rushed over and he seated me. "OK, what would you like to drink, Betty?"

"What are you having?"

"Just one small glass of wine with the meal; I'm driving. But you're not: have what you fancy."

"I'll bet they don't have what I really like, it's not very popular. Do you think they will have Campari?" 

"Yes, I know they stock it here. Do you like Campari? I love the stuff but everybody says it tastes like medicine. I've changed my mind; I'm going to have a Campari and soda with lots of ice and lemon. What would you like with yours, Betty?"

"If I were doing some serious drinking, I would have what you're having, but with a shot of vodka."

"You're not driving so why not? Don't worry about me: I'll have a drink or two after I've got you safely back to your place and myself home."

"OK, get me a vodka, Campari and soda. Ditto on the ice and lemon." As he walked to the bar, I felt a twinge of sadness that he had mentioned my flat. Today had been a dream in his company. He was always charming, polite and witty. Even knowing what he did about my past, he was treating me as a lady. Dave had reminded me that the evening would come to an end eventually, and I would be back in the real world. He soon returned with our drinks, set them on the table, and said, "Let's go find some food."

In an alcove off the main restaurant was the carvery. The place was rather busy so we had to stand in line behind four or five other couples. I noticed that the chef was being generous with the portions he was slicing off the huge joints. We got our meals, filling our plates with veggies, and returned to our table.

While we were eating, we held a lively conversation and had a friendly argument over Dylan and The Beatles. I love Dylan but Dave complained that his voice was a nasal whine and he was a whinging malcontent. The Beatles, on the other hand, had been real musicians who enjoyed life.

But Bob Dylan, I countered, cared, really cared, about the world problems; his songs made you think, he knew about life. 

Listen to the words of Eleanor Rigby, was Dave's response, or Lady Madonna! Or the poignancy of She's Leaving Home if you want to hear about the meaning of life.

We kept up our conversation in the same vein all through our meal. When the waitress asked if we would like desert, Dave passed me a menu and we both made our selections. It was delicious and we discovered that we were both chocoholics at heart. Soon we were both full. I patted my tummy and sighed, "Thank you, Dave. A lovely meal but I'm bloated and couldn't manage another bite."

"Would you like a coffee or would you rather have another drink?"

"I'll have another of these, I think, but I'll get them: you've paid for everything else this evening."

He reached across and patted my arm. "I invited you to have dinner and a drink or two with me. When I invite a lady, I pay." He smiled to soften his blunt phrasing. 

I didn't want to spoil things over a trivial argument so I smiled my acquiescence. He went to the bar and brought me my drink, and some pale concoction, which I learned later, was lime cordial and soda. 

"Dave," I said, looking him in the eyes, "I enjoyed sitting talking with you this afternoon, you've bought me a lovely meal and I've enjoyed your company ever since we met. It's been a magical time for me; I don't want it to end." I paused, catching and holding his eye, "Can I come home with you, please, Dave, please? I don't want to go back to that dump tonight."

He sat back with a concerned frown. "That's not very wise, Betty. You know nothing about me. For all you know I might be an evil axe murderer. No, I don't think you should come back with me. If you like, I can pick you up tomorrow and we can spend the day together, maybe go down to the coast, or something else if you prefer. I'd like that." He smiled.

"Oh, Dave, I'd love that, too. But I honestly couldn't face going back to that place tonight. Please, please, please let me come with you."

"I wouldn't mind, my dear, you'd be welcome to stay the night at my place, but as I say, you really don't know anything about me but my name - and maybe that's a lie. Betty, what have you been warned by everybody since you were a little girl? 'Don't go with strangers.' I'm that stranger you don't go with."

"I still want to come back with you Dave. I know I can trust you."

He shook his head and smiled, "You really don't know you can trust me. But I know I can trust me so yes, you may have my spare room tonight. But there will be a condition, for your own safety: when we get to my place, or now if you wish, I want you to phone somebody who knows you and I want you to tell them exactly where you are going and who I am. You can read the details off my driving licence. Will you do that?"

"I suppose I could call Jane: she's the only one from my old days who has kept in any kind of touch."

"OK, let's go home. If I don't have to drive you home tonight, it's about time I started getting outside of a real drink. Do you want to finish that drink as you're calling Jane?" He handed me his mobile.

I took a gulp of my drink as the phone was connecting. "Hi, Jane, it's Bet. Look, I know this is a bit of a weird thing to ask; do you have a pen and paper handy?" I waited until Jane told me to go ahead. "OK, I said, it's like this ..." I gave her a brief rundown of the day. "The thing is," I continued, "Dave insists that I call you and tell you who I'm with and where we're going." Dave held his driving licence out to me and I read his full name and address from the licence. "Did you get all that?"

"Yep, Bet. I got it. Now you two enjoy yourselves. He sounds like a very nice man. Say 'Hi' to Dave for me. Bye bye bye bye ..."

I handed Dave his phone and licence back. "Jane says you're a nice man and says 'Hi.'" I finished my drink but noticed Dave ignored the remnants of his glass. We went back out to the car where he let Bonzo out to stretch his legs and have nose around and cock his leg, as dogs will. It took Dave about twenty minutes to drive to his place. I did note that it was the same address as his licence, blowing away any last lingering hesitation. Dave was an OK guy.




May and December Ch. 01



He opened the door and stopped Bonzo pushing past me with the words, "Wait Bonzo. Ladies first," and ushered me into the small vestibule of a neat new bungalow. He opened the inner door and reached past me to the light switch. The door opened onto a passage with doors to the left and right, with an open door straight ahead. I could see a large double bed from the light of the passage.

Dave indicated I should step inside. Immediately to our right Dave opened a door, entered the small bedroom and closed the curtains before switching the light on. "This will be your room." It held a double bed, chest and wardrobe, all decent mass-produced furniture. The bed covers were decidedly masculine, as was the whole house furnishing. Dave turned back the corner of the duvet then showed me the rest of his house. The kitchen was quite a big one and pretty well-equipped -- that was first left. Next right was the bathroom with a nice big bath, separate shower stall and the toilet. The porcelain was all gleaming and I've always thought you can tell a person's home from their bathroom and toilet - my own showing how little I cared for the dump. "Take a bath or shower any time you like. Plenty of hot water."

To the left was a nice-sized living room with a decent TV and impressive-looking sound system. The two huge armchairs were next to each other, each with a very wide, flat arm so it was almost like a table between them. Along one wall was a huge book case full of books. The end wall was all glass with a sliding door. Dave went in and pulled all the curtains closed.

The final room was his bedroom. Along the back wall was a large computer workstation and a little space which was obviously his office. It was the only untidy place in the house but we didn't stay looking at it. 

"Dave," I asked maybe a little shyly, "I know I've only just got here but may I take a shower right away pretty please? I haven't bathed properly for months."

"Sure," he said, opening the bathroom again and retrieving a nice big navy bath towel from a cupboard. "Let me show you the controls." He did that then walked to the wardrobe in 'my' room and brought me a fluffy, soft navy bathrobe. From the mirrored cabinet above the sink he produced a new tooth brush still in its sealed cellophane wrapper. "See you in a few minutes. I'll have a drink waiting." Again, he had a lovely, kindly smile as he closed the door.

I turned the lock and undressed then enjoyed the luxury of a long, hot shower. The various toiletries were masculine, of course, but had a mild, spicy scent with a hint of lavender. I liked it - I still use his to this day. As I soaped up my breasts I began to feel just a little bit horny and my nipples crinkled up, asking for some stimulation. I was happy to oblige. My pussy also wanted my fingers when I got down that far. It had been over a year since Billy had been killed and I'd had nothing since then. With the heat of the shower and my soapy hands rhythmically fondling my breasts and my pussy, my thoughts drifted to Billy and his sweet and gentle loving. I didn't at first realise it when Dave's image kept slipping in but when I noticed the direction of my reveries I stopped short. "Dave?" I thought, "he's twice my age?" 

My new friend had been the perfect gentleman all day and there had never been any suggestion of sex or anything but the mildest flirting either in his speech or actions. What if he did make a pass at me now we were alone? Strangely I wasn't repulsed by the thought and continued with Dave in my mind as I suppressed my squeals as I my orgasm flooded through my body.

Almost reluctantly I turned off the shower and towelled myself dry. I dusted myself over with his talc then had to decide what to wear, not that I had a lot of choice. I decided on my underwear and the bath robe which came down to mid-calf so was plenty good coverage. Even after my earlier thoughts, I wasn't of a mind to encourage him. I tidied the bathroom and joined Dave in the living room. The sound system was playing some classical music as a quiet background, there were two glasses filled with ice and that pale pink of Campari on the little coffee table, and what looked suspiciously like a spliff. 

"Sit down, Betty. I'm dying for a drink but I've been waiting for you to join me." His smile welcomed me so I sat down and picked up the drink. He reached over to clink his glass on mine, "Careful, I made them strong."

Whoosh! It was strong. I think there wasn't too much soda in the mix. Dave took a big gulp of his own and sighed, "I needed that! Do you want to share this with me?" He picked up the spliff, lit it and took a couple of big drags. I reached across and he passed it over to me.

A big pull on it had me coughing. "Your smoke is as strong as your drink." I gasped as I regained my breath.

"No sense in wasting time: make them strong and you don't have to make them so often. I'm a lazy bastard." He shrugged and smiled over at me as I was braving another pull on the spliff.

More by way of conversation, and certainly meant in jest I said, "Anyone would think you're getting me drunk and drugged so you can have your wicked way with me." Phew, my head was spinning and my ears buzzed; did I just say that? I was stoned after two hits.

I passed the spliff back and tried to collect my head. He took a blast then a drink and said to me in a serious voice although his eyes twinkled, "Betty, I'm 67 and you're 32. I'm old enough to be your father, your grandfather, even. You're a very attractive young lady: I'm not naïve, there's no way you could want me for that kind of thing. No, dear, I'm under no illusions. Truly you are perfectly safe and I have no intention of taking advantage of your condition." He gave a short laugh: "Anyway, we oldies are not like young men, ruled by our gonads."

He was totally serious and totally believable. We finished that spliff between us as the atmosphere again relaxed. We sipped at our drinks and Dave brought out more pot and a little pipe. "I normally take mine neat in the pipe. You're welcome to a few pipes with me or skin up for yourself. It's up to you. Finish that off," he indicated my almost empty glass, "and I'll get us a refill." 

While I emptied my glass he had a couple of pipes then passed me the kit, picked up my glass and headed off to the kitchen, Bonzo following at his heel. As they left, I saw a dark streak dash from his bedroom to the kitchen. I almost choked on the pipe in surprise and followed them all to the kitchen. Dave reached into the fridge and got out a bone, which he set down in front of Bonzo and told him to wait. Next he fed the cat, which was what that dark streak turned out to be, a handful of dry cat food from a packet. Bonzo was obediently sitting in front of the bone staring and drooling by the time Dave said to him, "OK Bonzo!" and the dog took up the bone. "This is Aunt Sally," he said, indicating the cat. "She's shy around most strangers. Let her get used to you. I never thought to ask, do you like cats and dogs?"

Dogs, I could take them or leave them but I've always loved cats and they know it. After she had finished eating her treats, and while Dave was mixing our drinks, she came to introduce herself to me by rubbing against my legs. "Yes, I love cats and I don't mind dogs, especially when they're as well-behaved as Bonzo."

That seemed to please him. He got out a packet of chocolate coated raisins and tipped them into a bowl. He gave me my refilled glass, picked up his own and we all went back to the living room. Bonzo sat at his master's feet while Aunt Sally jumped onto the broad arms of our chairs with a little 'merrrp' and settled down.

We both helped ourselves to those chocolate raisins and for no apparent reason I got a fit of the giggles - you know how infectious the giggles are when you're off your head, Dave started laughing too. Suddenly everything was nice, warm and cosy. We finally got our laughing under control - well, almost - and Dave started tossing single chocky raisins up and catching them in his mouth. He caught a couple then one missed and it landed on the floor, giving me another thing to giggle at. Bonzo flicked out his tongue and disposed of it. 

I started throwing raisins of my own and had about as much success as Dave. All this movement made the belt of my robe come a bit loose but neither of us seemed to notice until Dave threw a raisin towards my mouth; it missed and went straight down the garment. That gave us both something to giggle at as I searched for it inside my robe.

Finding the errant raisin, I triumphantly popped it in my mouth and with what I hoped was great dignity I closed the robe and retied the belt. Not that it made much difference; we both knew he had seen me in my underwear. Somehow I didn't mind and he didn't seem upset: no harm done.

So that happy evening stretched out. We had some more drinks, maybe another two, maybe more, I lost count, and more pipes: we just drifted along in our own little world. We played toss the raisin after a while, trying to catch each other's. We made a competition of it and Bonzo was like a vacuum cleaner whenever we missed. He ate more raisins than the two of us put together. Again all the movement made my robe open up but I left it like that. Truth be known, pot always loosened my inhibitions and I was feeling more than a bit randy. I started flirting with him and letting the robe open even more. Dave flirted back and I noticed he was having a good look at my body. 

When our glasses were almost empty again I got up and said I'd get us a refill this time. I came back with the drinks and set them on the table. I threw the bathrobe wide open then sat myself on his lap. With one hand behind his head I kissed him and brought his hand to my breast with my other hand. The kiss lasted for about two seconds and just as I started pushing my tongue forward, his hand left my breast - he hadn't even squeezed it in that brief time - and he pulled away from the kiss.

"Betty," he said almost sadly, "you have drunk a lot of strong liquor and smoked a lot of pot. You're pissed and stoned and not capable of making a rational decision." I noticed that his speech was becoming a bit slurred. "I promised you I would not take advantage of you in this state so please don't do this. I would hate you to look at me in the morning and think 'Did I really sleep with that old man?' Go and sit back down, Betty." He picked up my glass and handed it to me. Maybe he was right so I was a good girl and sat back in my own chair and sipped at the drink. But I was still horny, no getting around that!

I decided to roll a spliff which Dave shared with me. Eventually I felt my eyelids drooping. I looked at the last mouthful of drink in my glass and just didn't fancy it at all. Dave stood over me and held out his hand. "Bedtime for you, young lady." 

I tried to stand but my legs wouldn't work. I tried again then felt Dave's arm tucked round my back and under my arm as he dead lifted me from sitting to standing. The room was swaying and spinning and he was the only stable thing around so I clung to him. With his arm around my waist holding me firmly he led me to my bedroom. 

Opening the door, he didn't bother switching the light on, the light from the passage was sufficient. He pulled the bed covers away then sat me down on the edge of the bed. He slipped the robe from my shoulders and held me as he laid me in the bed. He kissed me softly and chastely on the lips, to which I responded in like manner, he pulled the covers over me, stroked my cheek and said, "Thanks for today, Betty. I've enjoyed it so much." It seemed like too much of an effort to respond so I just looked up at him and smiled. I don't even think I remember the door closing.

Oh god, never again. My head felt like it didn't belong to me and my stomach was definitely queasy. It took me a few seconds to recognise that I wasn't in my own bed. I sat up suddenly: a mistake. Note to self for immediate consideration: no fast moves. I looked down at myself and saw I was wearing bra and panties. The bathrobe I had worn last night was on the bed beside me. Slowly, last night and the whole of yesterday came back to me: I wondered what the new day would bring. The clock on the bedroom wall told me it was 9:15.

I carefully stood up and pulled the robe on. Tying the belt, I opened the door and ventured out. The kitchen door was open and I peeped in. Dave was making busy at the sink, washing a few pots and glasses. On the breakfast table there was a jug of orange juice, a glass and a packet of paracetamol tablets. Just about the kind of breakfast I could face. I dropped onto the bench seat at the table, poured a glass of juice and took a couple of tablets. Dave finished what he was doing then offered me a cup of coffee. Only instant, he apologised. I asked him to make me a cup but I wanted it to cool off a little before I tackled it.

He brought two cups to the table, stood behind me and started massaging the kinks out of my neck and shoulders. "Do you fancy going to the beach today?" he asked. I groaned, both in pleasure about what his magic fingers were doing to my neck and, more negatively at the thought of that long drive to the beach. How could Dave be so bright and cheerful this morning: he had as much to drink as I had last night? I surrendered myself to his gentle manipulations and felt tensions draining away. I made no objection when he slipped the robe off my shoulders so he could reach down the top of my spine but he made no attempt to take liberties. He broke off for a minute, took a drink from his coffee and left the room briefly, returning with a phone. "Do you think it might be a good idea to phone your friend and let her know you're OK?" While he was working on my shoulders I called Jane and told her that I was fine and that Dave hadn't tried to lay a finger on me. I said we both got absolutely wrecked last night but he had been a true gentleman.

"I haven't anything to wear to go anywhere, Dave. You've seen all my clothes." I felt myself blushing at the memory of my shameless flashing my all at him last night. "I need to buy some more before I can think of going anywhere. I haven't even got anything decent down at the flat and I bought all you have seen yesterday. Would you take me to the Mall so I can buy some stuff, please?"

"No problem," he replied. "Without wishing to pry, are you OK for cash?"

"If we could stop off at a post office on the way, I'll withdraw plenty. We can have some lunch at the Mall but I'm paying for it." I could see the objection forming on his lips and put a finger to close them. "My treat, I mean it, you paid for everything yesterday."

He smiled at my serious face. "Right, we'll go shopping - but please, not too long, I've shopped with too many women in the past." His face took on a pained expression. "Or rather I've trailed behind them while they did the shopping. Then we have lunch, your treat if you insist, and then what would you like to do?"

"I tend to make my mind up quickly so maybe I'm not as bad as your other women. To be honest, I'm feeling a bit too fragile to go as far as the coast. I'd rather just sit in the sun somewhere close."

"Is my back garden close enough? Come and look." He led me through the living room and out through the patio door. The garden looked the perfect sun trap. He had a neatly clipped privet hedge rising to about seven feet all round. In one corner was a plum tree loaded with ripening fruit; in the other corner was a cherry tree, similarly laden. The edge of a fairly small patio was lined with well-established lavender which was abuzz with bees. I walked to the middle of the garden and looked all around. With perfect privacy in all directions it was almost a place apart from the world. 

"Oh, it's so lovely, Dave. Can we just chill out here this afternoon?"

"Yes, of course we can. Will it take you long to get ready for the Mall?"

"No, I've got very little to do. Just let me get washed up then I'm ready." We returned to the house; I went through to my bedroom, took off the bathrobe, picked up my dress and handbag and walked out to the bathroom in my undies. Dave blinked but didn't turn his eyes aside as I walked past him. I closed the door but didn't lock it. He knew I was there so it wasn't needed. I sat at the toilet doing the necessary and looked at my panties. They were still messy and smelly from last night. I recall getting very horny and almost throwing myself at Dave. OMG, I thought, my pussy had been dripping wet as I sat on his lap. Anyway, I didn't really want to be carrying that stink around. 

Finishing my toilet, I washed up, not missing my privates, then went to the bathroom door with knickers in my hand. Opening the door a crack I called his name and he came from his bedroom. "Dave, my knickers are dirty. Do you have anything I could possibly wear instead? These are pretty ripe."

He returned to his room and came back shortly afterwards with a pair of red silk boxers and a pair of men's briefs. "Try these, it's about the best I can do." 

I took them from him, held the boxers to my waist then opened the door a bit wider: "What do you think?" 

He looked for a couple of seconds then slowly shook his head. "Not really, I don't think. Not under that frock at least. Try the briefs."

By now I didn't really care if he saw my private parts so I handed the boxers back to him and he watched as I pulled the briefs on. They fit pretty well. I turned to look at them in the large mirror. "Yes, they are fine," I said and slipped my dress on, deliberately leaving an extra button open at the top. 

I turned back to the mirror and put on some basic light makeup. I smoothed my dress from top to bottom, moulding my breasts as I did so and said, "I'm ready. How do I look?"

"Very nice. Pretty."

Dave seemed surprised that a woman could get ready so quickly but he opened the door without comment and had to make Bonzo stay behind. The Mall wasn't far and honestly I didn't drag him round every shop there. Just a couple which had a good reputation. Some more lingerie first, I thought. Dave was not the least embarrassed to walk with me as I passed through the rows of bras and panties, he would even comment on them. I got to learn what he liked and one of my choices was the sexiest set he had pointed out. I bent down and whispered in his ear, "How would you like to take these off me when I'm stone cold sober?"

As I bent over to him, he could see all the way down the front of my dress, and he did look. He looked me directly in the eyes and said, "Any time, any place. Are you really sure you want to do that with me?"

I just smiled and by way of answer I gave him a soft kiss on the lips. There, it was out in the open. Yes, I did fancy him even though he was so much older than me. He was handsome in his own way, he was clean, smelled sweet and maybe most of all, he was like an old fashioned gentleman with his lady. Dammit, he made me feel good. I wondered what he would be like as a lover and was starting to get damp between my legs with these thoughts.

Now the big question had been answered, we both relaxed and we touched each other more as we looked at more clothes. I got some nice tops and t-shirts, a couple of sensible skirts and the other bits and pieces I needed. He insisted on carrying my bags out to the car and safely out of the way, suggesting that I get us a table in the central food area.

As I was seated and waiting for Dave to return I tried to imagine what he would be like in bed. He'd probably had a lifetime of experience with women. One thing I knew: at his age it wouldn't be wham, bang, and thank you ma'am. I used to enjoy teasing my boyfriends so I decided to tease Dave as much as I could over lunch. The way he had looked at my bosom several times gave me an idea which set my nipples coming up to play. I opened another button on my dress and was determined to let Dave peek as much as he liked. Before too long Dave was back. We ordered our meals and as we waited for them to be delivered, I kept bending forward. Crazy, isn't it? Last night he had seen me in just my underwear, this morning even saw my pussy but now we were in a public place, just a flash of my bra seemed wicked.




May and December Ch. 01



"Good, here it is" I declared as our food arrived, "I'm starving now; I had no breakfast, remember."

"Whose fault was that?" His eyes twinkled. The whole meal was one long mutual flirting and teasing session with our knees and feet meeting under the table. I made sure he saw lots of my chest and he certainly wasn't shy in looking. Soon the meal was finished and, as we stood up he asked, "What would you like to do now, Betty?"

I grabbed his arm and we walked on until I was sure nobody could hear me, I said quietly, "I want you to take me home and make love to me while I'm stone cold sober. When we have satisfied our immediate passion, I want to get very drunk, very stoned and very fucked, simultaneously."

"I do believe," he said, guiding me towards the exit, "that's a very good plan. We can order a pizza or something later, so we don't have to go anywhere or do anything. Except bed and fuck. How sexy do you feel, Betty? Are you adventurous?"

"I'm horny as fucking hell! What are you thinking, 'adventurous'?"

We were passing a door marked with the familiar female sign. "If you feel adventurous," he half-whispered, "go in there and take your briefs off. Nobody will know except you and me. If you are really daring you'll also remove your bra - but maybe other people will know and see."

I had often thought it might be a bit exciting to do something like that but never really had the courage to show anything but a flash of undies. Now here was Dave asking me to do it, and I'd never even thought of doing it when I wasn't stoned. With a frisson of excitement that had me a little breathless I walked through the door and entered the first available cubicle. I used the facilities - I was almost peeing myself with the thought of what I was about to do - and instead of pulling my briefs back up, I pulled them all the way off. Taking a deep breath, I opened the dress and removed my bra. Should I button it all the way or leave that extra button open? I left it open but felt very self-conscious as I put my undies in my handbag, left the toilets and rejoined him.

"You look lovely," he beamed when I linked my arm into his. "I see you are very daring."

I was also very excited and flowing like a stream. I couldn't understand it; why was I almost fit to rape this old man walking next to me? 

When we go into the car I made sure he, at least, saw my bare breasts but as he was strapping himself in he said, "How would you like to open all those buttons for the drive?" The frock had buttons all the way down to a low waist. I waited until we had left the car park and properly on the move before I found my fingers complying with his request. The top opened away from my breasts and I was very conscious that anyone looking through the car window would maybe see me but, as we were moving at a fair speed, I thought they probably wouldn't get more that a quick glance.

Oh shit, I thought as we pulled to a stop in a queue at the traffic lights. I made to close the gap down my front but Dave smiled and said, "Leave it open, please. You've got breasts to be proud of."

There was a woman driver in the adjacent lane and I know she was looking. Fortunately the lights changed fairly quickly and as we drove away I pulled my top away from my body to make sure the other woman had a good look. She tracked alongside us for a couple of seconds then she gave me a 'thumbs up' and with a huge grin she mouthed, "Yeah!"

I was so excited; I could feel the seat of my dress getting wet now that I wasn't wearing briefs to help soak up the heavy leaking. I made myself more discrete as we got close to his house - no point in advertising to his neighbours - but as soon as the front door was closed behind us, I grabbed his face and gave him the sexiest of kisses, with my tongue half way down his throat. I was kissed back just as thoroughly and Dave wasted no time in slipping the dress off my shoulders and getting himself a handful of aching tit.

Breathlessly I broke off the kiss and pulled his shirt over his head. He had a broad chest with firm musculature all over his upper body. While it wasn't developed into a six-pack, his stomach was tight with very little sign of fat. I dropped to my knees in front of him and opened the top of his slacks, pulling them all the way down. I could see a sizeable lump in his briefs which required a closer examination.

It didn't disappoint me when I pulled his briefs off and took his firm flesh in my hand. He wasn't built like a donkey but was certainly big enough to fill me. It was lovely and clean. The circumcised head tilted up a little, and right at the tip glistened a little blob of his lubrication which I kissed away. 

"Are you really sure about this, Betty?" he asked as he gently pulled away and brought me to my feet and led me to his bed.

"Yes I'm sure Dave, I wanted it last night but you wouldn't, I've wanted it all morning but we couldn't, so now will you please shut the fuck up and fuck me."

"Your wish is my command." With that he picked me up and threw me onto his bed then scrambled after me and got himself a handful of tit while he kissed me very thoroughly. I hate those men who give a breast scant attention, just a few squeezes and maybe a bit of suckling but Dave, oh god, he really knew what to do with a tit as he mauled it just as comprehensively as he kissed.

His tool was wonderfully hard as my hand wrapped around its ample girth, spreading the silky juices around that smooth head. I love circumcised penises; they are much sweeter and cleaner. I looked forward to tasting its delights, but I think we both needed to fuck first and explore later. As if reading my mind, he pushed my legs apart and knelt between them. I spread my lips to welcome him to the harbour and just grunted as his length slid right up inside, without forcing but going right to the hilt. He started slowly pumping in and out, going full length strokes which seemed to touch me everywhere down there. He was propped up on his hands looking down at me as I wrapped my legs tightly around him.

"Play with your tits for me," he said, gripping my hips so he could thrust harder into me. He watched as my hands came up to maul my tits about and punish the nipples. My juices were squelching between us and my hips were bucking, trying to match his rhythm. I was moaning and calling his name over and over and asking for more, more, more.

He was gradually speeding up his thrusting; I saw that look of intention in his eyes and knew we were both so close. His face dropped to mine and we brushed our lips then he whispered, "Come for me my Bettina."

Now he was almost an automaton, ramming into me like a piston as I screamed, "YESYESYES fucking YEEAAAHHHHH" I was only dimly conscious of Dave's own squealing and of his sperm pumping into me. He slowed down until he was just moving gently in and out as he caressed my face and lips with kisses. Soon he lay still on top of me, except for the occasional twitch from his prick inside me which set off lovely aftershocks for me, but he was shrinking.

Eventually his soft tool dropped away leaving me feeling empty but he knelt between my legs again and started licking me clean. I just love being licked clean. Not a lot of men are happy doing it but this was the first time a man had done it without being asked. I just lay there while his tongue probed as deep inside me as possible with the odd detour to my clitoris. Oh god, I was starting again as his steady rhythm stoked the fires once more. This time everything built up slowly and Dave was licking like he had nowhere more important to go than where he was right now. He even used the rougher texture of his beard over all my sensitive spots. As the feelings grew more and more intense I started moving my groin around but he hung on until I finally bucked and thrashed and came all over his face.

When I had calmed down he kissed my pussy lips then came to kiss me, but just briefly. He rolled over to his bedside cabinet, took out the makings of a spliff which he passed to me and asked me what I wanted to drink. I told him I really fancied beer, as it was such a hot day. He grinned: "You get busy on that spliff." He went to the kitchen and, a minute later he presented me with a pint glass which held some fairly dark liquid at the bottom. "Try this; it's my own brew."

I took a sip. It had a rich malty taste which I just had to roll round my tongue. "Oh, that's nice. Yes, I can drink that, please." I finished the rest of my sample and handed the glass back for a refill with a smile; I then returned to the spliff. Remembering last night, I made it very strong. I was just finishing when he returned with two full pint glasses. He put one on each bedside table then joined me on the bed, I was sitting cross-legged as I had been skinning up so he sat cross-legged with our knees touching.

We both took a decent drink then he lit the spliff and passed it over to me. We both took a couple of pulls and more beer. "Well," he said, "Stage One went OK. Now we're into Stage Two." His grin was infectious but I demanded to know what the two stages were. 

"You wanted to be fucked while you were stone cold sober. Stage One done. Then you wanted, what did you say? You want to get very drunk, very stoned and very fucked. Stage two. We have drink, we have pot. Maybe we'll have to wait a while to finish Stage Two, I'm not so young as I was, but I hope we can have some fun along the way." All the time he was gently stroking and soothing my lower legs.

I reached out and pulled his face to mine. It was a bit awkward as we were both stretched but we clung to each other and kissed long and hungrily. The smoke was passing back and forth and we both kept sipping at our drinks. "You know, Dave, last night you were very concerned that I wanted you to take me, to bring me, home. You were protecting me, I know. But let me tell you, you were the one in danger of being raped last night. It's only fair I give you warning," I said: "pot makes me very horny, well, you saw that, and very kinky. At the Mall you asked me if I was adventurous or daring. How adventurous or daring can you be? do you want to be?"

"Bettina, I'm willing to try anything. If I honestly don't like something, I'll tell you - just as I hope you will tell me the same. To quote god knows who, 'I'll try anything once. Twice if I like it.'"

Bettina? That's twice he had used that name. Nobody had called me that before. I quite like it if that's what he wants to call me. "I can be a little rough." I told him.

"Ditto." He smiled and flicked his finger nail over a nipple harshly. I flinched, but not too much as the delicious thrill sparked from my nipple to the rest of my nerve endings."

"We should have limits," I said, "before we start, before we have any more smoke. No marks remain visible when wearing street clothing."

"That's reasonable. And no permanent damage."

"Absolutely none!" 

Had I finally met somebody like me, who wasn't afraid to experiment with the unusual? My ex-husband wasn't happy when going beyond the missionary position. None of the other lovers I have had were willing to try things. This could be fun! I drained my beer and handed him the glass and pulled the makings towards me.

When he returned and put our glasses in place I had him stand by the bed with his legs open. He flinched more than I did when I flicked one of his testicles as hard as he had flicked my nipple. But he grinned and took a deep breath.

We lay side by side with Dave facing me as I lay on my back. His hand gently cupped my cheek and caressed it, then slowly moved over my lips which parted as he inserted the tip of a finger inside. I tried to suck it in but he was having none of that as his fingers moved feather-like below my ear and slowly stroked down my neck and onto my shoulder. My breathing was getting heavier as his fingers moved across one breast then the other but avoiding the nipples which were swollen and begging for attention.

One hand under my breast cupped it and gave it a loving squeeze before moving slowly, frustratingly, down over my fluttering tummy and drew some lazy circles around my navel before moving on and scratching ever so lightly over my lower abdomen, brushing my pubic hair but never giving my pussy any attention. He moved his hand down to my knee and started stroking up and down my inner thigh, always lifting away as it approached my waiting pussy. Again and again he brushed along the top of the hairs around my dripping slit. I needed him to touch me down there but he kept me waiting as his hand once again traversed up my body, stopping at all points and teasing all the way.

Now both hands came into play as he began to mould first one of my tits then the other. He left that off and turned my face towards his. His kiss was at first light and gentle as he sucked my bottom lip between his, but it became more intense as our tongues were doing a merry dance together. His hands were behind my head, thumbs playing with my ears as he licked up my neck and nibbled at my earlobe. 

Now a hand was squeezing my tit again as his mouth sank wetly down to it and enclosed the nipple with firm suction. Both hands were making free with my breast, pummelling and scraping it while his mouth, tongue and teeth played havoc with my nipple. After several heavenly minutes one hand went to the other tit and gave that a work over as his head moved slowly south, fluttering gentle kisses and licks over every inch of my tummy. I was moaning and raising my hips to meet him as he got closer and closer to the promised land but again he bypassed my pussy and started nibbling up and down my inner thighs.

He moved over between my legs, pushing them wide apart and bending my knees. His hands gave my breasts a final squeeze then tickled their way down to the hot spot. God, I was going crazy with frustration as his hands went everywhere but where I wanted. He clenched his fingers in my pubic hair and tugged and tweaked at them then finally one finger traced down one of my pussy lips and up the other, making my hips buck wildly. God it was so lovely but I wanted, I needed, more. Round and round my labia that finger traced, sometimes so lightly I could scarcely feel it, other times more firmly. Finally his finger stroked my lips to the sides and pressed into the gap, not quite entering me. His other hand now came into play, spreading my lips wide and I could feel the cool air on my clitoris as the hood lifted.

Dave moved his head closer to my groin and I could feel him blowing on the wetness down there, but he left me high and dry as his hands made their slow, torturous way back up my body, pinching and scratching my flesh until they once more arrived at my breasts which received their own share of the little punishments the rest of my body had taken. Now my nipples were the focus of his attentions as they got squeezed, twisted and pulled every which way. They have always been sensitive and now there seemed to be a red hot wire connecting them and my clitoris.

He left off touching me for a few seconds, leaving me feel bereft as he stared lustfully at my trembling body. With a wicked grin on his face he went down just where I wanted. Suddenly his whole mouth was at work, his tongue lapping as far inside me as he could push it, his lips sucking at mine. And then his teeth suddenly nibbled my clitoris. I shrieked out loud and almost bucked him off me but he clung on like a limpet and kept working at my clitoris as volcanoes erupted throughout my body. Holy fuck, Dave had played me like a fine-tuned fiddle. And he had the knack of bringing me down, too: his mouth was much more loving and gentle as he soothed me back to Planet Earth and I wondered if I would ever experience it like that again.

I pulled my lover's head out of my groin and brought it up to my face. I could see that his beard was soaked and glistening with my fluids and as I kissed him feverishly I could taste myself. 

But I wanted to taste him, all of him. I rolled us over so that he was on his back and I was half on top of him. I started with his mouth and explored that with my tongue. I tickled my tongue around his ear and lapped at the perspiration on his neck and down to his chest. The hair there was matted to the skin with sweat which I licked up avidly. I just love the taste of clean honest sweat and made my way under his arm which I sucked.

Meanwhile my hands roamed over his body but, maybe to get my own back for his teasing, I always skirted around the flesh rod which was jerking about for my touch. My other hand started playing with one of his nipples as I licked my way slowly to the other. I started nibbling at the hard nub which brought a groan from my lover. He liked rough play on his nipples. Well, we'll see about that, but later. Enough messing about, I thought; I want something more inside me than a finger. I need something substantial like the cock in my hand.

Without further ceremony I threw my leg right over him and hovered my gaping pussy just above his prick for a couple of seconds before I guided it into my passage and slid my pussy the full length of his meat. 

I sat more or less upright, feeling his tool touch me in new places as I rocked back and forth, up and down. I reached behind me and played with his balls, not too gently but he just lay there and smiled although he winced now and then when I maybe squeezed or tugged a bit harder. Otherwise I was almost mesmerised by the way my boobs swayed over him as I rocked back and forth. He reached up and caught both of my nipples, just holding them between thumb and finger then he started squeezing, gently at first but with increasing pressure as the seconds ticked past. 

Every time I rocked on his prick the squeeze tightened. Oh god, I couldn't take any more but I didn't want it to stop. I was coming in waves even though I had tears streaming down my face. Just as I closed my eyes in ecstasy the pressure went off my nipples and both his hands smacked my breasts together once, twice, three times. Three more little orgasms: it couldn't get better than this could it? Yes. I squeezed and pulled on his testicles as hard as I could and I hit my own max at his own tortured scream. The next thing I remembered was Dave kissing away my tears.

I suddenly realised that he hadn't come with me this time but he smiled and said it didn't matter. He was in no hurry, he was enjoying himself. I rolled him away and drained my beer again. It was almost becoming a ritual, he filled the glasses and I rolled the spliff. Dave suggested we might like to get some sunshine and we could continue messing around so long as there was no noise. His nearest neighbour had a severe hearing deficiency but there were others around who might hear them. 

My lover got a large beach towel and spread it out in the full sun. He threw a couple of cushions down for us to rest on. He lay flat on his back and had to tilt his head to take a drink. I lay beside him, took a couple of pulls on the smoke and passed it to him. I turned towards him and rested my hand across his chest then started gently playing with his nipple. I rested my head on his chest as he inhaled deeply. I'm sure he was purring like a cat when I took his nipple in my mouth and teased it with my tongue and teeth.

He pulled me away by my hair, but gently, returned the spliff and as soon as I had taken a big draw, he pulled me into an open mouth kiss. Realising what he wanted, we passed the smoke back and forward between us. That must be about as intimate a way of smoking pot as you could get.

"I don't know about you," I said, finally breaking that kiss, "but I'm nicely stoned," I paused to down another slug of that beer, belched yeastily and continued, "nicely drunk and I've been very nicely fucked. Stage Two is nicely in progress." We shared another smoke, and another, until we had burned the spliff away and finished our drinks.




May & December



Ben frowned, as though he could read my thoughts, and a wave of pity washed over his gentle features. “Well then,” he offered slowly. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m available. If I’m going to lose a student, I’d rather it not be to heat stroke.”

Then, hurriedly, as though he feared my gratitude, he rose and called for the nurse. Paperwork ensued, a list of ‘do’s’ and ‘don’ts’ and within a half-hour I’d been consigned to Ben’s care for the short ride home.

Ben popped me into a wheel chair and chauffeured me down to the main entrance. “Now just wait here,” he cautioned. “Relax, and I’ll drive up front in a few minutes. How are you feeling?”

I smiled. How could I tell him that I felt like shit, that my head was pounding and that I still felt like every breath was going to be my last?

“I’m fine,” I lied, attempting to keep my voice steady. I’d had enough melodrama for one day. All I wanted now was to curl up in my cozy bed with nothing but the low moan of my air conditioning filling my mind for the next week or so.

“Good” he nodded, not quite convinced. “You just wait here, then.” And with that he trotted down the stairs, past the wheelchair ramp and vanished behind a thicket of white oleanders.

He was a nice man, I thought as I watched his lanky frame lope solidly down the steps, a decent man…the kind who cared for no other reason than the fact that it was the right thing to do. He was a rarity, a diamond in a world full of rhinestones.

Ben Gates was special.

In no time at all, I saw a desert-beige SUV pull alongside the curb, and Ben trotting merrily toward the door. “Hang on, Jillian. We’re going for a ride!” he announced, maneuvering the infirmary’s wheelchair gingerly down the ramp. “I have the best AC money can buy, all cranked up and waiting for you, so just sit back and enjoy the trip.”

Carefully, he drew abreast of the passenger door, then opened it wide to allow me entry. The cold blast of air hit me like a welcome zephyr from the arctic. Immediately I felt the goose flesh begin to rise on my arms, my nipples hardening and my lungs drinking in the chilled essence of it all. Oh, what a relief, I thought. Air conditioning is a true miracle! 

Once inside he asked “So…where are we going? I may need directions on this. I live in Ahwatukee, and some of the side streets around here aren’t all that familiar to me.”

“Oh, no problem. It’s not far. Just head south on Mill Ave, take a right on Broadway, and I live just over the tracks on Farmer. It’s an old place with a really eclectic yard…a John Deere tractor and a Japanese koi pool if you can imagine. I think the owner has a weird sense of humor.”

He smiled…a smile that shouted out the pure joy he brought to life. “Yeah, there are lots of places like that in the old part of town, I’ve heard. I even passed one place with a scaled –down Eiffel Tower filled with geraniums sitting right in the middle on the front lawn…and another with a fountain made out of vintage toilets! It’s a crazy town, but unique…very unique.”

“Ah…a politician, I see,” I joked. “’Unique’…not everyone would be so diplomatic.”

“Well, “ he paused, a gleam in his eye, “When you’re as old as I am, you learn to walk on the safe side of the road. It gets you there in one piece a hell of a lot more often.”

There it was again. How old was he, I wondered. Certainly not more than 40…45 at the most. His broad chest and firm body attested to a life of healthful activity and youthful pursuits. Surely he couldn’t be all that old! Suddenly, the devil grabbed my tongue and I blurted out the thought that was foremost in my mind.

“And how old is that, if you don’t mind my asking?” I posed. “You make it sound as though you’re Methuselah’s grandfather.”

“Well…” he began slowly, “I’m probably old enough to be yours, or pretty close to it. I’m 55, and teaching my last semester before a well-planned retirement. So what are you…18…19?”

“I’m 20!” I retorted, trying to sound indignant. And, I’ll be 21 in a few months. I’m not quite the baby you’d make me out to be!”

He smiled again, my attitude apparently a source of amusement. “Okay…okay. Not a sin to be young, you know. We all had it once. We just got over it!”

I laughed. He was disarming, this patient man. He had an unflappable sense of humor that took the sting out of the situation with a gentle ease borne through many years of practice. I could get used to this, I thought, the idea warming me. The way he makes me feel, the pure pleasure of his company could get to be habit forming. Maybe fate had taken a hand today. After all, it had brought Ben Gates into my life, hadn’t it?

In no time at all, we were pulling up to the curb in front of my small duplex, the sounds of the trickling fountain above the koi pool insinuating itself into the corners of my mind. It would be so good to get these clothes off and take a long, cool shower before tucking myself into bed.

Gratefully, I turned to my benefactor and tried to offer my thanks, the words forming slowly on my tongue like molasses on a warm day. Would it be inappropriate to invite him in for coffee, or given the heat, something cold to drink before he went on about his business? If he hadn’t been my teacher it would have been the natural thing to do, but…

“Would you like to come in for a minute” I blurted out before I had a chance to rethink the offer. I have cold beer, bottled water, pop… I won’t insult you with cash again,” I paused, “but would a can of pop be out of line?”

He looked as though he wanted to accept, like he might have actually enjoyed my companionship as much as I did his, but then the moment passed.

“Um…no, but thanks anyway. I need to be getting home. I have things to do if I’m going to keep ahead of that class of yours,” he grinned modestly. “You’re all getting too smart for me. Good thing I’m retiring after this semester, or I’d have to go back to school myself just to keep up.”

I laughed at that. What a guy! I’d checked up on his credentials before I’d ever enrolled in his class. The man had no less that three PHD’s , 30 years in the classroom, awards up the “ying-yang”, and here he was making jokes about his level of expertise. Where had this kind of man vanished, I wondered, remembering Scott back in Tucson? And, why hadn’t I ever met anyone like him before?

“Well, I guess I’ve embarrassed you enough for one day, Ben,” I replied quietly. “But, if you ever change your mind…”

Now why had I said that! He must have thought me a total fool! He’d as much as told me that he wasn’t interested, and there I was babbling like an idiot. What could I have been thinking?

Thanks again, Ben,” I finished inanely, opening the passenger door. “You certainly saved my bacon enough times today. I owe you one…or three.”

Then it hit me. The heat…my shaky legs…that clammy feeling washing over me like a tidal wave once more. With a stifled groan I slumped against the fender and took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d anticipated after all. Already the shifting foliage in the yard was swimming before me, a sea of speckled sun and shadow. Was it going to…

“Okay…hold on there. I’ve got you. Just lean against me and take a deep breath,” he said, his concern wrapping itself around me. “Why didn’t you say you still felt like hell before we left the infirmary? You shouldn’t be on your feet, young lady. You need to be inside rehydrating with a cold washcloth over your eyes. Don’t you know how to take care of yourself?”

And with that he scooped me up in his arms…his strong capable arms and maneuvered the corded wooden walkway to my door. “Is your key in your purse?” he asked, relieving me of my small leather bag. “Let me get you inside before you start decorating the sidewalk with all kinds of unsightly stuff…then I’ll call the clinic and ask for advice. How does that sound?”

I closed my eyes. It sounded wonderful. No, more than wonderful, Ben Gates was proving to be heaven sent…the right man in the right place.

“Thanks,” I said once more. “I seem to be saying that a lot today, at least to you.”

Quickly, he carried me inside and lay me down on my worn, but comfortable sofa.

“Now, hold still while I call,” he ordered lightly. “Everything’ll be fine in no time.” Then turning toward the phone stand in the corner he began to dial.

Fatigued and disoriented, I lay my head back against the cushioning surface and felt myself begin to drift off. Somewhere, far away, I heard his voice… pauses… affirmations…and then silence. A solid pair of hands began to rouse me, a voice, far away directing me to take off my clothing…strong arms lifting me…carrying me…to where?

Then I felt it, cool and wet, the welcome caress of fluid touching my heated flesh, the soothing words of comfort that nudged me from my sleep.

“Jillian. You have to wake up now. I have to take your temperature,” he said. “Don’t fall asleep yet. There’ll be time for that soon enough. Here, open your mouth.”

I felt the bitter taste of alcohol as my thermometer tickled my tongue, and the warmth of his hand as it supported my neck. All around me the water swirled, caressing my skin, cooling my naked flesh. It felt so good. And then there was Ben, his voice in the darkness, touching me once more, his hands a lifeline to the outside world. I could stay like this, I thought. I could just drift on this sea of dreams and muted sensation for the rest of my life.

And then he shook me!

“Wake up, Jillian. You need to sip some of this. You need to get some fluids into you before you sleep.

I gasped, my drifting dream a shattered bit of crystal at my feet. No longer did I float weightlessly amid the clouds, my throbbing head a thing of the past. I was here, in my own bathtub, and Ben Gates was nudging a container of lukewarm bottled water between my lips. 

A pause (how long?), and then the thermometer once again made its presence known…a muted grunt, and I felt myself being lifted, wrapped in a warm towel, and carried to my bedroom. 

The darkness closed around me in soft ebony waves as the drapes were drawn and the cruel sun made a hasty retreat. Once more I felt the water bottle against my lips, an arm tilting my head as I sipped, then slowly lowering me to the cushioned surface below.

Had I felt his fingers trail along my cheek then...his soft breath in my hair, or was it my imagination? All I can remember was the fear I felt every time his presence faded, and the desperation that overcame me as I curled my fingers into the fabric of his clothing to keep him near.

And so he stayed.

Chapter 4

I felt the warmth of him as though in a dream, long before the hard, solid length of him nudged my hip in the fledgling dawn. I gasped, waking with a start, then warm memories of the night before began to flow over me.

The heat…the infirmary…then Ben Gates to the rescue once again. I remembered my fingers clutching at him last night, responding to the empty fears that had filled me in the darkness, until he had finally lain beside me and chased back the dread.

And now, here he was, and poking me in the hip was his…

I blushed. Even knowing that passion had nothing to do with this morning salute did nothing to keep my response at bay. If the distortion of his jeans was any indication, then my rescuer was prodigious indeed.

Slowly, I raised my eyes to his sleeping face, to the gentle flow of his silken hair…to the full measure of his lips. What would it be like to touch him, I wondered, to feel that sensuous mouth move slowly over my own… over my body?

Without thinking my hip began to move against him, nudging his arousal in an age-old invitation. What was I doing! He was my teacher…my white knight. Not once had he given me reason to believe that he…

And then he began to move. Somewhere in the dim void between sleep and the waking world he began to respond, his hips pressing closer, his palms circling my naked body in a welcomed caress.

I hesitated at first, knowing that I was taking advantage of the moment, knowing I should wake him…but then I felt his lips against my throat and my nipples began to harden. Would it be so bad? Would any harm be done if we…

Slowly, I felt his hands flow across my flesh, downward… downward until his fingers cupped the downy triangle between my thighs and I surged against him.

The hard, male surface of him pressed insistently against my belly now, and I reached my hand between us to explore its rigid contours. So hard, so strong, I thought as my fingers nudged his zipper aside and probed the underlying warmth for his heated flesh. 

And then it was mine! Breathlessly, I explored, releasing his member from its cocoon of clothing, running my thumbs over his moistening knob as he hardened even more in my palm.

He sighed, a long, drawn out moan and drew me close to him, his newly freed flesh seeking…seeking…

“Oh Jennie,” he moaned softly. “I’ve missed…”

“Jennie?”

And then, as quickly as it had begun it was over. Ben leaped quickly from my grasp and parted the curtains, his face scowling and disoriented, his manhood safely tucked away once more.

“Jillian, that shouldn’t have happened. I apologize… sincerely. I wasn’t…you’re not…” 

The words, so hard to find in this awkward moment, failed him, and I knew I’d made a mistake. It wasn’t me he’d wanted in his arms…not me at all. It was someone named Jennie who’d filled his dreams…Jennie whom he’d sought in the intimate void between sleep and wakefulness.

“It’s alright, Ben. I understand. I was just as much to blame, maybe more. I knew what I was doing. I thought maybe you had too, but I was wrong. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

We stared at each other then, neither knowing how to continue. The heated memory of his hand between my thighs still had the power to arouse my mind, I realized. I’d let the situation get out of hand, and the responsibility for this current awkwardness lay primarily with me.

“I don’t know what to say, Ben. I thought that you’d wanted… No, that’s a lie. I just knew what I wanted. When I woke up and felt you so close, so warm and secure against me I couldn’t help myself. It seemed right at the moment…and so wrong now. Can you forgive me?”

“Forget it,” he replied, straightening his clothing. “No harm done,” he concluded, his gruffness belying his embarrassment. “It was my fault as much as yours. It’s just been a long time…” And then he stopped, as though betraying a memory, as though each word exposed a deeply hidden pain that had found solace in the cloistered recess of his heart.

A long time? Was he saying…? It couldn’t be, not for someone as obviously virile and deeply sensual as Ben Gates. But there it was. “…a long time…” he’d said. What did he mean?

I wanted to ask, to fill the void left by his words. But something told me it wasn’t the time, and I wasn’t the right person to be asking. And so the silence lay between us, long and heavy until finally he cleared his throat and collected his car keys and wallet from the nightstand.

“I should be heading off now. My office hours begin in thirty minutes, and I have a full schedule. Will you be all right? I mean…how are you feeling this morning?” he questioned, a little abashed that it had been an afterthought. “Do you need (was he blushing?)…ummm…anything…before I go?”

The vertical blinds cast thin stripes across his features, making him look for all the world like a convict pleading for a parole…and so I released us both.

“No…no. I’m fine. I’ll rest up for a while, and be in class on time this morning. I promise!” I smiled, grateful for the shadows that hid my eyes.

“Class?” he said, as though it had been the farthest thing form his mind. “Oh…CLASS!” he laughed. “I almost forgot. No…don’t worry about class. I’ll get my teaching assistant to copy my outline for the day and give it to you tomorrow, if you’re up to it. Just take it easy until you’re sure you’re on your feet again. Some things can’t be rushed.”

Then, turning quickly he opened the door and vanished into the glare of the early morning sun, leaving behind a curious void that whispered in somber tones…“This is not the end…” ------------------------------------------------- chapter 5

Now I know why so many students carry “sports bottles” loaded with chilled electrolytes when they travel around campus. Some of us just learned the hard way, I thought, clutching my newly purchased container in the crook of my elbow as I climbed the stairs to room 315.

I’d tried to come to class yesterday, but my knees just hadn’t cooperated. And so I’d spent the day soaking in the tub, and sipping an unending string of cool beverages. Finally, by the time the sun had set in a ball of flames in the western sky I was feeling like myself once more.

I slept well that night, plagued only by the dim memory of the morning before, and of the necessity of facing Ben once again when the new day came. But, he’d said it was all right, he’d understood. Hadn’t he? Only this morning would tell.

A little breathlessly I reached the 3rd floor, and turned toward room 315. The door was open, held by another student who’d seen me making my way down the hall. Quickly, I slipped inside and wrapped the cool, climate-controlled environment about me in delicious relief.

Quietly, I took the first available seat and began searching the room for Ben. He was there, alright, dressed in a casual tropical shirt of a deep blue that brought out the depth of his eyes. Once more I wondered how a man like that could be alone, when so many women would have given their eye teeth to share even a moment’s time with him. He was a puzzle wrapped in an enigma, but he wasn’t mine to solve. He was my professor, and I his student. The lines between us had to be reconstructed after yesterday morning… and the time to start was now.

With a flurry of deliberate activity, I nodded in Ben’s direction then began to prepare my clipboard for this morning’s notes. If my actions were overly exaggerated, Ben chose not to notice and went on filling the chalkboard with the statistical formulas that we’d be learning that session.

And so the next four hours passed, Ben carefully avoiding eye contact, and I fearing that he wouldn’t. Finally, as the lunch hour neared, the class ended and we all made our way out into the atrium once more.

With small sips of cool Gatorade sliding soothingly over my tongue, the trip to the MU wasn’t nearly as frantic as it had been two days before. In fact, I’d barely broken a sweat by the time I felt the rush of cool air from the student union building welcoming me inside.

Today, lunch was foremost on my mind…that and the awkwardness of my morning class with Ben. How could we possibly continue for the next five weeks like that, I wondered…avoiding each other’s eyes, almost fearful of accidental contact? Being politically correct could be a bitch, I thought. There was still time to drop the class, but did I want to run away again?

Grabbing a taco salad from the serving line, I paid for my lunch with my campus “Maroon and Gold” meal card and found a seat in a blissfully shaded corner of the room to gobble my food before my next class. That’s when he came in.

I don’t know why it surprised me. Everyone ate here, unless they grabbed a sandwich from the “roach-coach” between Farmer and Payne. This was, by far, the better choice.

He didn’t seem to notice me as he made his selections and took a table in the center of the room. He sat alone, with the ease of someone who has gotten used to it. That was something I knew about all too well. But, he wasn’t alone for long. One by one students and faculty dropped by, nodding their greetings, asking questions or just acknowledging the presence of a familiar face. It was when he turned to nod at one such contact that he noticed me watching from the sanctuary of my dusky corner.




May & December



His eyes met mine then, and I flushed. How terrible to have such a weakness, I thought, reflecting on my many shortcomings…something that telegraphs your emotions so completely… something that strips you to the bone in the most public of places. What would he do now, I wondered? What would he…

And then I knew.

Clutching his tray in one hand, and a manila folder in the other, he rose and made his way through the lunchtime chaos toward my table.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, his eyes smilingly disarming. “I have the notes I promised you, and, well, I thought we should talk. Sound alright to you?”

What could I say? My heart was pounding in my throat, and my lips had gone dry. Ben Gates had turned me into a gibbering idiot.

“Certainly.” I tried to say, but it sounded a lot more like “shirt-in-fly”. I flushed again as he checked the front of his pants. Why was this happening to me?

“Are you trying to tell me something?” he laughed. “I haven’t had zipper problems in quite a few years, but I always wanted to make an outrageous entrance.”

Ben laughed again, and my flush grew deeper.

“Take it easy, Jillian. I was just joking! But that’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. You shouldn’t worry so much about what happened yesterday…I’m not. If it’s the last embarrassing moment either one of us has, it’ll be a miracle.”

I tried to meet his eyes then…to read the gentle openness that seemed to sooth my discomfort.

“Here, wait a minute.” He smiled. Then rising, he vanished into the melee along the serving line for a few minutes. When he returned he was carrying two small, but lethal plates.

“Cheesecake!” I howled. “How did you know! And it’s the ‘turtle’ kind, with nuts and caramel! I think I’m in love!” I blurted easily, the thought of the sweet delight moistening my palate. Then I realized how inappropriate I must have sounded and glanced in horror at Ben.

Ben only laughed all the harder. “I think I am too,” he gasped between guffaws. “I have it on sound reconnaissance that this is the perfect ‘peace pipe’. Whaddya think?”

I smiled then, the kind of smile you get when you settle yourself beside an old friend. “I think your reconnaissance team may have been peeking in my window.” I laughed. “And you’re right. Life’s too short to get twisted up over something so unnecessary. So does this mean we’re going to be friends?”

Ben smiled an impish grin then, and as though he couldn’t help himself he replied: “After yesterday, I think it’s mandatory.”

I rolled my eyes, and he roared his infectious laugh once more. Ben Gates was indeed a special man. I was lucky to count him among my friends, I thought. But was that all I wanted?

And so it went, each morning opening into the next until a day without the sound of his voice or the touch of his hand on my arm was a day without sunshine. I found miracles in the world once again, and longed for the moments when I would get to share them with him. Though only a matter of weeks, it seemed as though I had known Ben for a lifetime. I wanted him desperately, but how could I tell him something like that?

Finally the Fourth of July weekend loomed on the horizon, a full four days with nothing to do but relax and enjoy the few pleasures that the horrendous heat in the “Valley of the Sun” had left to offer. It was over coffee in the MU that it first came up.


“So, are you going to bury yourself in paperwork this weekend?” I joked. “Even you must need a break sometime.”

He stirred a little Equal into his mug and smiled. “Nope. I have my weekend all planned. I have a little sloop over at Lake Mead, and I plan to use the time getting her ready for a trip.”

“A trip?” I grinned. “How far do you plan to take a sloop on Lake Mead? I mean, it’s a great lake, but isn’t it a little small for a sloop?”

Visions of the deep-water expanse behind Hoover Dam crossed my mind, and in the very middle a sailing ship searching for a good wind to nowhere.

“Well…it’s not the biggest sloop in the world…44 feet, first off. But, I never planned to leave it there anyway. I’ve only had her at Lake Mead while I reconditioned her. In a few weeks I’ll be hauling her to San Diego for some serious sailing.”

“Wow, lucky you!” I burbled. “What a weekend. I’m jealous, you know. I’ll be thinking of you every time I have to wrap a bandana around the car door handle just to get it open. You’re torturing me...you know that?”

“Well, it’s not much cooler at Lake Mead, if that’s any consolation,” he murmured softly, studying his mug. “But the wind on the Lake helps, and you can always jump overboard when it gets to be too much.”

He paused then, as if wondering how, or if to proceed, then set his jaw and continued. “Jillian, I usually take a few of the kids with me on these junkets to the lake, but I just didn’t see any I was comfortable inviting this weekend. Would you like to go? I mean, you’d have your own room and all…no strings attached. I won’t be insulted if you say ‘No’.” 

I paused then, everything inside of me screaming “Yes!”, but knowing that Ben meant exactly as he’d said…”no strings attached”.

The more I’d come to know Ben Gates, the more attracted I’d become. I wanted more from him than a fishing expedition, much more, something that perhaps he wasn’t willing to share.

The fantasy had grown in my mind over the past few weeks, the wonder…what would have happened that morning if Ben hadn’t called a halt? What would it have been like? The gentle touch of his fingers on my heated flesh, the intimate tones of his deep, rumbling voice as I rushed headlong into the maelstrom… the slow drift to earth as we held each other in the afterglow. That was what I wanted from Ben, but that was what I couldn’t have.

What should I say, I wondered frantically, what should I say? And then it came to me.

“Yes.” ------------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 6

Lake Mead was like another world.

All around me the weathered cliffs of this flooded chasm along the Colorado River called to me, beckoning to my flickering presence like a voice from time immemorial.

Ben’s impressive sloop lay at anchor in a secluded cove called Bonelli Landing. There, in the shifting blue-green water of the harbor it held court over the seemingly insignificant motor boats that paid it homage. She was beautiful, if that’s the word one uses for such things, easily riding the wake of all who passed to admire and sigh in appreciation.

“Big boat”, I commented inadequately, noting that nothing anywhere as large seemed to be at anchor in the cove. “It must be hard to sail a ship like that in a lake.”

Ben smiled and nodded his head. “It is. It isn’t often that I can hoist the sails and give her a run. I have to use the motor most of the time. But it’s only temporary…just a place to work on her, and enjoy her a little. Pretty soon I’ll be hauling her to San Diego for a real outing.”

“A real outing?” I replied. “Where to…around the world?” I laughed.

Ben grew silent then, as though a cloud had passed in front of the sun. “Actually, yes. We’d been planning this for more than 20 years, for when I retired. Just three more weeks to go, and I’m off.”

The word “we” caught me a little off guard, and I could sense the sorrow inherent in the past tense. Something had gone wrong here, terribly wrong, but I recognized the need for privacy, and so I remained silent.

“She’s beautiful,” I observed, the warm glow of her polished decks and gleaming brass creating a breathtaking focus for the many shutterbugs that tootled alongside in their motorboats. “She’s a real star”.

Ben swelled with pride. “That she is. She’s from another world…another era when things took time and caring…patience and a slow hand. A remnant from bygone days, sort of like me, I guess. We fit.”

The allusion to a “slow hand” brought a flush to my cheeks. Yes, I thought, Ben would have a slow hand, one that took its time and brought out a woman’s inner glow, one that would make her sigh as she quickened beneath him. But a remnant… somehow I doubted that. Ben would be that one great love to which all women aspire, the dream that fills our waking moments and caresses us in the depths of sleep. Like the graceful sloop before me, Ben Gates was a classic.

Quickly, he pulled alongside the dock and began to inflate the rubber Zodiac that would take us out to the sloop. The tiny motor hummed, filling the small conveyance, until in a few moments we were ready to leave. Ben loaded a few plastic sacks of perishables and my small carryall into the front of the inflated craft, and we were off.

The waves lapped gently against my fingers, bringing back memories of other times, other people. Visions of my beloved Amora flickered behind my eyelids, the sights, sounds and silken feel of her as we’d made love beside the sea on our last night together.

“Did you think that passion has a gender?” she’d said to me once. “Who would know better how to please a woman than another woman?” And then she’d opened up another world for me to share.

Our last night together had been glorious. It was for her a soulful parting, and for me, oblivious to what was to come, a crescendo. We had dined on the beach, far from prying eyes. A flaming bonfire had lent her gaze a luminosity that I would never forget.

Reliving the moment, I closed my eyes as I had then, and felt once more her delicate fingertips stroking my body, her lips exploring my willing flesh. She had taught me something new that night, a peculiar configuration that had brought the bursting kernels of our sex into mutual alignment. Then, rocking gently in an intimate “pas de duex” we flowed together until our time neared. It was only then, pulses racing, gasping the thin, curling fragrance of the night, that we had exploded in moist profusion, sharing the proof of our passion beneath the unseeing stars.

Breathlessly we had lain together, and it was then Amora had told me that in the morning I must leave. She’d said that I must spread my wings and find a place in the world that was truly mine, as her beloved hacienda, “El Capitan” was hers. And thus, she’d left me along the shore… the last time I’d ever seen her.

I’d cried that night, unwilling and unable to part from the only pure and unselfish love that I’d ever known, but Amora was right. She’d created a cocoon for herself at El Capitan, and would never leave. I, on the other hand, had finally discovered the strength to find my place in the world, and needed her to nudge me from her nest.

Once more I fingered the tiny silver key that I wore always about my neck, her parting gift to me. I had found it in an envelope above my car visor as I was about to drive through customs the next morning. It was very old, a symbol of adoration and undying loyalty that had survived centuries in the care of her ancestors. With it came her undying vow of love, and the assurance that El Capitan would always be a waiting haven, should ever I find the need.

“If you love something, set it free,” they say…”and if it truly belongs to you, it will return”. Would I return to Amora one day, I wondered. Was she still waiting?

The sudden jarring of the Zodiac alongside the sloop brought me back to the present. “Jennie’s Dream” it read, the name painted in delicate calligraphy along the side. “Jennie” I wondered. Who was Jennie? Had Ben a mysterious past as well?

I turned to him, the question shining in my eyes. “Jennie?” I asked. “Have you been holding out on me?”

He was silent for a moment, as though he’d heard the question even before I’d spoken it…as though he’d been dreading the inevitability of it.

“Jennie”, he replied in softened tones, “Is my wife.”

I was startled! His wife? He hadn’t told me he was married, but then was it such a surprise? A man like Ben would have been too sought after to have come so far without someone special in his life. But where was his Jennie now, I wondered. Would I meet her onboard? Why hadn’t he said anything before?

I cleared my throat and tried to erase the startled expression from my features. “Your wife?” I replied. “Is she onboard? I suppose I should have asked, but I just assumed…”

“I’m a widower,” He continued quickly, as though he couldn’t bear the pain of rehashing it. “I thought you knew. I lost my wife two years ago. This was our big fantasy. We bought ‘Jennie’s Dream’ when she was about to be sold for salvage…restored her to her original glory…then planned to sail her around the world the year I retired. We hadn’t planned on…”

There he stopped, a wall of memories blocking his path. Jenny was gone, but in a way she was still here. You could tell by his gaze that Ben could see her in every polished inch of teak, every shiny gleam of brass. “Jennie’s Dream” had become Jennie herself in the end, and soon they would be heading off to sail the seven seas.

Ben reached up and grabbed the railing, swinging himself effortlessly onto the deck, then reaching behind for my hand. His grip was sure and strong, confident and steady, and I felt safe in his hands.

“Why don’t you look around while I unload?” he asked, then pointed aft towards the hatchway leading below deck. “Make yourself at home. Your cabin is on the left. I’ll show you how to use the ‘head’ as soon as I get there. It’s not difficult, but it’s a little finicky.”

The head, now that was a word I knew from old seafaring movies. I hadn’t thought about the bathroom being different, but that wasn’t surprising. 

Slowly I took the softly glowing wooden stairs down into the heart of Jennie, down into the comfortable lounge and galley that dominated the frontal portion of the cabin. Everything had been cleaned and polished with a loving hand, I noticed…everything in its place, immaculate.

I passed along the narrow hall to a series of doors, and opened the one on the left. A small stateroom lay behind, its single bed adorned with a blue and white quilt that matched the ruffled curtains over the brass-bordered porthole. It was perfect…a picture from a dream…Jennie’s Dream.

A little sadly, I dropped my soft-sided suitcase on the floor beside the bed, and began to find places for everything. Ben had said there would be only the two of us on the sloop this weekend, but already I could see the fallacy in his thinking. There would be three, Ben, me…and Jennie. I couldn’t help but wonder…was there room enough?

By the time I’d finished and changed into something more vacation-like, Ben had come aboard and was squaring things away in the galley. Everything had a place, it seemed. Did I?

“So, what’s on the schedule for today?” I asked, stretching until my fingertips tickled the overhead paneling. Ben turned to answer, then paused, his voice momentarily caught in his throat. I’d taken the liberty of changing into something light and airy, white gauze, and abandoned my cumbersome bra. Had he noticed? Apparently he had. There was hope here yet.

Slowly, his eyes roamed down the expanse of my bare legs, encased now only in short cut-offs. Noisily, he cleared his throat.

“Nice outfit.” He commented, a little hesitantly. “Looks comfortable.”

I smiled. “Well, you told me to pack as though I were going to be in my own home, and this is what I usually wear. Is it okay?”

Ben turned quickly away and continued to place items in the cupboards. “Sure,” he replied. “I want you to be comfortable. No sense having a vacation that isn’t, is there?”

I noticed then the sudden disarray that Ben was making out of his pantry, and closed the gap between us. “Let me help?” I offered, sliding next to him and taking a box of Khashi from his hands. “You like this stuff too? I’m crazy about it. I like to eat healthy when I’m not stuffing my face with junk food, to kind of balance things off, you know?”

Then I leaned forward and placed the Khashi next to a box of Cheerios, mentally congratulating myself on my minor coup before I realized that Ben had gone stone still. What was…had I…and then I realized what was wrong. In my eagerness to assist, I was pressing full-length against him, the sway of my unfettered breasts brushing against his chest, the jut of my hip nestled firmly between his…

Oh my! Perhaps Ben gates wasn’t quite as platonically inclined as I’d dreaded. There was hope here yet, if the throbbing pulse against my hip was any indication.

Ben heaved a sigh of discomfort and turned away. “Let’s see if we can find a nice place to drop anchor tonight,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “The lake will probably be crowded this week-end, and the best places are going to vanish fast.” Then, with a familiarity borne of years of repetition, he trotted up the stairs and vanished into the sunlight.

Ben was in a class all his own, I thought…a graduate seminar. But, he was worth it. The next four days would bring us closer and closer together, I hoped, and maybe somewhere along the way we could erase the barriers between us. Time and a slow hand…it would take both. Did I have what he needed?

Ben hauled up the anchor, then turned on the motor. There were far too many boats on the water today to even try to hoist the sails. Soon, we were making our way out of the boat harbor and feeling the clear, brisk air of the lake surrounding us. The light gauze of my blouse ruffled gently against my skin, bringing my nipples into full alert. Was Ben watching, I wondered? Did the sight of my body once again fill him with thoughts of intimate potential?

I stretched out on the deck, curling like a cat in the sunshine. I was brazen, and desperate. Oh, how I wanted him to notice me! What I wouldn’t have given to know that he felt something like the warm, moist response I was holding at bay. [Come, Ben, come,] I thought silently. [Look at me. Touch me. Let’s ‘rock the boat’.] 

But he didn’t.

For the next few hours Ben kept himself safely ensconced behind the helm, steering us toward places unknown, until finally he aimed toward a secluded cove that seemed abandoned by one and all.

It was lovely there… no, breathtaking is a better word. “Lovely” would have been wasted on the magnificence of that place. All about us stood towering cliffs, carved by the hand of God through millenniums of formation and upheaval, the tiers of a million years open and vulnerable before us. We were encased in eternity…lost in time. What were a few mortal years in a place like this?

“It’s wonderful!” I breathed slowly, afraid that my mere presence would break the spell. “How did you know…?”

“It’s a favorite of mine,” he answered, satisfied that I was as awe-struck as he’d hoped. “This area is an extension of the Grand Canyon, the lower Colorado River. It’s incredible, isn’t it?”

I nodded silently and let my gaze travel along the multicolored layers of nature’s geological time capsule. This place had been here long before the advent of man, and would probably survive us all if we would just leave it alone, I thought. How much had Lake Mead covered from view when Hoover Dam was constructed, I wondered? How many of the ghosts of prehistory lay below us?

Curled as we were between the cliffs of this magnificent place, the sun was early to set, and soon we watched the blazing orb sink below the western horizon in a ball of flames. The deepening shadows cast long fingers across the cliffs, coming to settle against Ben’s desert-kissed flesh, and once more a sense of longing overcame me.

I glanced down at his hand, resting against the deck beside me as we watched the last flickering light of day vanish onward toward places far away. So strong, I thought…so competent. I could curl myself in his palm forever, ride the easy waves of passion that swirled against me until time passed beyond knowing.

Slowly, my breath held captive in my chest, I raised his hand upward and brushed my lips over his palm.