2 comments/  13329 views/  3 favorites

Claire

By: demure101



It was a cold day in February. The weatherman had promised cold and a possibility of snow in the night, and Richard White (or Rick, as his friends called him) had gone to his grandparents' village for the day. He didn't want to be caught in a snowstorm, if there was going to be any snow, so he'd left the car at home and caught the early train. Then he took a local bus, and when he arrived it was still morning. He went to the local pub for lunch first and then he took in the sights of the village. He visited the church, and found his grandparents' graves in the churchyard, and he quite enjoyed himself notwithstanding the cold. It actually grew colder as the day progressed; when he arrived the village pond had still been open but now there was a thin, smooth layer of ice on top. 

Rick had retired from work a few months earlier; an old aunt of his had left him enough money to make do with the pension he would get, and he'd considered that it would be alright to call it a day. There were heaps of things he had not been able to do while his wife was still alive, and he didn't want to wait until he was too old. Visiting the places connected with his family's history was one of those, and it felt good to be walking there. 

He went back to the pub for a drink. The village was rather remote -- it was one of those one bus there, one bus back places and he did not want to miss it, so he leisurely made his way back to the bus stop at an early moment. 

The route took him down to the village pond first. There were no people to be seen; he supposed everyone had gone in for the cold. He'd almost rounded one half of the pond when he heard someone shout, and a wheelchair came crashing though a dry hedge. It narrowly missed hitting him and went straight into the pond, rider and all. He heard the ice crack and most of the contraption disappeared under water. 

Rick didn't hesitate for a moment; he threw off his coat and ran into the pond. The cold hit him like a sledgehammer, and he tripped over something someone must have thrown in one time or other. Lovely, he thought. Just what I needed. Wet through, he waded through the muddy pond; stirred by his feet the water sent up an unpleasant smell. It took him quite some time and effort to extract the wheelchair from the mud; its rider sat mumbling and didn't really cooperate. 

Meanwhile the bus had dropped a couple of people at the local bus stop and driven on. One of the passengers witnessed the second part of his efforts. She looked at it in disbelief at first. It couldn't old Mr O'Brien again? But it was. 

When Rick finally reached dry ground again he took his coat and put it round the man's shoulders. Then he was hailed by the woman, who had stood watching the procedure. 

"I'll show you where to take him," she said, "Mr O'Brien's generally too vague to do so himself."

They walked up the road together and after a short while she said, "Here it is."

She walked up to the front door to knock, but the door was thrown open before she had reached it, and a middle-aged woman came out. "You old fool!" she shouted at the old man. She took the wheelchair from Rick's hands, unceremoniously dumped Rick's coat on the frozen path, wheeled Mr O'Brien inside without another word and slammed the door to.

The woman indignantly looked at her vanishing form. 

"There's gratitude for you," she said. "That's his daughter. Are you new here?"

"I was only round for the day," Rick said. He had difficulty keeping his jaws steady; his wet clothes seemed to be getting stiff. "B-b-but I'm afraid I've m-missed my bus. Is there a p-p-place -" His teeth were chattering with cold.

"You come with me," she said. "We're not all of us beastly in this village."

She led him along as fast as he could go. "It's only a quarter mile," she said. "Can you manage?"

He nodded. 

At her place she opened the door of the porch and pushed him inside. "My," she said, "you don't half smell! Ok, then, could you leave those clothes here? I will go and run the bath."

When she returned Rick was still struggling with his buttons. 

"I'm sorry," he stammered, but -"

"Oh dear," she said. "Let me do it."

It took her some time, too, as the temperature in the porch wasn't any better than the one outside, but she managed to help him out of his clothes, which were left in a smelly heap on the tiles of the porch. 

"Ok," she said, "off to the bath with you. I can't have you die of hypothermia on me. Lord, look at hose tiles. It's a good thing I've got a downstairs bathroom."

She led him on to the bathroom and helped him get in the bath. She looked at him with some interest. "My," she said. "My husband used to be small, but you..."

"That's nature's defence mechanisms," he tried to say, but she didn't quite get it. 

"Hush now," she said. "I'm going to wash you. That's a long time ago..."

She remembered washing her children with a smile.

She washed every part of him. He had been covered in mud and the smell of the stagnant pond water was all over him. He was too cold to really enjoy it; even when she pushed back his foreskin and washed his private parts it didn't make an impact. But he truly appreciated her efforts, and he liked her face. She had soft grey eyes and a lovely smile. 

"Will you be alright for a moment?" she said. "I'd like to sort out your clothes."

"Yes, I will," he said. 

She went back to the porch and surveyed the wreckage. His winter coat was covered in green slime and algae inside. She emptied the pockets and put the contents aside. Then she went through his trousers and his jacket, and put the items she could wash into the washing machine. 

Then she collected some pieces of clothing and returned to the bathroom. She went in to find her charge had recuperated a little. 

"Good," she said. "Getting a little warmer?"

"Yes, thank you," he said. "My name's Rick, Rick White. My grandparents used to live here."

"Oh," she said. "Old Maynard White, he was? I remember him well. Nice man." 

"Yes," Rick said. "That's him."

"I'm Claire," she said. "Er, I've just put some of your things in the washing machine, but I would ruin your jacket and your coat. I'll have to take them to the dry cleaners, and I'm afraid you'll be stuck with me for a little time. And what's more -" she hesitated for a moment - "I am rather smaller than you, and I have no men's clothes lying about. So I've selected my roomiest panties and a big cardigan for you, and a pair of tights -- I hope you don't mind."

"I could wrap myself in a blanket, too" Rick suggested.

"And go naked under that? I don't think so," she said. "Oh, and are there any people that have to be told?"

"No," Rick said. "There's no one there."

She looked at the ring on his hand. "You're a widower?" she said.

"Yes," he said. "My wife died of a congenital heart disease."

She nodded. "I'll leave you to get dressed," she said, and put the clothes and a towel on the edge of the washbasin. 

Rick got out of the bath and thoroughly dried himself. Then he looked at the clothes with a frown on his face. The cardigan seemed ok. The panties were big enough, too -- but they were very thin and completely diaphanous. And the tights -- he wasn't quite sure if they would fit. He put on the cardigan first. It was a thick, woollen one and it felt very uncomfortable against his bare skin. He wiggled his shoulders inside but it didn't diminish the feeling. Then he put on the panties. There was a tall mirror on one wall and he saw himself in very feminine pink underwear. It made him feel a little uncomfortable -- he wasn't quite sure if he really disliked the experience as much as he was trying to tell himself. The tights were quite simply too small. He pulled down the cardigan, which came just about to the bottom of his buttocks, and opened the bathroom door on bare feet.

Claire met him in the hall. "Comfortable?" she said. 

"Well," Rick said, "The tights you gave me do not fit, and the cardigan is terribly itchy. I er..."

"Oh dear," Claire giggled. "And they're my largest pair, really. We'll have to try and get you into some stockings, then."

"Er," Rick said, "don't bother, you know. I'll be alright."

"No you won't," she said earnestly. "I'll be right back."

She returned with some more pieces of clothing. 

"Now you put this on under that cardigan," she said, "and then I'll help you with the stockings. I'm afraid I've got nothing big enough with sleeves, but it will at least keep your back and chest from touching the wool." 

She handed him the top of the baby doll whose bottom he was already wearing. Rick took it from her and turned around to keep up proprieties -- but then he faced the mirror and he realised that Claire could see everything anyway. Oh well, he thought, it'll only be for a day. 

He took of the cardigan and put on the baby doll top. To his embarrassment it made his penis stir a little -- the feeling was actually quite pleasant. He quickly put on the cardigan again.

"Good," Claire said with a little smile. "Better?"

"Yes," he said. "This doesn't itch." It definitely didn't, but he'd be damned if he admitted he liked the feeling. 

"Right," she said. "Now if you sit down on the edge of the bath..."

He did so. The cardigan hid his private parts from sight, to his relief. 

Claire knelt in front of him and told him to lift a foot. Then she put his toes into a rolled-up stocking and deftly unrolled it up his leg. "Other foot, please," she said. 

Rick felt rather confused. He hoped the cardigan would stay in place, because he found the treatment wildly stimulating. Claire was certainly attractive, and he loved being touched by her.

She looked at his face. With impish delight she saw that some beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead. 

"Well then," she said, "please get up again. I'll make sure they won't sag and trip you up. Turn around, please."

When Rick stood with his back to her she lifted the cardigan and the baby doll and put a garter belt round his waist. She noticed he was half erect, and not quite as small at all as she had thought at first. She fastened the hooks at the back.

"This is not too tight?" she asked. 

Rick didn't know what to say.

"Good," Claire said. She bent down and fastened the clasps to the stocking tops. He looked at her and noticed that he could look down the neck of her sweater to the top of her breasts. She seemed to be wearing a red bra. Blushing, he averted his eyes.

"I'll put you into the living room," she said, "and I'll see about dinner. I didn't think I'd have visitors, but I believe I've got some pizzas in the freezer."

She took him into the living room. He looked round and saw a room that was obviously loved by its inhabitant, pleasant, well kept and cosy, with a well-stocked bookcase and a stereo in a corner. 

"You've got a very nice room here," he said appreciatively, glad the intimate atmosphere of the bathroom was not so evident there. 

"Thank you," she said. "Oh dear, it's started to snow. With a little bad luck we'll get snowed up, too."

"I'm very sorry," Rick said. "I didn't intend to be a nuisance."

"Oh, nonsense," Claire said. "You're not. I don't mind having a human voice around for once in a while."

She left the room. After some time she returned with a bottle of wine, an opener and two glasses. 

"Can you pour us some wine, please?" she said.

Rick got up and walked to the table a little self-consciously. He felt the garter straps move against his legs and the material of the underwear against his body at every step, and he hoped Claire would not be looking at him.

He stood with his back to her as he uncorked the bottle. Claire noticed the cardigan lifted enough to grant her a peek at his bottom. She grinned appreciatively. 

He walked back and handed her a glass; then he lifted his own and said, "Thank you for putting me up."

Claire looked at him and said, "It would be a nasty world if everybody were like Mr O'Brien's daughter. I'm happy you didn't leave him to drown and I'm glad I was there to help you out. Cheers!" She bent down for a moment and saw that Rick glanced at her cleavage. Then he saw that she noticed and blushed. 

Rick sat down in a chair opposite Claire and they sat talking amicably about the village and their respective youths. Then Claire looked at her watch and said, "We'd better go to the kitchen and have us some dinner."

They walked to the kitchen, Rick still a little stiffly as he felt somewhat uncomfortable because of his apparel. 

When they were in the kitchen Claire asked, "Are you still cold?"

"No," Rick said. "I'm fine. Why?"

"You walk as if you were," Claire said smugly. 

"Er, no," Rick said. "I er, it's these clothes, really. I feel a bit - well -- I don't know."

"Did you never look at your wife's underwear?" Claire asked.

"Yes of course," Rick answered, "but I didn't wear it!"

Claire shrugged. "I really love wearing nice underwear," she said. "It makes me feel good, and I loved to see the effect it had on my husband. Your wife did, I suppose?"

"I don't know," Rick said. "We never really talked about it."

She shrugged again. "Dinner," she said. "I'll put the food on the table. Oh, and we've forgotten the wine. Be a dear, please, and get it."

Rick returned to the living room. He did his best to forget the disturbing feelings and walk normal, and he decided that he didn't really mind the feeling for just once. Claire probably wouldn't hold it against him, and if no one asked he wouldn't tell. 

"Look, that's better," she said. "You don't look as if you swallowed a stick, now."

They had a comfortable meal, and then some coffee, and then Claire said, "Will you dry the dishes, please?"

When Rick had finished drying the plates she said, "They go up there, in the top cupboard."

Rick opened the door of the cupboard over the sink and lifted the plates to put them away.

"Ooh, sexy!" Claire said teasingly when the cardigan rose well over his buttocks as he lifted the plates.

"Don't you tease me too much, young lady," Rick said, echoing her mood.

"Is that a threat?" Claire said. She stepped behind him and pressed her hips against his bum, and she put her arms around him she sank one hand into his panties and slid the other up his chest. 

"Come on," she said. "I think you're nice, and I'm glad you're here, and I want to fuck you."

She wasn't quite certain how he would react -- but to her joy he turned his head and tried to find her lips, blushing fiercely. She opened her mouth and sucked in his tongue while she felt his erection. It definitely was not as small as she had seen that afternoon; it seemed a few inches larger than her late husband's -- he'd really been rather small. She hadn't minded; their lovemaking had always been perfect. But she did enjoy feeling him up for all that. 

"That's what you get for looking at my breasts," she said.

"I only saw their tops," he complained.

She released her hold on him just enough to allow him to turn around. With a broad grin she put up her lips to be kissed again. Rick lifted her sweater and pinched a nipple, and Claire ran a hand through the crack of his bottom and tickled his anus. He shivered. 

"Come," she said, "let's find a better place. It's nice and warm in the living room." 

They hurried back to the living room and locked themselves in each other's arms again.

"I'd love to get your clothes off," Rick said. "I haven't seen you naked yet."

Claire smiled and put up her arms. Rick took the hem of her sweater and lifted it over her head. He put it on a chair and stepped back to look at her. She wore a little red bra with diaphanous cups that came only to just over her nipples. It had seams running from the bottom of her breasts to the top of the cups and he thought it was extremely sexy.

"Wow," he said. "You are beautiful. I can see why your husband loved to look at you!"

Then he unzipped her jeans and shoved them down her legs. She wore a matching pair of panties. He pushed them down as well. 

"I'm sorry I'm not wearing any stockings today," she said. "But they get ruined under trousers."

Then she unbuttoned Rick's cardigan and he let it slide off his arms. 

"You'd better take that other thing off, too," she said. "It might get damaged."

Rick couldn't see the fastening, which was just below his chin, so she had to help him out. Then she looked at him with a naughty gleam in her eyes.

"You look truly good enough to eat," she said teasingly. "I love the sight of your cock in my panties." 

She knelt down in front of him and looked at his cock that stood straight in her sexiest bedroom wear, and sucked it in her mouth through the thin nylon. She unclasped the garter straps and slid the panties down his legs and then she redid the straps again. 

"I'd like to know how it feels when my partner is in stockings," she said. "Do you mind?"

"No, I don't," he said. "Not any more. Let me lie down, and then you can sit on top of me. I want to taste your pussy!"

He stretched out on the carpet and Claire lowered herself over his face. Then she unclasped her bra and flung it aside. She bent down, rubbed her breasts against his abdomen and took his cock in her mouth. She tickled his belly under the garter belt and stroked his legs. For a moment she wished she were a cat; she felt like purring. And then she grinned round his cock -- two fairly staid, middle-aged people going at each other for dear life. But it was wonderful to have someone there again. Maybe --

Rick loved her taste. Her labia were fairly dark, and the inside of her pussy shone like rubies, he thought. "Your pussy is beautiful, too," he said and then he put the point of his tongue back between the labia, right where it belonged, he thought. Hmm, nice.

Claire slowly rolled her tongue around the head of his cock. He smelled pleasant, she thought, and she thought with a shudder of the way he'd smelled after the dip in the pond. She wished she'd perfumed her pubic hair, but maybe he liked her better the natural way? She'd have to ask -- and then she felt with a pang of regret that she didn't know if she ever would. But she went back to the task on hand and put tomorrow off her mind.

Rick found her clitoris and worked on it insistently. Claire shuddered a little, and then she rose. "I want to fuck you good and hard now," she said. "Come along to my bedroom."

They went straight upstairs and Claire said, "I want you on top of me -- I want to feel your legs against mine!"

Rick smiled and lifted her bottom. He let her legs fall open and entered her in one slow push. She was soaking wet by then, and when he started to rock they produced a wet slapping sound that was music to their ears. He kissed her lips, and Claire said, "You really feel different -- You're not so small at all." 

"It was just the cold," Rick panted. 

"Ow!" Claire said as his cock touched her cervix. "Easy!"

"I didn't hurt you?" Rick asked.

"No," she said, "but I've never felt that before. Er, John was a good four inches, you know."

She kissed him again and he slowed down a little, trying to keep from hurting her. 

Claire ran her legs against his. Hmm, she thought, so that's why men like it. She could feel a few hairs stick through the nylon. Maybe I can get him to shave, she thought. Then she pulled him against her and kissed him and held him fast. She came in a shudder. She found to her dismay there were tears on her face and she saw Rick look at them -- and then he bent down to her and kissed them off. 

"You're a strange girl," he whispered, "and I'm not sure why you're crying, but I like to kiss your tears away." He smiled a little at her. "They taste good," he added with a grin.

"Oh," she said. "You see -- if it weren't for the snow and your clothes being dirty, would you stay till morning?"


Claire



"If you didn't kick me out..."

She shook her head. "You haven't come yet, have you?" she asked.

"No," he said. "But I loved every minute of it. These stockings still feel a bit odd, though. Did you experience what you wanted?"

"Yes," she said. "I liked it. I sometimes wore stockings to bed as a treat for my husband. It used to arouse him no end..."

"Has he been dead long?" Rick asked.

"These twelve years," she said. "And your wife?"

"Only five," Rick said. "It seems much longer."

They lay together in silence for some time. 

"Come on," Rick said. "Let's go downstairs and finish the washing-up." 

Claire got up and put on her robe. 

"My things are downstairs," Rick said. He went down the stairs in front of her; she looked at his bum, and wondered if he would want to return to her place some time. She'd thought she would never touch another man again, hadn't felt the need -- and then she took this stranger home to find that all those forgotten feelings were only just so far away in her mind, and she didn't know if she'd dare ask him if he were willing to make the trip all the way to her village again.

She went into the kitchen and Rick disappeared into the living room. He came back in a jiffy, dressed as before, and smiled at her. 

"Well then, my lady," he said, "where did we leave off?"

They finished the dishes and Claire asked if he liked some more coffee. 

"Not particularly," he said. 

"Some whisky, then?" she said.

They returned to the living room. Claire pulled the curtains open to look at the outside world for a moment. Then she closed them again and sat down.

"I'm afraid there's a lot of snow," she said. "And it is still snowing hard. You don't mind, do you?"

Rick shook his head. He looked at his legs for a moment. "Actually," he said, "I'm quite glad. I'd love to get to know you a lot better -- I was devastated when Irene died, and I thought, you know, that I never would find anyone as nice as she. Apart from that, I never thought anyone would want to look at me twice..." 

She nodded. "That's just what I thought, more or less," she said. "And the more it snows -" 

"Tiddely pom," Rick said.

"Idiot," she said with a smile. "The more it snows the longer I'll have you here with me."

They sat silent for some time, both of them half in the past, half thinking of what had happened that day. 

"There is a shop in the village that sells clothes," she said. "It's not much of a good thing, but they do sell some underpants and stuff. When the place is snowed up like this it's generally days before there's a bus again." 

"The village will be navigable?" Rick said. 

"Yes," she said. "Only just so, though. And tomorrow I'll dry your things. It's just your jacket and coat I can't wash. You will want to wear your own clothes again..."

He grinned at her. "I must confess that eventually I rather liked the idea of wearing your things for a time," he said. "And I certainly enjoyed being called sexy."

"If this snow stays a long time," she said, "could I entice you into a repeat?"

"Yes," he said. "And also if it doesn't."

She grinned back at him happily. "Alright," she said. "Let's have our first repeat now."



Claire



It took me almost four months to work up the courage to talk to her. It wasn't that she was bitchy, or aloof or frigid. It was the opposite, actually. Claire was friendly to everyone, always ready with a smile or a happy word. I assumed, from previous experience being around girls as hot as her, that she was faking it. That every part of her hated dealing with people she thought of as inferior and she only smiled to keep us all from bothering her longer.

That wasn't it. She really was sweet, funny, caring. At eighteen, she was still in her last year of high school, and probably had high school boys falling left and right in her wake. Claire was just over five feet, dirty blonde, and petite. She she probably weighed one-fifteen soaking wet, and her ass was a tight, round bit of perfection that melded flawlessly into her round, shapely hips. Her breasts weren't huge, probably a B, but they looked bigger on her small frame. Her hair was long and straight, hanging to between her shoulder blades, and her lips were plump, her nose a small, cute button below hazel eyes that shone when she smiled.

I worked with Claire at a department store in the mall, the sort of place that every mall has and that every teenager in the world has been in at some point. The store sold band t-shirts, hats, gag gifts, lingerie and toys. I had worked there for the better part of two years, having gotten the job so that I could make a little extra money while I finished grad school. At twenty-seven, I was a little older than most of the grads in my department, and enough older than Claire that I was hesitant to talk to her. I didn't want to come off as a creeper.

To be honest, I didn't really want to have sex with her. That's not true, I suppose. Rather, I really didn't think Claire would ever put me in her pool of possible sexual partners, nor was she really a girl I would normally go for. Gorgeous she was, but she was also nine years younger than me, and still in high school. 

For the most part, Claire and I just worked around each other. We weren't unfriendly, but we weren't close either. When I say it took me a while to work up to talking to her, I don't mean we never said anything at all to each other. She would ask a couple of questions here and there, I would answer. Always about work stuff, always brief. It wasn't unpleasant or uncomfortable, just utilitarian, I suppose.

During a few rushes, Claire and I worked the registers side-by-side, but given the nature of purchasing rushes, we didn't really have time to socialize. I'm sure it was an interesting sight to see us standing next to each other. Claire, like I said, was a small girl, cute and always friendly-looking. 

I, on the other hand, have never been small. I played football in high school, and was always on the line. I am just a hair under six feet, and broad. I weigh somewhere between two-hundred and two-twenty. I don't really know, to be honest. I work out some, but not to the point where I've ever gained any sort of real definition. I mostly just like to be able to move furniture around my apartment without having to bother friends to help, and not have love handles. I have a beard, close-cropped and well-maintained, and a lot of tattoos. I keep my hair buzzed close to my scalp, and have glasses. I've heard people describe me as a very scary-looking nerd.

I didn't start talking to Claire at work. I think that if work had been the only time I ever saw her, we probably never would have gotten to know each other any better. There would have been no reason to, really.

It started at a movie.

I went out by myself. I like people, and have friends, but I also get into moods where I just like to be alone. I'm not depressed when I do, or angry. Anti-social, I guess, but not vehemently so. I had one of those nights. Didn't want to be around anyone, but didn't want to sit at home either. So I went to a movie.

It wasn't a very good movie, thought I've seen worse. It had been out for a week or so and had just managed to make enough money to be in the theater for another week. I bought a ticket, found a seat. There was nobody else there.

I fished out my cell phone and turned the volume off, checking a Facebook notification while I was at it. As I put the phone back in my pocket I slid low in my seat, making myself comfortable as the lights darkened and the previews started. A young couple came in and sat in the row in front of me, probably unaware of me. That was why I loved going to movies when I was in an anti-social mood. Nobody really looks around dark theaters.

I realized after they sat down that the girl was Claire. I debated saying something, but it looked like she was on a date, so I didn't. If anything, I could say hi after the movie.

The previews ended and the movie started. I was dimly aware of what is a time-honored and possibly cliche scenario playing out in front of me. The boy she was with yawned and stretched, letting his arm come down around Claire's shoulders. She ignored it, for the most part. The kid was one of those Bieber lookalikes, shaggy hair, hat at an angle, pants that look like they're trying to trip him.

A few minutes later, I saw Claire shrug away from him, her hand pushing his away from her chest and back to her shoulder. A few minutes after that, he tried again and I heard her sigh as she pushed him away again.

"Come on," he whined. "It'll be fun." He reached his free hand between Claire's legs and grabbed for her crotch.

"Fuck you!" Claire spat and shoved at him. He pushed back, and suddenly she was struggling to get him off of her as he tried to shove his hand down her pants.

I don't like assholes. From a young age, they have bothered me, and as I've gotten older, that bothering has turned into a deep anger.

I sat forward in my seat and shot my hand forward, knocking the stupid hat off as I grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked back, pulling him against his seat and cranking his head back until his face was pointed at the ceiling. With my free hand, I reached over Claire's shoulder and slipped two of my fingers between his hand and her breast, grabbing some of his fingers and pulling, wrenching his hand back and up, bending the fingers back until just before they snapped.

I put my face next to his, letting him feel my breath hot on his cheek.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I asked slowly. He let out a pained grunt and tried to struggle away. I cranked just a tiny bit more pressure on his fingers, enough to feel the bones strain.

"Fuck you, man!" he yelled.

"Wrong," I said. I pulled his head back a little further, hauling so hard that he had trouble closing his mouth. "You need to say you're sorry."

"Fuck! Sorry!"

"Not to me," I said. I twisted his head around until he could see Claire, sitting open-mouthed and staring. "I don't care enough about you to need an apology. You need to tell her that you're sorry."

"I'm sorry! Claire, I'm so sorry!"

"Better," I said. "Now leave." I let go of his hand and shoved his head away from me, nearly pushing him out of the seat.

To his credit, his stupidity seemed to have reached it's limit, and he ran. One second he was there, the next he was gone, knocking over his drink in the process.

"You OK?" I asked Claire. I turned back to her and she was staring at me. "What? That guy was an ass."

She giggled. "Yeah, I got that. Thanks," she said.

"No problem."

"Though I now have no ride home," she continued.

"Don't worry about it. I'll give you a lift. Want to finish the movie?"

"Yeah," she said. Claire sat and looked at me for another few moments, then seemed to make up her mind about something. She stood up and smoothed down her clothes, a tight babydoll tee and a loose skirt that stopped right above her knee, and walked down her aisle, stepping over the pool of soda and the hat that were the only remnants of her date, and turned into my aisle. 

I stood up and moved the couple of things I'd dumped into the seat next to me and she sat, perching daintily next to me and crossing her legs. She sat back and kept staring at me.

"Want some popcorn?" I asked, offering the bucket I'd bought. "Or would you like to keep looking at me like I'm a unicorn or something?" I smiled at her as I finished.

Claire smiled and laughed, taking the bucket.

"Sorry," she said. "I've just never seen anything like that."

"What? A retard who models his life after Justin Bieber?" She lauged and slapped my arm.

"You know what I meant," she scolded.

"Yeah," I said. "I don't know what to tell you. Life as a superhero is tough."

Claire giggled and relaxed back into the seat, her arm brushing mine on the armrest. We watched the rest of the movie, laughing at the few funny parts, more often than not making each other laugh with little comments about what we were watching. There was only about forty-five minutes of movie left, and before I knew it, the credits were rolling.

"You hungry?" I asked. "Or do you just want to go home?"

"Holy shit, I'm starving! That dude took me to McDonald's. McDonald's! On a date!"

"Well, shit," I said. "Now I have to come up with a different idea." Claire laughed again. That laugh was quickly becoming one of my new favorite things. "How about Cranky's?" I asked, hoping she would go for it. Cranky's is a dive in town, one of my favorite places.

"Never been," she said.

"Well, I mean we could try it, or I could just drop you off outside the rock you live under. Whichever you prefer." That earned me another giggle, and swat at my shoulder.

"Fine, smartass. Wow me," she challenged, leaning over the armrest. I leaned in until our faces were just a few inches apart.

"Done, princess." I said. She grinned at me, and I noticed for the first time how her eyes shone when she smiled.

"Let's go," she said.

We left the theater and headed out to the parking lot. I led Claire to my car, an old but well-maintained sedan, and opened the passenger side door for her.

"Really?" she said, arching her eyebrows.

"What? I'm old-fashioned. Get in," I shot back.

Claire smiled again, and slid demurely onto the bench seat. I shut the door for her and drove to Cranky's. It wasn't a long drive, and it was mostly quiet. I caught Claire looking at me a few times before looking away quickly. She caught me looking at her, too. Each time, I caught her smiling before I looked away.

"This is the place you're planning to wow me with?" Claire asked skeptically as we pulled into Cranky's parking lot. I could understand where she was coming from, I guess.

Like I said, Cranky's is a dive. The outside has needed to be painted for as long as I've lived in town, and the roof looks like it wouldn't hold up in a light drizzle. It sort of looks like the kind of place where muggers go when they're feeling up for a little more danger in their lives.

"Just trust me," I said, reaching over and patting her leg without really thinking about it. "It's the best food in town." 

I looked over at her and realized both that I still had my hand on her knee and that she was smiling at me. I pulled my hand away, surprised at myself.

We went inside and sat at a small table in the corner. It's dark inside Cranky's. Not completely, but dark enough that it takes a second to adjust.

A waitress brought us some menus, which at Cranky's means she handed us a couple of beaten up, wrinkled sheets of paper with handwritten prices on them. I took mine and set it down, already knowing what I wanted. Claire looked hers over dubiously.

"What do you recommend?" she asked.

"Get the shrimp," I said immediately. "Trust me."

"Okay," she said. "I'll just let you order."

When the waitress came, I ordered a two-pound bucket of shrimp and a pitcher of Sam Adams Porch Rocker. After our server walked away, Amy leaned across the table.

"You know I'm not twenty-one, right?" she whispered.

"Yeah, but the beer goes really well with the shrimp, and I didn't hear you stopping me when I ordered it," I whispered back. "You have drank before, right?"

Claire just looked at me with and expression that said, "Duh".

"Alright, then don't worry about it. Besides, the pitchers are only enough for like two beers anway."

A few minutes later, the waitress arrived with a pitcher, two glasses, and our bucket of shrimp. I poured the beer and handed Claire a plate, and we dug in.

We talked as we ate, enjoying each other's company. We talked about movies, books, the conversation just kind of flowing naturally from one topic to the next. Claire was a lot more mature than I had expected, her opinions a lot more developed than I would've thought at her age. I understand that nine years isn't a huge difference, but eighteen year-olds these days don't seem to think about too many things. Claire was different, though.

I paid the bill and Claire used the restroom, meeting me at the car. I opened the door for her, and this time she just smiled at me and thanked me quietly. She gave me directions to her house, and I pulled up outside a few minutes later.

I hopped out of the car and walked around to her side, opening her door and giving her a hand out.

"You're kidding," she said with a smile.

"Nope. Just embarrassed that I forgot at the restaurant," I replied.

I walked her to her front door and waited while she fished her keys out of her purse.

"So," she said, looking up at me. "I had a really good time."

"Me too. Sorry it started out so shitty," I added.

"Yeah, well, my first date tonight was totally awful, but the second one made up for it," Claire said. She stood in front of me, holding her purse strap with both hands, her feet together, her eyes down as she rocked gently in her high-heeled sandals. "Well, thanks," she chirped after a second.

Before I really realized what was happening, Claire took two quick steps and hopped up on her tip-toes, kissing me on the cheek and wrapping me in a tight hug. I stood in shock for a moment before wrapping my arms around her waist and hugging her back. I could feel every inch of her pressed against me, her breasts against my chest, her flat belly against my less flat one, her hips and groin against my belt-line. She was warm, and soft, and smelled wonderful.

I felt myself stiffen slightly in my pants, and we were pressed together enough that she must have felt it too. Her breath let out softly against my neck and she pressed against my crotch just a little harder before letting go of me.

"Goodnight, Jay," she whispered, looking up at me.

"Goodnight," I whispered back, our lips just a few inches apart. Claire's eyes were bright and shining in the soft light above her front door. I leaned in farther, feeling my heart thud in my chest, and she leaned to meet me.

Our lips brushed, tentative, feeling for something. Whatever it was, they found it, and searched for more as they brushed together again, the pressure just a bit more, pressing softly, moving slowly, parting slightly, her tongue running lightly across my top lip, mine reaching out and finding hers. Our lips parted more, pressing closer, tongues sliding across each other, and we were making out in earnest. My hand slid up Claire's back to cup and caress the side of her face as I stepped forward and she melted, letting me push her back until we were pushed against her front door.

We broke from each other slowly, going from deep kisses to short, soft brushes of our lips. I opened my eyes to see Claire's flushed, smiling face right in front of me.

"You're a really good kisser," she said.

"I was just thinking that, actually," I replied. We still held each other, leaning against her door.

"So, this is Thursday," Claire continued.

"Right," I said, not sure where she was going with that.

"Which means tomorrow is Friday, and we should totally go out again." She looked up at me hopefully, as if I would ever be able to come up with the willpower or desire to turn down that offer.

"Deal," I said. "I'll pick you up at five, and take you somewhere that's a little less shit-holeish." She giggled and kissed me again, pressing her hips against my still-stiff cock.

"Sounds great. But right now, I have to go inside before my parents actually look out here and see me making out with someone they don't know." We pulled apart and she unlocked the door, stepping inside and flashing me another smile before pushing the door closed and mouthing, "See you tomorrow."

I drove home smiling, completely taken by surprise. I had never expected to talk to Claire about anything other than work, let alone make out with her and wind up with a date. 

The next day was full of classes and homework. The life of a grad student is a life of reading, writing, and thinking a lot about things that are sometimes very interesting, and sometimes very boring. My last class ended at one, and I spent a couple of hours in my apartment pouring over homework and working on a paper. I tried my best not to get overly excited about my date.

It worked, sort of. 

I hopped in the shower at four, scrubbing the day off, and dressed in a pair of dark-wash jeans that a female friend had once told me made me look like I "actually have an ass" and a lime green button-down shirt. I threw on a dark grey and lime green-striped tie, and a dark gray six-button vest. 

I got to Claire's house about five minutes early, and was greeted at the door by her mother.

"You must be Jay," her mother said in a tone that gave away neither approval nor disapproval.

"Yes ma'am," I replied. Claire's mother was, more or less, an older version of Claire. She was short, slender without being skinny, and dirty-blonde. She was a very attractive woman, probably fifteen years older than me.

"Come in," she said, stepping back from the door. "Claire should be down in a minute."

"Thank you," I said.

"Be careful with my daughter, Jay. She's young."

"Yes ma'am, I know. She is very smart, though, and won't get any trouble from me," I said.

"Good," her mother called over her shoulder as she walked out of the room. "Have fun tonight."

"Thank you, ma'am," I replied.

I waited for Claire for only a few minutes, but given that I had been left alone in a place I'd never been before, it felt much longer. When she finally came down the stairs, I realized that it had been worth the wait.

Her hair framed her face, her makeup light, but perfect. She wore a blue dress with thin spaghetti straps that hugged her breasts and stomach but was loose around her thighs. It stopped six inches above her knees. A small, open sweater covered her shoulders and stopped just below her breasts, showing cleavage but giving an impression of some modesty and a lot more class than girls her age normally had. The outfit was finished off with a pair of heeled sandals that matched her sweater and her small clutch.

"Ready?" she asked, smiling that she had caught me staring.

"Absolutely," I said, just managing not to stutter. She was gorgeous.

Claire glided over to me and slipped her arm into mine.

"Bye, Mom!" she called out as we left.

The night was wonderful. We ate at one of the nicer restaurants in town, a place that isn't too fancy, but the food is good and it makes a better impression than Cranky's. After dinner, I took her to a play, one of the shows that the university puts on a few times every semester. Claire was wonderful to talk to; smart, funny, incredibly educated for someone finishing high school.

After the show, I drove Claire home and parked in front of her house, again getting out before she did and letting her out, then walking her to her door. Claire walked with her arm in mine, her head resting against my shoulder.

"I had a really good time, again," she said, smiling up at me. "You're easily the most polite date I've ever had."

"I guess maybe I'm just old-fashioned," I said back, returning her smile.




Claire



"How old-fashioned are we talking here? Like, no sex before marriage, a dowry?" she giggled as she teased me gently.

"Not that old fashioned," I said with a laugh. "More like, third date, asking for your hand kind of stuff."

"Good to know," Claire said. We had reached her step, and she wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling my face down to hers. We made out on the step, bodies pressed tightly together, her hips grinding softly against my hardening cock. She moaned into my mouth, her tongue sliding against mine, her breath hot against my cheek as my hands pulled her against me. "I don't know if this is too forward for your old-fashioned values, Jay, but I'm really wishing I didn't live with my parents right now."

I planted a kiss on her lips and smiled. 

"That makes two of us, to be honest," I said. Without thinking, I blurted, "Want to go out again tomorrow night?"

"Fuck yes," she breathed against my lips. "I vote morning date. Neither of us has school, we can just figure out some stuff to do all day." Claire finished by pulling my bottom lip into her mouth and nibbling gently on it while she pressed herself against my hard cock. "I know it would be too forward to tell you how wet I am right now," she whispered.

I groaned against her lips and pushed my body against her, letting her feel how hard I was. She moaned back and wiggled her hips against me, our lips mashed back together, our tongues sliding across each other. I pulled away after a few minutes, my breath long and ragged.

"If you don't go inside right now, your mother is going to see some stuff she really won't like."

Claire giggled and gave me a peck, then unwrapped herself from me.

"Guess I better go in, then. Even if I like the other idea better. Pick me up at nine, okay?" she said.

"Absolutely," I said.

When I went home that night, my head was spinning. She was amazing in every way that I had seen so far. I realized that I really like Claire. I hadn't thought I would, or at least not as much as I was finding out that I did.

The next morning, I got up early and showered, excited for the day. I hadn't really thought about what we would do all day, but realized that whatever we did I was confident we would have a good time. She really was an amazing girl.

I pulled up in front of Claire's house a few minutes before nine, and she was waiting for me on her front step, sitting with her legs crossed, leaning back on her straightened arms. When she saw my car she smiled and jumped to her feet, her light green sun dress billowing around her thighs in a way that caught my attention and held it as she trotted to my car. She opened her own door before I snapped out of it, and grinned at me as she scooted across the seat and wiggled in next to me.

"Hey," she whispered, and kissed me. I groaned as our tongues met and she pressed her breast against my arm. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.

"So," she said, pulling back from the kiss. "I want to see your place. You've been to mine, so it only seems fair."

"You're right, that does seem fair," I said.

I drove to my place, Claire right beside me, my arm around her shoulders. She squeezed my thigh as I drove, her fingers lightly stroking my leg, keeping my cock straining against my jeans. She grinned every time she looked down at it and planted kisses against my cheek and neck.

I parked outside my building and hopped out, reaching in and helping Claire climb out, pulling her close to me as she stood up, stifling her gasp with my lips. She moaned into my mouth and pressed hard against my cock, one of her small hands delicately settling on my ass, the other trailing light scratches down my back. 

I pulled away from her and caught her hand in mine, leading her up the stairs to my apartment. I had, thankfully, cleaned up a little the night before, more to burn off energy than through any actual foresight. Claire walked past me into my apartment and let her eyes scan around.

"So this is what a grad student's apartment looks like, huh?" she asked, stopping in the middle of my living room and turning back to me.

"Yeah, basically. There's usually a lot more mess and a lot less beautiful woman in it, though."

Claire giggled and beckoned me over with one finger.

"Better take advantage of it, then," she whispered as I stepped up to her and wrapped my arms around her waist.

I kissed her then, pulling her lips to mine as my hands traced the line of her back, my fingers gliding across the skin that the back of her dress didn't cover. She moaned into my mouth and raised up on her tip-toes, dragging her small, firm breasts across my chest and pressing her groin against my still-hard cock.

I let my hands trail down her back and cupped her perfect little ass, pulling her against my body as she melted into me. I felt her nipples tighten against my chest through the thin material of my shirt and her dress and her hands grasped the back of my neck.

"Third date, right?" she murmured into my lips.

"Mm-hmm," I replied.

"Where's your bedroom?" she asked.

I bent my knees slightly and scooped her up by her ass, pulling her legs around me and getting a happy squeal out of her. I walked to my bedroom with her wrapped around me, kissing her and feeling the heat from where she pressed against my cock. As we entered the bedroom and neared the bed, she pushed away from me, holding herself up with her surprisingly strong legs, and reached behind her head, smiling seductively. She pulled the strings she found there and let them drop, the top half of her dress falling away from her perfect, firm breasts.

Her nipples were hard and pink, eraser-sized buttons with tightened, pale areolaes. I drank them in, fascinated by their perfection. I felt my knees hit the edge of the bed, and I lowered her almost hypnotically, gently laying her across the sheets as I leaned over her and kissed her neck, gently nibbling the soft, delicate skin. She gasped as my hands traced up her sides, my arms wrapping around her body, pushing under her, pulling her up against my mouth.

I kissed her collar bone, her chest, trailing my lips between her breasts and lower, gently biting below her breasts, pulling one hand free and tracing my fingers along her skin, mirroring the path of my lips around her other breast as I kissed and nibbled soft, hot skin. My lips brushed against one nipple as my thumb delicately flicked the other. I captured her nipple between my teeth and bit down softly, running the tip of my tongue across the very end of her nipple. She writhed under me and moaned as I repeated the process, switching nipples.

My mouth moved lower, kissing over her diaphragm, my hands curling into her dress, pulling it lower, sliding it over her hips, catching her panties and dragging them with. I raised myself up, pulling both off her smooth, warm legs. When they cleared her feet, she let her legs fall open, dropping her feet to the bed, her knees bent and wide apart. I stepped off the bed and stripped off my shirt, then my jeans and boxers.

Claire gasped as my cock came into view, a proud, pulsing rod just under eight inches long and as thick as her wrist. I drank in the sight of her, naked and horny on my bed. Her pussy was shaved smooth, the lips puffy and pink, spread just barely open, so wet I could see the juices on her inner lips shining in the sunlight that poured into my bedroom.

"I was hoping you might go down on me," Claire said, her eyes glued to my cock, "But I think you can go down on me later. Right now, just fuck me."

I grinned at her and climbed onto the bed, settling myself slowly between her legs, enjoying the feeling of her naked body pressed against mine for the first time. Claire lifted her feet from the bed and wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling my hips lower as my cock touched her pussy for the first time.

She was so wet, so incredibly ready that the crown of my cock parted her lips effortlessly, my cock sinking in with maddening slowness as I dragged out the experience of being inside her for the first time. She whispered against my lips, her mouth moving against mine, words lost in her ragged breathing as my cock slowly filled her. I could feel her muscles rippling against my cock, her pussy so incredibly tight, milking me even as I slipped in for the first time.

Slowly, oh so slowly, I settled all of my length inside her. As my balls pressed against her ass, I felt the tip of my cock brush against her cervix and she cried out, orgasm blasting through her as her pussy pulsed around me and her mouth opened wide, noiselessly expressing ecstasy. I ground my hips against her as she came, drawing her orgasm out, making it stretch as long as I could, feeling it break around me like a wave. 

As she came down, I began to thrust slowly, drawing my length almost all of the way out of her before stopping, just the head inside, and pushing slowly back in. With each thrust, I moved a little faster and she thrust her hips up to meet me until we were fucking in earnest, her legs tight around my waist, the bed shaking in time with our thrusts, my moans mixing with her cries.

"Oh fuck, Jay!" she called out as another orgasm ripped into her, her shuddering around my cock. "Fuck me, baby. Don't stop, don't ever stop. Just fuck me forever," she gasped.

As her orgasm finished I pushed myself up, looking down at her as she panted and grinned up at me, my cock still pumping into her, her hips meeting every thrust. I wrapped my hands under her legs and pulled them from around my waist, raising her legs up over my shoulders before leaning down, putting my weight against them, pushing them against her chest and settling in, thrusting hard into her, driving my cock into her even more deeply than before.

"Fuck!" Claire screamed as she came again, her pussy clenching down this time, so tight I could barely keep thrusting myself inside her, one hand grasping my hips and clawing into me, pulling me into her as I reached between us and fanned my thumb across her clit. Her breath caught in her chest and she reddened, a deep blush that started where my cock disappeared into her and spread across her body until she blew all the air out in one long, deep moan.

"Oh god I love your cock," she gasped. "Cum in me! Fuck your cum into my pussy. I want to feel it, feel your cum shooting in my pussy, Jay, baby, it'll make me cum so hard." Claire spoke in rapid gasps between her ragged breathing, and her body shook as she came again, twitching, moaning, her cunt trying to pull my cock into her, pulsing around me and pushing me over the edge.

I buried myself in her, my cock as deep as it could go as I exploded, my cum firing into her, spurt after spurt of boiling cum. Claire screamed as I came in her, her orgasm pushing to new heights, her wetness incredible, wetter than I'd ever seen. Her spasming cunt forced our combined cum out between us and it squirted onto my pelvis and drenched my balls.

As the world expanded again, and I became aware of things other than my cock and her unbelievable pussy, I looked down at Claire, her face flushed and sweaty and happy. She dropped her legs from my shoulders and wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me down into a kiss that was deep and content.

"Don't pull out," she gasped when she felt my hips move. "Leave it in me. I like kissing you with your cock and your cum deep inside me."

We lay together like, that, my cock deep inside her, her legs around my waist, kissing and giggling to each other.

"Somehow," Claire said, "I think work is going to be a whole lot more interesting now."



Claire



Preface:

Reader, please know my endeavors on Literotica are purely a hobby and my work will lack polish found elsewhere on this site. While I very much appreciate criticism and feedback that can help me improve grammatically or stylistically, there are two things I'd rather caution you about now as opposed to having you complain about them later. First, my stories tend to be long in development, taking their time to get to the sex, (however I personally feel that erotica is part of this story almost from the beginning). If you are here for a quick read and a faster release, you're starting the wrong tale. Second, my stories talk about religion and if you are easily offended when someone talks about the sacred, mocks tradition, or otherwise profanes the reverent, then I'd please ask you to go elsewhere rather than consciously read this story and then scream at me later for being disrespectful. Know that I spent many years in the religion that I often use as subtext for my writings, and I approach it with integrity and authenticity although I rarely respect it. 

Peace.

*****

After a moment of surprise on my part I found my manners and invited the Mormon missionaries into my home. I'd had the missionaries knock on my door many times, living in Utah does not make one immune to the proselytizing efforts of the dominant faith in the state, nonetheless it still catches me off-guard whenever they showed up on my porch. I just assumed that by now my address and name would be flagged as "not interested" and that they would spend their time on more promising leads, still they come by about once a year. 

Part of the astonishment this time around, however, was that the missionaries were a couple of attractive young women, Sister Parker and Sister Weber. I'm always very cordial with the missionaries when they come my way, I spent my own time several years ago as a Mormon missionary so I sympathized with situation they were in, anxiously knocking on doors and hoping for a polite, "No thank you" instead of the more frequent door slammed shut in their faces. I go out of my way to let the missionaries in, let them chat with me about anything other than religion - give them something to drink, eat, whatever... I know the torture of trying to fill the days as a missionary, the boredom and the anxieties. I was eager to do anything to get off the street when I was out, I served in Florida and it was hot, humid, and felt like the days would never end. Invite us to help weed the yard or to walk the dog, let us do service, let us clean your windows... just give us something, anything to do!

Normally I'm dealing with the male variety of missionary, "Elders" as they like to be called despite rarely being more than 20 or 21 years old. Young, naïve, oftentimes speaking English as a second language and while being sincere and earnest in their beliefs, they are also most often scared and nervous at best, brash and hubristic at worst. Today, however, are two young women with a distinctively different style than what the elders bring. 

Sister Parker was tall and thin, plain in her makeup and appearance as well as her dress. She wore a mid-calf length skirt that looked like it was made of wool, almost old-fashion in style, and a button up white silk blouse covered mostly by a sweater, also likely made of wool. It was early fall but the temperatures were still quite warm and I imagined she was uncomfortably hot covered head to toe in such thick material. Her brown hair hung well beyond her shoulders, straight and plain and without bangs, held back by a simple black hairpiece. She had brown eyes and full lips and very small ears without earrings or any other jewelry on her for that matter. 

Sister Weber was shorter, also slender and dressed very similarly to Sister Parker except that she had on a skirt of thinner material and no sweater over her pastel pink blouse. She had striking blue eyes and dirty blond hair that was cut short and playful, adding some character to her appearance whereas the absence of makeup and jewelry made her appear very ordinary. I imagined her shorter, spiky hair, a way of just barely rebelling and keeping her individualism while serving a mission for a church that very much valued homogenous appearance and behavior. I smiled, knowing I did much the same on my mission.

I invited the two sisters into my front room and they sat on the couch while I sat on the other side of the room.. They were nervous, Sister Weber much more so than Sister Parker, and thus I engaged quickly in conversation to take the pressure off of them and to make sure the discussion stayed on topics that I preferred.

"Where are you from, Sister Weber," I asked, starting with the shy one, I needed her to know I didn't bite, that she was in a safe place. 

"Vancouver, Canada."

"Oh, I love it up there," I replied. "I have taken a few trips to Vancouver, ferry rides to Vancouver Island, it's all so beautiful!"

She seemed thrilled that I have been up to her corner of the world and we talked for a few minutes about her family and how long she had been out on her mission. She was clearly the "junior" companion, having only been in Utah for a few months and that also explained her nervous demeanor.

"What's your name?" I asked Sister Weber.

"Dawn." She smiled almost embarrassed, as if her first name were too familiar, too informal for the situation. Good, I thought to myself, letting these poor girls loosen up a bit and relax was my entire goal.

I turned my attention to Sister Parker, "And what's your name, sister?"

"Claire," she responded, "And I'm from Tucson," see added. 

"And how long have you been out in the mission field?"

"15 months, almost time for me to go home."

"The senior companion," I kidded with her, putting the word 'senior' in air quotes which got small chuckle from them both. To use the word "senior" with anyone of Mormon missionary age was always good for a laugh or two.

We talked a bit about the weather, the areas in Utah they had served and generally avoided actual discussion about religion. As was typical with most of the missionaries I had let into my home, they were all too willing to just have a pleasant chat with someone and leave the religious selling alone for a while. Only rarely had I come across the persistent missionary determined to deliver the message and proclaim the truths of the gospel. Sister Weber and Sister Parker were not zealots, they were very pleasant, intelligent women and I wished they would stay all day, watch some TV, have dinner, and take a bit of time off from the pressure cooker of missionary service. The small, uncomfortable pause inevitably arrived, however, and so I addressed the elephant in the room directly.

"Look, sisters, I have enjoyed meeting you and you are always welcome in my home. I hope you will come back for dinner sometime soon," Mormon missionaries are always looking for a decent meal. "I'm not Mormon, you probably already figured that out, but I want to be honest with you and let you know that I was, once. I even served a mission myself seven or eight years ago, but I have since left the church and I have no interest in re-joining."

This is usually the part in the conversation where my guests want to know why I left the church, presuming they can "fix" the issues, and the visit gets uncomfortable for them when I refuse to answer, resulting in them leaving shortly thereafter. 

"Oh, we just came by to introduce ourselves today," Sister Parker spoke up, not missing a beat or even showing any surprise at my confession. "Do you know Evan Porter?"

Of course I knew Evan, he was my next-door neighbor of the past fours years and great guy, even if I didn't know him exceptionally well. 

"We just moved into his basement apartment this morning," Clair continued, "And Brother Porter said you were a terrific guy so we decided to take a moment and just introduce ourselves as your new neighbors." She was so genuinely happy, that all-too-perfect-Mormon persona shining brightly. "I'll probably be here until I go home and other sisters will be here for longer, I assume."

Evan had been renting his basement apartment to a newly wed couple for the past year and I knew they were moving out, moving on, but Evan had not mentioned anything about taking in the missionaries. Then again it's really not my business. I knew that the local congregations often asked members to open their homes and/or apartments for the missionaries to use, so I should have seen this coming. 

"Well, I look forward to having you two around the neighborhood then," I said as everyone stood and prepared to leave. "I will insist you come back for dinner sometime. I know what it's like to be in the mission field and you can even count me as an investigator if it helps your stats." This I said jokingly but regretted it immediately, perhaps too passively aggressive on my part as my new neighbors offered uncomfortable smiles in return.

My poorly timed joke still hanging in the air was quickly displaced as Claire turned to view the art on the wall behind her. Neither she nor Dawn had noticed it when walking into the room and with the painting on the inside wall, most visitors don't see it until they stand to leave. Claire was staring at it obtusely while Dawn, upon seeing Claire's attention diverted, looked at the piece and then quickly looked away and moved towards the front door.

So, yes, I have a painting of a naked woman in my front room. I should know better than to take a pair of Mormon missionaries in there, not to mention Sister missionaries, but honestly the piece is such an organic part of my home that I don't even give it second thought. 

The painting is titled "Woman At Dawn", an original work from a Ukrainian artist that I discovered back in college. It's a large, expressionist oil that is brilliant in balance, composition, and breathtaking in what it captures, the look of a passive, beautiful young woman sitting on the edge of her bed at dawn, sunlight breaking through the window. Her brown long hair is falling down her arm, framing her breasts which are bare and prominent in the piece, her lower half less exposed with her legs crossed and the white of her panties only just visible across her hip, melding in with her flesh as it sank into the sheets on her bed. The piece was typical of the artist and I had followed her work for several years after leaving college. When this particular painting came up for sale I splurged, spent far too much to own an original. I never regretted the purchase; it was the centerpiece of my home. 

I'd been an art minor in college, even contemplated a dual major at one point and in no small measure because of the work of Korina Nikova, the Ukrainian who painted some of the most captivating art I had ever experienced. I even corresponded with her since purchasing this piece and considered her a long-distance friend, a pen pal if you will. 

I was so inspired after having this painting framed and in my home that I used it as a muse of my own. I still painted as often as I could although my work was never intended for anything but my own passionate creation and private consumption. Still, a complimentary painting I painted of a young man in a similar pose is one of my better pieces. 

I have a naked woman on my front room wall, large and conspicuous. It's not vulgar, it's not even erotic, but it's a bit much for your typical Mormon and it's certainly a little awkward for these poor sister missionaries. Still, Clair studied the painting. Shocked, perhaps, but not embarrassed. I watched her face for those few seconds as she analyzed the piece, I could see her eyes following the light, the flow of the painting and I realized she even looked a bit like the girl sitting on the bed. Approximately the same age, same hair, same complexion, it was rather striking. Even in the rather abstract representation, the similarities were obvious, so much so that I assumed Claire could not help but see it too.

Dawn was waiting by the front door by the time Claire finally turned her gaze away from the painting. She wasn't blushing; she looked me very directly in the eye and simply said, "That's very beautiful." 

"Thank you," I replied, "It's the only original piece of art I own. I'm very fond of it."

We both turned towards the door and Dawn was watching Claire, Sister Parker, with her eyebrows raised. Dawn did not find Claire's art appreciation appropriate. Nevertheless, we all shook hands and Sister Weber and Sister Parker made their way back down the walkway and over to Evan's house, my new neighbors.

A couple weeks went by and I noticed the Sisters out a few times as they left for the day, always waiving and friendly. I caught Evan one day as he was doing some yard work and talked to him about his new tenants. Evan was as strictly observant a Mormon as there was and he went on and on about how quiet they were, how nice it was to have good tenants, and how many blessings his family was reaping in return for hosting the missionaries in his apartment - which meant they were staying for free. 

I finally caught the sisters on their way home one night and offered them dinner again. They agreed, but asked if they there might be room for three of them. 

"Sister Larsen is just new to the area and she will be here for a few weeks until another companion missionary arrives," Claire explained, "We're a threesome now!"

I wanted to laugh as she said 'threesome', but her innocent smile told me there was no innuendo in her choice of words, only my dirty mind to blame. 

"Of course, always plenty of room and food. I can't wait to meet her," I said.

Thursday night arrived and I did my best to pretend I can actually cook. As a single man in my late twenties I have learned to survive on more than pizza and beer, but my culinary options are limited. I did my best and I prepared far more food than three women could ever eat, even including myself. 

The sisters arrived promptly and even though I knew of the rules and protocol of the mission I found myself just a little disappointed they were all so formally dressed with their long skirts and nametags in place. To their credit, however, the context of their mission started and stopped with their appearance. We spent the entire night talking about where the girls were from, plans after they return home from their missions, and horror stories of knocking on doors as missionaries. I was able to contribute to the conversation with my own mission stories and even though my apostasy from the church was always clear and present, we talked like we were old friends. After a couple hours of food, very pleasant chat and plenty of laughs we decided to clean up and call it a night.

Claire joined me in the kitchen doing dishes as Sister Larsen, (Julie, she finally gave up after a few minutes of giving her a bad time about being so formal), and Dawn cleaned up the table and stole a few minutes with the TV, a minor mission rule broken but only to watch the local news. 

During dinner Claire had come off as a bit less stuffy than the other two sisters, perhaps because her time in the field had worn her down as it tends to do when your entire life is consumed by religious service for a year and a half. I could remember the days at the end of my mission when my zeal for converting people to the one true church had eroded to a barely containable contempt for the rules, the restrictions, the white shirts and the constant presence of a companion. I had longed for privacy more than anything else, for a conversation that felt natural rather than forced, formulated, indoctrinated. Perhaps my bad attitude was partly to blame for my quick departure from the religion once I landed back home, and a little bit of the same negativity was evident with Claire. 

She was nice enough, pleasant and very positive about her church and the service, but she was tired and clearly worn out. Moreover, she was not anxious to leave tonight, that much was very clear. She kept conversations alive, she offered to help with dishes instead of leaving them for me to take care of as I had insisted. Again, on a Mormon mission sometimes doing anything is better than having nothing to do, spending another evening in scripture study and prayer. Anything. And so we washed dishes together.

"Is there a guy waiting for you when you get back home," I asked, avoiding awkward silences as much as possible.

"No. No. I went on a mission to get away from a boy," she joked, "but I'm not going back to him."

"That bad, huh?"

"We dated for a long time, it wasn't going well and the mission seemed like a logical way to create some space between us," Claire added.

"That seems a bit drastic," making sure I was being sarcastic, "Giving up 18 months of your life to get away from a boy?" 

Claire laughed, sensing my teasing voice, "Well, maybe. I wasn't planning on going on a mission, so it's at least partially due to him that I am here, but it's a bit more complicated than that."

"Oh?"

Claire turned and looked at me, as if deciding whether or not to share her story. She held her eyes on mine for only a second or two before smiling, turning away as she said, "Maybe that's a story for another day."

We finished up the dishes with some additional small talk and then I sent the sisters on their way, complete with several plastic containers of leftovers that should last them a few days.

After the door closed and my new friends were safely back at home next door I opened a bottle of wine and sat in the front room, fireplace on and providing the only light in the room. It was a bit colder tonight, the autumn chill very present in the light breeze as I watched them walk home. These are the perfect evenings to enjoy by the fire in my favorite room of my home. I put my feet up and savored the wine, one of the better benefits of leaving the Mormon Church... discovering fine wine. My eyes settled on my painting on the opposite wall with the fire offering a subtle dancing light that changed the complexion and warmth of the painting. Claire. It looked just like Claire, or at least as I imagined she might look if sitting nearly naked on the side of a large Victorian bed. 

Now don't get me wrong, I had not lingered on my sister missionary neighbors in any kind of sexual way, had not considered them as anything but religiously fervent neighbors. I had never tried to undress Claire in my mind but the young girl in my painting looked so much like her, so young and beautiful.

Claire was intriguing. She seemed done with the mission, passion for serving nearly depleted. She was complex; there was a story behind her boyfriend and her decision to serve a mission. A Mormon mission is not a trivial thing. You pay your expenses, you volunteer your time, you surrender your freedoms and you pledge your very existence to your church. You don't wake up one day and decide to go, it's a decision made years in advance even if the decision is influenced by social pressure to go as much as anything else. Moreover, you don't go simply because you want to break up with a guy! There was more to Claire than met the eye.

Two weeks, maybe more went by before I ran into the sisters again. They had brought my plastic bowls back while I was away, leaving them on my front porch with a very nice thank-you note, but their schedules seemed consumed and I had been away on business for a few days, thus I had nearly forgotten about Claire when I saw her getting out of the car as I fetched the mail and paper from my drive. The other two sisters had just made their way into the house with bags of groceries in their hands and I waived at Claire, who waived back and walked towards my yard to say hello.

"Getting close to go time," I asked her. 

"Yeah, another month and I'm outta here."




Claire



"Well good for you," I said, "I can tell you are about done with this mission thing." That was bold, bold of me to throw at her. I watched her reaction closely.

Claire did glance back at me with eyes slightly wider, responding to my comment only with her facial expression. She looked defensive at first, but only for a second until it melted away in resignation.

"Yeah, I'm a bit tired of this," she finally confessed.

"I have been there, Claire, I know the feeling. It takes a lot of energy an even more mental stamina to do what missionaries do. It wears you down."

"Right," she said back almost relieved to talk with someone that could relate. "I don't regret my mission, but I'm really not cut out for this. It's been very hard."

Many missionaries can't hack it, many go home after weeks or months when the depression, the homesickness, the boredom becomes too much. 

"Well, I sort of regret my mission," I offered, "If that's not too bold to confess. I went more for my parents than myself, I had several periods of depression while I was away, it was very hard."

Claire only nodded her head in agreement.

"And it's hard to be so literally close to other people, twenty four hours a day." Claire shook her head again. "None of my companions were bad people, I got along with most of them but you need a moment alone, some privacy, more than the three minutes it takes to go to the bathroom." I paused for a moment, "I took some long, long showers."

My long shower comment was an innuendo, but not one that I figured Claire would catch on to, but the ever so slight corner of her mouth turned up in a barely-there smile for only a second before she caught herself and looked away. I highly doubted that sister missionaries took their scarce shower time for anything more than getting clean, while on the other hand the elders were notorious for using that time to jerk off the frustrations of being twenty years old and cooped up with other twenty year old guys. Maybe I was not giving the sisters enough credit.

"Even now I just want to stand out here in the cold and use you as an excuse to have a moment away from them," Claire said as she laughed. "I'm evil!"

"You're human."

"Thanks. I guess." Claire looked a little pouty at this point, realizing her time was up and it was time to head back into the apartment. "Thanks for a few seconds of distraction," she said lingering for just a bit longer. "It's either this or fake being sick so I can lay around in bed all day and be alone with my thoughts."

"Well, if you decide to take the day off like that and want more company than your thoughts, I work from home most days," I said as I turned as started walking up my driveway, "I'll even make you lunch." I intended my closing statement as little more than small talk, thus even when I heard the knock the door the next day, late morning, it didn't cross my mind that Claire might take me up on the offer until I opened the door to see her standing there. 

"Your offer for lunch sounded too nice to pass on," she said as she smiled a guilty grin and looked over her shoulder, worried about being seen like this. It's a very strict mission rule, stay with your companion at all times.

"How in the world did you manage to get away from your companions?"

"Sister Larsen is still living with us and so I convinced them that I could be trusted to sleep off my illness while they kept the days appointments," she could barely mask her giddy joy at having ditched them for the day. "Besides, they know I go home in less than a month, and that I am tired of being out here. They won't bother to report me to the mission president, they are sympathetic and think I will lay around sick all day as I promised."

"Well let's fix some lunch, then," and I turned towards the kitchen, Claire close behind. 

Claire sat on the stool on the other side of the bar while I put together a simple lunch. She offered to help but I told her to relax. Actually, she looked very relaxed, her face registered less stress and she looked happier, no pressure to preach or teach or keep up appearances for the sake of her companions, even if just for a few minutes. Yeah, she still wore her long skirts and modest blouse and sweater combos but to her credit she had left the silly 'Sister Parker' nametag at home. Today she was just Claire.

"So you said you're going back to college when you get home?" 

"Yeah, I should have things in order to get back into school at Arizona State but I'd like to see if I can get re-admitted to Stanford."

"Stanford? Did you attend there before your mission? I thought you had been at ASU?"

"I was at ASU but out of high school I had scholarship offers to both BYU and Stanford. My parents pushed me hard to attend BYU but I didn't want the pressure of a church school, nor did I want to live in Provo." We both laughed at that, since her mission essentially landed her in Provo just the same. "My parents were afraid of me heading to Stanford, thought it was too far away and too liberal for my own good and I let them talk me out of taking the scholarship."

"Wow, what a lost opportunity. I hope you can get back in, what are you studying?"

"Literature, at least for now. And yes, I'd love to get into Stanford again but I have a full scholarship at ASU as well, it's closer to home and it will be a good school if that's where I end up. I just should have been a bit braver and taken the Stanford offer the first time around. I was the good Mormon girl, however, playing it safe and staying close because I was smitten with a boy."

"Yes, the boy. Men always get in the way. But you ran away from him, right? It's why you are on a mission instead of still in school, so you certainty didn't stick at ASU for him alone."

"No," she paused and looked thoughtful, "No, not only for him but things change quickly. It's complicated." She looked at me as if daring herself to tell me the story.

"Sounds like a good story," I wanted to dare her to tell the story as well. I let my voice hang, as if waiting for her to finish my thought.

"It's a sad story, if you want to know the truth."

"Tell me?"

Again, a long pause and mock smirking smile from Claire. "Maybe. Maybe later."

We finished lunch and I continued to pepper Claire with questions. She was a brilliant young woman, a 4.0 student in high school and an accomplished pianist. She loved to read and was much better read than I was despite being 7 or 8 years younger than me. I know it's a fallacy that smart people are not religious people but I couldn't help but wonder how such an intelligent woman continued to not only believe, but also proselytize for her religion, it seemed incongruent with the way her mind worked.

Claire was wandering around my living room and kitchen now, looking at the art I had on the walls and making very observant comments about style, content, asking questions about why I liked a particular piece or what I saw in some of the more abstract prints I had collected in recent years.

"You know your art," I finally said as she studied an abstract piece that I had painted myself, one of the few works of my own that I dared actually display.

"You painted this." It was a declaration, not a question as she saw my tiny scribbled name in the lower right hand corner. "It's very good. It feels like a storm, like wind."

In fact that was exactly the concept and emotion I had attempted to create in the painting and I loved that she used the word 'feel' to describe it. 

She continued to look at the painting and then looked over at me suddenly, as if just remembering something. "Can I look at that painting in your front room again," she asked but started walking that direction before I could answer.

We stood in front of the painting and took it in. The mid-day sunlight was perfect for the work, highlighted some of the brilliant work the artist had done in projecting the color of her subjects hair, the tone of her skin on her bare legs, the fraction of a pink nipple that crowned the woman's breast, small but sensually nubile on her small frame. Claire studied the painting for a long time without talking, minutes of silence as well both looked at it, my appreciation for it renewed every time I studied it.

Her understanding of the work was obvious, I could follow her eyes along the same lines and features that I often fell captive too, besides she had commented favorably about the first time she saw it. 

She finally looked away from the painting, turning her eyes to meet mine. She looked hesitant before she spoke, "This feels odd to point out," she stopped. I thought she might not continue, "I don't know why this feels awkward, but, she looks like me."

I nodded, keeping a serious look on my face but I was smiling inside. "Yes she does."

Claire turned back to the painting, "Maybe because she is nude, maybe that's why it feels funny to claim a resemblance but I almost identify with the emotion in her face, like it could be me." She continued to stare at the painting. "It's very beautiful, and I hope that doesn't make me sound conceited, because I mean the picture is beautiful, she is beautiful," she looked down, shook her head, "I don't mean to say I am beautiful..." It was the first time she had stumbled over her words. Her humility was part of her beauty at that very moment, embarrassed that she had possibly complimented herself.

We made our way back into the kitchen area and talked for a little bit longer before she started to get nervous about her companions coming home and finding her gone. 

"Well, I'm glad you came over today, I enjoyed your company and I rarely have visitors that appreciate art like you do."

"Thanks for lunch, your home and your taste in art is wonderful. I really needed a break today."

"Well, if you get sick again you know where to find me. Besides, you still haven't told me about your boy troubles back home."

Claire laughed, gave me a fake pouty frown and then leaned in for an unexpected hug. It was only a second, but it was a hug, physical contact and likely way out of bounds for the do-good sister missionary.

I watched as she practically snuck back home, paranoid about who might be watching her leaving my house, and then I went back to work for the day. But work was hard, I could not concentrate and so just as I did in college when the hard stuff became harder, I retreated to my art. 

My studio was downstairs in an unfinished room of the basement. It was large, cold, and had nothing that could be damaged by spilled watercolor base or a dropped paintbrush covered with bright red oil. My ability to focus on art was sporadic, but when I became interested, even obsessed, I could spend hours down here working on putting a feeling or emotion or memory onto a canvas. I didn't have an exact idea of what I wanted to paint, so I flipped through art books and catalogs, browsed online art galleries trying to find a trigger for creation. And as has happened many times before, I found myself obsessing over the work of Korina Nikova, the painting in my front room, my desire to find a way to create something so spectacular.

I started sketching and I drew figure after figure but nothing seemed appropriate. I wanted to capture something that I could not describe; it needed to be created, to be creative. It wasn't working, I was not putting on paper what I felt was a worthy structural start for the work I wanted to produce. Again, this had happened many times before. Several hours later I gave up and retired to bed, not frustrated as much as disappointed that I lacked the creative base to even start on a project despite the motivation I had felt today. 

The following day I went for a morning run and as I approached the house on my return I noticed Sister Weber and Sister Larsen getting into their car and heading down the street. Both waived excitedly as they passed and I wondered where Claire was. An hour later after I had showered and started sniffing around the kitchen for something to eat for lunch, Claire was located: knocking on my front door. 

"Unfortunately, I'm still feeling under the weather," said in a fake, sad soft voice while she lowered her head to one side playfully. 

"Come on in, then," I stepped to the side and let her in the house. "I was just making lunch so come join me."

Claire was wearing virtually the same outfit as she normally did, except today she had ditched the sweater, probably due to the late autumn heat wave. I wondered if she were so observant and orthodox that even when lying about being sick she still felt obligated to adhere to the mission dress code, or if she simply didn't have anything more casual and comfortable to wear. 

As I finished warming up some soup Claire wandered back to my abstract piece of art on the wall in my living room and asked, "Why don't you paint more?"

"Truth is I paint a lot, more than I should given that it doesn't pay the bills and I have a full time job that does," Claire was walking back to the kitchen as I spoke. "But most of it is not worth displaying, most is therapeutic for me but not something I want an audience for. Those pieces I do like, I keep hidden away in more private parts of my home."

"I want to see them," Claire exclaimed, giddy and schoolgirl like. She even clapped her hands. "May I?"

"Eat first," was my answer, hoping the delay would distract her. I pushed a bowl of tomato bisque and some bread in her direction.

I did my best to chit chat with her on topics that would make her forget about my art, but the very second the last dish was put in the washer she made her request again, "So, let me see your work?"

I sighed, a genuine moan of frustration. My art was personal and while it was not bad, it was not great either. I was not sure if my ego could take a critical review from Claire. Moreover, I was not sure she would appreciate all of my subject matter. But Claire insisted, practically begged. 

"I'll tell you what, we can make a trade," I started. "You tell me your boy-trouble story and I will let you see some of the work I have downstairs."

Claire took a long time to think about this, biting her lower lip. The typical young love romance gone bad story should not have caused this much angst and she was clearly struggling with the offer I put on the table.

"I don't know you very well, and this is a rather intimate and personal story," she left the sentence unfinished, clearly wanting to say more but instead changed directions. "Can I trust you," she asked, "to keep this very, very private?"

"Who would I tell," I asked? "But I promise, it stays with me."

"Fine. We have a deal." She sat back on the bar stool and relaxed her shoulders a bit before exhaling and looking me in the eye. "Honestly, this will probably feel good to get off my chest, a confession of sorts." I was more interested than ever.

"Let me just start with the biggest shocker of the whole tale, let's just get this out of the way: I'm not a virgin." She threw this out there with fake courage, but I could tell it was extremely hard for her to admit. "Little Mormon missionary Claire is not a virgin," she said one more time.

"My first time was with a silly crush, I thought I was in love but at age 16 who can really be in love. I was dumb, he was so cute, and it hurt so badly!. I don't know why it didn't ruin sex for me, I should have run away from the idea and counted myself lucky that I didn't get pregnant. We only did it once, I freaked out and so did he, both of us Mormon kids and shamed beyond terrified."

She took a deep breath, she looked red, blushing, embarrassed. I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge behind me and gave it to her and she drank generously before going on. 

"While the act freaked me out, the idea of sex ignited in me. I was a good girl, I stayed away from boys for a long time after that but I had sex dreams at night, I would sometimes touch myself," she looked up at me to see if I caught her meaning. I held her glance with serious eyes, letting her know that I understood. "As a good Mormon girl I figured this was temptation, my punishment for letting myself sin and have sex before I was married. So much guilt... you understand, right? You were Mormon." Again she looked up with pleading eyes.

"Yeah, I totally get it. Trust me, I know very well what you are talking about."

"Well, I never told anyone about having sex with that boy, not my parents or the bishop, not even my close friends. I wanted to forget about it despite obsessing over it. And then I met Paul, and I thought he was the one. We met at ASU in a math class, and I struggle with math more than anything else and Paul helped tutor me at first. Paul was LDS, a returned missionary, very cute and a really good guy, if you know what I mean. Like the guy you think of when you are younger and imagine getting married, the guy that will be righteous and strong and take you to the temple. I think the idea of him was almost better than the reality of him, but I fell in love quickly."

"Paul and I studied together, ate together, we spent so much time with each other and while I am Mormon, I'm not naïve... two young kids spending that much time alone, it was bound to happen. And it was so fast! We had never done anything more than make out, although we could do that for hours and hours. It seemed as if it didn't even take a conscious thought the night we finally gave in, one second we making out and the next my skirt was pushed up and his pants where down and we collided like starving lovers." Claire was looking off at nothing at this point, pausing as if remembering in vivid detail all again. I felt like a voyeur, as if this were just too personal for me to be hearing.

Claire kept going, however, looking directly at me again as she continued the story. 

"That first time was fast and we both cried when we were done. It was wonderful, I was thrilled it didn't hurt, but the shame was so immediate and so heavy. We broke up immediately but a few days later he called and wanted to talk about it, see what we could do to get beyond it. I was in love, and we went for a drive in his car. For several hours we talked, cried, even prayed. Oddly, the more we talked about it, however, the more I craved him again. He was so beautiful, so sincere in trying to make things right. I wanted to console him, hold him, but I wanted to love him too."

"We parked the car at a park and talked more, then we held each other and said nothing. We kissed. I moved closer to him, I could feel him, you know... down there... hard and it felt hot even through his jeans. Before I could even make another move his hand was up my shirt and we were frantically making love again. This time not only was it not painful, it felt wonderful and I pulled him so close, I wanted to feel him so badly, against me... in me." Claire stopped at this point as if she were getting too detailed and explicit. 

After taking another drink of water, she continued. "The guilt and shame cycle is so powerful and the drive home was torture. He was beside himself, verbally abusing himself for being weak and talking about how he was ruining me. And I was feeling guilty too but I was not past the feeling of love and connection and closeness we had just shared. My mind was a mess, fighting on one hand to obey the rules I knew I was supposed to follow but I just wanted him again, right then, just as badly."

"After another few days of staying away from each other I reached out this time, I wanted to let him know I was not ruined, that I loved him still. It took some convincing but he agreed to meet me and we decided we would keep things safe, and talk at his parent house instead of being alone with each other. Things went very well, we talked, and we were honest and explicit with each other. We thought it was a good idea to acknowledge the lust and desire and I was determined to make sure he didn't think those things were wrong, per se, just being experienced at the wrong time."




Claire



"To his credit, he confessed that he could not stop thinking about me, about doing that with me, and he even confessed masturbating while he thought about us. Paul, he had a good head and he really thought confession was critical. In fact, confession ended up being our end, but more on that in a minute. When Paul told me about masturbating while he thought of me, well, that really turned me on."

"We had been talking for hours at that point and his parents were fast asleep and the house was quiet, private, and I wanted Paul again. I moved closer to him, we started making out and it was clear where it was going. I tried to have a clear head, however, I didn't want another guilt cycle to start given we had not cleared the air of our recent transgressions so I pulled myself off Paul. Paul was surprised, but I could also tell he was disappointed. He looked so gorgeous, his hair was all messed up and we were both so hot... so I had an idea."

Claire took another drink of water and then sort of caught herself, "I cannot believe I am telling you this," but the way she said it was almost as if she were offering the obligatory qualifier to her little story, it was like she wanted me to talk her into going on... so I did. Honestly, it took little more than me saying, "Go on."

"I know this is a total cliché, but I thought I could replace sex, sex with something that had less sex. I reached down and undid his jeans while he watched. It was funny, the look on his face. His eyes pleaded with me to continue but I also felt clearly an urge on his part to stop me. He didn't, and I pulled his pants down with his assistance even. It was the first time I had ever really seen him, his penis, you know? The other times were so frantic and fast, we remained mostly clothed so when I saw him for the first time up close I was a little scared. It was bigger than I thought it would be, even though we had had sex, it still looked bigger and I wondered if I could go through with my plan."

"Anyway, I wanted to make him happy, and I just wanted him if I am being honest here. I bent over I took him in my mouth. I don't think he was expecting that, and I was not expecting how big it would feel in my mouth, it was so hot!"

Again Claire checked herself with me by pausing and watching my reaction. 

"Wow," I said. "I'm guessing Paul was pleased."

"Actually, no." Claire paused again, looking down at the floor, for the first time looking a bit ashamed. "I tried, I thought I was doing it right but I had never done that before. He was so big and I gagged on him and he was moaning like it hurt, but he didn't tell me to stop. I knew the general idea of what do to, but this was so different than the way it sounded in magazines or in the movies. I tried to just keep going but suddenly he pushed me away and turned himself away from me. I think he actually had an orgasm but he was so ashamed and embarrassed that he asked me to leave the room while he cleaned up and got dressed again." 

"I actually left, I didn't wait for him to come back I was so embarrassed. I drove home crying."

Claire looked like she might start crying again, right now, sitting in my kitchen. She took a deep breath, however, and kept going.

"I didn't hear from him for days, then he called and demanded we both go to the bishop and confess and get ourselves right. I knew he was doing the right thing, but I was desperate to keep this my secret. I'm sorry, but it seems strange and cruel to have to go, as a single woman, to some older man I barely know and tell him of my sexual sins. So I agreed with Paul, in principle, but I told him I would go to my bishop and he could go to his - alone, each of us. I made it sound as if this were too personal a thing to do as an unmarried couple. Besides, I knew from others that a couple like us going to the bishop like that would end with the Bishop pressuring us to get married, and at this point I knew very plainly that Paul was not the person I wanted to marry. He's a good guy, but just could not live under that level of orthodoxy my whole life."

As I listened to her go on I was amazed at how strong and sensible she was. I never understood the idea of confession either, at least not the way the Mormons did it, and I could not blame her even if she was a believer for wanting something more private. 

"So the bishop, I actually did go see him," she continued. "First off, I told Paul I would confess and I kept my promise. I did confess, sort of. I left everything vague, didn't talk about actual sex acts despite the bishop pressing for details and specifics, I held my ground and saved my privacy and dignity. But I was feeling guilt, more guilt than I had ever felt before. I was certain God was angry with me, that I needed to find a way to repent and make up for my sins. The bishop and I talked for an hour, and in the course of the discussion he asked if I had considered serving a mission. It was fate or timing or a pure coincidence, but at that exact moment his suggestion sounded like the cure for my ills. And a few months later, papers in and call received, I was on a flight to Salt Lake City. And here I am today, sinning again by lying to my companions about being sick."

And with that she sat up straight, gave me a big smile and slapped her hands down on the bar. "The End," she declared. "Now let's see your pictures."

"Wow." That was all I could immediately say after hearing her story. I shook my head and then moved from my side of the bar over next to her and took a seat on the stool next to her. "I have to tell you, I'm very impressed."

"Impressed?"

"Yeah, I was raised Mormon, I know how the system works. You were able to stand up to the male centric control of women, you didn't give into the bishop and you seemed to have taken more control than most would have in your situation. I'm sorry you had to spend two years of your life on a mission, that's a very big price to pay in order to absolve yourself of the guilt and get away from the guy." I paused and opened my own bottle of water to take a drink. "And a very large part of why I no longer participate is because the guilt and shame. Shame for everything, not just sex, and that shame was more psychological stress than I wanted in my life. I get it, I really do, the guilt can be very intense. But mostly, mostly I regret that you had such terrible experiences with sex."

"Oh, I don't think my sexual experiences were bad, I think I had bad partners, not bad sex," and she said this without even a hint of humor, she was very serious. 

"Well, that's a very healthy way to look at it. Good for you."

I stood up from the stool and started walking towards the stairs. "Follow me, let's get this over with."

I cringed as we made our way downstairs and the five pieces of art I dared display were now before her. She stood close to each, then stepped back, taking them in. She was very polite, gentle but I didn't need her affirmation or expect her to fall in love with them. They were very much amateur quality work, barely worthy of a place on a wall in the basement of my humble home. There was one, however, one piece that I worried about the most and she was almost there, the last one on the facing wall perpendicular to the wall where the other pieces hung. The piece I had poured most of my energy into and yet it failed, could not meet my expectations. 

As she finally settled her attention on the piece, I waited... I closed my eyes hoping it would be over soon. 

The painting was on the same size canvas as the nude in my front room, and was of similar composition. In my mind, my huge egotistical head, it would be the complimentary work to that piece, the male equivalent, ying for the yang, the masculine offset of the feminine. It was far from what I imagined, although the figure itself was well composed and structurally correct. I had gone overboard with the musculature, a demi-god of a man, young and strong, but this was why the painting failed as a companion piece to the nude woman, it assumed too much machismo and opposed her perfect femininity with too much male. It was wrong, even if the painting itself was technically well done. 

My other mistake was the boldness of his pose as I had not offered even scant covering for his maleness, a flaccid penis that was still imposing, out of proportion. Silly, silly men and our phallic obsessions. And here was Claire staring and judging. What would she say? Hopefully, nothing at all.

"You're very talented," Claire finally spoke as she kept her eyes on the painting, "but I hope it won't offend you when I say something doesn't feel right." She took another few seconds to study the painting further before sure turned and continued, "It is almost as if the context is wrong." She was looking at me apologetically for being so honest, yet this was such a welcome surprise on my part. She was saying exactly what I felt about the painting.

"I agree," I answered, "It's like an ill timed joke - funny, but not at a funeral."

She laughed, "Well, right, but not that disjointed. You have a wonderful ability to paint, you capture emotion and light, I love that about your work." She turned back to the painting and then after another moment of silence she turned back to me, biting her lip before she spoke, "Paint me," she asked.

I didn't know how to respond right away. I heard her clearly but the idea of it seemed fanciful, as if she were flattering me and I needed to modestly decline, yet she was clearly sincere, her face had a way of holding my attention.

"I'm flattered, and I would love to use you a model, but you are leaving shortly and this kind of thing usually takes days, weeks, even months," was my reply, a valid excuse.

"Oh," was her disappointed response. But she was not giving up, "But can't you start, sketch me, get the idea started and then take all the time you need, even after I am gone?" 

"Again, I'm really flattered and you would make a beautiful subject but even to start I would need hours of your time and just how much longer can you fake being sick before your friends next door start to get suspicious?"

"So, you're saying if I can find the time you will do it?" She was moving my committal to the idea down the path, even before I had said yes. Clever girl, Claire was a well-trained missionary saleswoman.

"Ok, if you can find the time to be here then I will agree to make a start." I was actually feeling excited at the opportunity to use her as a live model; I had not worked with a live model since my college days. "But here is another condition - if the work is not turning out right, if I don't feel it and sense that I can do you justice then I get to abandon it. I have enjoyed your company these past few days and I you are too beautiful to end up as an 'ill timed joke'," I finished with air quotes.

"Yes!" She moved close and gave me a cute little friendly hug and then made her way towards the stairs. 

She needed to get home before her companions so our time today was at an end. Still, she detoured into my front room again to look at the painting, the nude, the Korina Nikova original one more time. 

"So I should expect you tomorrow," I asked as she stared at the girl on the bed.

"If I can hold up my end of the bargain and break free then I will be over here around 10 or 11 in the morning." She didn't break her gaze from the painting as she answered, but then she shot her gaze towards me, "Oh, one more thing, I will need your help with something." As she said this she brought her hand to the lower hem of her skirt and raised it until I could see the bottom of her Mormon underwear, her religious garments that hung nearly to her knee. "I can't model for you in these, and I don't have any other underwear to use instead."

I was shocked, pulled completely out of my senses when everything started adding up in my head. She intended to model for me nude, or at least partially nude. Before I could form words I let my attention fall back to the nude on my wall, and realized she intended for me to paint my own version of Korina Nikova's work, the girl who looked so much like Claire, Claire was to be the girl on the bed. 

"You want to model for me nude," was the simple stunned question I responded with, my voice high and lacking poise.

"No, not nude. Well, kind of, but that's why I need you to find me something to wear so I am not completely naked. Like this," Claire gestured to the painting again. "I don't want to wear this silly stuff," her hands now gestured towards herself, not entirely specific if she meant clothing in general or her religious garments, but the point was made regardless.

Now, reader, believe it or not I had not until this moment connected any kind of sexual thoughts in my head towards Claire. Yes, she was attractive, young, and beautiful. Yes, we had spent the day looking at nude paintings and having her recite her brief sexual encounters in some detail. Yes, I'm a normal guy in my late twenties with all the urges and needs of any other guy my age. But Claire, no... never. Or at least not yet. She was Mormon, she was a missionary, she wore frumpy modest clothing and while it never explicitly formed in my mind I knew all along that she also wore the terrible, ill fitting, non-flattering, ghastly underwear that all Mormons wear; the temple garment. These things, all of them in aggregate, were psychological barriers for me, turn offs of the most extreme kind. They represented all I despised about my former religion; the control, the rules, the focus on modesty, the asceticism, the guilt... all of it added up to a net negative. No, there had been nothing in my thoughts that had yet connected Claire to sex. 

Now, however, I was standing inches away from her, an offer from her to pose for me, model, in nothing but underwear. A guy can only take so much before the biology turns on and I felt it, finally, that jolt in my core and the tingle between my legs. I knew that she was making an offer without those kind of things associated with it, she was not offering to create porn or be an erotic muse, she was offering herself as the subject for an artistic piece and flattering me in the process. Still...

"Ok. Let me be very blunt here, Claire," I wanted to cut right down to bedrock here and make sure there were no misunderstandings, in either direction. "First, you want to ditch your companions, possibly for a number of days. Next, you are going to model for me, you... a good little Mormon missionary, nearly naked as I stare at you for hours while I sketch and paint. And you want me to run to the local department store and get you some underwear since, and I totally agree here, your garments would be awful? No offense, but do I understand this correctly?

"Since we are being blunt," Claire started her reply, "I think we both know I am on a mission for reasons that are a little strange, my story I shared earlier today evidence that I might not be such a perfect Mormon missionary. I will take care of finding my way back here, you don't need to worry about that. Finally, if I could steal the car and go buy panties on my own, I would, but unfortunately I really need your help with that. Otherwise, I guess I can just drape myself in a sheet or towel." She ended with a rather mischievous smile, a look I had not seen from her before.

I took a step back from her and shrugged my shoulders in surrender. "Who could say no to an offer like that?"

"Great," again her voice filled with genuine excitement. "I am so happy you agreed. Thank you!" She leaned in for another quick hug, and in reality I was thinking the whole time I was the one that should have been thanking her.

After Claire had left I realized I had a few issues to resolve. First, I had a job and taking hours for the next few days, even though I worked at home, was going to be a problem. I checked my PTO balance with HR and then did some quick math in my head. I figured I could take about seven days off total and still have enough accrued time off for my vacation plans next spring. I put notice into my supervisor who worked out of her home in Chicago, wondering what I would do if Claire actually couldn't make it back over. 

Next, I had to find some panties for Claire and I realized I would have to guess at her size. Moreover, her clothing was so frumpy all the time I had no idea her bra size, cup size. When I finally made my way to the mall I figured I would play it safe and buy a lot of options and let her choose what worked best. I stayed with white, since that was a neutral color and matched the panties worn by the girl in my painting back home. I bought thongs, bikinis, full coverage and size small and medium of both. Would I offend her by buying medium, I wondered? I took a similar approach to bras, getting several styles including sports type bras to more conventional models and in sizes that ranged from A cups to C. Since it had been a while since I had been in a steady relationship, buying lingerie and underthings of any type was a novelty for me and it was fun to shop for them even if I was nervous for other reasons the entire time.

Back at home with my silky treasures I resisted the urge to peak at them all evening. I could not help, however, keep from trying to tease out which ones she would pick out, what her choice would be. I included a thong for no other reason than base urges on my part, some deeper desire to think that a thong, chosen by Claire instead of a more sensibly cut panty, might infer other intentions on her part. It made me hard imagining those scenarios and I felt ashamed of my excitement. 

Why, though, why did I have a guilty conscious for fantasizing about a beautiful adult woman that had volunteered to pose, nearly naked, in my own home? Was this my Mormon indoctrination kicking in one more time? Was there really something wrong, something unethical about thinking of Claire this way? Maybe it was ethics, some implied high-mindedness that art need not be erotic, that art was above it all somehow. A nude model was for the appreciation of the human form, as if you could really abstract the shape from the individual and realize one without considering the other. My mind was a mess. I finally found sleep after a glass of brandy and with the help of stunningly boring late night TV.

As is often the case with the male psyche a good nights sleep brings new perspective and I woke assured that Claire would back out and even if she did show up I could handle the situation like a professional, as if commissioned to do a piece and think of it from no other perspectives. By 11:00 that morning, without having heard from Claire, I felt confident even if a bit disappointed that it was indeed a no go. It was a fantasy for sure, to think that Claire could fake her way through three days of illness. By 11:30 I was getting ready to email my boss again and tell her I didn't need the time off anymore when the doorbell rang. The burst of excitement I felt was incongruent with my thoughts and I felt ashamed at being so excited by the prospects of seeing Claire and the short walk from my home office to the door allowed me enough time to talk myself out of hope that she was here for good, assuming that she only stopped by to tell me she couldn't get away. Or maybe the person at the door would turn out to be the UPS guy, or a solicitor; why did I assume it would be Claire at all?

It was Claire, however, chipper and beaming, even as she apologized for being late.

"So sorry, really," she stumbled into the house as she started her apology. "I had a heart-to-heart with my comps this morning and told them I was simply out of energy for the mission. Done. Exhausted. Ready to go home. They pleaded for a while, and begged me to stay with it for just a few more weeks. Sister Larsen even threatened to call the mission president but as we talked they calmed down and I think they understand. What good would it do to punish me now after I have served so well and with merely days before I go home? They even sounded sympathetic for me at the end of it all."




Claire



Claire felt comfortable enough to walk into the kitchen and sit down as she continued to talk. "I told them I wanted time alone to meditate and go on a walk or read my scriptures. They agreed, asking only that I join them for dinner and prayers each night. Felt like a good compromise." She took a deep breath and exhaled it loudly for effect. "So, here I am. Ready to get started?"

It was at that point that I realized that I had given little thought to the actual process of what we were going to do. I had not contemplated how to start, composition of the proposed painting or even how to pose Claire. To buy myself a bit of time I led her downstairs to the guest bedroom where I had placed the underwear and bras I had purchased, as well as a robe that I had in my closet. It was my robe, entirely too big for Claire, but would offer some modesty as she walked from the bedroom and into the studio. 

"I had no idea what size you were," I stammered as I handed her the bag of undies, "so I bought a variety of stuff. I hope something in there fits and is comfortable for the situation. If not, we can head back to the store together this time."

Claire peaked in the bed playfully like a little girl trying to steal a glance at her Christmas presents, then shut the door behind her as I retreated to the studio.

I had a small sofa in the studio and I thought that would be the most appropriate place for her to sit. I wanted her to be relaxed, to not have to hold the posture of the girl in the painting upstairs, so I tried to picture how I could have her lean against an arm of the sofa, glancing through a window, perhaps. I found some sketch books and decided that today I would merely sketch her in several different poses, try my hand at finding the one that worked best and the one that would flatter her body the most, accentuate her features and attitude. I was just finished organizing my materials when she appeared at the doorway with the robe pulled closed around her body. Her legs and bare feet below the robe evidenced the change, white slender legs and cute toes where I was use to seeing nylons and practical footwear.

"Where do you want me," she asked, a bit more serious and timidly than before. It was sinking in, perhaps, what she was about to do yet she might still call this off I feared.

I motioned her to she sofa and gave her an idea of the plan for the day. I would take whatever time she had and do pencil sketches, as many as I could. No detail, just outlining form and light and composition. The goal was to determine the way to best portray her as the centerpiece and I assured her she could have as much say as possible in choosing the from the sketches. While we discussed this she sat upright and formal on the edge of the sofa, nodding seriously as I explained the process for the day, the tension in the room was palpable - not sexual tension but the reality of the approaching moment of truth we both needed to get past: her disrobing.

"So, let's get started," I said as I stood up to walk back to my supplies. 

"Guess it's now or never," Claire stood as she started to undo the belt on the robe. She turned away from me and I look downward, not wanting to watch her directly as she took off the robe. But as she draped the robe over the side of the sofa my natural instinct was to look up and I skipped a heartbeat when I did.

Claire stood proudly in front of me, she had chosen the bikini cut panties, which except for a lacy band, were simple and tasteful and they covered her well even if the low cut exposed a sensual amount of her lower abdomen. It was her breasts, however, that caught my attention. She had not put on a bra, so her breasts looked weightless, curving upward just slightly before her dark brown areolas and think nipples hung perfectly at the end. Her tits were not large but hung with prominence just the same, almost perfect. 

"Should I sit?"

"Just find any position that is comfortable, I'll have you change poses several times today so just relax."

Honestly, I was the one that needed to sit. My erection was involuntary and I needed to camouflage it quickly before I made things uncomfortable for both of us. Claire relaxed against and arms of the sofa and crossed her legs, looking directly at me with her hands in her lap.

"Try to focus your gaze on something behind me or to the side," I instructed her. 

I sketched her for a few minutes and just did a rough outline of the form, judging dimensions and proportions. I adjusted the lighting in the room before I sat down to finish the first sketch, playing more with shadow than overall form. 

Taking a bathroom break first, we decided to spend another hour at the task before stopping for a late lunch. She walked out of the room without bothering to put the robe back on and I as surprised at her comfort level with me. For her second pose I had her lay on the sofa, her upper leg draped forward over her lower leg, her head on a pillow. This time I gave more attention to her form, finding this position very flattering to both her figure and the way her face relaxed as I sketched. She seemed lost in thought, and I liked that look about her. 

Satisfied with sketch number two we broke for lunch. This time Claire did cover up with the robe before heading upstairs with me for food. I let her look over the sketches as we fed on leftovers, crackers and cheese. 

We both liked the second sketch best, but for different reasons. She traced the sketches with her hands as we discussed them, and I found it odd as her fingers traced the curve of her breast on the second sketch, lingering...

"I was admittedly surprised that you came out without a bra," I confessed. 

"I wondered why you bought those", she said, "but it doesn't make sense to wear a bra, that doesn't define the female body." I couldn't agree more. "The woman in your front room, she would look silly with a bra on," she added.

"You have a point," I sighed, "I guess I am still having trouble separating Sister Parker the missionary from Claire, the art model."

"Get over it," she playfully retorted, taking a final drink of water from her glass. "Let's get back at it."

Claire had the robe off only a few steps into the studio room and she sat on the sofa waiting for my instruction but her pose as she waited was actually very appropriate so I had her hold it while I sketched quickly. The next two positions were also of Claire's choosing with me simply asking her to find something comfortable. It was very clear that the look on her face, the expression of her eyes, was organically more expressive if she was comfortable. After a quick break around 3:30 we decided to power thru one more sketch. I was getting tired, and so was Claire, but we knew our time was scarce and there was much work to be done. 

"Okay, last one today," I said, "find one more pose for me and we will call it a day."

Claire thought for only a second before she tossed the two throw pillows off the sofa and lay on her stomach, her hands under her head. The sofa was not long enough for her entire length so her feet rested up and just over the arm of the couch. In this position Claire looked stunning. 

She was arguably more covered this way than she had been all day as she lay on her stomach, her breasts mostly hidden except for the swell of skin that pushed out to the side. Her hair looked striking running down the upper part of her bare back and her legs, especially her calves, were accentuated from this angle. Her long days of walking as a missionary paid off in muscle tone that was clearly visible even as she relaxed. Her ass, however, was highlighted above all else. Again, walking as most missionaries do, her glutes were strong and lean but still she had pronounced curves, the cliché' bubble butt if you will. It was toned and strong, very prominent and still feminine. It was framed by the bikini cut panties that looked innocent and white across her backside and just slightly bunching into her ass cleavage, teasing their way towards her more intimate parts. Yes, that she barred her breasts today was an unexpectedly erotic moment that took my breath away but seeing her like this dulled my otherwise sensible thoughts. She looked hot, sexy, brilliantly arousing and I wanted her. 

I drew. I was drawing for nearly an hour trying desperately to capture Claire as she laid on my sofa like this, uncomfortably guilty at the motivation but using it nonetheless. At one point she closed her eyes, she may have even fallen asleep, which only added to her appeal. I schemed in my head how I might make her move, just slightly, to potentially cause her panties to retreat further into the cleft of her ass, but I was like a boy on a first date and I could only sweat in anticipation, nervous for my own sake. The sketch ended up being the most complete rendering of her that I produced all day. By 4:30 I knew she needed to be running along and so I dismissed her to go change in the guest bedroom while I cleaned up a few things.

Back upstairs, Claire properly dressed in her missionary appropriate attire, we hugged and said goodbye with Claire promising an earlier start tomorrow since the formalities of explaining herself to her companions would not have to play out again. 

In my head there were urges that felt inappropriate and I resisted their call as long as I could. I did some cleaning, fixed supper, and enjoyed a second beer as I caught up on email but finally I couldn't hold out any longer. I went downstairs and pulled out the sketchbook and reviewed my work. I thought most of the work was pretty good, some of my best - call it the power of an effective muse. But the final sketch was enthralling. Not the sketch itself, but Claire. I had captured her well, my own pencil strokes adding shadow, inferring light. I could re-imagine the lines on her calves that evidenced muscle and the very slight hint of her breasts smashed against the sofa cushion was pure teasing torture. I needed to work on her hair, her back, she was strong there too but I had spent too much time on her legs, her ass, and it was time well spent. I lost myself in the drawing, I know that sounds egotistical but it was Claire, not my art. I lost myself to the tune of 30 or 40 minutes before I pulled myself together and called it a night. 

The next day, Friday morning, Claire showed up promptly at 9:00. Her companion sisters had not even left for the day, she simply told them she was coming to visit me, just to say hi. Claire changed and didn't bother with the robe, coming into the studio today wearing a pair of boy-short style panties. We sketched for an hour but then Claire finally stood up as we broke following the first sketch and frowned at me. "These things are NOT comfortable," she declared, pulling at the side of the panties as if they were digging into the wrong spots on her body. "Let me go see what else you have." Five minutes later she returned wearing the thong. 

"Well, these don't leave much to the imagination," she said mockingly as she walked back in. Sure, it's a thong so I didn't think they would offer much coverage in the back but I was surprised at how low cut that pair was and how narrowly cut the front was. In fact as she stood in front of me I had to look away tactfully as I could see just the faintest hint of pubic hair peaking from the top of the very low cut material, her vagina nearly bursting from the sides. 

Claire, to her credit, didn't seem very bothered by them and we did another sketch before deciding to stop for lunch.

"When we come back this afternoon I think I'd like to start putting an outline down on canvas, get ready for painting."

"How exciting," Claire responded, "This is so much fun, watching you work."

"The pleasure really is all mine."

We ate and looked over all the sketches one more time trying to determine which pose looked best all things considered. We both gave careful consideration to the sketch from yesterday afternoon, her on her stomach with her perfect butt as the centerpiece, but in the end the decision was a compromise. 

One of the poses had Claire sitting upright but her head was forward and her hair was even slightly obstructing her face. Her body was askew, her right side angled towards me, her left side slightly back as she sat. Her left hand was lifted, feeling the nape of her neck and lightly resting on her collarbone. With her arm like this her left breast was covered but her right breast was fully exposed, framed by the angle of her left arm and her right arm that hung to her side, her body arched forward a bit creating space, an emptiness between the right arm and the concave left by her arched back. Her stomach looked strong, her breast look soft and erotic, her head tilted slightly to the left, exposing her neck to which your eye was drawn due to the way her left hand rested there. 

Not only did we both like the elements and balance of the pose, we also simultaneously came to the conclusion the same pose with her standing instead would be better. We decided to give it a try, see how it felt and looked back down in the studio.

Downstairs I had her stand to the left side of the sofa as it faced me and she assumed the pose. I had her try a few variations but the first pose was the correct one. I went back to my seat to get started, getting a larger 24 by 36-inch canvas ready on my easel.

"Hey Brad," Claire said, still standing by the sofa, "I have another request. Or maybe just a suggestion." 

"Okay, let's hear it."

She hesitated before dropping her bombshell idea. "I don't want to wear these," she said, her hand barely indicating that she meant the panties. "I mean if you insist I will keep them on but I'd feel like the painting, in this pose, would be better if it were nude."

I was speechless. Claire could sense my loss for words and that I didn't quite know how to respond in a politically correct way. 

"Think about it, Brad," she continued, "I'm being portrayed in my room as I imagine it, alone with my thoughts. You are capturing my figure, my body, but you are capturing my thoughts and emotions and the way I let myself relax when I'm in that moment of quiet calm, in a place that I feel safe enough to stand naked while I think about the coming day." She paused to watch my face. "That's what I feel like in this pose, that's the moment. And I would be naked. I would not be in garments, much less panties. Does that make sense?"

I was still without words, but everything she said resonated with how I saw the pose and painting as well. I could not explain why but I could see her in that kind of comfortable, private place, alone and innocently naked and carefree.

The silence, of my making, was awkward but Claire seemed in charge. "Look, if you feel like this isn't working or is making you uncomfortable I'll put them back on," she said as she effortlessly lifted the straps of the panties over the curve of her hips and let them fall to the floor. Yes, I stared. Don't judge me, you would have done the same.

The soft curve of her belly converged to a triangle of neatly trimmed hair above her pussy, lightly covering the prominent folds of her vagina. Her inner labia lips were large, huge even, a soft pink color as they exposed themselves beyond the cleft of her pussy in an almost vulgar display of her secrets. 

If I may indulge for a moment, reader, but a big fleshy pussy is a fetish of mine. I know it's all the rage in today's world of shaved and waxed porn to idealize the mere slit of a female as if hiding everything inside and highlighting only the outside but I want something to suck on and run my tongue through. I craved the sight of thick womanhood clinging to my cock as I withdraw from a woman, loved the complex beauty of it all. Claire's entire sex was large, full, and protruding with her large outer pussy lips engorged and delicious looking yet insufficient to contain the folds of tissue inside, the long welcoming flaps of cunt that hung lustily from within. Every part of my maleness reacted to Claire, to her body, to her confidence and her uniqueness. I was hard and stunned and I was obnoxiously male.

For her part Claire allowed my obtuse gaze without shaming me, instead standing proudly and patient as I got over the shock of the moment. In reality it was no more than a few seconds but it felt like an eternity, yet not nearly long enough.

I stammered, "Okay, so you're naked," and I turned back towards my workspace, unsure if I could proceed. It would be awkward to ask for a moment to go grab a glass of water so I took a deep breath and tried to regain all of my faculties. 

Claire stood in the pose for several minutes and then asked for a break. It would be hard to hold this pose for the entire time it would take to both sketch the outline and begin the actual painting. I knew the better approach would be to take some pictures to capture certain elements that would be lost once Claire was gone, but Claire being gone was what I wanted to avoid. What kind of excuse would I have to keep her coming back to model if I had pictures instead? 

We worked for an hour more and even though it was only early afternoon I knew she was tired of standing so I called it a day. Claire didn't bother to cover herself at all as she retreated to the bedroom to redress and the second she walked out of the studio I couldn't help but exhale. I had not been holding my breath so much as I had been holding my composure for the past hour. I rubbed my temples with my fingers to massage away some stress. Claire!

Back upstairs and at the door before Claire headed back to her apartment I remembered that tomorrow was Saturday. "It's the weekend, are you coming over tomorrow or do you want to pick it back up on Monday," I asked her.

"Darn, thanks for reminding me, I can't come tomorrow." Claire was straightening her skirt in the mirror by my front door as she talked. "I promised my comps that I would go to a missionary zone conference tomorrow, and I doubt I can excuse myself out of attending church on Sunday, so Monday it will have to be." 

With our plans set I wished her a great weekend and then watched her walk the short distance across my yard before I went back inside. I needed a drink!

I figured I would not see Claire for a couple days and I was disappointed at the prospect. I enjoyed her company, I was enjoying the project, and I had now abandoned any idea of trying to keep her in a safe place in my mind. She was gorgeous, far more intelligent that I could ever hope to be, and she had been naked in my studio, unabashedly nude, and all of this made her sexy as hell. It took my full concentration to put her back into the roll of modest Mormon missionary. I needed her to stay in that box but that seemed impossible now. 

My instinct was to masturbate, to use the images of her in my head to relieve the tension and my constrained cock was begging for me to lose control like that. If Claire had been a girl I was dating or any other gorgeous woman for that matter I would have happily complied with the wishes of my lustful self. Claire, however, knowing we had more time together in this project, needed to stay in a more reserved place. Thankfully I was just barely able to keep it under control.

Saturday morning I woke up ready for an early run since rain was forecast for the afternoon. Hurrying to go before the storm hit I rushed myself into some running gear and out the front door. I nearly ran into the sisters as they were heading to their car, all of them dressed in their missionary best for a day of zone conferences. The meet up did not go well. 

Mentally I was not prepared to see Claire. She was still haunting my thoughts continually so to see her like that, with her proper and conservative companions, turned me into a blathering idiot. I tried to simply say hi, and ask how they were, but I sounded like a sweaty teen boy confronted by the popular girls at school. I felt like an idiot as I ran off, catching a glimpse of Claire as she watched me go, a look of silly confusion on her face. Was she laughing at me?




Claire



Sunday was even worse as I strolled out of the house in slippers to retrieve the paper from the drive way and again my timing was unintentionally perfect, the three of them walking up the street towards the church house. My reaction again was beyond explanation but instead of trying to form actual words in my mouth I just offered a goofy wave as I hastily walked back into my home. What was wrong with me? Seriously, I'm not in love with this girl and I have had a very healthy love and sex life over the years. Why did Claire make me feel so clumsy? I stayed in the house the rest of the day watching football and not tempting fate again. 

By the time Monday morning rolled around I had made up my mind that today would be photos and I would save her the tiresome chore of standing while I worked on her painting and I would save myself the torture of the strange fixation I had with her. I even had the camera gear setup and ready to go downstairs in the studio so when Claire knocked at the door just past 10 that morning I felt like a man with a plan, confident and ready to resolve the situation. Claire also had a plan, however.

"How was your weekend," she asked brightly as she came in, looking as crisp and happy as I had ever seen her.

"Good," I answered. "Didn't get much done but I relaxed and that's the perfect way to enjoy a weekend."

"Sounds better than my weekend," she answered, "although the zone conference was much better than I thought it would be, the speakers were really positive and my comps really got energized again for their missionary work. They even tried to talk me out of my hiatus, but with just over two weeks left for me here I maintained my resolve."

I hadn't really given the weekend much thought, from Claire's perspective. I knew how the religion worked, or at least how it had worked for me. Even in the days of my doubt as I was leaving the church I could still attend church on Sunday and feel things again, from the music or the members or just good old fashion guilt and be jolted back into a state of orthodoxy. It's hard to leave a church and faith system you have devoted your entire life to. Moreover, mission conferences and leadership meetings often ratcheted up the pressure even higher, missionaries would leave zone conferences totally pumped to do the work or completely shamed into a state of submissive depression if they had not been working hard enough or slacking in other ways as Claire had. It said something about Claire's mental toughness that she survived both Sunday services and missionary indoctrination that weekend and was still at my house the following Monday, apparently ready to continue in our artistic endeavor.

"Plus, you would have laughed or died if you had been at Sacrament meeting, Brad," Claire continued. "Two speakers talking about modesty and pornography. I mean, you would have thought they were talking right at me." She smiled at me, trying to calm me down because I must have looked concerned or even panicked as she told me this. "Anyway, can we get started?"

We made our way down to the basement and I debated when it would be best to let Claire know that today would be the last day we would work together like this. I still needed pictures to work from as I finished her painting, so I needed her naked again and decided to wait until she was back from the bedroom to let her know of the change of plans. 

Claire, however, threw a curveball at me when she didn't bother going into the bedroom to change this time around. Instead she walked over to the sofa and started removing her shirt, her skirt, her Mormon garments, the knee high nylons, taking her sweet time and folding each item carefully before putting it on the ground in a neat pile. 

To watch her was hypnotic, like an unintentional strip show, erotic even if the clothing was frumpy and religious, it made the slow exposure of her near perfect body even more titillating as it came into view, slowly, one item of clothing removed at a time. Even the garments, pieces of conformist clothing that I detested and found repugnant in every way, even those provided sharp contrast as they fell away from her skin leaving her breasts, her stomach, her lovely legs, her perfect ass, left Claire naked, tempting and beautiful. 

And as she put the last of her clothing to the side of the sofa she looked up at me to speak. "You were kind of odd, Brad, this weekend." She let that hang in the air for a minute but obviously I knew what she was talking about. "Do I make you uncomfortable," she asked? 

Of course she made me uncomfortable. How could I answer this question? She was a woman in a context that most people can't understand, serving an LDS mission, and yet removed once again from that circumstance by sitting naked in my home. Or maybe it wasn't about being uncomfortable with her; maybe it was the dissonance of knowing what she was about, what she was, and what she could never be to me. Yes, I was uncomfortable but not because she made me that way, because I was not able to handle the situation appropriately. 

"You're standing there looking guilty, like your mom just caught you stealing chocolate chips from the pantry," she said, taking one small step towards me. 

"Guilty," I said, "I do feel awkward around you but can you blame me," I asked her in return?

"Why?" She stepped closer. "You know I'm 21 years old, I'm a grown woman and you don't need to feel like you're to blame because I'm not playing by the mission rules." She walked closer still. "I'm the one that asked you to paint my picture, I'm the one that decided to do the final pose entirely nude." Another step closer she came. "You can blame me if you need to clear your conscious but I'm not feeling guilty." She was right in front of me now, less than a foot away. "At least not yet," she said as she took one more step towards me and leaned in and kissed me softly, on the mouth. "Let's get the obvious out of the way so you can work with less stress in your head."

The moment was so far out of my control and comprehension that I gave up, stopped trying to analyze what was happening. Claire was somehow able to take command of every aspect of the situation; in fact she had been in total control all along.

As she dropped to her knees in front of me she placed her hand on my chest and let it slide down to my crotch where it rested for a mere second before Claire used both hands to undo my belt, then the button and zipper on my jeans. She pulled them down, past my hips, as if she had done this a million times leaving my boxer briefs bulging in front of her face, my growing erection constrained oddly in my shorts and pointing to the side. 

Claire gawked at the bulge it made against my tight underwear, placed her hand against it without gripping it, pressing it instead against my leg and feeling the length of it, exploring the impression it made through my shorts. She let her small hand barely start to wrap around it, without really squeezing, before she floated her fingers to the waistband and pulled it away from my body, far enough to pull my briefs down, over, and past my cock. Her actions were slow enough that despite the urgency of my erection it seemed to fall towards her rather than spring out of my shorts as they were removed. 

Claire, at this very moment, was finally the one that looked displaced and out of context. She stared at my cock for a few seconds before bringing her hand back to wrap around the head, her other hand joining shortly thereafter to encircle the shaft, both hands carefully grasping it now. She touched it lightly at first, she seemed to be trying to determine what to do, how to do it, and she was exploring and tracing the ridges and bumps, the thick vein on the underside. She looked at it unblinking, her eyes glazed over and her mouth slightly parted, her lips damp.

As she caressed my dick I closed my eyes momentarily to focus, afraid that the softness of her hands moving up and around my cock would be too much stimulation given all else contributing to the experience. Without much more effort I could easily cum right there, I was that far out of my league. I concentrated, however, and as I felt her left hand moved further down my shaft and to my balls, fingering my scrotum as if it where fragile and I opened my eyes just in time to watch her head move forward, her mouth open wider, taking my head just between her lips. Her tongue pushed under the tip of my cock and my entire body involuntarily twitched at the sensation.

Please with my reaction, she took more inside her mouth, I felt the wet friction of her tongue on the underside of my cock and the barely there touch of her teeth as she opened wider to accommodate me. As he withdrew me from her mouth my length was wet and she used her hand up and down my shaft, slowly, several times while she watched her own saliva easing the progress of her touch. Ultimately she closed her eyes and took me deep again, all the way such that her lips were nearly pressed against my abdomen. 

I remembered the description she had told me of her first attempt at a blowjob, how she gagged and struggled to take her boyfriend that way. I watched her as she moved her head up and down on my dick thinking she was either doing a much better job this time or that her prior boyfriend must have had an enormous dick, but just when those thoughts formed she spasmed as my dick hit the back of her throat, Claire coughing and gagging as a result. She was not deterred, however.

Claire kept her eyes closed tightly, taking me deep into her throat five or six times, gagging slightly with the last thrust and pulling back to swirl her tongue around the tip of my cock. After quickly recovering she went back to sucking it deep into her mouth again. She gagged less on each repetition, growing accustomed to the invasion of her throat and relaxing in general. 

Within a few minutes I was spiraling towards the edge and I didn't know if Claire was prepared for what that meant if she continued. 

"I'm going to cum," my voice was throaty and dry, but loud enough for Claire to hear. She kept going. "Claire, I'm close," this time with more urgency and volume, but still Claire sucked me deep as she brought her left hand up to my ass, holding me in place. The second her hand touched my exposed ass I started to explode.

"Oh god," literally I screamed this as I felt my cum stream into her mouth, my body pushing forward and into her without me willing it. She gagged but did not remove my cock from her mouth. I shot another load into her, she slurped painfully on just my tip and my body shook as three or four more shudders jetted my seed into her throat. I held my breath until the last one, exhaling with force as I moaned, riding the backside of my orgasm to conclusion.

Claire held my cock in her mouth as she tried to swallow my semen and when she finally released me, thin wet strands of it trailed from the tip of my penis to her bottom lip until the distance became too great and the thread split in half, leaving a mess on her chin and another bit dangling from the pinnacle of my cock. Her fingers first wiped away the remains from her lips and face, then she cleaned me likewise, holding her finger afterward not entirely sure how to dispose of the mess. She looked up at me from below, her lips very red and swollen and abused from their work. Her eyes were watery, the natural effect of gagging, and the very modest amount of mascara she wore was smeared, dark and sultry as it ran down her cheeks. Her hair was flung forward and around her face, chaotically surrounding her face as she smiled. 

I took her hand and helped her stand, let her wipe the sticky semen and saliva from her finger onto my t-shirt and I pulled her closely to thank her. Our lips met before I could form the words of appreciation I meant to say.

We kissed for the first time with real intensity, her mouth very hot with her lips smashing against mine. It was not romantic, it was not hesitant, it was a desperate kiss with tongues thrusting, not caressing. I could taste myself on her, I could smell her perfume and makeup as I pulled her tightly against me, still erect and wet and pressing against her belly as my hands groped at her back and her hair. We kissed like that for several minutes until we both were gasping for a full breath of air and we simultaneously pulled apart.

"Are you okay," I asked her? I knew she was not experienced at this, and this... that was a lot. 

"Yes, of course," she responded. She looked different, however, just a bit of her normal confidence missing. "Was it ok," she asked. It seemed a very genuine question; she didn't know how great that had just been for me.

"Claire, it was amazing." I reached out to touch her, putting my hand on her arm and pulling her just a bit closer. "It was amazing," I repeated.

Claire smiled at this confirmation, she seemed proud again and beamed with her regular confidence. "I had no idea so much came out," she said next, her smile giving way to an expression of post-hoc surprise. 

"Yeah, sorry about that. Was it terrible? Gross?"

"No, not at all. Just didn't expect that much," she couldn't find the right word, she paused, "that much stuff. I always imagined it was just a few drops. I never understood why there was such a joke about swallowing and I wasn't sure I'd even notice it my mouth." She lifted herself up on her tiptoes and kissed me playfully, "But I noticed!"

I laughed at her playfulness and overall good nature, especially for her first real blow job being so expertly performed, her ability to accept what was an insane amount of cum since it had been a long time since I had masturbated or had sex.

"Do you feel more relaxed with me now," she asked taking a few steps back and breaking the closeness that was bubbled around us. I actually gave the question some thought since one type of tension had been replaced by something entirely different yet equally tense. 

"Yeah, I feel more relaxed. Thank you, again," I didn't know exactly what to say. "I admit that watching you naked has been, let's say, problematic. Unfortunately, however, I think it will be just as hard to concentrate going forward."

"Well, let's see how it goes," Claire said as she walked back to the sofa as if she were ready to continue with our project. 

I approached her quickly since it didn't seem at all fair for her to have provided me such a favor and not give in return. "Please, let me do the same for you," I asked as I put my body against hers again and she leaned into me accepting my advance. I put my hand between her legs very softly as we started to kiss and I could feel the slickness on her thin public air, her body pulsing against my touch such that my fingers easily found the thick lips of her pussy, dancing between them slowly and without resistance. But as quickly as we came together she pulled us apart, "Maybe," she took a deep breath, "Maybe later," she said as she turned to assume her pose by the sofa. I didn't move immediately until she prompted me again. "Okay?"

"Okay," I accepted, and I went back to my easel. 

I painted for the next two hours. I painted as if I had never seen color or light or femininity before, the ability to express emotion, to translate it to the canvas had never come so easily for me. We took frequent breaks for Claire's sake, but I painted through the morning until our stomachs ached for food. With only the robe around her body we ate in the kitchen and chatted like before, nothing seemed amiss or different despite the fact that everything had changed. Even after our lunch was finished we stayed at the table for almost another hour until Claire yawned and I checked my watch.

"Did you make good progress this morning," Claire asked.

"Yes, very much so. I've never felt so much energy while painting."

"Good, because I think I'm going to call it a day. I didn't sleep well last night, look at me I'm yawning, and maybe we can start a little earlier tomorrow. Is that ok?"

Honestly it was devastating to hear her say that. I wanted her to stay; I wanted to return the favor and feel her body, to taste her mouth and more. I was already aroused again and feeling urgency for her yet she was going home. I wondered if she was being polite and running away, regretting what had happened earlier. I did my best to play it cool.

"Of course," my voice betrayed me, breaking on that first word. I started over after a cough, "Of course, rest up and we can get in a good day tomorrow." I think I could even feel my hands shaking. "Hey," I said as she was walking towards the stairs to go fetch her clothing, "are you sure you are ok?" 

Claire smiled softly at me as she walked back my way and kissed me with her full mouth, a kiss that felt like an embrace. "Yes, I promise." A few minutes later she was back upstairs, dressed and looking the part again.

I fretted the entire night. We crossed a line, I should have said no, her guilt got the better of her and she needed to make a graceful exit. Imagining this possibility haunted me. I was distraught to a point of irrational thought. At one point I even considered walking over to her apartment to apologize, not able to wait until the next morning. Luckily, my cowardice was stronger than my paranoia and I fell into a restless sleep around midnight. 

When I woke up it was already 7:30 and so I scrambled to make coffee and shower, hoping that in the rare chance Claire did come back over that I could at least look respectable and prepared. When the clock hit 10:00 am and there had been no sign of Claire, despite her offer of an early start, I was a basket case again. At 10:30 I went to find my shoes so I could walk across the yard and check on her next door but before I could make my way to the closet, the doorbell rang.

I didn't take a breath until I opened the door and found Claire standing there as if nothing in the world was amiss. She stepped inside before saying anything and even then she only said sorry for being late but she didn't offer an excuse or explanation. 

"I got a bit worried," I confessed, "Are you sure you are ok?

"Perfect," was her only response before she let herself into the kitchen, walking away from me. It was only then I noticed a difference about Claire. She was standing in a knee length skirt, short enough that her garments should have been visible but they were not. She saw my goofy grin as I noticed her legs and she took off her jacket to reveal a very cute silk top, sleeveless, again evidencing the lack of Mormon underwear. Instead a black bra teased from the sides of the shoulder straps. 

"You like?"

"You look amazing! You look so different!"

"I figured I had enough of the frumpy clothing and since I just get naked over here anyway I didn't see the point in putting on the missionary costume. I took the car to the store this morning, bought myself this outfit and that's why I am late."

"You make those clothes look terrific," I took a step back to appraise her outfit further. "You have great taste."

"Thank you." She twirled once, "I can't believe how good they make me feel!"

"When I finally ditched my Mormon garb, not saying you have ditched yours forever, but when I finally got rid of it I felt like I was a new man. Entirely."

"Well, I don't know where this goes but today these clothes feel wonderful. Too bad I can only wear them over here and of course they are coming off in a few minutes so I have to enjoy them while I can." She was bouncing with energy.

Eventually we headed down to the studio and we assumed our positions. Claire went to the sofa to start undressing and I walked to my spot, thinking about getting paint and materials ready for the day. I glanced over at Claire as she took off her shoes and then lifted her shirt over her head, leaving her only in the skirt and a black bra on top. I stopped fussing with my things and watched her instead. 




Claire



She folded her blouse properly and then reached behind her to undo the zipper on her skirt, underneath only a pair of lacy black panties, thong cut, the front a see-through mesh of pretty lace. She again took her time to carefully fold her skirt before moving on, removing her bra by undoing the front clasp and letting it fall open, her very firm, small breasts springing up an out with her nipples erect, more erect than I seen them before looking fat and long, dark brown and swollen.

She looked up and noticed me watching her, finally, and dropped her bra sloppily on the pile of clothing before pulling down her scant panties, looking away from me, teasing, and finally dropping the thing wisp of material on the floor. She stood naked, in pose and ready for me to begin. 

I didn't allow for any competing thoughts at that point, no internal debate on what the right thing to do might be, I walked across the short space that separated us and fixed my eyes on hers. I walked into her, very literally, and ground my mouth against hers, my fingers immediately knotting her hair as I held her face against mine. 

Tongues lashed and teeth bumped painfully but it only added more ache to our actions. As we fell to the sofa, actually letting gravity pull us down, our lips didn't separate. Her legs spread instinctively as I wedged myself between them with my jeans grinding against her pubic bone, my cock trapped painfully inside. It was her hands that grasped for cloth and eventually pulled my shirt over my head and when my bare chest touched hers I thrilled at the sensation. 

Underneath me her relatively tall frame seemed diminutive and fragile, I felt an overbearing presence as I ground myself into her, something powerful in my mind was setting in, a dominance and need that the reader should not confuse for anything abusive as my domineering machismo was being created by the energy Claire was feeding me from below. Her body was writhing, the places we touched became red and the friction, even if painful, was setting us both on fire. 

Her hands began to fumble at the waist of my jeans, trying to find the apparatus to unlock my belt and button and zipper. It frustrated me in a playful way that her progress was so slow and so with my left hand I forcefully grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from my pants, held it roughly at her side while I took care of the undoings with my right hand. With the limited space I had my pants were forced off my hips allowing just enough room for my dick to fall out with a heavy thump on her lower stomach. I pushed my member against her abdomen and felt her smooth skin and stomach give way to the weight and pressure I applied, my dick uncomfortably pressing against her from that direction as her mouth sucked on mine. 

Between the two of us wiggling our bodies and with the masterful use of her feet, my jeans and underwear eventually moved down my legs and with a final flip of my feet fell to the ground. Entirely naked, the both of us for the first time, I raised myself slightly above her guided by instinct such that I was finally positioned between her open legs, hovering a few inches in parallel above her. I looked down at her and saw surrender in her eyes, watched her body pant under mine, already a light sheen of sweat glistening on her skin. I knew that with even the slightest of movements I would touch her, that I could enter her. My dick was so engorged that it felt misplaced hanging from my body and begged for me to take what was before it. I could even feel the tip of it graze across her swollen labia, just for a teasing second, then retreat. Claire's stare was demanding and she raised her chin to offer her mouth to mine. I kissed her lightly but without giving up any of the space between us, suspended above her still.

The basest part of me was ready to fuck her. I knew I could push myself into her at any time and so I was grateful for only a modicum of clear thinking that reminded me that Claire was relatively new at this and that her sexual encounters thus far had been less than ideal. 

I let my body drop onto hers but prevented myself from entering her, letting my overheated cock set against her mound as my body crushed hers, my mouth and tongue taking the lead in exploring her body for the moment. The slickness of her pussy was overwhelming and as we kissed my dick slid across her sex, friction impossible given the lubrication she was supplying. I let myself slide against her, the entire length applied roughly to the plentiful folds of her cunt. The sensation of effortlessly gliding in-between her pussy lips was overwhelming. I pressed upward until I felt my balls become squishy against her wet opening and then slide down her body so the tip of my cock would be lodged against her opening; threatening, promising. Slowing I would press against her, starting to penetrate her, but before entering I would rise just enough for my dick to press against her pubic bone and then pop up and over it, sliding back up her folds and over her clitoris. I did this several times, each time feeling her hold her breath as my member 'missed' it's target and delighting in Claire's low moan of pleasure or frustration as it slid through folds and over her most sensitive parts. 

Her hands clawed at me to stay as I pulled my mouth from hers and dipped my head to find her small, swollen breasts. They looked even smaller with her lying on her back but the large brown area that converged centrally on her stout, puffed-up nipples was so sexy. I took them into my mouth, one at a time, and sucked on them softly at first, my tongue swirling around her areola and then flicking over her nipples, her body raising itself against mine in want so I nibbled on them as well, sucking roughly into my mouth. At that moment she gasped loudly for the first time, a sound out of character for my sweet little Mormon missionary. Her hand found the back of my head and her fingers clenched my hair, holding my face against her tit. I obliged and pulled with my mouth and bit down on her nipple with even less restraint. Her body became like a warm wave beneath mine, rolling and breaking as she hissed her approval into my ear. 

There was nothing left in my control at that point, Claire was simply too much and I was going to make love to her. I kissed her again as my hand reached between her legs and found her saturated mess of a pussy. I ran my hand across her folds and salivated at how meaty her labia was, the feel of her slickness with all of that tissue and wanting badly to taste her. Her clit was bulbous and hard and stiff, I'd never felt a clit that swollen and as my fingers raced over it Claire trembled and whimpered again. 

I used my hand to guide my cock to her opening and her breath caught again, she knew there would be no teasing this time and with my fingers holding the layers of her sex open I eased into her. 

I removed my hand and brought it up to steady myself as I thrust into her, deliberate but conscious of potentially causing her pain. As I moved deeper Claire arched herself to receive me, urging depth while still holding her breath. I could go no further and the tight heat was exquisite, I dropped my head to hers just as she exhaled her hot breath into my mouth. We kissed with slow passion while I simply remained in her, not thrusting, calming myself against the tightening of her pussy as she grew comfortable with my size and depth. Slowly, however, our bodies started to churn and I rotated my hips against hers while I slowly pulled out, eased myself back in, finding rhythm and confidence that she was ok and wanting more.

In mere minutes I feared I was nearing climax, my thrusting now harsh and urgent and Claire meeting each advance with her own ferocious desire. Our sounds were sloppy smacking noises in symphony with labored breath and the occasional sigh or groan, all involuntary, all organic. I was approaching an orgasm and I knew Claire had not come yet. I panicked; I wanted more for her this time, not another two-pump chump experience that had thus far defined the totality of her sexual encounters.

"Claire," I managed to pull my mouth from hers and I breathed the name into her ear, "You're too much, I'm sorry but I'm going to come." I finished my sentence and started to pull myself out of her, we had no protection and it would have been terribly rude of me to make any such assumptions. Claire, however, had other intentions.

"No, stay," she said as she clenched at my lower back, urging me back inside her. I could only groan incoherent words as I sank back into her body. "You can go in me," Claire said with her husky dry voice. "I want you to."

I didn't exactly know what that meant, but my trust in her and, frankly, my lust for her pushed any other concerns out of my mind. I jammed myself into a few more times and I bore down on her, one hand in her hair the other around her shoulder and felt the explosion begin. With a final vicious plunge I took all the space inside her and felt my body tense before the intensity overwhelmed me. 

"God!" I yelled it out even knowing it would offend the sensibilities of any good Mormon and then let my body shake as I expelled myself into Claire. I felt every bit of my juice painfully travel from my balls and into Claire, exploding against her inner places and producing the glorious sensations that signals the pinnacle of lovemaking. After the first eruption many more followed until I withdrew myself from her entirely and slowly re-entered her, realizing her cunt was now a sloppy muddle of tissues and fluids, less resistant following the pounding I had given her.

Spent, we were spilled across each other while we caught our breath and kissed lightly. 

"Are you ok," I asked her?

"Of course."

"I'm sorry, sorry that I didn't last longer for you." Then I remembered something else, "I'm sorry I came in you - are you sure that was ok?"

"Yes, I have been on birth control for years for a few reasons; cramps if you must know, so I'm not worried," she told me. "But what are you talking about, not lasting long enough. I've never had sex like that."

"I wanted this to be a better experience for you," I kissed her again, "I hoped I could help you reach an orgasm, but your so sexy, so beautiful, I couldn't stop."

"It was amazing, Brad. I'm not just saying that, I've never felt so many things and felt like it was so perfectly right." She pulled me even tighter, "I can't fathom that it gets any better."

She was serious, sincere, I knew this she meant what she said, still there could be so very much more. We stayed in each other's arms for minutes longer, we could have fallen asleep and I really liked that she was not in a rush to move away or get up to clean up. She stayed next to me, entirely comfortable with everything. I traced her face with my fingers and then let my hand fall to her breast and I teased her nipples, they were so round, thick, and I loved their response to my touch. It wasn't just her nipple that would rise as I pinched it gently between my fingers, it was her entire areola that would expand and throb. 

Playing aimlessly with her nipple I remembered that her clit had felt much the same, large and distinct, and as I remembered this an idea came to my mind. The thought was both erotic and taboo all at once, so much so that despite my strong desire to thrill Claire I was afraid, perhaps, to even try. As a compromise with myself, I placed my palm flat against Claire's breast and then moved it down between her legs, cupping her sex and fully realizing how messy she was. 

Her public hair was wet, thickly moist with our juices mixed together, her pussy was hot, my finger tracing her opening with cum leaking down her taint and likely pooling on the sofa below her. I placed a couple fingers against her sex and let her tissues ooze around my touch, I pulled them up and found her clit still engorged and anxious, Claire still clenching muscles throughout her body as I ran my fingers over her button. Claire was ready for me, she had given me the thrill of my life, and I owed her and selfishly I wanted more of her.

Claire looked disappointed that I was moving away from her, but in reality I remained as close as ever, simply sliding myself down her body slowly. Claire watched, not certain of my intent until finally I was between her legs and glancing at her sticky pussy and the angst I expected to feel was replaced by raw, animal want. Her tissues were puffy, red and pink, her big pussy lips and labia looked so sexual, female and sensual. Her clit was standing out, not unlike her nipples, fat and deliciously flushed. Her thighs were wet, her lower stomach was wet, the pubic hair laced with my semen, thicker streams of it oozing from her opening. 

From above Claire was looking at me with apprehension as if she were waiting for me to exclaim disgust or repulsion. I could sense her body was tense and in a defensive ready state and when I touched my tongue against the folds of her sex just below her clitoris I felt her very being change, relax, dissolve. 

I licked her tentatively at first in case she were too sensitive and, honestly, due to my own worry of what this would be like, how it would taste, freaked out by my own intense desire to attempt this. With each long, purposeful lick I relaxed more and with each touch Claire squirmed and fought herself for control. I teased her clit with my tongue then added kisses before finally sucking it into my mouth, Claire groaning until I released it and let my mouth fall further to her opening where I found my taste to be the most intense. It was neither good nor bad, simply different. I let my tongue dip into her, then snaked it insider her as far as I could make it go and Claire raised her hips to meet my exploration, her thighs clamping around my head lightly as my mouth eventually covered her entire pussy with my tongue twirling inside her. 

When her legs released me I found her clit again and not more than a minute later Claire was coming. Claire shoved herself against my mouth at the start of her climax and then a flood of juices rushed from her, filling my mouth and making her slicker if that was even possible. Her voice was hoarse and dry as she moaned and tried to comprehend what was happening, her hands on my head for a second then clenching at her inner thighs. Her legs scissored, clamped around my head but then as if that created too much stimulation they opened again, quickly, and she thrust herself against my face. She was cumming frantically.

Her reaction and her orgasm was more than I could have hoped for and I thrilled for her and myself, stoked my ego as I continued to let her grind her climax out against my face. I no longer cared if I was swallowing my own cum, I only wanted her to enjoy this for as long as possible, knowing I was getting just as much satisfaction from it as she was.

When exhaustion set in and Claire was reduced to breathing heavily, limp and recovering, I moved back up to her side and watched her face. I knew I was gooey, that I smelled like us, tasted like us, so I didn't force myself onto her. Instead it was her that pulled me to her face and we kissed again and she gave no indication that she was repulsed in anyway. 

"I can't believe that," Claire told me as we finally settled down next to each other. "You almost made me pass out that felt so good."

I smiled and held her close as a slight chill in the air became evident, her skin showing goose bumps. "Let's get you cleaned up, it's getting chilly," I said. 

While cleaning up meant getting dressed, at least for me, Claire took some time in the bathroom before coming back out still naked. I had almost forgotten the original premise of her being in my house but she was ready to pose and I need to get my mindset ready to paint. 

Painting, as it turned out, was not that hard at all. Sure, Claire was standing there naked and beautiful but I could still smell her, taste her, and even her body looked different as she stood in pose. There was color, flushes of red on her skin and brightness of energy that surrounded her. I found myself seeing things that I had not seen before, aspects of her figure or even flickers of attitude from her face that inspired me. 

We broke for lunch and I considered propositioning her, wanting her again already and while we kissed before heading upstairs to eat, I didn't want to push my luck and I kept things safe. Lunch conversation, however, was interesting.

"Did I taste awful," Claire asked completely out of the blue, "You know, down there?"

"What," I was exasperated at the thought she was worried about that. "No, no, you tasted so wonderful, I have never been so turned on as I was doing that for you. Honestly."

Claire blushed. "I didn't really think people did that, you know?" I raised my eyebrows in mock surprise. "I mean, I knew people did that but I thought it must be awful, it's so gross down there."

"Wow, Claire, it's not gross at all. I'm very serious, I would do that for you all day, right now, it's wonderful!"

She blushed again. "Oh, no," a bashful pause as she looked down a bit embarrassed, "I think that was enough," she looked up, "for now."

The afternoon was equally productive, and I thought I might well be able to finish this work in a week or so if I could keep the high levels of creative energy I had today. 

As I cleaned up I watched Claire dress again, which was almost as alluring to see her put on her new clothing as it had been to watch her take it off this morning. She was glowing and I was erect and needful. I pressed myself against her playfully as she hugged me at the door, offering a subtle invite for her to stay and play again although I knew she had no choice but to leave. I sighed, as I smelled her breath against mine with a final kiss goodbye and watched her walk home. 

Back downstairs I stared at the work. I was trying to apply a critical eye, but my mind wandered. I had yet to determine how to approach Claire from the waste down and eroticism was playing tricks with my artistic mind. Part of me was thinking of a more detailed expose of her sex, exhibiting her folds and highlighting those things that made Claire so perfectly unique. Hers was not a hidden place, hairless and without character. No, Claire was uncontained with the swollen parts of her exterior unable to contain the pouty portions of her interior. Hers was not shaved and pretending to be something too young, yet it was entirely feminine and erotic, trimmed, and lovely. She was a woman that was unabashed and confidant beyond her years and experience. How do you paint that? Was I overthinking this small but central component of the portrait? The mere consideration of it all had me hard again.

I drank entirely too much wine that evening and sleep came fast and hard as intended. I didn't want to toss all evening, desperate for more Claire. I had laid down only just past 9:00 that evening and I doubt I was awake past 9:15. Thus, when the doorbell rang it took me several seconds to even find my bearings, alcohol and sleep clouding my senses. The bell rang again. I stumbled to the door in nothing more than my boxer shorts and barely noticing the time, 1:10 am. What emergency was causing this, a third press of the doorbell just as I reached the handle and opened it wide and without caution. Standing there in the dark cold night was Claire. 

She rushed into my house before I could ask her what was wrong. And clearly something was wrong. It was the middle of the night, she was wearing a pair of sweat pants, a sweatshirt and flip-flops, and she was crying, her makeup smeared down her face.

She fell into my arms as I closed the door and started explaining herself between bawling gasps. 

"I'm going home tomorrow," was her opening exclamation. "They turned me in, they told the mission president I wasn't going on visits, told them I was coming over here!"




Claire



This was bad.

"The mission president came over tonight, told me I had a plane ticket to fly home tomorrow since I was no longer honorably serving my mission." She sobbed, sniffled, "They called my parents!" With this she cried harder.

I pulled her close again and held her while she continued.

"They waited this morning around the corner and they spied on me and watched me come over here. I can't believe I trusted them."

I thought back to my own mission, the way my own thinking was so very different back then, knowing the poor sister missionaries were only doing what they thought was best for their wayward companion. Still, I was aghast at their nanny approach to policing Claire's behavior. 

"I had to sneak out, I had to come see you one more time and let you know why I am disappearing. I am so, so sorry," she cried all over again.

"Don't apologize, Claire, this is not your fault. I am so sorry for you," I tried to console her.

"I'm so sorry," she said again, "Will you finish the painting?"

"Of course I'll finish it and I'll find a way to get it to you."

"No, it's yours. I want you to remember me," she took a step back so she could look me in the eyes. "I want you to hang it in your house, see it, remember me."

"How could I ever forget you," it was merely a whisper that I offered, my voice lost for the moment. "How?"

We looked at each other for seconds before our bodies merged with our mouths again searching one other, our hands desperate, hers grasping at my bare back and mine ripping the sweats away from her body. 

I could feel her garments, silky and covering her entire upper body as I pulled her sweatshirt over her head. I wanted the garments off at the same time as her sweatshirt, not wanting to have to deal with them on their own and since Claire was not wearing a bra everything slid up her body and over her head, Claire quickly raising her hands to aid me. 

I thrust my hand inside her sweatpants and felt the ridiculous thin material of her garments instead of panties. Lust overriding dogma I shoved my hand deeper and found her mound and the saturated cloth of her garments made sticky against her skin. Garments or not I was extremely turned on by her sensual response to my touch and I roughly ground my hand and fingers against her sex until need become more than I could hold back and I ripped sweatpants and garments down her body with force. As she stepped out of them her hands came back to my body, gripping greedily at my cock through my boxer shorts. She was no longer the inquisitive and careful woman that had explored my dick with measured intent only a few days ago, this time she grabbed at it urgently, roughly, pulled on it with need. As she aggressively held my manhood I grabbed fistfuls of her tits and kneaded them with equal aggression, pulling on her nipples and elongating her boobs, certainly painful but Claire did nothing but whimper appreciation into my mouth as she kissed me.

Drawn close again Claire relinquished her hold on my penis and both hands tugged quickly at the waste band of my boxer shorts, which fell easily to the floor. Her right leg lifted and wrapped around mine, hiking herself up against me but I was too tall for our bodies to align. She ground herself against my thigh, slick excitement against my leg and we catapulted beyond the romantic, giving way to something else. 

I forcefully turned her around, her back to me before I pulled her close again, moving her hair away from her neck so my mouth could find her skin and smell the soap and the clean scent of shampoo. I bit at her neck while I rubbed my cock against her ass, my other hand clenching at her breasts while I held her captive like that. She bent her head forward and to the side, giving me maximum exposure and I licked her neck urgently, stuck my tongue in her ear. I was forceful enough that she slipped forward and finally stuck her hands out to brace herself against the wall in front of her.

With her hands against he wall Claire's back arched forward leaving her bottom jutting towards me. It was too much and I brought my cock into contact with her ass as Claire looked back at me over her shoulder, desperate with her hair in her face and feeling my hardness against her backside. I slipped my hand between us to help guide my progress but her cunt was drenched and the minute I found her center I slipped into her with ease. She grunted slightly as I buried myself inside, her polite reserve from the prior afternoon now replaced by insistence. I fucked her hard and watched her body absorb my blows, slowing only when I felt myself losing control. 

With my left hand holding her waist against my offense, my right hand slipped around her waist and searched for her clitoris. The minute my fingers touched her nerve center she began to writhe against my hand and grind herself with my cock deep inside her. I held steady, sensing she was on target and left myself as far in her as I could push, my fingers flickering rapidly over her swollen nub. When her she placed her head against the wall for additional support I knew she was close. 

As her climax began her knees gave away, my hands catching her from nearly crumbling to the ground, but she stayed in place and began to vibrate against my touches. She whimpered as her pleasure rose and she sounded like she was crying as her body tensed at the height of her climax, her legs trembling again to hold her weight and absorb the orgasmic convulsions in her core. Before she was entirely back from her climactic daydream I began to thrust in and out of her again.

She was thrusting back at me now, taking each pounding I gave her with similar energy on her end. When I paused to hold off my own orgasm she flipped her hair to look back at me, "please, harder," she growled at me, "I want to feel this for a long time." 

I slammed myself into her so hard that I wondered how she was keeping herself from crashing into the wall. Without even attempting to catch myself this time I embraced the oncoming orgasm and made myself slam in and out of her even as I exploded, cum falling out of her as I unceasingly thrust into her even after the climax was over, dripping to the floor in noisy, sloppy puddles. When I finally felt exhaustion taking over I pushed her to the wall and pulled her hair to cause her face to angle back towards mine so I could kiss her roughly as I crushed her body against the cold of the wall.

Minutes later when she was dressed and ready to sneak back into her apartment she was crying again. I gave her my business card that contained every contact detail I had and then felt a helpless pain as I watched the shadow of her slip through the night and back into domain of her faith, companions, and religion. I stayed there looking thru the window for a long while after she had disappeared from sight, contemplated going after her, offering her refuge or assistance in getting away from the church and her over protective companions. But that assumed too much, assumed she wanted a rescue, assumed she needed one. She would return home tomorrow and she may or may not reach back out to me. That decision was hers to make but I was not without options myself. I turned, made my way to the studio in my basement and painted. I would finish the portrait; I would finish it while everything about her was still fresh in my mind, while I could still taste her kiss and see her eyes, smoky and boiling. And when the painting was finished, well... when it's done I'll just see what tomorrow brings.

The End.



Claire



(No sex.)

*****

In the early hours of the morning Claire roused from a deep sleep and wondered what had woken her. It took a moment or two listening to the unusual background noise before she realised with a sinking heart that it was raining heavily. So - the break in the weather predicted by the forecasters had arrived. Or was it only a passing storm? Consoling herself with the thought that it may have cleared up by the time that it was time for her to go out, she drifted off to sleep again.

Those hopes were not fulfilled for by the time that she had eaten her breakfast it was still raining steadily. The force of the rain had eased from the downpour in the night, but it was still pretty heavy. She reckoned that where running to or from the car might be accomplished without getting too wet; a trip even across the street would definitely need some form of protection against the weather. For a moment she considered staying at home but then the prospect of spending the whole day cooped up with Peter without even the garden as a temporary refuge steeled her resolve. She applied her makeup in the bathroom and was standing near the door attired in galoshes and raincoat with umbrella under her arm when her husband made his first appearance. He looked at her and muttered "You're crazy" before disappearing into the kitchen to pour hot water into the coffee mug that she had left waiting for him.

Dropped by the bus in the city centre, where all the gutters were overflowing with rainwater and the pavements represented an obstacle course of scurrying bedraggled umbrella wielding figures, Claire decided that Peter's assessment of her trip was not far from the truth. On the assumption that she must have caught the tail end of a delayed rush hour, she stepped into Woolworth's and spent half an hour wandering round giving chance for the pavements to clear. The back door of the store gave access to a covered pedestrian precinct and, unable yet to face the rain, she killed another forty five minutes pointlessly wandering from shop to shop. It was only when she had found herself checking her watch for the fifth time in as many minutes that Claire admitted to herself that she had no intention of looking for a job.

Stepping out onto the main thoroughfare, she put up her brolly and started walking. After two or three minutes, finding herself almost running, she thought 'This is stupid' and abruptly took a right hand turn through the door of a large furniture store. She walked slowly past a line of beds allowing both her breathing and palpitating heart to settle back into their normal rhythms, but already there was a salesman moving to intercept her. With horror she realised that it was the same one that had sold her an expensive dining room suite the year before. Worse - the recognition had been mutual and as he closed in, the expression on his face showed that he was already anticipating another healthy commission. Claire turned and bolted for the door.

Starting to feel like a hunted animal, she took a grip and rationalised herself to a decision. 'I will go to the garden because I half promised that I would. It is almost certainly too early for him and anyway, only a fool would sit there on a day like this. He won't be there but I will have fulfilled any obligation that I have - and then I can get on the bus and go home with a clear conscience'.

The rain had eased considerably and a few minutes brisk walk took her up Percival Street and into the gateway of the garden, she paused for just a moment and then strode inside. The entire quadrangle was deserted. She felt a wave of despair wash over her. With eyes filled with tears she turned and started to blindly retrace her steps. Aware of people hurrying past her she moved against the wall and took out a handkerchief to mop her eyes and then, as her vision cleared, in a doorway across the street she saw a man watching her. There was a pleasing familiarity about him and with a cry of pleasure Claire started walking in his direction but he was already running towards her, dodging with reckless abandon between the cars."

"I didn't think you would come," she said.

"Nor I you".

He took her hand and they walked along in silence. After a while he said, "There is a little coffee bar that I know?" Claire just nodded, happy to go wherever he led.

It had started the previous day in contrastingly gorgeous warm sunny weather. After pounding the hot pavements all morning on her job hunting mission, Claire decided that she deserved a break, so after purchasing a salad sandwich at the kiosk together with a coffee in a lidded polystyrene cup, she headed for the Garden of Rest. Sometimes called The Memorial Garden it had been there since just after WWI, offering a city oasis of tranquillity. It was rectangular with an overhanging roof encompassing the seating in one corner but with other unprotected benches dotted round the perimeter and on some of the internal pathways between the flower beds. 

The garden was popular and by the time that Claire arrived almost all benches were full but she spotted a bench with only one occupant, a nondescript middle aged man sitting at one end. Claire sat down at the opposite end with no acknowledgements being exchanged. As she finished her sandwich the stranger suddenly enthused about the superb bed of flowers in front of them. Claire enthusiastically agreed telling him that she loved antirrhinums, especially en masse like that. Subsequent remarks established that they both had a deep love of gardening and they continued talking. At one point the man moved closer, not close but rear enough to converse without the need for raised voices.

They moved on to other topics, including the exchange of basic biographical details. She told him about Peter and their children while Trevor revealed that he was a widower with a grown up son. She mentioned that she was job hunting and he said that he worked part time but in the evening. Gradually the other patrons thinned out and it was this that made Claire aware of the passage of time. Glancing at her watch she was shocked to see that they had been chatting for well over two hours. Jumping to her feet, she said, "I've got to got go but I have really enjoyed our conversation, it's a very long time since I last talked like that. 

"Maybe we could meet up again tomorrow around the same time and carry on where we left off," Trevor tentatively suggested.

"I'd like that very much," Claire told him. It was as casual as that. 

Inside the café Trevor said, "I usually sit over there in the window. As you know I rather like to watch the world go by - but possibly you would prefer somewhere a little more secluded?" Again she just nodded and he took her to a small alcove partially screened from the other tables. He helped her off with her coat and hung it up together with his own. Sitting down he handed her the menu and said, "They do some very nice crumpets here?"

Claire smiled and spoke for really the first time. "Oh lovely - I hadn't realised how hungry I am."

Trevor signalled the waitress and ordered coffee and crumpets for two. When they were alone, Claire said, "I don't really know why I am here."

"Well I know why I am here. This is the first time in over three years that I have had the pleasure of squiring a lovely lady. You're here because it's raining."

She relaxed into her seat as his words took away any guilt that this could be considered an assignation. "You could have got yourself killed running across the street like that."

"It was a bit silly" he conceded "But you see, I thought that I had missed you. I very nearly did miss you. I didn't recognise you in your raincoat and had you had not dabbed your eyes, then I would have let you walk away and then I would never have seen you again."

"I could have turned up at the garden tomorrow."

"No you wouldn't. If we had missed each other today then you would not have gone near the garden again for a very long time."

Claire thought about this and suggested, "Or else it would have looked as if I was chasing you?"

"Something like that," he said.

They ate in silence and when both had pushed their plates to the side, Trevor said, "I would really like to know all about you."

"What kind of thing?"

"Everything - every little detail of your life."

Claire blushed. "I wouldn't know where to start. You better ask me questions."

Trevor became silent and seemed to stir his coffee for a long time. "You were very young when you got married. Was Peter you're your first ...er boyfriend?" he asked hesitantly.

"You mean lover. No - there were three before him but to call the first two lovers is rather stretching the point."

"Tell me about them."

"Well, I was always popular at school but around the time that I was sixteen, one by one, the other girls in my class started doing it with boys. This made them into a special club. They used to say "We are real women now but you are still only a girl." It got so that every time you went out with a boy, the girls interrogated you afterwards and when there was nothing to report they said 'Soppy virgin' and even worse things. Anyway I decided to lie and pretend that I had done the deed but my ignorance of what occurred meant that I was easily caught out. Well they made my life intolerable after that so, by the time of the school dance I decided to do it with the first boy that asked me.

Claire took a sip from her cup before continuing. "I dropped lucky because Gary, the most popular boy in the school asked me to dance. He stuck with me for the next one and then asked if I would like to go for a walk. We went to the bandstand, he kissed me a few times then pushed me down and it was all over before I knew what was happening. We went back to the dance. Greg's best pal Jeff was standing just inside the door and I saw them exchange big winks. I had to dash to the powder room to tidy myself up and when I came out, the two lads were standing the other side of a big plant and didn't see me. 

Gary was saying "I always thought that Claire was a bit special but she turned out to be the easiest of the lot. We met up; he walked me home and made a date to meet the following evening to go for a walk in the woods. Next day at school the news had travelled like wildfire. I heard them saying "She's done it with GARY." Others asked if I was lying and were told that Cynthia had seen us at it in the bandstand. My street cred rating certainly soared that day." Claire suddenly broke off and asked "Are you sure that you want to hear all this. Surely it's no different from thousands of other girls?"

"Please" he said. "I want to know everything about you, especially when you were young and just finding out about life."

"Anyway, the next night I was eager to try out my new skill again and I was sure that it would be lots better the second time. But, when I got to the agreed spot in the park it was Jeff who was waiting. He said that Gary was not coming because he had met someone that he liked better. Of course I was upset so Jeff put his arm around me and we walked along with him comforting me but suddenly I realised that we had walked into the woods anyway. He put his jacket onto the ground and tried to make me lie down. I told him that I didn't want to but he argued that as I had already done it with Gary, what was the harm. He said 'Gary is a shit - he has no idea how to look after a girl like you but I'm not like that.' 

Well, he had been nice to me and it did seem mean to refuse. It turned worse than the first time - he took longer putting the condom on than using it. Next day everybody knew again so I reckon that he must have blabbed. Having screwed different boys on successive nights managed to trump all the other girls' aces and in reputation, I went from total innocent to class slag in two easy lessons. Jeff didn't turn up for our date that night and he hadn't even the courtesy to send a messenger." Claire grinned and added "Perhaps that was just as well or else I might have been passed hand to hand through the whole cricket team."

"I can see why you said that they could not be classed as lovers, I trust that your next one turned out better."

"Yes, but that was not for quite a long time. I went out with lots of boys but having learned my lesson, I always kept my knees together. Then along came Tim. He had a flat. Even with him I lasted three months before I let him have his way with me and then I kicked myself for having wasted time because he really knew his stuff. He educated me. I had started to harbour fantasies of marrying him and spending the rest of my life in bed when this other girl turned up pregnant. It seemed that he had been sleeping with her during those early months when I had been playing hard to get. That was the end of that until Peter came on the scene."

"Did you tell Peter all this?"

The question threw Claire and she blushed scarlet. "No - I only ever told him about Tim and I made that seem a lot less than it was. Be fair. What young bride does tell her husband the full extent of her previous sexual experience?"

Trevor nodded knowingly. "Let me get us two more coffees and then you can tell me about Peter - if that isn't getting too close to home."

With their drinks sugared and stirred she continued. "Peter came into my life like a whirlwind and he has continued to blow pretty strong ever since until these last nine months. I had moved on to Secretarial College by this time and for some reason we were taken on a conducted tour of the place where he worked. He grabbed my arm and whispered 'Hang about when this is over, I want a word with you.' He then took me to his flat, I rang my parents to say that I was staying the night with a friend and then I slept with him. He was not going to accept 'no' for an answer. Having broken my big rule I thought that would be the last I saw of him but he was waiting outside the college as keen as ever. It turned out that he was ten years older than me and already well established in his career. He was so exiting and full of energy and he had absolute confidence in himself giving the impression that he could do any single thing that he set his mind to." 

Claire paused for a sip of her tea before continuing, "Pete, (he was always Pete then, I am not sure exactly when he started to prefer Peter), told me inside the first week that he intended to marry me and I was more than happy to go along with that because I was already besotted by him. After I fell pregnant we were married pretty quickly. As a wedding present, my father said that he had £5000 to give us when we wanted to buy a house and Pete had about double that amount saved but I moved into his flat until the baby was born. Then one night he came home while I was feeding Jonathan and said 'Come on, put your coat on - I've got something to show you.'

"Let me guess - it was a house?"

"Yes - the most gorgeous house that I had ever seen. I fell in love with it straight away but I couldn't see how we could possible could afford it. After we had looked round, I told him how much I wished that it could be ours and he said "It is - I put the deposit on it this afternoon. I was delirious with happiness and it was only a long time afterwards that I realised that he had bought our future home without even asking my opinion."

"But surely that was a one off - just grabbing an opportunity while he could."

"No - that was the pattern of our future life. He makes the decisions and I just have to go along with them."

"You mean that there is no discussion at all?"

"No - if there is a decision to be made, he makes it and that's that. The most disheartening thing is that his damn decisions are always right."

"What was he like as a father? I can imagine that he might have been cold and authoritarian"

"No, not really. In many ways he has been a very good father. He has certainly been a fun father. Although he may have been absent from their lives for big chunks of time, when he was there it was all gifts and surprises. He certainly gave us tremendous holidays and thrilling days out as well. I don't want to give the impression that he was just a cheque book parent because he must have put a terrific amount of effort and planning in to ensure that we had a good time. For instance, one place where we travelled in boats through underground caverns he somehow arranged for us to go into an area out of limits to the general public where some archaeologists were working. Another time when we were on the continent, one morning he got us all up and marched us down to the harbour. As we got near we saw that there was a large oceanographic vessel tied up and the kids started excitedly discussing it.

Anyway, Peter led us on board and we set sail. Later on we were given sightseeing trips in two, deep ocean diving bells. We actually did not go very deep but we did get a look at an ancient wreck with lots of amphora scattered about all over the sea floor. He certainly gave us some very special memories and you can't fault him for that. Everything that Peter did was a grandstand effort, way over the top but against that there were times when I seriously worried that the kids might forget who he was."

"Phew"" for a few moments Trevor was lost for words but then he said 'I have to admit that is very impressive but even so, listening to your story I do feel that something does not feel right. Can I ask if you have been happy - at least up to the point where he lost his job?"

"I had no right not to be happy. After all I had got everything that I always wanted - a successful handsome husband, (he really was handsome when I met him - actually he still is). I had a lovely house and two healthy contented children and all the time in the world. What more could any woman want?"

"Happiness? I do get the impression that even with all that, there was something missing" Trevor said thoughtfully. "Without trying to pry, what was your personal life like?"

"Sex you mean? The sex was marvellous, fantastic. Peter brought the same energy, inventiveness and enthusiasm to bed that was so evident in everything that he did. He might be away all day, arrive home two hours late and then after dinner spend hours on his PC. Many days I hardly saw him until he came to bed - but when he did he blew my mind." Tears flooded into Claire's eyes. "No - I wasn't happy" she said "But I didn't realise that until it all stopped when Peter lost his job."

Unable to think of any suitable comforting words, Trevor just reached across the table and rested his hand lightly on top of hers.

"I am making it sound far worse than it was. I don't want to give the impression that I have suffered twenty years of unhappiness because there were times which were very happy - particularly when the children were small. Oh yes, I was very happy then. It was my little world and the children were all mine - they were too young for Peter to find interesting - or try to impress. It was only when both of them had started school that I first started feeling lonely being on my own for large parts of the day."

"Why didn't you get a small job?"

"I wanted to but Peter wouldn't hear of it. 'Do you want people to think that I cannot support my family without you needing to work,' he said and that was the end of the matter. I tried to point out that it was not a matter of money and that I just wanted something to occupy me during the day. 'Then do charity work - there are at least half a dozen committees in this area that I know of. I bet that any one of them would snap you up.' my husband always had a ready answer for everything. I did argue that I would prefer to get my hands dirty and I could imagine doing good work in a hospice or with battered wives, or deprived children. His answer to that was 'Those kinds of people prefer to be looked after by their own kind - you can do far more good in administration and organisation.' Well I did take his advice but it didn't work out. I found that the people that I came in contact with were committee members first and charity workers a long way second. It was just a lot of interminable talking with all of them competing to massage their own self importance."




Claire



Claire paused and drained her cup. Trevor refrained from speaking because he felt that she had something more to say.

She remained pensive for a few moments and then said "That's the funny thing about Peter. At the start I thought that status meant very little to him and I admired him for it. He did not pull rank like so many do and he mixed with the other workers as if he was one of them. Sometimes when there was a work problem he brought a crowd home after hours and they sat round drinking and thrashing it out. Now although they were all his subordinates no one would ever have guessed. It was invariably him who came up with the solution but he always just threw the idea into the pot and never tried to claim special credit for it. So it came as a great shock to find out how very very important his status was to him. I eventually realised that the more that he played it down himself then the more everything else had to enhance it."

She stopped at looked at him. "Well, what do you think?"

Trevor shook his slowly. "I can't say."

"Come on - of course you have got something to say. I can almost see the words bubbling up inside you."

"But they can't be spoken. He is your husband and if I say what I really think then it might upset or even offend you."

"Tell me. I have not unburdened myself like this, for you to sit there and say 'No comment'. I promise that nothing you might say will make me think any less of you and I really do want your opinion."

Trevor chose his words carefully. "Well, taking everything that you have said strictly at face value, I think that your husband is the next best thing to Superman. I think that he likes everyone to believe that he is a really nice guy - and I also think that he is a selfish arrogant bastard."

Clare started to laugh - she really laughed. In fact she couldn't stop laughing and tears started running down her cheeks. Trevor found himself infected by her mirth and their hilarity attracted both amused and disapproving glances from other tables. When she finally regained some control she said "That's priceless, it really is. You have summed Peter up exactly. Oh how I wish I had thought to say that to him so many times in the past. "

There seemed nothing to say to follow that. They sat in silence but every time that they caught each others eye the laughter threatened to start again. In an attempt to bring some sobriety to the table, Trevor asked if she wanted another coffee by raising his empty cup enquiringly and when she nodded he went to the counter. As soon as he was seated again, Claire said. "It's not fair. I have bared my soul to you and yet I still know almost nothing about you. Are there any naughty secrets from your youth that you would like to confess?"

Trevor shook his head. "No - none. Well none worth talking about."

"Come on!" said Claire. "I have just been very open with you so don't go all shy on me. I should not have said 'naughty'. Just tell me about yourself. I would like to know how you got to where you are now - sitting in a café on a wet afternoon talking to me."

"Well, I was born very young," he started and Claire gave a dutiful laugh.

"Seriously, childhood was not the best time of my life. My father was killed in accident at work and in consequence we were very poor - really poor. I had few toys and my mother was always tired from earning money any way that she could. The important thing was that when I was old enough to start work and ease the financial situation she would not let me - insisted that I stay on at school and get an education. Even then I nearly let her down because although I never went out with girls and worked like hell, I barely scraped the grades to get into university."

"Things must have looked up for you then?" asked Claire giving him a knowing look.

"No, it was a damn sight worse. There were guys who had the time of their lives for three years and were still able to scrape an adequate degree at the end. I did not have their ability. So it was study and more study for me. I needed money for books and my mother could not help - in fact her health had deteriorated and she came to depend on the small amount that I managed to send her. So whenever I was not studying, I was doing a succession of casual jobs."

"So you had no meaningful contact with girls in all that time."

Looking slightly uncomfortable Trevor said, "Well, that is not strictly true. On rare occasions I got roped in to various parties and took the opportunity to drink until I got paralytic. At a couple of these parties, I woke up next morning in bed with a girl and it made me think that I must have had a far better time than I realised. Honestly though, they were hardly memorable experiences."

"But you did get your degree?"

"Yes - quite a good one in the end." Trevor's face clouded at an unhappy memory and he said, "My mother died just over a month later. I had been looking forward to making up to her for all that she had done for me but it was too damn late. Suddenly, I did not know what to do with my life so I took a sabbatical and cleared off to the Sudan for a year doing work for charity." 

"And there would not be many females out there - at least European ones."

A smile came back to Trevor's face, "That's were you are wrong. At least there was one there for me. I met Ruth. She and I were made into a team right from the start. Having already been out there for four months she was the experienced one so I was to learn the job from her. Most of the time we spent on location. Our job was to drive to isolated villages, spend a few days checking that everything was all right and then head on to the next village. It was am idyllic life, working half naked in the sunshine with a beautiful girl for company. It is so damned hot out there that we could not be bothered to put up two tents - and that is how it started. Pretty soon we were sleeping together even back at base. It was meant to be against the rules but nobody batted an eyelid."

"But you didn't marry her?"

"I wanted to and she never actually said that she would not marry me. Of course she went home four months before me. We promised religiously to write to each other but after only a couple of letters from her she stopped writing. When I finally got back to England, I found that she had already married someone else - it seems that he had been her boyfriend before she went out there."

"So who did you replace HER with?"

"No-one at least, not straight away. Then I met Alice at a dance held at the college where she was doing her teacher training. We got married at soon as she had qualified which was just short of a year after - then two years later Simon was born."

"He is your only child?"

Trevor nodded. "We wanted more but when Alice was pregnant with what would have been Simons sister, she had a bad miscarriage and that put an end to any hopes of having any more."

"Apart from that you had a happy marriage?" Claire had seen the look of sadness on his face and was hoping to move on quickly to better memories. It did not work because a film of tears covered Trevor's eyes.

"It was a wonderful marriage but it was too short. We only had twenty three years before she found out about the cancer. The bloody thing was that we had always been so health conscious, Alice more than me. Every year she went for all the tests that were going and it was just bad luck that her cervical smear was one of those that got missed. She was a vegetarian. Did I tell you that? I couldn't do it - I just like meat too much, but Alice was a vegetarian for most of her adult life. The thing was that she did not make a big thing of it to others. Although she would never eat red meat, if we were being entertained, she would eat chicken rather than make a fuss."

Trevor paused and smiled as the image of a memory passed in front his eyes. "There was only one thing on which she voluntarily compromised her principles. Every year we had a day trip to a little fishing village on the coast and every time we had fish and chips in the open air sitting on the cliffs".

Claire had heard enough about Alice for the moment so she said brightly, "It has been really nice talking to you in here. It was nice talking to you in the park but to be honest, I did get a bit parched - and hungry. It is better here."

"I prefer it here too, mainly because in here, you are with me. In the park you just happened to be sitting by my side."

Claire smiled, feeling a warm glow at the inferred complement.

Encouraged Trevor asked, "Did you know that weather forecast is for heavy rain again tomorrow?"

Claire looked doubtful. The afternoon had been very pleasant but they had just about talked themselves dry. What could they find to sustain conversation for another such session?

"I was wondering," he said before she could speak. "There's a very good film on at the Odeon, I would be very honoured if you would agree to go with me."

She smiled happily. "I'd love to. I can't think how many years it has been since anybody asked if they could take me to the cinema."

"It's a date then."

"A date. Yes I suppose that it is." The thought made Claire feel almost like a girl again.

When she got home Peter ignored her. He seemed to have totally withdrawn within himself. When it was time for bed Claire realised that they not exchanged a single word. "I am going to bed," she said shortly, pitching the tone so that it must draw a response but no reply came from the direction of her husband's chair. Annoyed, she walked round in front of him to make him at least look at her but his eyes were closed. The mug of coffee that she had left near him an hour ago remained untouched and from the regularity of his breathing it was obvious that he was asleep.

Claire was filled with a cold rage. She wanted to seize and shake him back into consciousness. She wanted to shout 'You lazy, self pitying good-for-nothing sod. When are you going to snap out of it? To think of the man that you were - how could you come to this? Well even if you have given up, I haven't. You ought to know that I have got a date. I have got a date with a nice man who treats me decently. A man who has had far worse knocks in life than you and he has not given up. It would serve you bloody well right if I left you and ran away with him."

Thinking the words in her head seemed to exorcise the anger and Claire leaned forward intending to gently shake him awake but then a residual bit of rage caused her to pull back. "Damn you," she hissed. "I don't want you. I don't even want you near me. You can bloody well stay down here and fester." 

Upstairs, Claire sat at her dressing table, dipped a lump of cotton wool into the cleansing cream, and prepared to remove her make-up, as she had on almost every night of her marriage. With hand already poised, she paused and tilting her head slightly, objectively appraised the reflection in the mirror., comparing the admiring words of her daughter against cold reality. In all honesty she could say that her face was not all in bad condition for her age. Sure enough the glowing bloom of youth had gone and small lines had appeared both beside her mouth and by her eyes, but many would say that these only served to add character.

It was not a fair comparison, for the face that she was using as the ideal had not yet been lived in and it could be said that, in its way, her face was better now than it was then. The eyes were the same - that almost translucent blue with a definite violet hue in certain light, were still her most striking feature. "Those eyes of yours will break a thousand hearts," her mother had often said but Peter had whisked her out of circulation before the prediction could be put to the test.

Her mind went back over the years to when she had sat before another such mirror in an equally well loved bedroom. Usually she just accepted herself as she was with no analysis of the elements which comprised her face but once before she had taken stock of what she had to offer. She remembered now - it was the night of the school dance but then she had been on the verge of something new. At that point in her life she was about to leave childhood behind and start on the path which led to the woman that she was now. 'I had reason to be concerned about my looks then - what is my excuse now' Claire mentally scolded herself. Is it because I have a date? It is not as if it is a teenage date and yet I am behaving as if it was. I was a free agent then and if I had a similar status now - yes, I do find Trevor attractive but I happen to be a happily married woman. My husband does not talk to me just now so what is the harm of enjoying a bit of innocent conversation with another man? When could sitting side by side with a man in a cinema ever be classed as infidelity?

Claire briskly applied the moistened pad and then wiped her face clean with a tissue but still remained considering her reflection. Last time, after the facial inventory she had gone on to consider the rest of her body with her breasts being her primary concern. Again she let her gaze fall and took a deep breath, exactly as she had done then. Not at all bad - but then, from the many admiring glances she had received over the years, she already knew that her tits were still pretty good. Holding the breath, she let her fingers start slowly undoing the buttons of her blouse, watching the reflected action in the mirror as if she was an independent observer.

Suddenly she jumped up and turned away in disgust. "Claire Williams - have you gone sick in the head? What you need is a good cold shower to cool you down. Doing a strip-tease for yourself - whatever next?" She walked quickly to the shower, threw off her clothes, and after making the setting far cooler than usual stepped beneath the jet. Then she closed her eyes and tried to drive thoughts of her body from her mind but with the seemingly icy droplets exiting her nipples to taught rigidity and a cold river of water coursing between her thighs, she found this difficult to achieve.

Claire briskly towelled herself dry, threw on her wrap, returned to the bedroom and found herself standing back in front of the damn mirror. Admitting defeat, she let the wrap fall open muttering "What the hell - it's only a body" - and she had it admit, it had fared a lot less well than her face. Her breasts which had once thrust out firm and proud with no real need of support now had a slight but noticeable sag but they were both larger and heavier and after two children what else could she expect. Similarly, there was a suggestion of flab to both her waist and hips but her 5' 6" gave her enough height to carry it. Anyway, Peter was eight inches taller than her and heavily built, so when beside him she still looked particularly sylph like. In the past, when striding on his arm into a restaurant on her four inch heels she knew that they made a striking couple and it amused them both to know that the people sending admiring glances after them, assumed they were some kind of celebrities. 

She sat down again in front of the mirror again without bothering to gather her robe. Looking at her reflection she said sternly, "OK, let's face it. If you are considering having some kind affair with Trevor, why not compare him with Peter and see what you are gaining on the deal. "There was no comparison. For a start, Trevor was barely two inches taller than her and slimly built - without the benefit of clothes, she could easily imagine that he would look under nourished. Trevor's hair was already thinning badly and in another ten years he would certainly be bald where in contrast her husband would always keep a thick head of hair and she had often imagined how in later years it would turn a dignified iron grey. Her suitors face was certainly appealing now but would almost certainly acquire a seedy look with age whereas Peter had the chiselled bone structure which would give him, even in old age, what is popularly described as 'a face of granite'.

So was there anything where Trevor came out ahead. Yes - he had dark brown sympathetic eyes compared to Peter's icy blue ones. And he listened to what she had to say when Peter seldom did even when he was on top form. Face it - Trevor had the perfect attributes of a friend, a passing companion for the cinema. "Try to make it more than that and you are deluding yourself" Claire told herself with satisfaction as she slipped into her night dress and snuggled down in bed.

Trevor was waiting outside the Odeon when she arrived. Claire had half imagined that he would have flowers to give her but instead it was a box of chocolates that she saw clutched in his hand. He smiled and stepped forward to take her arm but seemed too overcome to speak.

He escorted her inside and at the cash desk she allowed him to pay for them both without demur. When the darkness of the interior had swallowed them and the usherette had departed, Claire tried to concentrate on the screen and pick up the story on the screen but she was too aware of the presence of the man sitting beside her. After a few minutes she felt the opened box of chocolates being placed on her lap. She ate one or two so as not offend him but she was rather particular about chocolates and the idea of taking a lucky dip in the darkness did not appeal. Trevor readily accepted her whispered suggestion that it would be better if they saved the rest and ate them later.

Rather deliberately, Claire allowed her hand to rest by the side of her leg. When a little later, their hands brushed, she readily turned hers and interlocked her fingers with his. They sat thus until the interval, each on occasion giving the others hand a squeeze. When the lights came up it was Trevor who un-entangled their fingers and put his hand chastely upon his lap. He bought them a soft drink each and they shared a tub of popcorn, giggling like children. When the lights again dimmed, this time Trevor reached out and boldly took her hand in his.

Claire felt very happy - almost deliriously happy but she was unsure whether the emotion was caused by nostalgia or the fact that she was holding hands with a man other than her husband. It could be nostalgia because she did feel like a girl again. The years fell away and she could see herself sitting there expectantly beside those early boyfriends. It was better now because she could enjoy the closeness and watch the picture, instead of seeing half the screen with one eye with a boy's eager face close up in front of her own. Then too there had been the decision of whether or not to let the probing tongue into her mouth and the clumsy, sometimes painful groping of a hot hand inside her bra. There was no danger of that now.

Claire had no doubt that her companion would like to do those things but adults did not behave that way in cinemas, particularly men like Trevor.

The film finished far too soon. Even though she had watched throughout with an uninterrupted view, she would have been unable to answer any questions about the story. When once more in the open air both of them felt slightly awkward. There was a mutual need to maintain touch, if only through the hands, but such contact was not permissible once they had left the protection of the darkness. He walked her to near the bus station and there he unceremoniously thrust the box of chocolates into her hand, not realising that, unable to take them home, she would have to stuff them into a rubbish bin as soon as he was out of sight.

The picture must have gone on longer than they had thought because it was almost time for her bus to leave. Claire took two steps backward away from him but he followed a troubled look on his face. She looked significantly up at the big clock rather than voice the words "I have got to go".

Tomorrow?" he said with a gasp.

"Yes?" she said hopefully. Another visit to the cinema would be nice, even to the same film. This time she would pay for them or at least offer to go halves.




Claire



"I would like to give you a meal."

A doubtful look appeared on her face and she shook her head slightly. "That might not be a good idea. Peter and I used to eat out a lot before and I am known at all the restaurants."

"No - at my house. I want to cook something for you."

The doubtful looked remained and this prompted him to rush on, "It's not like that - not what you think. I just wanted to look after you. Do you something nice to eat - you said that you got hungry. You will be quite safe." Then, before she could speak he went on, "Yes, perhaps you are right. That isn't a good idea either. I should never have asked. I'm sorry that I have embarrassed you." 

Claire stepped forward and touched his face gently with her fingers. "Trevor - I would be honoured to let you cook me a meal."

Overcome by happiness, he placed a hand on each of her shoulders and just held her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the driver walking towards her bus. Ducking clear of Trevor's grasp she started walking sideways away from him and then a terrible thought hit her. "Trevor - I don't know where you live," she called out in horror.

Trevor stopped as if in consternation but as her running feet neared the bus he caught with her and thrust a piece of paper into her hands. "My address - it's printed on that."

Safe at the steps of the bus she could afford to stop and give him a smile. "What time should I come?"

"Anytime - 12 o'clock."

She got home slightly later than intended and bustled about knocking together a quick meal. Peter again had not spoken to her but at least today he had acknowledged her return with a nod of his head. There was an advantage in his having become even more uncommunicative for there was no need to pretend that she was still job hunting. It would have been a strain inventing non-existent jobs and interviews.

After the meal she felt restless and could not face the thought of spending the evening sitting in silence, mindlessly watching the television. She opened the back door half intending to take refuge in the garden but everywhere was dripping wet and the clouds gave threat of a renewed downpour. The kitchen was immaculate with not the slightest task left to do and she retreated from the bedroom almost as soon as she arrived, not wanting to come face to face with herself in the mirror.

Claire found herself bending in front of the open drinks cabinet without being aware that she had made a conscious decision to do so. She grabbed a bottle and walked to stand in front of her husband and held it up to him. She was not asking permission to open it although, in the past, Peter had been most pedantic about his wine and which one was the correct to drink for any given occasion, Instead she was tentatively offering to pour a glass for him. Thankfully, he shook his head. The only good factor during this long period of depression was that he had not taken to drink; in fact he had not touched a drop. Many other men reduced to such a low mental level would have spent their days in a constant state of drunken insensibility. At least she had been spared that. But then she thought 'Was there really any difference?'

She went back into the kitchen, got out a wineglass and filled it. The wine was rather a good one which should have been sipped and savoured, but she swallowed it in one gulp and refilled the glass. It was no use - she could not keep skating round the subject in the centre of her mind. However unwilling she was to confront it, there was something there which needed to be faced, sooner or later.

What was there to think about. All that she had done was spend an afternoon chastely holding hands with a very nice man. No kissing, no groping. Big deal! But her thoughts while holding those hands not been chaste had they? Not by a long way! And she knew - neither had his for she had been able to feel his need vibrating from him into her fingers. Was her need also so obvious? No - women were much more contained than the male sex. Men were so overt - transparent in their emotions. Place a beautiful woman in a room full of strange men and although the males may be able to control their facial expressions, the lust will still burn from their eyes. Reverse the situation to many women with a male object of desire and, although they may have the same ache within them, all that an observer would see from them would be a cool gaze of appraisal.

Her need? Yes, godammit, she had a need. After nine long months of denial what woman would not have a need - particularly one who had enjoyed an exceptional sex life for the previous twenty years. Not long before the redundancy changed their lives, she remembered reading that the norm for couples married as long as them was twice a week. It had been hard to believe - how the hell did they manage to get to sleep on the other five nights?

But admitting a need did not mean that she had to satisfy it. There was the question of loyalty.

For those twenty years Peter had satisfied in an exemplary manner both her financial and bodily requirements but now he had hit a bad batch - did she not owe it to him to remain steadfast and not seek her own satisfaction on the side. Fine - if she could think that it would be all over by Xmas or even this time next year but he might be like the for ever. A year ago it was inconceivable that Peter could fall so far. He had been invincible. Since she had known him, every thing that he had touched had been crowned with success but at the first real set-back he had crumbled to nothing. It was like those Martians in the film War of the Worlds, nothing could stop them and then suddenly they were gone. The redundancy had been Peters Achilles heel. The day that he received the bad news he had said, 'I'll never get a position at the same level again,' and from that moment had set out to single-handedly make that prediction come true.

Claire refilled her glass. Was this the third or the fourth? It might even be the fifth. But what the hell it was helping her to think.

'It was a matter of character' she decided. Peter was exceptionally good looking, had a brilliant brain and undoubted charisma but this was his fatal flaw. He was all front with nothing to back it up. All his life had been dealt winning hands but as soon as the expected plum did not fall to him on cue, he had refused to play - taken his bat home like a spoiled child. In contrast, Trevor had character. He had never drawn good cards and yet he had played them all to the best of his ability.

She could have a small affair without it necessarily being an act of disloyalty for there was a good argument to show that it could preserve her marriage. For the last nine months it had been in the equivalent of being in the trenches. During that time she had managed to remain remarkably placid and level headed but there were signs that she was beginning to suffer from shell-shock. What else had her futile job hunting been but a desperate attempt to break out of the situation in which she found herself? How long could she go on? How long before she either walked out or joined Peter in his pit of misery? What she needed was some 'Rest and Relaxation'. A chance to recuperate, recharge her batteries. Might not a small affair allow her to return renewed to face life until the cloud lifted from her husband's life?

Just going for lunch at Trevor's house did not mean that anything else was bound to happen.

She was sure that her friend had no ulterior motives. He was certainly not going to pounce on her. Trevor was a true gentleman. One of natures gentlemen - it was inherent in him. When the occasion demanded, Peter could be chivalrous. At his best he would be able to leave Trevor standing when it came to chivalry but it was all for the gesture, the effect that it would create in the mind of others with no real consideration involved. Trevor believed that women were special creatures to be cherished and treated with consideration but her husband's philosophy was that they were there only for housekeeping and bed. Trevor certainly had some very loveable traits when contrasted with Peter. 

Claire felt unsteady on her legs. She was still standing by the cupboard where she kept the glasses but now she walked to sit on a chair by the kitchen table, taking the bottle with her.

It was up to her. Would she sleep with Trevor? She wanted to but was that enough reason? Yes, she did want to - and this was the first time she had actually admitted the fact to herself. There were still a lot of reasons why she should not. For twenty years she had been a loyal and faithful wife and there was a lot invested in that. Once she cheated on Peter, in her own mind at least, she would always be a cheat - no matter if it only happened the once. It was a lot to throw away on a whim. It was not unlike losing virginity.

All right. Suppose that she remained true to her marriage vows, how would the relationship with Trevor continue? Could it continue for long on a strictly platonic basis? One thing was certain in all the confusion; she did want it to continue. These last three mornings, she had awoken filled with a joyous anticipation compared to the dull feeling of dread with which she had started the day for the past months. What would they do every day if they continued to meet? Was it to be a diet of café or cinema with the park as an option on sunny days?

How much of the pleasure gained during the past week had been purely the novelty of the situation, the fact that she was enjoying the company of another man for the first time in so long? Had it been the knowledge that she was flirting with danger which provided that adrenaline tingle or was there really something between herself and this man who had been a complete stranger much less than one week ago?

'Was Trevor just a whim?' she didn't know. Claire was aware that her brain was starting to get fuddled and it had been so crystal clear when she had started to drink. And the bottle was empty. She dropped it in the trash can and made her way slowly to bed. Deep untroubled sleep had overtaken her, long before her husband joined her.

Next morning Claire woke tingling with anticipation. She went round happily doing the small tasks that needed her attention then got some chicken pieces out of the freezer and left them to defrost. As she worked a succession of tunes went through her head and at times she found herself singing them aloud. They were the popular songs of her teenage years pulled out of cold storage in her memory for the occasion. Then she indulged in a long hot shower and spent an extended period applying her make-up with extra care.

Downstairs she found that Peter had unusually eaten the breakfast that she had left for him and was really reading the newspaper. He looked up with just a flash of his old self and said "You seem very happy with yourself this morning."

"I have a feeling that it is going to be a good day."

"You have also got yourself looking very nice. A promising interview? he asked without a trace of nastiness.

The direct lie was beyond her. "No - but I am going to see someone that I have seen before."

Folding his newspaper, Peter got up and walked across to the window saying, "You know, I thought that I might go out and do a bit in the garden today." But then he looked out and cursed "It's a quagmire out there. What is the fucking use?"

Claire could visibly see the cloud descending back over his eyes.

At that moment she heard the mail hit the mat. Walking into the hall she picked up the two envelopes. One was a large glossy thing informing that they were among the finalists in a quarter of a million pound prize draw. Claire dropped it straight into the rubbish and carried the other letter through.

From the depths of his chair, her husband looked up with the remnant of a forlorn hope that survived within him. "Just another bill," Claire told him as she placed it in the bureau.

Then she was gone.

Today she took the car. Although Trevor had mentioned that he lived within walking distance of the city, the benefits of travelling by bus had gone. There would be no problem parking the car and if she did have trouble locating his house then being properly mobile would be an advantage. In the event, with the help of the Satnav, she drove straight there. A patch of spare ground made a convenient parking place and it was only as she walked away from the car that she regretted not having checked for broken glass first.

The street had once been typically 'inner city' but a nearby prestigious riverside development had imparted upward mobility to the whole area. In consequence about two thirds of the houses had been taken by young couples who had enhanced their properties with paint jobs, window boxes and shiny brass door furniture. Trevor's house was one that had been left au natural. Inside she would find it terribly small and most of the furniture, which had obviously been brought from a much larger property, sadly out of place.

Trevor opened the door with a beam of welcome on his face but Claire thought that he looked rather harassed. There was a thin film of perspiration on his brow and a large dark smudge on his cheek that had gone unnoticed. Inside the door, his arm twitched as if he was unsure whether to shake hands with her not so she stepped forward and gave him a light kiss slightly to the side of his mouth. He took her coat and then led her to the main room where the table was already set. There were two lighted candles and a single rose in a long stemmed glass by one of the place settings.

Her host had tried hard but it was obvious that he was no cook. Everything had been prepared using fresh ingredients but he might have been better using a proprietary ready meal, for the meat had been allowed to go dry and the vegetables were more than a little undercooked. Over the years, her husband had proved himself to be a superb cook but rarely practised the skill. Only when they were entertaining had Peter frequently stepped in to take over. Then later, when the guests were showering her with enthusiastic comments on the meal, Peter had sat in modest silence and it was left to her to point out that the complements were not for her as Peter had done it all. Despite the failings, Claire thought that on balance she enjoyed Trevor's humble but caring effort more than her husband's perfect productions.

They ate in silence but exchanged frequent smiles.

She dutifully told him how much she had enjoyed the food. He offered coffee and while he was away preparing it she tried to think of something to talk to him about but her mind was barren. They sipped the coffee but now had started avoiding each others eyes. Claire asked a couple of questions, realising both times as soon as the words were out of her mouth that she had been given that information during the previous days but he didn't remind her and instead answered at length as if it was a new subject. Apart from that, Trevor had no conversation at all.

When they could no longer pretend that there was still coffee to drink, he jumped up and offered her wine. She did not feel like wine but agreed because she needed something to occupy her. Although they both drank the liquor did not manage to loosen either of their tongues.

The silence grew. Claire felt the need to break it but felt that anything she might say would sound trite and artificial.

"I am glad that you came - I didn't think that you would," he said at last.

"I wanted to come."

"It is nice having you here."

"I like it too. I feel so relaxed."

The silence started to close once more. "Yes, it's nice having you here," he said again.

"Alone."

"Just the two of us."

"Nobody else around."

"All by ourselves."

"That's the trouble," he said. I could show the rest of the house, the kitchen, the...upstairs, I just don't want you to think that..." Trevor was looking anywhere in the room but at her. 

Claire stood up, walked round the table and crouched down by his knee. Taking his hands in hers she said softly, "I will go to bed with you, you know,"

The pent-up breath came out of his body in an explosive burst. He leapt up, pulled her to her feet and crushed her body against his. They kissed for a long time.

It was Claire who first pulled back and looked significantly upward. Taking her hand he led her upstairs and into his bedroom. It was just that - a bedroom, a place for sleeping - no more. Trevor had made no attempt to personalise it. The furniture, oversized for the room, was obviously that which he had available. A wardrobe, a chest of drawers but no dressing table - not even a mirror. It was the room of a man who lives alone.

Dropping her hand, Trevor walked across and drew the curtains. She waited. He came back and stood a pace in front of her. She gave him an encouraging smile. With his eyes fixed on hers he reached out to the buttons on her blouse.

His fingers fumbled so he had to look down to see what he was doing. This did not help because now his fingers were trembling so much that the buttons still would not come undone. Resisting the temptation to do it for him, Claire instead put one hand on either side of his face and kissed him deeply. That did the trick. As soon as the last button was undone, she reached back, pulled the blouse out of her skirt and shrugged it off to fall to the floor behind her. His hands moved down to her belt and this caused him no trouble but when it was undone, he stepped back expecting her skirt to fall free. When it did not, Claire quickly undid the zip on her hip and let the skirt drop.

Trevor raised his hands and started moving them towards her breasts but then stopped. Guessing that he was uncertain how to remove her bra, she quickly turned her back and presented the catch for his attention. When he succeeded in releasing it at the second attempt, Claire faced him again and allowed the garment, dangling from its straps, to slide down her arms into his hands. Then, as he turned to place it carefully on a chair, she quickly divested herself of her panties to stand before him unashamedly naked. She allowed him to gaze upon her for a long moment then turned and slid her body between the sheets of his bed.

Some hours later, Claire was lying in Trevor's arms, head on his chest and her arms wrapped round him. "Three times," he said proudly. "It must fifteen - no twenty years since I last managed it three times in one day. You have turned me into a young man again."

Claire gave him an answering squeeze. She no longer felt empty. More than that she felt utterly content. It was a sensation that she could not ever remember enjoying before - the glow and awareness of utter peace, both mental and physical. This was the element that had been missing from her marriage - all of it, not just the last nine months. The actual sex had been fine without being spectacular. There were no fireworks, no mind blowing explosions inside her but despite that it had been even more satisfying. With Trevor it had not been not just sex for sex sake, he had made into an almost reverential act of worship culminating in the ultimate closeness.

"Will you marry me?"

The question broke into her very pleasant reverie leaving Claire with a sense of shock. Collecting her senses she said, "But Trevor - you hardly know me."

"I have never done anything like this before. I want to do the honourable thing."

"There is no need. You enjoyed it and I enjoyed it but there is no need for a lifelong commitment." 

"But I want there to be. I want to marry you."

"I happen to have a husband already."

"Divorce him."

"I am not sure if I want to and anyway I don't think that I can - he would have to divorce me and that could take forever."

"You could come and live with me until the divorce is through."

Claire put her hands on either side of his face and said tenderly, "Love, I am very flattered by your offer but I feel that you are pushing me in a direction that I don't know that I want to go."




Claire



"Then this afternoon - all this, meant nothing to you?" He made no attempt to hide the pain in his eyes.

"How can you ask that? Being here has meant more to me than you will ever know. This is the first time in my life that I have felt as I do now and it is because of you."

"The why not live with me?" The pain had been replaced by puzzlement.

"This afternoon has been wonderful but it is not enough to base such a big decision upon. I know that I am all mixed up at the moment and I think that you have been swayed by the circumstances as well. We will have to know each other a lot better first."

"Are you going to keep on seeing me here? I mean coming to the house... Like this?"

"I am going to come as often as I possibly can," Claire told him with a happy smile but then cautioned, "But that does not mean that I will move in permanently or marry you."

"Will you at least think about it?"

"Oh yes," she said sincerely, "I shall think about it a great deal."

With that limited agreement, Trevor took her back in his arms.

Claire glanced at her watch and saw that it was late, very late. Thank goodness that she had thought to bring the car and would not need to wait for a bus or put up with a pedestrian speed on the way home. Extracting herself from her lover's arms she got out of bed and reached for her clothes. He got up too but turned his back while she dressed. A few moments were allowed for a damage limitation exercise on her make-up which Trevor virtually ruined with a passionate farewell inside the front door.

They walked together towards the car, holding hands with no inhibitions. Without speaking about it, both were aware of the weekend ahead - two days on which they would be unable to meet. Trevor pushed a piece of paper into her hand. "It's my telephone number in case you need me," he said intensely.

One tire on the car was very flat and Claire's heart sank at the thought that this extra delay was going to make her impossibly late but he very efficiently changed it for her in a matter of minutes. When she had climbed into the car and started the engine Trevor leaned through the window and rested his hand upon hers on the steering wheel. "Will you be coming again on Monday?" he asked anxiously.

"There is nothing in the world that can keep me away." she told him.



Claire



"I hope Carol hasn't left yet. I knew I should have made time to pick up that paperwork last night." Claire said to herself as she picked up her keys and rushed to the door.

Claire Bruce needed to get some important paperwork that day from her friend Carol. They worked together part-time for their small township. Claire got involved with the politics of her rural Pennsylvania community as a distraction from the unpleasantness she was experiencing from the upheaval of her life. Two years ago, she divorced her husband after 12 years of marriage. Now, all of Claire's time was devoted to her job with a large accounting firm in Philadelphia and local politics.

After a lengthy period of denial, anger, and sadness, Claire was moving on with her life. Her job as an accountant for a large firm in Philadelphia provided a more than comfortable income, and her role with the township served as a sort of social outlet. But today, her duties with the township required her to rush over to Carol's house to pick up important paperwork she desperately needed to review so she could prepare a report for the township budget meeting on Monday night.

"Damn, why did I wait until the last minute to do this?" Claire scolded herself as she got in the car and closed the door. Hurriedly she pulled the car of her driveway and sped down the road. It was a warm Sunday morning in late May. She knew that Carol and her husband Tom had plans to be gone for the day. Claire hoped she could catch them before they left.

When Claire arrived at Carol's house, she pulled into the driveway and drove her car to the side of the house. The house sat on a secluded farm. The driveway ran beside the house and ended at the door of a detached garage behind the house. A tidy walkway led to a patio at the back of the house. Only one other car was parked in front of the detached garage.

"Just my luck, I think I missed them." Claire whined with frustration. "Well, I'll knock on the back door to see if anyone is around."

As Claire approached the screen door, she realized her good luck. She could hear the hum of a fan and the muffled sounds of the television through the open screen windows. The main door was open with just the screen door closed. It seemed that someone was home after all.

Claire approached the screen door, and could see Carol's 19 year old son, Scott, was sitting on the couch watching TV. She knocked on the screen door and began to say, "Hi Scott......" but trailed off and followed with a surprised, "Oh my God!"

As she looked in the door, Claire could see that Scott was totally nude. He was sitting on the couch watching a pornographic movie. An open jar of Vaseline was sitting on the end table next to the couch, and Scott was rubbing his hard, slick cock. They were both mortified as Claire caught him masturbating.

"Oh, uh I'm so sorry Scott." Stammered Claire.

Completely flustered with embarrassment, Scott got up and scampered to the open door. His hard cock, coated with petroleum jelly, bobbed up and down as he hurried to the door. There was no way to hide his embarrassment as he nervously stood there, with his hands over his swollen genitals.

"Oh, um, uh Ms. Bruce. Please don't tell my parents. I beg you. I'm so sorry you saw this. What do you want?" Scott pleaded. 

Claire stood there for a second. Wide-eyed, she tried not to stare at Scott's hard cock, which he was unsuccessfully trying to cover with his hands. "Don't worry. I won't say a word. I just need to get the township paperwork you mother has for me."

"Uh, if I let you in, can you get it?" Scott nervously blurted out.

"I think so. I'm so sorry to do this to you."

"It's ok." Scott said as he meekly opened the screen door and let Claire enter the house. 

Claire stepped inside. She was nervous, uncomfortable, and a little excited to be standing next to the naked young man. Excited? Did she really feel that way? It had been a long time since Claire had sex. She hadn't been with a man since she divorced her husband. The last time was probably well over two years ago.

There was Scott, standing fully naked and aroused in front of her. Young and good-looking, he was in shape from running with his college track team. Claire's eyes quickly glanced at his naked body.

Claire tried to push away her feeling of nervous excitement. "This is Carol's son!" She thought to herself. "It's like I walked into some salacious short story you read in adult magazines." She continued to think. But, she could not deny it unlocked some forgotten feelings, and she enjoyed it.

"I think the paperwork is over there on the desk." Scott said as he pointed across the room. 

Claire looked across the room to the large desk in the far corner. "Do you mind if I go through the desk to see if I can find it?" 

"No, go on over." Scott replied.

"Do you want to put your clothes back on?" Claire asked as she walked to the desk.

"Well, they're upstairs."

"Thought you had some time to yourself?" Claire said with a grin.

"Uh...yea. You're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?" Scott asked sheepishly.

"Scott, it's ok. I'm truly sorry I disturbed you. We've all been in this situation." Claire said, trying to soothe the poor boy's embarrassment.

"You've been caught like this too?" Scott asked.

"Well, no. I meant that we've all had our private moments." Claire said, trying to make the tension of the situation less embarrassing. "Did I really just say that?" Claire silently thought to herself. "Did I just admit to this young man that I masturbate?" 

"I think I know what you are saying." Scott said. He was still embarrassed, but beginning to feel a bit more comfortable, realizing that Claire was not disgusted by her discovery. Almost feeling like he could trust her.

At 45, Claire was still a very attractive woman. Her light-brown hair showed a few streaks of grey, but she was still fairly youthful looking. Today, she had her shoulder length hair pulled back in a pony-tail, and she was wearing a pair of jogging shorts and a plain t-shirt. She still had a very shapely figure, and Scott was taking notice of it. 

Claire found the folder of papers sitting on the desk and picked them up. As she turned, she could see the movie was still playing on the TV. The scene of a man and a woman having sex caught her attention and held it.

"Did you find it?" Scott asked, breaking Claire's silence as she stared at the sex on the large screen.

"Y-yes." She replied.

Scott could tell that Claire was watching the movie. "Do you own or watch any of those?" Scott asked as he motioned toward the television.

"I've seen a few. I don't own any. I haven't seen one in quite awhile"

"Well, if you want to watch it, you can." Scott hopefully asked.

"I don't know if I really should, Scott."

"It's no problem. My parents won't be back for hours." Scott smiled.

"Well......maybe for a sec." Claire said. "What the hell am I doing?" She silently thought to herself.

Scott took his place back on the couch, still naked, but now he was only semi-hard. Claire sat down beside him on the couch and placed the folder on the end table next to her. 

A part of Claire was feeling regret for agreeing to sit down and watch the movie. But, a part of her was excited. The excitement of the moment was winning over her feelings of regret as she watched the hot sex scenes.

She glanced over at Scott and could see his penis grew back to its full, rigid length as they watched the movie together. His cock was average length, but thick and shiny from the coating of petroleum jelly he was using as lubrication before she had interrupted him. His patch of pubic hair was neatly trimmed. She was beginning to take more interest in looking at his young cock than the movie.

Scott sensed she was looking at him. He turned to meet her gaze, but realized she was staring at his groin. "What do you think?" he asked.

"I definitely enjoy the movie." Claire nervously answered.

"Not the movie, but...umm....." Scott wanted to see where this would go. He was sitting on the couch watching a porno movie, nude, with a pretty woman next to him. He was unsure how to proposition her for what he wanted.

"What are you trying to ask?" Claire said.

Scott leaned over and gently kissed Claire on her lips. It was just a peck, but it felt so good. Claire's mind was reeling. Instinctively, she touched his chest with her fingertips.

"Oh" Scott gasped.

Slowly her fingers trailed down Scott's body. Down to the short brown patch of hair that grew just above his raging erection.

"Oh yes. Please. Touch it." Scott wantonly gasped.

Gently, her fingers circled around Scott's hard shaft. Warm and smooth, she enjoyed the feel of it in her hand. Gently, she squeezed his hard cock. Scott moaned as she gripped his throbbing member.

"Oh Scott, your cock feels so good." Claire whispered.

Slowly, her hand slid up and down the length of his thick shaft, circling over the swollen mushroom head. Up and down she stroked with a twisting motion. Scott's greased cock easily sliding in her grasp as his breathing became louder and more ragged.

Claire was captivated watching Scott's cock slide within her grasp, his purple head would disappear in her closed fist as she stroked up, then reappear as she slid her grasp back down his thick shaft. Warm and slick, she loved the way it felt jerking him off. 

Scott was making soft, short moaning sounds as he slumped back on the couch, pushing his hips forward for Claire. Her steady strokes were taking him to the brink. His face was flushed, and they both knew it would not be much longer.

As she rubbed up and down, Scott was panting even faster. She could feel his stiff cock throb and harden even a bit more as he pushed his hips forward. The first string of white cum erupted from his cock like a geyser. Shooting several inches into the air and landing on his patch of pubic fuzz. A longer, second stream followed. Spraying even higher than the first it splashed in a small dollop on his belly. As Claire continued to stroke, two smaller spurts followed as Scott's orgasm subsided, coating her fingers. Claire gently squeezed his slick shaft, and a last bubble of gooey fluid oozed from his swollen mushroom head onto the back of her hand. 

Claire released Scott's softening shaft from her grasp and sat back on the couch. Her breathing was shallow and her eyes were wide from excitement. She couldn't believe what she had just done. It had been years since she had touched a man like that. She had almost forgotten how thrilling it could feel to give a man such pleasure. But at the same time, she was nervous about what she had just done.

"I gotta go, Scott." Claire blurted out. Her voice barely worked when she needed to speak.

Quickly she stood up and retrieved the envelope from the end table next to her. She hurried across the room and out the door. She jogged up the walkway and into her car. Her hand was still slick from the petroleum jelly and semen as she reached into the glove compartment to grab some napkins to clean off the evidence. 

Her mind was racing as she tried to process what had just happened. A part of her felt guilty, as if what had just happened was wrong. Scott was so young, and the son of her close friend. But, he was over 18, so it wasn't illegal she justified to herself.

At the same time the encounter excited her. Scott was an attractive young man. It felt incredible to touch his hard cock. The way it felt as her hand slid up and down his thick shaft. How it turned her on to know she could get him off.

She felt some guilt that the encounter turned her on. The conflict of guilt and lust battled in her thoughts. But she smiled as she replayed it in her mind. Claire could not deny that it was an incredible turn-on to make Scott cum. She couldn't stop thinking about the streams of sperm erupting from his throbbing phallus. She also realized this was another step forward from her divorce. But, the twinge of shame she felt did not outweigh her feelings of lust. The tingling sensation she felt between her thighs confirmed how much she truly enjoyed the situation.



Claire



Claire and I met one another's gaze across the dim kitchen, our eyes expressing volumes without our lips moving. She offered a casual wave, tossed her russet curls out of her eyes, and then returned her full attention to the frosty glass of milk in her hand.

"Night, Claire," I offered as I turned to leave the room, trying not to let my eyes linger too long over her hunter green nightie. "Will you lock up before you turn in?"

"No problem." Her voice was muffled behind the glass as she savored a luxuriant sip. "Night Alex."

I moved up the thickly carpeted stairs to my bedroom, the house around me silent as I collapsed into an office chair to gaze without seeing at the screen saver my monitor projected. Combing my fingers through my hair, I felt like the world's filthiest man, and if jerking off over the thoughts I had would cure this condition, I would have been in remission weeks ago.

It was all Dave's fault. My brother was never gifted with responsible spending. He appreciated things, but didn't have the restraint to accumulate them by hard work and self-deprivation. This included Claire.

As she frequently was, my mother was right: I would regret letting the couple stay with me. Dave caught me at a moment of weakness and distraction. I had been busily finishing up an overdue project for work, and instead of being smart and ignoring the repeated calls to my cell, I had answered the fifth despite the nagging doubt in my gut.

Of course he wanted something. The crux of the conversation that had been padded with self-deprecation and overabundant complements for me was that Dave and Claire needed help. Dave had lost yet another job. The pair were sixteen days behind on their rent, and Claire could not go to work due to her condition.

"It will only be for a couple weeks tops," Dave assured with the rowdy roar of a beer fed crowd in the background. "I just don't have the cash right now, and by the time I do, our asses will be out in the street."

"Did you ask Mom?"

"She said no way. I think she's just gotten really selfish in her old age. Having us there would be too much work, and she can't be bothered. She's being really shitty if you ask me."

"Imagine that. She actually wants to enjoy her retirement. How selfish. If you're so hard up for cash, what the fuck are you doing out at the bar again?"

"Claire's pissed. She's been crying for the last three days. I love her. I do. But it's gotten so hard to put up with her lately. She cries all the time, her ass is getting bigger, and all she does is read baby books and accuse me of ruining one of the most important times of her life. I guess I'm not a chick. I don't get what the big deal is except that I'll need to earn even more money. She knows how I feel about this kid situation."

"So you'll be thrown out?"

"They'll take us to court first, then throw us out."

I was hunting files, trying to suppress the annoyance I felt, when Claire's bright blue eyes flashed in my mind. The thought of her pregnant and unkempt, sleeping in a car while they sold off all their possessions made a twinge of guilt shiver through me. I had an almost mundanely stable life and certainly didn't want for anything financially. The perfect bachelor life with all the electronics, casual sex, and free time I could want.

"Look. You guys can stay here, but you're not going to just bum around and live off me like a parasite, David. I expect your ass out at every temp agency in town, and when you aren't there, you'll be hunting apartments. Your wife is depending on you, and you've really fucked it up."

"Man, thank you! I know it was a dick thing to do, but you have no idea how unbearable my boss was. I'll make it up to you. I swear. Thanks, little bro."

Winter always hits our part of the country hard, and when they arrived later the next afternoon, I was even more pissed off at Dave. Claire scurried up my shoveled front walk, snowflakes dotting her hair, an evergreen coat barely able to cover her bulging belly as she carried two cardboard cartons toward the house.

"Whoa!" I flung open the door, running out to help the poor girl with the boxes. "Claire, you aren't supposed to be lifting things this far along are you?" She hurried inside behind me, collapsing in a recliner near the door to catch her breath.

"Dave gave me light boxes," she panted, running fair hands through her long hair to brush away the clinging snowflakes. "And I'm getting fat and could use the exercise, Alex. Look at this!"

Gaining her footing, she struggled out of the tight winter coat to display herself, turning in a circle to emphasize her point. I did not see a "fat" woman. I saw a creature more enticing than any other I had known.

From her tiny feet in their ebony boots to the basic black maternity pants and dark purple sweater she wore, she looked glorious. Her complexion was flawless and radiant as if it had been cast in porcelain, her cheeks a bit more full and ruddy, and her cleavage definitely more substantial above the rounded protrusion of her belly. Pregnancy did more than agree with her. It enhanced her.

"You look great!" I enthused, reaching out to offer her a friendly embrace. I knew the event she was trying so hard to make the best of was weighing on their already fragile marriage. The time in a woman's life that is supposed to be the most joyous and miraculous was turning out to be anything but either of those things. I felt obliged to pick up the slack where my son of a bitch brother left off. "You should try to get work in some of those maternity catalogs."

"You're funny," Claire shrugged. But I saw the faint hopeful glimmer of self-respect in her eyes before it was stamped out by the approaching footsteps of her husband.

A couple weeks had grown into a month and a half. And while it was an inconvenience having to share my modest house with two more people, I found that Claire's company more than made up for the uncomfortable tension between Dave and myself. She was pleasant to talk with, and I learned that she loved books of all kinds, not just the ones that preoccupied her due to her pregnancy and impending motherhood. I began to eat home cooked meals instead of take-out far more frequently than I'd prepare for myself. Dinners at home hadn't been this good since my last live in girlfriend. If I got home from work late, there'd be a little something thoughtfully put together for me to eat, even if it was just a sandwich, and I was touched by Claire's consideration. It felt more like a home rather than a house, and it was all compliments of my sister and new roommate. I also got used to all the other acts of thoughtfulness Claire displayed: washing my clothes along with those of Dave and herself, light cleaning simply because she had the time and energy to do it and even someone to keep me company in the evenings. Dave often met up with friends or retired to their room to watch television alone and contemplate the latest fuck up he had achieved, leaving us plenty of time to talk and get to know one another more than we had in the past.

I did my best to ignore all the squabbles I overheard when they thought I was asleep or too engrossed in projects to notice. I'd hear Dave rumbling on, Claire's futile attempts at optimism and reassurance, Dave's voice raising, then sniffles and the opening and closing of their bedroom door followed by the squeak of stair treads as Claire left their room and went downstairs.

Tonight, things had proceeded as they always did. Dave came back from yet another unproductive day around six thirty. Claire had baked lasagna, and she and I were clearing our dinner dishes as Dave stomped through the front door, muttering under his breath about software training and the cost of a two-bedroom apartment.

"Dinner's still warm," Claire announced brightly as she greeted her husband at the door to take his coat. "Alex and I made lasagna."

"Why? I already grabbed a hamburger on the way home." He noticed her crestfallen expression, and then hurriedly appended his statement, trying to lift her mood. "Baby, I didn't want you to feel like you had to hurry and fix me something when I got home. I thought it would help you out.

"Why don't we go upstairs..." A suggestive caress of her shapely bottom. "I could really use a neck rub."

Giving them their privacy, I busied myself by clattering dishes about in the sink and ignoring their footsteps as they left the living room.

The house was still as I crept back downstairs for my weakness: a handful of Oreos that I would heartily enjoy despite my attempts of maintaining a healthy diet as often as possible.

When I approached the kitchen in my usual soundless manner, I became aware of two things. Firstly, Claire had not heard my progress downstairs. The angle of the kitchen entryway was just such that she would not see me until I actually set foot in the room. And second, she was more gorgeous than I had imagined.

Standing by the sink with a full tumbler of milk, she wore nothing but an oversized cream-colored nightshirt with a pink rosette pattern. Her unbound breasts swelled delightfully against the fabric, and I got a more than generous look at her creamy cleavage as she tilted her head back to swallow another sip of milk. Her belly, full and lovely as she neared the end of her sixth month of pregnancy, protruded like a large melon just beneath her chest, but was still high and firm. Legs still shapely and long ended in bare feet with pink toenails, and I could smell the scent of her soap and shampoo as I drew nearer to her.

"Alex!" she exclaimed, opening her eyes when she heard my footsteps on the linoleum flooring. "God, you scared me!" She clutched the glass in both hands, her full cheeks overtaken by a bright blush.

"Sorry," I grinned, leaning past her to retrieve my secret stash of cookies. "I just had a sweet tooth attack and thought I'd come downstairs to grab some Oreos."

Claire was looking at me, and something in that enchanting blue gaze made me pause. She turned, putting her glass down for a moment to lean in close to me, scrutinizing my face. She was close enough for me to see the slight sprinkling of freckles on her nose and detect the subtle minty aroma of her breath.

"You really look nothing like Dave," One petal soft hand reached up to trail down my five o'clock shadow as her dark lashes fluttered in her efforts to take in every feature and expression on my face. "It's weird, isn't it? Genetics, I mean. You two are so different."

I knew in an instant what she meant and what she wanted, and I intended to give it to her despite my best efforts to never bed another man's woman.

Glancing over her shoulder, my craving for cookies was forgotten as an entirely new hunger for sweet flesh took its place. She followed my eyes and then offered a conspiratorial smile.

"Asleep," she whispered, her fingertips still caressing my cheekbone. "I gave him a hand job and he crashed out. He won't wake up."

"Claire, I don't know what you're up to, but I—" I had to at least offer the token protest to disguise the eagerness flooding my cock.

She flinched, her hands flying over her belly as she closed her eyes in discomfort, and then offered me an embarrassed smile.

"Baby. She's got quite the kick on her. I think she'll be a great soccer player."

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Fine. Well, don't let me keep you from your cookies. I'd steal some, but it all goes straight to here." She swept her hands over her breasts, belly and hips before retrieving her glass of milk.

"Well then," I sighed, grabbing the bag of cookies and heading for the door. "Night, Claire. Will you lock up before you turn in?"

"Yes."

I climbed the stairs, and it was like ascending from warmth and coziness to cold shock. What had just happened? My brother's wife had just put the moves on me! And not only was she his wife, but she was rotund with carrying their child! Oh, this was fucking nuts.

No harm. No foul. Just enough dirty and lecherous thoughts to keep a priest busy for weeks in a confessional. Not to mention the urgent date I had with a box of tissues. As much as I wanted to bury myself up to the root in her in that quiet kitchen, I would have to deal with the wrath of my older brother if he ever found out, and he did not adhere to the same set of morals and conduct I did. Especially where physical aggression was concerned.

I settled back into my bed, reveling in the darkness and using it to soothe my inflamed libido. Music. I needed music. Groping for my remote in the dark, I knocked the box of tissues off my nightstand. They landed with a soft thump on the corner of the mattress, and I took it as an omen from the gods.

Radiohead played and I unzipped my fly. In a matter of seconds, I pulled out my cock and closed my eyes, losing myself in the music and my fantasies. It was not the first time I had masturbated over thoughts of Claire and I in various sexual acts, but tonight the pleasure was heightened by the recent contact of her fingertips against my face. I thought I could still feel the warmth of them like phantom fingerprints on my cheek, and my cock throbbed in response to the memory of her curvy body being so close to mine.

I came in less than two minutes.

The Oreos were left neglected on the computer desk. Sleep carried me away, still sprawled in my bed, fully dressed with my flaccid penis hanging out of my pants.

Not right. Something was not right. I struggled against the black veil of sleep that surrounded me, and the feeling of shaking off sleep while still dressed reminded me of what I had done prior to nodding off. But aside from that, something else was different. The music. My CD player was starting up again. I recognized the opening track. And I knew I wasn't alone.

In the faint glow of the alarm clock, I saw her. She had her back to me, but she was standing near the bookcase where my stereo component system was located, her hair almost the color of blood in the dim light, her legs pale. As I followed them up, I realized she was naked.

"Claire?" I yawned, struggling to a sitting position and hastily stuffing myself back into my pants.

"Shhhh!"

When she turned to face me, I thought I might just erupt all over again. She was beautifully naked, and she was the most sensual and gorgeous woman I had ever seen, pregnant or not.

"Please don't say anything," she begged, sitting on the edge of the bed by my feet. "You're a man, Alex. A man I feel so attracted to, and that's so unusual these days." She looked pointedly down at her belly, slowly running her hands over it. "If I'm going to stay here until Dave gets his shit together, I don't see why we can't get to know each other better.

"You don't have a woman, and for all intents and purposes, I'm married strictly in the legal sense of the word. It feels so good to have sex when you're pregnant, but Dave never wants to. He doesn't like my body right now. And when you looked at me tonight—hell when I moved in—I felt pretty again."

Claire had put on some sweet vanilla perfume, and when she stretched out next to me, it filled my nose and befuddled my senses. With all she had said, I understood that she hadn't been as oblivious as I'd supposed. She was lonely and needed to feel like a woman, not just a soon to be mother, and she knew I would be happy to oblige.

"Claire, I've never been with a pregnant woman. I don't want to hurt you. Is it safe?"

"Completely safe," she assured me, rolling onto her side to embrace me, the fullness of her swollen breasts pressed to my side as her lips grazed my temple. "I'll tell you if you need to stop."

I had to embrace her. I could not resist all that softness and beauty just within my grasp. When I reached for her, she gently placed one hand on my chest to stay my movements. With delicate precision, she carefully pulled each button of my shirt through its corresponding hole, sliding it off my shoulders with my help.

My pants followed, and soon she sat up to strip off my socks, then settled back against me, her breasts and belly warm weight against my side.

"You know," she began, bending to nuzzle my throat. "I saw your cock hanging out when I first came in, and it took all the will power I had not to bend over and kiss it."

I felt myself flush. Not only at what Claire had seen, but also at her brazen reaction to it.

"Well, let me just take care of you right now, pretty lady."

With a soft smile, Claire let me roll her onto her back, her skin almost glowing in the faint light, her eyes closing to leave shadows from her lashes on her cheeks. I didn't want to crush her, but carefully rolled on top of her, supporting my weight with my upper arms as I brushed my lips over her cheek. A shudder raced through her, and she appeared to be fighting back the urge to tackle me instead.

I kissed her forehead, eyes, cheeks, chin, and finally returned my attention to her lips. She opened her mouth to my tongue, and we let them swirl and mingle with one another the way fond lovers would instead of with lusty abandon, though that is what I longed for with all my being. As the weight of my stiff cock rested against her thighs, I felt her shift and part them slightly, endearing herself to me and assuring me that her desires matched my own.

I slipped my arms beneath her back for a moment, lost in the heat of our kiss and the warm silk of her hair against my arms. But she began to wriggle and seemed uncomfortable, so I propped myself up yet again, afraid to put too much weight on her belly.

Disengaging my lips from hers, I began to kiss down her throat to her full breasts. The nipples were a pale strawberry pink and very erect. She gently caught my chin, clearing her throat to speak.

"Umm, I just want you to know that sometimes I leak a little. I don't want you to freak out."

"I know," I whispered, reverently stroking the hot fleshy orbs with my palms. A coworker of mine had told us the story of his eight months pregnant wife riding him, and of how her nipples had begun to leak all over them both. I didn't have a pregnant woman fetish, but this somehow stirred my libido in ways I couldn't explain. "It's okay, Claire. You're beautiful. Just perfect the way you are."

With deliberate slowness, I stuck out my tongue to gently flick her right nipple. Until now, she had been watching me avidly, but when I repeated this act again, she moaned and shut her eyes, her body tossing restlessly beneath me.

I repeated it with her left, and then moved back and forth between the two, conscious of every sharp inhalation and of the way her nipples seemed to grow even firmer against my tongue. When I started to suckle them, she clutched my wrists, digging her carefully manicured nails into my skin as her breathing increased.

Like she warned, I did taste a bit of colostrum leaking from her left nipple. It was slightly thick and sweet, and I figured I had better ease up on her breasts and move on to other parts of her body before she noticed and thought better of what we were doing.

Thom Yorke sang on in the background as I sat up, placing a hand on each of her silken thighs to part them and drape them over my own spread legs. Heat radiated off her body and I decided I would have her dripping before I even touched her vagina. I didn't even look at it, but instead focused my attention on her legs.

I sat back to begin giving her a massage, starting with her feet. They were petite and a little swollen, but I was not surprised given how much she was on them all day.

Claire moaned in pleasure and contentment as I worked, and I watched as one of her hands strained around her protuberant belly to reach for my jutting organ. I gently patted it, then firmly pushed it down to her side.

"Just relax, Claire. I want to make you feel good."




Claire



By the time I made it to her hips and thighs, she had turned her face toward the window, her gingery hair veiling her features as she panted. She moved with subtle entreaty, and when my hands approached the apex of her thighs, I could feel the anticipation she was enduring.

When I ran a fingertip over the shaved mound of her pussy, she actually gasped, and another shudder made her back arch, even with its considerable burden. I leaned in, kissing her belly, inwardly amazed as something beneath the skin struck my lips. Claire giggled, reaching up to rub her tummy as I kissed down it toward where she wanted me most.

I took a pillow and gently urged her hips off up the blanket. Stretching out before her, I basked in just kissing and nibbling her thigh. She smelled like flowers and vanilla, and as I moved further up, I caught a slight hint of her feminine essence. It added its own delicate note to the sensory bouquet of Claire's body, and I truly had to force myself to slow down and take my time.

"Please, Alex," Claire groaned, her hips arching up off the bed for a moment. "I want you so bad it hurts."

"Shhh. Soon, honey. Soon."

I ran my tongue up one plump outer labia and her entire body quivered. I licked all the way up to the top of her silken pussy, then back down the other side, tantalized by the sweet folds just an inch away. While I kissed just shy of where she wanted me, I massaged her inner thighs that were tense with her need.

I don't think in all my twenty-five years, ten of which included lovers other than my own hand, I ever knew a pussy so sweet, and the exquisite taste and response of Claire was enough to make me undulate my own hips, rubbing my cock against the sheet in a fruitless quest for satisfaction.

The first stroke of my tongue over her hard little clitoris and Claire actually moaned aloud—a throaty, open-mouthed sound that I reciprocated, burrowing deeper into her hot folds to take her clit between my lips and tongue and suck.

"Oh my God," she panted, wiggling uncontrollably under my ministrations. With trepidation born out of tenderness, I slowly positioned a finger against her opening and she thrust her hips, moans freely escaping her lips now with the intensity of her pleasure.

In the fade between music tracks and Claire's inhalation, a rumbling snore drifted through the otherwise silent house. My desire renewed with no fear of discovery to hinder me, and I flicked my tongue over her clit as I worked another finger inside the tight heat of her juicy vagina.

The whooshing of my pulse in my ears added an urgent cadence as I devoured Claire, and I recalled all the moments in the past where I had been taken aback by her beauty and endearing personality.

Family picnics, Christmas parties, how she played with the children in our family.

Even the first time I met her at Christmas dinner two years ago when she and Dave had announced their engagement to our shocked, yet cautiously happy, family. The instant appeal of the beautiful mystery woman had veiled her even back then, and my father had chided Dave for not making an effort to drive up and see our family more often and for "keeping such a gem of a girl hidden away from us." She seemed so sweet and confident with herself that I wondered what she saw in my lay-about-brother even back then.

My tongue continued to lick and probe, and my mind rejoiced in the act. Each shudder of her body intensified the delirium of pleasure that enveloped my being. The soft suggestion of her fingers lightly caressing my scalp made me quiver, and when she began to moan more loudly and I could taste the swollen desire of her vagina, I only went at her more urgently and with more determination than ever.

"Alex," Claire gasped, her hands clenching into fists around my hair, her cunt squeezing two of my fingers in an enticing embrace.

Her scent filled my nostrils and her taste engulfed my entire being as she came, crying out loudly enough for me to shush her between kisses for fear she'd wake up Dave. The wind singing through the bare branches outside my window was a lovely duet with her slowing breath, and as we achieved a tense stillness together, I felt the roaring heat of my desire blazing through my veins.

"That felt so good." Claire murmured, and I felt her arms easing around my shoulders. In my ultra sensitive state of excitement, I was barely aware of collapsing by her hip or of repeatedly licking my lips to capture every last drop of her sweetness. "Come here, Alex."

In the darkness behind my closed eyes, I felt the warm silk of her hair and the even warmer satin of her skin as her arms wrapped around me, settling me beside her on the mattress. I even felt the protuberant roundness of her belly against my side. It was unusually tense and I lowered a hand toward it, caressing it with awe and gentleness. She made no move to stop me. I stroked the taut swell of her stomach as I tried to gain some composure, the scalding steel desire of my cock making it hard to think clearly.

"It's okay," Claire soothed, reading my distress in my face. "I won't break, Alex. It's all right."

Limbs entwined, lips hungrily seeking then devouring the kisses we offered each other, I was high on anticipation and voluptuous female flesh. I'm certain she could taste trace hints of her juices on my lips, but she didn't seem to mind. Her boldness and apparent nonchalance about kissing me after I had just ate her out combined with the steady determination with which she pursued me made it impossible to resist her succulent pleas.

The usual requirement to give pause and take stock of how many condoms I had left fluttered from my mind like the wrapper from one of those phantom prophylactics as I excitedly recalled her state. I forced a couple slow and steady breaths, wanting her to enjoy every sensation I gave her as much as she had enjoyed my mouth.

Our tongues parried with one another, then I let mine trace along her lower lip as I reached for one of her small hands. Wrapping it slowly around the hot projection of my painfully hard cock, I helped her stroke the smooth shaft, my breath trembling as my kisses grew more distracted.

Claire wriggled against me, and her thighs were wrapping around my hips as she motioned for me to lie on top of her. I was careful to catch my weight on my knees as her hand pulled the swollen head of my cock toward her pussy.

Our eyes met as she slowly ran the tip up and down her slippery slit, a soft moan of delight kissing my ears as her eyes narrowed.

"Mmm ... right there..." Claire used my cock like a toy, rubbing it over her clit in a slow back and forth motion, each glide of it over her slick folds making me wince and driving up my hunger for her a few more degrees.

"I want to be inside you, Claire."

"Not ... not yet."

Oceanic eyes squeezed shut, she was grinding her hips now, her nipples standing totally erect and begging for the attention my mouth so desperately wanted to provide. But I was lost in the sensual dance of our genitals gliding against one another. Scooting closer to her, I let the length of my shaft rub up and down over her pussy and felt her thighs tighten around my waist.

It occurred to me then that I had not known Claire as well as I had thought. Of course, she was rather quiet and unassuming, and I had always thought of her as just a nice girl. One of those girls who married, busied themselves with house keeping and children while their husbands worked, and relegated sex to something they put up with a couple times a month, (always in the dark and always missionary). But the length she had gone to tonight were all falling into place, as she had no doubt hoped they would.

She had shaved for me, she had read my eyes in the kitchen and been pleased at what she had learned, and she had strutted nude into my room not knowing whether I was awake or asleep. She had more balls than I had suspected, never mind the fact that she was carrying my brother's child.

The special opportunity I was about to have was not lost on me. Neither was the fierce hunger this beautiful girl possessed. I made up my mind then and guided my cock inside her. Claire's free hand reached up to score her nails down my chest, our bodies swaying together like trees in an increasingly turbulent tropical storm. She craved fucking, and I wouldn't deny a pregnant woman her craving.

Chills and a building tingle started in my cock and balls. Our hands were slick with her profuse secretions, and my head began to swim. I increased the pressure of my thrusts, and was about to bend and capture her succulent nipples in my mouth when she began to whimper.

Would she think of this night when she fell into bed after taking care of my niece, drowsy flashes of her former sex life creeping into her weary mind? Would she miss the feeling of my demanding cock rubbing against her engorged clit when she and Dave snuck in a quickie in the morning before he left for work? When she jilled herself off in the afternoon, kids in school and hubby at work, who would she think of? I wanted it to be me. I wanted her to think of tonight.

So close. We were both so fucking close. It was the fine line of pleasure and pain. The scalding heat of her cunt made my cock ache, and Claire's expression was one torn between desire and agony. How long since she had been filled to brimming with something other than her own fingers or a toy?

"Oh ... Oh God..."

A wince and gasp, and she was shuddering against me. I withdrew long enough to rub the head of my cock against her opening to draw out the moment, then shoved forward into the most tight and delicious pussy I'd ever known.

Guitars strummed, the bed squeaked, and I was in heaven with my brother's wife. Her cunt squeezed me like a vice, and her climax was so strong that she had a hard time catching her breath as I slammed into her, careful to hold myself up above her as her pussy struggled to accommodate me.

A delirium of silken crimson tresses, sweet perfume, hot wet flesh and impossibly arousing moans assailed my over aroused senses. I pressed frantic kisses to her rounded cheek, her throat, and the heaving ivory mounds of her breasts. A hint of wetness clung to my lips and I realized her nipples were leaking freely now. It was so exciting to be nailing my brother's wife. To know that we had aroused each other so much that she was leaking all over herself and my cheek as I pressed it to her left breast, my hips rocketing ever faster toward my own orgasm.

Like an oncoming freight train, I was building momentum. Claire's hands wrapped around the back of my head and she drew my mouth to hers, kissing me feverishly as our hips worked faster, the hard bulge of her belly between us and constantly reminding me of our illicit act.

Her body arched violently beneath me as her hands squeezed fistfuls of my hair, and I felt her coming again. All pretense of trying to make myself last evaporated, and I clenched her shoulders, slamming against her cervix as my own climax exploded, the world lost to me as I knew only the spurting of my semen and the pull of her muscles as she milked every last drop from my body.

We lay together, the sweat coating us now drying in the chilly air, my lips to the tender pink shell of her ear as she caught her breath, my cock slipping from her cream filled sex to fall against her thigh.

I don't know how long we lay there, the music finally fading, as my eyelids grew heavy. I felt her shifting and stirring, and then the rise of the mattress on her side as she got to her feet.

Cracking open my eyes briefly, I realized she thought I had dozed. She stood, stretched extravagantly, then turned to eye me with a soft smile. In the low light, I was able to see the glimmer of our juices as it ran down her thighs like pearls dropping from a salty sea, and I had to fight the smile that threatened the corners of my mouth.

Apparently satisfied with what she saw, Claire turned to leave, her hair swaying lusciously against her back as she strode to my bedroom door, opened it silently, and then stole away into the darkness. Seconds later, the upstairs bathroom door closed. I fell asleep, covered in her sweat and secretions, thankful I accepted that fateful call as my conscious mind fled into the wild wood of sleep.

Winter dawned heavy and gray the next morning as my alarm's soft yet persistent beep drew me out of bed. Like a snake from a fakir's basket, I acted more on instinct than conscious mind at this time of day, and the telltale indicators of the previous night's events went almost unnoticed until I realized I wasn't wearing my usual boxers. I also detected a familiar fragrance and upon examining it through the filter of drowsiness, inhaled the still lingering scent of vanilla and musk in the air.

As if to confirm my sudden recollection, I heard a knock at my bedroom door, and then it opened and Claire entered. She held a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, and looked ravishing and very pregnant in a heather purple skirt and jacket over a white blouse. She wore stockings and low heels, and her hair was swept back into a knot at her neck.

"Good morning," she cooed, setting the plate on my desk, smiling as it rested on top of the bag of cookies. "I have to go out and apply for some apartments today, and Dave's already left to go job hunting. I just wanted to bring you some breakfast and tell you that I don't regret last night at all.

"In fact," she walked fully into my room, reaching down to gently flick my cock with her index finger. "If we get the chance, I'd love to do it again. You're so much better in bed than your brother. See ya later, Alex."

I was glad she left then, because the erection her words caused would not be subdued. It took a good dollop of shampoo and a lot of determination in the shower to beat my cock into submission, but replaying the mental loop of last night worked in short order. As I dressed and readied myself for work, I felt almost giddy. It was a bit embarrassing, really, but I was as randy as a sailor on shore leave now that this final barrier between Claire and I had been breached.

The day passed in a haze. Jeff, my closest coworker and ceaseless hunter of new vagina, noticed the spring in my step and twinkle in my eyes I tried desperately to hide.

"You got some ass last night." He offered me a conspiratorial smirk as he poured some creamer into his coffee, his unruly black hair tugged back into a tail, the piercing in his nostril catching the ambient office light.

I could only watch him pour tiny cups of cream into his coffee, and think of Claire and her glass of milk. My cock sprang to life again in my pants, and I instantly longed to go home for lunch today.

"Yeah." I sighed, my gaze flicking to the lights above.

"How'd you manage that one with your brother and sister around? I hope she wasn't a moaner."

"Oh, she wasn't too bad. We kept it down."

The house was filled with the scent of a savory beef roast and vegetables when I came home, and the radio was on. I didn't recall the radio being on much at all over the last few weeks, and noticed the mood she had set and the CD she swiped from my player.

"Hi." Her voice called from the kitchen. I smiled at the lovely domestic picture we could have made as I hung my coat on the coat tree and followed the delicious aroma of dinner.

"Hi. How are you feeling?" Unable to resist, I approached her while she stood at the stove, fussing over gravy. I slipped my arms around her waist, reaching up to cup her breasts.

"Tired, but good. I got a few applications in today and should be hearing back in a week or so. There's this cute little two bedroom just east of downtown, and it would be perfect if we could get a steady income..."

block quote My hand roamed over her belly and down her maternity skirt. block quote end

My hand roamed over her belly and down her maternity skirt. It was stiff and professional like a tailored business suit, but had some extra elastic, which was aiding me in my endeavor.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Shhh."

My fingers dove into the lacy panties she wore and straight for her clitoris. She winced, her constant stirring slackening a bit as her head fell back against my shoulder, lumpy gravy be damned.

"Feel good?" I breathed, bending to nuzzle her temple as her breathing increased.

"Mmmm-hmmm." She managed, her belly growing tense against my arm. "So good..."

The spoon slipped from her fingertips and sank beneath the fragrant gravy with a muted thump, and Claire reached down to hang onto the edge of the stove, her full weight against my back as my fingers slid over her clit in a frantic rhythm. Finally, she gasped, her eyes closed, and I felt her vagina quiver with her climax.

That night as all three of us ate dinner together, Dave commented on the lumps in Claire's usually smooth gravy, as her foot caressed my leg beneath the table, and I nearly choked on the bread I had been eating.

My mother found it unusual and suspicious that Dave and Claire hadn't found a place yet. She found it stranger still that I didn't seem all that bothered about it. But Claire and I were excellent actors. We would play our parts perfectly whenever Dave was around; she apologizing for still being here and taking up my time, I gently offering suggestions to help them get on their feet. But when we were alone, we were lovers perfectly happy with the arrangement.

We also fucked in almost every room of the house. The sweetest and most memorable (or shameful depending on how you felt about it) was the evening Dave went out to the bar and she had lured me into their room with an unfinished blowjob. Once she got me where she wanted me, she left the bedroom door open and pushed me back onto the bed, climbing on top of me and riding me so hard I thought we might break it.

All our covert bliss came to an abrupt end, however. We had planned for an afternoon quickie one frosty Monday in February since Dave was across town and I had work I could bring home.

When I arrived home, I found Claire sitting in the rocking recliner, her face ashen and her hands grasping her belly.

"Alex, I need to go to the hospital. I'm not feeling well."

"Did you call Dave?"

"He has his ringer off and—" She gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as she went rigid in the chair.

"Hang on, sweetie. We're going. Do you have a bag packed?"

"No..." Her voice trembled, and her eyes glittered with tears.

"I'll go upstairs, and you yell what you need me to bring and where it is, okay?"

Faster than Hermes, my feet flew up the stairs, and I found her black overnight bag and frantically tossed the requested items inside. Once I found her insurance card, I ran downstairs and picked up my bursting beauty and hurried her out to the car.

"Would you like some coffee?" A pleasant and calming labor and delivery nurse offered as I paced the hallway outside Claire's room. Her cries assailed my ears as I felt a strange lump in my throat. The nurse reached out to gently pat my arm. "She's going to be fine. She's far enough along. Baby might just be a little small, but I think they'll be all right. But if Dad doesn't hurry, he's going to miss it. Her contractions are really picking up." At this point, an ear-piercing scream tore from the room, and the nurse looked in that direction. "I think she might be ready for some pain meds."

Just then, Dave came bustling up the hall toward us, out of breath and beet red.

"What happened? Did she fall? Is she okay?"

"Claire's fine," The nurse reassured. "And you're about to become a daddy."

"Now?? But she's not supposed to have the kid now! She had another month or something!"

"I think the baby would disagree. Now, if you'd like to go hold your wife's hand, I think she would be very grateful."




Claire



Dave disappeared then reappeared minutes later.

"She wants you here, Alex. I don't know ... just don't look at her ... you know ... down there."

"Of course not," I nodded, still stunned over the entire situation.

The next few hours were loud and tense. Claire looked pale as cream and was drenched in sweat, her small hands gripping the bed as her labor intensified. I didn't know what to do or even if I should be there. But when she saw me, her eyes sparkled briefly. She reached for my hand, cracking my knuckles as another contraction began.

Four hours, a lot of blood, and some ear-piercing screams later, Renee Alexandra Grace was delivered. I respected my brother's wishes and didn't watch the tiny baby's entrance into the world, but it was a transcending moment for all three of us. Dave sat in the chair beside his wife's bed, turning a few shades of green at the rather gory event, Claire was spent and even paler, and I looked from the new mother to my freshly swaddled tiny niece in wonder. My feelings of lust had gone, but were replaced with amazement, wonder, and respect for what Claire's beautiful body had accomplished. When she asked for water, I was the first to the sink to get her a drink.

"This is the last of it," Dave panted as he and I carried a dresser up two flights of stairs. "Thanks, man. For everything."

"No problem," I said, and meant it. We had been combing shops for the furniture they had not been able to fit in storage and were forced to leave behind when they had left their last apartment. "I'm just happy she'll have her own little nest now, you know? She really wanted this place."

"Yeah," Dave said with uncharacteristic sweetness. "Our own place and a factory job. At least I won't run out of work."

"Damn right. And you'd better not." He shot me a hostile glare and I shrugged. "Just saying. That wouldn't be wise. Especially now."

We picked the bulky piece of furniture up off the landing and hurried up the open stairwell to the hall where their apartment was located. The building had a lot of students, and I knew they'd want to move in a couple years when finances allowed, but it certainly wasn't a bad place to raise a baby.

Dave flung open the door, and we stomped snow from our shoes as we lifted the dresser over the threshold. I closed the door behind us and we put the furniture down, listening to the quiet.

The apartment smelled like clean baby and coffee, and we advanced back down the tiny hall to peer into Renee's nursery. Claire sat in the rocking recliner I had given her, nursing the baby and watching snowflakes swirl outside the window.

"Could you go put on more coffee, Dave?" She yawned, her eyes sleepy, the infant's head tucked beneath her button up blouse. "I'm so tired..."

"Sure," Dave left, glad for something to do. I advanced into the room, listening to the suckling sounds and soft grunts coming from under Claire's pale pink top.

"How are you doing?" I hadn't seen her in a week. They had moved the necessities into their apartment, and Dave and I had been finishing up as time allowed. I brushed her cheek with my knuckles and she offered a faint smile.

"Well, as long as I don't look at the circles under my eyes or assume I'll get enough sleep, I'm fine. I think I'm getting back most of my energy and I don't hurt as much."

"Good." My hands fidgeted at my sides, and she looked out the window, the smile still playing at the corners of her mouth.

"I'd like Renee to get to know what a great uncle she's got. Don't be a stranger, Alex."

"I promise you I won't."

Renee's head emerged from beneath Claire's shirt, and she placed the tiny baby over her shoulder to pat her back.

"I'm glad to hear that." Then, she added in an even more soft tone. "I'd still love to make you dinner sometimes. Maybe another roast..."

"Sounds delicious. I'll make sure you have a spare key."

Finis



Claire



Hi everyone,

This is another story that has been a long time in the writing – as you can see I'm trying to 'catch up'. It's on a new tack! I wanted to explore some different ideas so I decided to write a series of 'encounters' using the same guy. I was always taken by the Faust legend and particularly enjoyed a 'modern' fantasy version I read in my youth about a guy who trades off various things for advantage so I thought I'd adapt the legend in this way. The first one I submitted was Katja in the Celebrities group [and, yes, I know I spelt the name with a 'y'. That was a slip of the keyboard!]. 

Difficult to know what section to put this episode in because the whole series is really Fantasy and SF but each will have a different focus. Anyway I chose Loving Wives – though it will probably get vilified! Read it to the end to see why I chose LW. Be warned there is, as per usual, plenty of hard but loving anal sex and all other kinds as well.

It is pretty much my usual fare so please read and enjoy. This story stands alone but, if feedback is positive I might take it further into Claire's marriage and some group sex.

It was a great weekend with Sandy and Hannah, sex, sex, sex, all the way. I hadn't seen them for six months – all the time I'd been with Karen so they were pretty frisky! I did manage to satisfy them both though, particularly their arses which seemed to miss my cock more than their cunts. They both took three loads there and seemed to enjoy sucking the lot out and passing it between their mouths – very sexy and usually resulted in me managing another session.

I particularly liked having them leaning over the arms of my settee: one at each end. This pushed both arses up in the air and allowed me to drive down into them, changing now and again. But enough of them – well they couldn't get enough really – they were bloody insatiable. I'd be glad when Bruno came over!

I drove them both back on Monday morning intending to stay down in Brighton for the day and have lunch with them then stay a night or two. I seldom went to their houses because I didn't want to start any gossip, that's why I usually saw them in my flat in London.

On the way back they told me about Claire. She was one of their 'circle'. Just a year older than Sandy at 38, she was an attractive woman according to the two of them. Attractive and very, very, frustrated. 

"Her marriage is OK," Sandy told me, "but there's no buzz. He's quite a nice bloke and quite dishy really but, oh hell Mike you know, he doesn't really appreciate her. Well not sexually anyway. They only do it now and again and she doesn't get much from it," she smiled sexily, "she needs a 'cock' input!"

I laughed, "Sandy love, your solution to any female problem is a stiff cock!"

"Mmm," she laughed, "preferably yours, eh Hannah?"

Hannah laughed in return, "You bet! Seriously Mike, she's only ever been with him and she has these wonderful fantasies. We've told her about you . . ."

"Not ALL about me I hope," I interjected, "I'm not sure a naïve woman could stand hearing about ALL we do."

They both laughed, "No, not ALL," said Sandy, "not about the DP's and the gang-bangs!"

"I should hope not."

"Anyway," continued Hannah, "I don't think she really believed us. We're pretty sure that she didn't have much idea of what a man and a woman can really get up to – not like you anyway." I nodded and smiled in thanks.

"We want you to meet her Mike. We've arranged lunch today so it can happen."

"And we want you to seduce her!"

I laughed, "Ladies, ladies, I'm only human. You two are far too much for me!" Although, in truth, I was intrigued and, after all, I had finished with Karen – or, rather, she had finished with me! Not that I minded however.

"We aren't anything like too much for YOU, you devil! Anyway, we don't mind if you 'neglect' us for a while," she pouted, "you have for the last six months with that young dolly of yours, and it will be good for Claire."

Well I now am reluctant to disappoint a lady so I agreed. "I'll meet Clair," I said, "but she may not like me!" Unlikely I know because, if I liked her I would go to work. Mind you, if she was a frustrated as they said, it wouldn't be too much of a problem.

I dropped them both of at home so they could change then went to the restaurant to await their arrival in the bar. They were going to pick Claire up in a taxi. They arrived about an hour later looking much more the businessman's wife than they did in town. There they dressed to kill – and they did. Here they were dressed smartly. The woman they entered with was quite a looker and, I assumed, must be Claire. Well! One look told me that this would be a very, very pleasant assignment.

She was taller than both of them and darker. Her hair was auburn and fell straight to her shoulder. It framed a broad face, eyes wide apart, distinctly intelligent and very, very dark. Most important of all she wore spectacles. Now, and I know this is going to seem strange, but I do find them a turn-on. Above the specs, lovely eyebrows and long lashes. Soft nose, almost too small for her face, above luscious red lips. God, I thought, her husband must be bloody blind if what they told me was true. But then, well perhaps we men don't recognize just how lucky we are; take things for granted. Might have been me before the divorce – not any more though.

She was dressed pretty primly in a business suit but it did show off her curves, particularly her hips which were wide and when she turned I saw supported a gorgeously full bottom. Her breasts were fairly large as well and I longed to get a true sight of them. She wore high heeled boots that accentuated the thrust of her bottom and I couldn't help but think that those two hellions had prompted her to wear them knowing my particular preference.

"Hi Mike," said Sandy as they sat at the table. "This is Claire. Claire, Mike." She flashed a glance at me but didn't seem able to meet my eyes for very long. She was obviously embarrassed and shy. Thinking about what they had told me about her I could understand why. She must have wondered why they wanted her to have lunch with me but she must have been just a little bit aware!

I took her hand and raised it to my mouth, planting a soft kiss. "A pleasure Claire," I said and didn't let go until she did meet my eyes then I smiled my most fulsome smile and planted just a suggestion of desire in her mind, a flash of sexual desire. She smiled shyly back and blushed.

Hannah laughed, "Claire's not used to meeting handsome men," she said, "So you'll have to forgive her Mike."

I looked at them both and could see they were feeling somewhat superior to poor Claire so I thought to pop their bubble. "It's always nice to meet an attractive woman for the first time," I said with a smile, "and it is particularly pleasant just now." Now she met my eyes and smiled back.

"Thanks," she replied with a deep breath, unable again to meet my eyes. Time to take control.

"Do sit now ladies." They wanted Claire to sit next to me but that's not my style. I wanted her opposite so I could look at her. A longer look inside her mind told me that she wasn't really unhappy with her husband, it was just that their life was fairly uninteresting: particularly in the bedroom. I was surprised that she hadn't been with any other man either before or after her marriage. I think she loved him, in a non-sexual way, but was clearly frustrated; not much appeared to happen in the bedroom. She was also very, very nervous about meeting me because of what Sandy and Hannah had told her. Her manner suggested that I was portrayed as some kind of sexual athlete, although I hoped they hadn't told her all that we got up to. So my task through this meal was to ease her mind and to show her that I wasn't some kind of animal.

"Claire, you sit opposite so I can gaze into those lovely eyes!" I laughed as Sandy and Hannah rolled their eyes.

"He's always like that," laughed Sandy, "take no notice."

"But Claire does have lovely eyes," I went on, fixing her with mine and laughing at the other two, "so, no arguments. Claire you sit here, Hannah, Sandy, here." This is how I like to eat, with my partner opposite and, in this particular situation, my 'partner' was Claire – she was the one I wanted to impress and watch and you can do that better full face.

It was a pleasant meal spoilt only by Sandy who throughout continued to blast us all with double entendre causing Claire considerable embarrassment and much amusement to her and Hannah. To be honest I was getting a little bit annoyed with them, particularly Sandy who, I think, was showing off. It wasn't fair on Claire and I think she was becoming more and more uneasy as the meal went on. It got to the point where I had to say something.

After one particularly crude comment about my performance I turned to her and, with a great big smile, said, "Sandra my dear," that caught her attention. I rarely used her full name, if ever. "Sandra my dear I think you are embarrassing Claire," she glanced at me thankfully. "Now, if you don't stop I think I might have to put you over my knee and smack your delectable arse – HERE!" She looked at me rather sharply then at Hannah who shook her head.

"I think you'd better Sandy. You know Mike. He would do it!" She was right – I would have! 

Sandy looked rather contrite and turning to Claire said, "I'm sorry love," she laughed, "I got carried away." Then she went on, rather embarrassed, "I think I need to go to the loo: coming Hannah?" Hannah nodded and they both left leaving Clair and me alone.

"I shouldn't be surprised at Sandy really," I said with a smile, "she's a little . . . hot?" Claire smiled shyly in response and nodded in agreement – she knew? Made me wonder what they all got up to when they met? I reached across and touched her hand on the table. "I really would like to take you to dinner without those two. Get to know you better. Any chance?"

She looked flustered, "Errrmm. Oh, errm, I don't know. It's difficult in the evenings." Not a negative so there was a chance.

"Look," I said with a smile, "I'm down here for a couple of nights and, if you can make dinner tomorrow, I would be very pleased." I gave her my best smile and sent a small positive tweak into her head. As I've explained before, I can't actually get people to do anything they don't want to, I can only suggest, gently persuade, or plant ideas. If the desire is there in the first place it is much easier and, in Claire's case, I could sense that she wasn't against dinner, just saw the difficulties.

"I don't know," she said thoughtfully. Then she smiled shyly, "I suppose I could say I was going out with Sandy and Hannah."

"Mmm," I said, "Good idea but I think it might be best if they didn't know just yet. Here," I went on, "here's the hotel card with my room number on it. If I don't hear from you I'll assume you can't make it." I fixed her again with my eyes and added, "And very disappointed that will make me."

She blushed a bright red and I longed to see her naked, wondering whether she blushed all over. For a man like me there is something terribly beguiling about a mature woman who is relatively inexperienced. I find it even more exciting and enjoyable than with a young ingénue like Karen. Claire took the card and tucked it into her handbag as the others came back. For the rest of lunch Sandy was somewhat subdued and, at the end, stayed behind as Hannah led Claire out.

"Hell, I'm sorry Mike," she said apologetically. "It's you." I raised my eyebrows. "You know how I always get excited when you're about." Then she smiled her sexy smile, "I'm on my own at home?"

I kissed her cheek, she is a sexy lady is Sandy and I was, well fond of her I suppose. We weren't 'together' or an 'item' but we screwed regularly and I enjoyed her abandoned wantonness. "You, dear lady, are a houri. You would suck me dry given the chance!"

"Mmm, yes please!" she interjected laughing.

"No, you know I won't come to your house. It's too dangerous. It's good now, no danger. No problems. Anyway you've just had a weekend of being fucked silly and next month Bruno's coming over so . . ." I kissed the end of her nose, "you and Hannah will have to wait."

She poked her tongue out then, "What about Claire? Will you . . .?"

I laughed, "Never you mind," I said, "if I do I'm sure she'll tell you. Now off, they'll think I'm giving you one in here."

"I wish," she said laughing as she flounced away. I watched her arse as she left. God she is a sexy cow!

I went back to the hotel and booked in for the night then strolled along the seafront. It was a pleasant, early summer, afternoon and the female representatives of our race were in evidence. Aren't women wonderful? All shapes and sizes, glorious in their differences. Ah me! So back to the hotel for a pre dinner drink then to await the phone call that might come. It did come just as I was going in to dinner,

"Hi," I said, "is that Claire?"

"Mmm, yes. Look, errm, I can get out tomorrow evening. Is that all right?"

I smiled into the phone, "Yes, I look forward to it very much. How will we do it?"

There was a pause, "I, errrr, can get out for half an hour a bit later. I've said I have to see a friend. Can I come to the hotel?"

She was keen! Mind you there was no way I was going to attempt anything in half an hour! "Mmm, that would be nice. What time?"

"About 10?"

"I'll be waiting. Bye," I ended as the phone went dead. I supposed she was having trouble hiding the call from her family. So I had dinner then found a table in the bar from where I could see the hotel car park. A Mercedes drew up about five past ten and Claire emerged. I got up and met her at the door.

A big smile, "I'm glad you could make it," I said taking her hand. "I've nabbed a quiet table." She smiled shyly and allowed me to lead her inside.

"I can't stay long," she said breathlessly as she sat at the table.

I smiled, "Can I get you a drink?"

"I shouldn't, I'm driving. Just a fruit juice please." I got the drinks and returned to the table. I could tell she was as nervous as a kitten. I didn't know whether it was just meeting me or the worry that someone would recognize her but I decided to go on the offensive.

"You look very lovely tonight," I said appraising her with my eyes. She blushed, again making me think of her naked. Then she met my eyes.

"Sandy said you had a way with words," she said with a shy smile.

I laughed, "Did she tell you I'm known for my truthfulness? You do look lovely!" This brought an even redder blush and an embarrassed giggle – so becoming in a woman of her age.

"I'm, errm, oh heck I'm not used to doing this," she met my eyes.

"Why did you come?" I asked softly.

"I don't know," she said holding my eyes with hers, "I think . . . I think I like you . . ." she looked away embarrassed at the admission I think. It wasn't surprising really. I had been gently dropping positive images into her mind since she arrived and they were taking root.

I reached across to take her hand. "Claire love, this doesn't have to 'go' anywhere if you don't want it to." I laughed, "Sandy is delicious but she does tend to get a bit carried away. I don't know what she's told you . . ." Now I noticed a look of apprehension cross Claire's features so I guessed Sandy had told her quite a lot. Certainly all that two people could get up to! ". . . but we can just have dinner. I will enjoy that and I hope you will too."

Her look seemed to be one of relief. A quick look in her mind showed that she was so, so nervous about all this. She was interested, very interested, in a sexual liaison but she didn't want to jeopardise her marriage. That was clear. She loved her husband but it just wasn't working in bed and she was desperately frustrated. Rather, it wasn't 'not working' rather just 'not happening'. It was made worse as Sandy and Hannah had been filling her head full with (some of) their escapades.

To be truthful, although I am a bit of a bastard, taking women as I feel like it with my powers, I really don't like to break up marriages or hurt them. The guy I have my contract with isn't too fond of that approach, he would rather I was nastier about it but he'll have to wait a few years then he can have his pound (or rather several pounds) of flesh for eternity. It's a bit scary when I think about it but I tend to live for today!

So I wasn't keen to press Claire. Of course I wanted her, she was a new conquest, a new woman, a different women and that's what I lived for since my pact with Satan. In truth it was all I had really. No money worries: my investments took care of my financial needs – investments provided by himself. I decided then to let her decide, make the choice. No more tampering with her mind. She was lovely though and, I suspected, such a sensuous woman underneath.

Now she smiled, a full smile – the first I'd seen and I wondered, basking in that smile, how her husband could possibly neglect her. But then, well there was Sandy, there was Hannah, there were all the others. Husbands really don't know what their missing half the time if only they'd make the effort they'd find so much more pleasure at home than over the desk in the office.

"It's nice to see you smile," I said returning it. "Now tell me something about yourself. We didn't get much chance at lunchtime." And so we chatted for half an hour. I heard about her kids, her husband – he was the manager of a local bank so they weren't short of money. She seemed, I don't know, apologetic when she talked about him, as if she felt guilt about just having a drink with me. I tried to ease her mind, let her know that this drink together or even the meal tomorrow evening didn't mean that she had to sleep with me.

I decided to be blunt, "Claire love," I said touching her hand, "you haven't done anything yet." I laughed, "It's just a drink and a meal."

She fixed me with her eyes, "I know," she said, "but . . . " she hesitated, " . . . but it's what I'm thinking!"

"And what are you thinking?" I asked although I could look if I wanted to.

Now she blushed bright red again, "I don't really think I could tell you," she said with a shy smile.

I touched her hand again and felt some of her tension. "OK," I smiled, "I'll just have to imagine but Claire darling, it's all up to you isn't it. At the end of the meal tomorrow you'll know, I think, what you want to do." I took a deep breath, "Claire, I don't want to break up your marriage. Despite what Sandy and Hannah may say I'm not some kind of beast. If you decide you want to . . . you know . . . move on then I will be the most discrete person you could imagine." I smiled, "Anyway, you never know you may learn a few things to spice up your marriage!"

She looked at me wide-eyed and I could guess what she was thinking – well some of it anyway. Certainly if Sandy had been bending her ear! Then she looked at the clock. "Look," she said suddenly, "I think I have to go. What shall I do about tomorrow?"

"Just get a taxi to the hotel," I said, "I'll join you. OK?"

"Mmm. Time?"

"6:45?"

"OK. I must go!" She seemed reluctant. I stood and led her to the door. She seemed nervous and in two minds. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I smiled, "I look forward to it," I said as I lifted her hand and kissed the back, "very much!"

She blushed again and slowly withdrew her hand then returned to her car. I must admit that, as I watched her fulsome bottom sway across the car park I rather wished she wasn't leaving! Back to the room then for a quite night in. Mind you, after the weekend I had had with Sandy and Hannah I could do with the rest – despite my enhancements!

I spent Tuesday mostly on-line dealing with a few business issues then a long stroll on the front bumping into a few old friends. Returning to my room I showered and prepared for the evening. I was really looking forward to this because I'd set myself the challenge of NOT tampering any further with her mind. Would she 'succumb' without and further tampering? It was going to be fun finding out - and I do have an ego!




Claire



Well 6:45 came round as I waited in the hotel lobby and a taxi drew up outside. A glance showed me Claire in the back so I quickly joined her and gave the driver the address. I had decided to take her to a gaming club just outside Brighton. Strange you may think but I have always found that the food in these places is superb. After all they want you to feel good don't they so you'll gamble. Well, I did like a little flutter although not much point with cards as I could always find out what the other's hand was! I thought it might be interesting, and exciting, for Claire. I guessed she'd never been to a place like that.

She looked somewhat surprised as she heard the address. I smiled as I turned to her, "It's a great place to eat," I said, "and we can play the tables afterwards if you'd like."

"I've never been to a place like that," she said breathlessly, "am I dressed all right?" Well, to tell the truth, I couldn't really tell as she was sitting in the cab, but what I could see – a low cut evening dress and a very lightweight bolero top – looked bloody perfect. I think she was also asking me if I was happy with how she looked.

I sensed the tension in her as I took her hand and fixed her eyes with mine and, giving her a full smile, said, "I can't say exactly because we're in the back of a car but from here you look just about perfect!" 

She gave me a coy look, so becoming in a woman of her age, and a shy smile. I don't think she was used to being complemented. "I didn't really know how to dress. I haven't done this before."

"Well you look great," and she did. Half an hour saw us at the club then straight in to the restaurant where our table was waiting. As a member I used the club quite a lot so they always took good care of me. The meal was excellent as always and we ate and talked. I found out that her two boys, 17 and 19, were both still at home although they both had jobs. The older one was going off to university soon and the younger one wanted to join the Navy. Her husband, Bob, had spent a few years in the Navy before he was retired after an accident damaged his eyesight.

"Oh hell, Mike," she said finally, "I shouldn't, you know, be talking about them."

I smiled, "Why not?"

"Well . . . Oh I don't know. Oh dear," she was embarrassed, "I've never done this. I don't know what we should be talking about?"

I laughed, "We can talk about anything you like," I said. "The pleasure I get is being in your company!" I'm not really that corny but it seemed appropriate to complement her. I felt she needed it.

Now she blushed and looked away, unable to meet my eyes. "You are a flatterer," she said with a shy laugh.

"There you are, we can talk about you. Now tell me, because I am interested, what do you, Sandy, and Hannah get up to when you have your little gatherings?" Knowing Sandy and Hannah I could guess. Before I met them they were regular lovers, both relieving their frustrating marriages although Sandy used other methods as well – mainly frisky young men! This question caused a deep intake of breath, a sudden glance, and then a long look away.

"Well?"

"Oh," she said offhandedly, "we talk . . . you know . . . about this and that . . ."

"Just 'talk'? About 'this and that'?" I continued with a smile really rather enjoying her discomfort.

"Ooooooohhhhhhh!" she laughed shyly, "You know, don't you? Sandy's told you hasn't she?" She fixed me with her accusing glance though I could tell she wasn't angry.

"Told me what?" I asked with a smile and raising my eyebrows. I suspected exactly what she thought Sandy had told me. Actually Sandy hadn't said anything about their bedroom antics, well not about Claire being involved, but I suspected that she did take part.

"Oh you know. I know you know. She's told you!"

I laughed, "Claire darling, Sandy hasn't told me anything," I hesitated, "but I can guess!" She blushed again and again I wondered if it happened all over.

She laughed, "You are terrible! Sandy said you were," I nodded, "well . . . oh dear, you know don't you? Yes, yes well, errm . . ."

"So you did get up to something other than talking about this and that?"

"We . e . e . lll, yes. All right, we did, I did. With them. Oh heck I'm embarrassed."

"You look lovely when you blush," I said quietly.

Her look was wide-eyed and, for a woman of her age, remarkably innocent. God I wanted her. Errr, sorry about that boss! "Now tell me just what you three get up to?"

"Oh dear," she was unable meet my eyes, "I couldn't . . . well . . . no I couldn't."

"I suppose it was girl/girl/girl things was it?" She nodded shyly. "Was it any good?" I asked quietly.

She smiled shyly, "Weeeeeeellllll . . . . I don't know whether I should tell you!" I raised my eyebrows. "It was OK," she said finally after a long pause, "but, oh I don't know, not . . . you know?"

"No," I said smiling.

"You are a devil," she laughed, "Sandy was right!" A long pause then a coy glance. "Well I didn't think it was a good as with a man – there!" she ended with an almost stamp of the feet.

I laughed, "So there is a use for us males after all?"

She laughed back, her shyness seemed to be diminishing slightly as we got on to sex. "Yes," she said softly then went on as if remembering. "It was good when we started," she said softly. "Oh, neither of us knew anything, both beginners, but it was fun and we loved each other. I don't know . . . Now, oh dear! OH DEAR. Oh I'm sorry Mike I shouldn't . . . Oh god I'm sorry!"

I reached out across the table for her hand, "Don't worry," I said, "I don't mind. Anyway," I went on to lighten the conversation, "there you are! We did find something to talk about!" She flashed me a thankful glance. "Now," I went on, "how about some gambolling?" emphasizing the play on words.

She looked at me hard then smiled, "YOU meant gambling didn't you?"

I laughed, "Touché, yes I suppose I did. Gambling then," I ended with a sigh, "just gambling!" This brought another hard look followed by a smile. She was happy for the moment, playing the game!

So off to the tables. I got her some chips and she proved rather lucky on the roulette table, hitting number nine on her second bet. Not that she had any idea of what she was doing of course but she enjoyed that and a short time on the Blackjack table as well. It was near midnight now so I drew her to one side and said, "What time do you have to be home? Sod it," I said laughing, "that sounds like we're a couple of teenagers but you know what I mean."

"Oh it doesn't matter," she said offhandedly, "I sometimes stay overnight with Sandy." Was she suggesting . . .? I didn't think so. It was said without any artifice, very naturally, so I didn't think she was making an offer but I was determined to ask her back to the hotel.

"Do you want to stay a bit longer?"

"Mmm, I'm enjoying myself – and I think I'm winning," she added with a laugh. She was, quite considerably! So we had another hour or so playing the various games before she decided it was time to leave.

"How about stopping off at the hotel for a drink?" I asked as we waited for the taxi. I knew the night porter was only too happy to open the bar for me – he always got a pint or two. I suppose I had a slight idea that I might persuade her to stay but I didn't think so. Still no harm trying!

I could see from her eyes that she read more into the suggestion than I meant and she hesitated. "Just a drink," I said, "so I can enjoy your company for a while longer." 

She smiled shyly and nodded, "OK then, just a drink . . ." Was she flirting? Suggesting more? I didn't look into her mind just then but took her hand as the taxi arrived and guided her to the car.

Back at the hotel the night porter opened the bar for us and got the drinks, just a bottle of wine that I would finish later. He was happy, he got a pint and a chaser! We sat in one of the secluded corners, not that there was anyone about, and chatted; mostly about the food and the gambling. She had done quite well with the £50 of chips I had given her.

"I can't keep this," she said with a laugh, "it's nearly £4000. I won't be able to explain all this." 

"Well," I said laughing back, "you did insist on number 9 and you did put all of the money on it. Reckless? Yes but if it comes up like it did, you win a lot of money. Just put it somewhere and buy yourself some nice things."

"Mmm, OK. Bob will think I'm fiddling the accounts," she added laughing. Then, suddenly, "Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't . . . about him. Oh dear . . . I'm embarrassed."

"Don't be, I don't mind," I said with a smile. "I'm just enjoying a drink with a beautiful woman." This brought a long look and a deep breath.

"I think I'd better be going," she said finally unable to meet my eyes.

I reached across to cover her hand with mine, "You can stay?" Both a question and a statement. Now she looked at me and I could see the conflict of emotions that crossed her features. 

She said nothing for a few moments then a deep breath, "Oh . . . I want to," her eyes met mine, "but . . . Oh dear . . . No. No, I must go." I looked inside her mind then and saw the confusion and conflict there. Her body wanted to stay, wanted it badly for she was frustrated. Her mind was telling her why not. Bob would never find out, but her emotions, the fact that she cared for him, were holding her back. It wasn't fair on her! Oh I know that his nibs would expect me to just nudge her a bit and bed her but, well sod him. I would lets things take their course.

I took her hand and stood. "I'll get Stan to call a cab," I said softly. She stood and we waited in an embarrassed silence in the lobby for the cab to arrive. I didn't want to put any more pressure on her and I think she just wanted to get home. The cab arrived and she made to leave but I stopped her, put my arms around her and kissed her lips. Not hard, not passionate, just a nice kiss. "Thanks for a lovely evening," I said softly. "I hope we can do it again some time."

She drew away and looked at me then, breathlessly, "Yes, yes. Oh thank you too. I haven't enjoyed myself so much for a long time." She seemed to want to say more but I thought that it was best she left on that not so I eased her out to the cab. I waved as she disappeared.

"Quiet night?" enquired Stan as I returned.

I laughed. "Mmm," I said, "but there is potential."

"You are a lucky bugger," he said with a laugh, "wish I could have behaved like you when I was your age!"

"You're never to old Stan," I said, "go out and get yourself a young mistress!"

"Wife would bloody kill me," he said laughing.

"There is that! 'Night Stan," I laughed back as the life door closed.

I booked out in the morning then back to my flat in town. Wednesday was spent in business, meeting various people who looked after my investments. I didn't really work, just kept an eye on things. All part of the 'arrangement'.

Thursday to Lords to watch the first day of the Test Match – a very relaxing day apart from the 8 wickets we lost! Back to the flat after a meal to a ringing phone. It was Claire – which surprised me.

"Hello Mike."

"Is that Claire?"

"Mmm, how are you?" she asked nervously.

"I'm fine: you?"

"OK." Then a rushed, "Errrm. Look . . ." a deep sigh. "Errrm . . . I'm, errr, coming up to town tomorrow. Errm, I wondered . . ." Now she seemed to gather herself. "I'm coming up to town tomorrow morning and I wondered if we could have lunch together." I heard a sigh of relief as she finally managed to get it out.

No doubt of course, even though I'd miss the second day of the Test Match! "I'd love to," I said with enthusiasm, "what time does your train get in?"

"11.35."

"I'll meet you at Victoria," I said. "How long are you in town?"

There was some hesitation. "I'm going to stay with my Aunt for the weekend. I do sometimes and we go out shopping." I must admit that that came over as a bit 'weak' but I didn't press.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," I said, "look after yourself. 'Bye."

"'Bye," she said now with a smile in her voice. Interesting I thought, very interesting. Still all would be revealed on Friday.

So I met her at Victoria. She was dressed casually in a light jacket over a pastel pink blouse. A loose skirt and low heeled shoes completed a simple, yet effective, outfit. She greeted me with a shy smile and I returned a bigger one. "It really is good to see you again so soon," I said, "I thought that, perhaps, you didn't really enjoy Tuesday that much." I was teasing I know, just trying to ease her nervousness.

"Oh no, no. I mean yes. Yes I did. It's just that Bob and the boys are away this weekend walking in the Lakes and I thought I'd visit . . . you know . . . my aunt." Hmm, I thought taking a peek into her mind and quickly seeing that this was a load of tosh but I would humour her. It was clear that she wanted to jump but needed a bit of a push.

"Here," I said, "let me take your case. We'll leave it in left luggage then come and get it after lunch. OK?" She seemed somewhat disappointed at this but nodded OK.

"You'll like the restaurant," I said as we left the station, "it's Italian. Heck," I continued, "I didn't ask. Do you like Italian food."

"Mmm," she said with a smile, "I do."

"Good." The restaurant is in a road just off Knightsbridge, almost opposite Harrods in fact, and is superb. I eat there a lot because I don't cook when I'm in town. My town flat is really only for one purpose and is designed as such. The kitchen is OK for breakfast or supper but not for cooking a proper meal.

We got there quite early and enjoyed a couple of glasses of wine before the meal so, by the end, she had loosened up quite a lot and, to be frank, she was getting more attractive by the moment. She laughed at my double entendres and was happy to meet my eyes full on. I must admit that I did have trouble stopping myself from nudging her just a little to make sure that she didn't go to her aunt's! That, however, didn't stop me from prying.

"Do you visit your aunt very much," I asked as we finished the wine.

"Errm . . . Well a couple of times a year really. I do it when Bob and the boys go away usually." She fixed me with her eyes and a strange expression appeared on her face. It was questioning but sad. I looked inside her mind and saw that she was still in something of a quandary. I knew now that she wanted to stray, to learn, to enjoy, just as Sandy had told her she could but still there was that affection, that caring side that didn't want to hurt anyone. She needed to be 'taken' across that divide, given a reason – time to move.

I reached across the table and put my hand over hers. I could sense her nervousness now that she was – vulnerable I suppose. She knew I knew she was free for the weekend, would I do anything about it? "Do you have to stay with your aunt?" I asked softly, "you could stay with me."

She took a deep breath, a sigh, then, "Oh god, I want to . . . You make me . . . It's just like Sandy said." I raised my eyebrows questioningly. She smiled sadly, "She said you did this. God I don't want to hurt anybody but . . . I want . . . you," she ended with a direct look and a deep breath, "so much it hurts."

I could see tears forming in her eyes as her conflicting emotions and desires clashed. Luckily we were in a secluded corner of the restaurant so nobody could see or hear our conversation. "I don't want to hurt anybody either Claire but I do want you." I smiled sadly, "Have from the moment we met," which was true. "Come back with me. Have fun, enjoy yourself. Honestly Claire darling, no one will get hurt. I promise you." Hell I thought (rather appropriate really) another pile of demerit marks from his nibs. And I was serious – no one would get hurt. I had already worked out a way to end our relationship amicably for everyone even before it had started!

She couldn't meet my eyes and I could sense her embarrassment. If she said yes she probably knew what she was in for. I wouldn't hold back. She would give everything and she would be tacitly agreeing to anything I had in mind. I was sure that Sandy and Hannah had briefed her pretty well. Mind you, she would enjoy doing it and learning some new things!

I squeezed her hand, "Well Claire?" 

I sensed the sea change as she lifted her head and smiled. Taking a deep breath she said, "Yes, oh yes. I want to." And so we left the restaurant, picked up her bags, and got a taxi to my flat.

The flat is in Kensington Gardens. It's the top floor of an old Edwardian house. I've got two bedrooms, a large lounge that looks out over the square, a kitchen with a dining area, and bathroom that can be entered both from my bedroom and the hallway. The flat has only one purpose really – the pleasure of sex! The décor is totally hedonistic and worships the female form. Any woman who enters the flat immediately knows exactly what will happen to her there. The walls are decorated with prints from sexual manuals like the Karma Sutra and beautiful men and women in various different sexual positions. I have a large collection of figurines of a more questionable nature, some showing pretty explicit sexual acts.

Don't get me wrong, I couldn't live here all the time! I have a house in the suburbs of south London where I spend most of my life. That's where I met Karen – and her fiancé! 

I opened the door and showed her in. The hallway is quiet and peaceful, nothing like the other rooms. I took her case and placed it in the second bedroom, another room that was decorated in a fairly expansive style. This was the 'female' room and had many pictures and ornaments that had been chosen by various partners since I made my deal. Most were sexual in nature – it was a room where a woman could let her imagination roam into forbidden areas!

"You can use this room when you want to . . . errm . . ." I smiled, "get away!"

She smiled shyly as I led her into the lounge. To be honest the only woman who has never been phased by this room is Sandy and it quickly began to have it's effect on Claire. Her eyes widened as they surveyed the room then fixed on the large picture over the central fireplace. My favourite. it showed me firmly entrenched in the gorgeous arse of one of my favourite porn stars. It shows her lovely face looking back, eyes widening in amazement, as I fill her with a major dose of cum. It always brings back memories of my three months in the San Fernando valley!

She turned to look at me, her eyes now widening and her face flushed in a mixture of embarrassment and desire. I knew where I was going! Smiling, I raised her chin and bent to kiss her lips. No innocent kiss this. It was meant to tell her exactly what I had in mind and was, I suppose, her 'Rubicon'. She didn't pull away and, when the kiss ended, as we parted she reached up and held my head to hers, returning the kiss. I reached up to remove her spectacles then, as her body melted into mine, my hands ran down her back and across the glorious globes of her bottom.

A sigh in the kiss but no pulling away and a tentative touch of tongues which turned into a full blooded meeting! My hands were stroking her back and one now moved to her shoulder to move her blouse slightly to allow my mouth to find her shoulder and the top of her breast. Wanting more I moved back a trifle and began to undo the buttons. Her look was one of surrender as I neared the finish and eased it from her skirt. I slid my hands along her body, removing the blouse as I did so. Her look didn't change as I bent my head and kissed the tops of her wonderful tits, running my tongue into the dip between.

Back to her shoulder then her mouth with my tongue probing gently. Then a whispered, "Turn round." She obeyed immediately and I unhooked her bra, eased it off, and dropped it to the floor. My hands covered her tits. I'm not good at size but they fitted my hands perfectly. Obviously not as taught a Karen's but a deal larger than both her, Sandy and Hannah. I cupped them and gently pulled her body back to mine. I was rock hard by now and she must have felt that through the various levels of clothing. Me, I was becoming uncomfortable because my cock had managed to get stuck so I reached down and, undoing my fly, adjusted myself. I didn't get it out just yet – plenty of time. Now my cock could find a home between her gorgeous buttocks although her skirt was in the way just now.




Claire



I needed that skirt out of the way so reached to the zip and unhooked it. She must have felt my hands there because there was a soft cry of surprise but no move to stop me. Skirt undone, I moved back a bit and slipped it over her generous hips allowing it to drop to the floor. She was naked apart from her, very simple and plain, knickers. She looked so shaggable it wasn't true! I was going to fuck her like this, in the lounge over the back of the sofa. OK, not ideal, I prefer a bed – more comfortable - but she was in the mood now and once fucked she would be more amenable later.

I'm no saint! How can I be when I signed on with Satan? Once she stepped into my flat she gave tacit agreement to her complete and total de-flowerment. I would fuck her every which way, her mouth, her cunt, and hopefully, her arse would succumb to my cock. Any woman who came in here got fucked – that was my rule and I applied it. Claire would learn what it meant to be totally and completely suborned to my, and I hoped eventually to her, sexual desire. By the time she left on Monday morning she would know the meaning of being fucked!

I didn't turn her yet. I was happy to feel my cock, through just underpants and knickers, nestling in the crease of her arse and my hands running over her tummy and tits. She seemed happy as well! I carried on biting, nibbling, kissing her neck and shoulders whilst caressing her tits and nipples. There were lots of sighs and shudders as she enjoyed the attention to her body.

I ran my hands lower, over the front of her hips and across the knickers. This brought a gasp as my fingers fluttered over her sex feeling the wetness there. I covered her pussy with my hand, middle finger finding the crease of the cunt and gently stroking.

"Oh god, god . . . Please!" I didn't know what she wanted me to do so continued stroking her pussy. I was moving my cock more firmly in between her bottom cheeks now, pushing her on to my finger. I slipped my other hand underneath the knickers and felt the hot, wetness of her cunt. I probed inside the puffy lips with my middle finger, dragging it up and down along the crease. I felt the tiny hardness of her clit and nipped it between two fingers.

"Oh my god, yes, yes, yes!" she cried as she pushed her arse against my cock. I'm afraid I couldn't handle much more of this so, not letting go, I moved her over to the couch and bent her over the back. This is a very special couch, designed specifically for this particular use and, incidentally, many others. She fitted it perfectly. I'm not sure she was in any fit state to object but, anyway, she didn't just allowed herself to be positioned. Standing just away but keeping one hand on her lower back, I released my rampant cock. I don't often have sex like this, I prefer the bedroom, but it can be bloody exciting and, in this case, it was the right way to proceed.

Moving back I edged the gusset of her knickers to one side and presented my cockhead at her wet hole. I could see the star of her anus above and looked forward to exploring later. Now I just eased inside her pussy slowly.

"Oh GOD!" she shouted, "ooooh DEAR! Oh god yesssssssssssss . . . No . . . . Oooohhhh!! Please . . . . Stop! No . . . . Don't . . . . Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, Yes, yes, yes!!"

I wasn't sure exactly what she wanted but she didn't actually resist so I pushed on, filling her slowly. She actually pushed back slightly as my cock entered her tight wet cunt. She was surprisingly tight for a woman who has had two children – perhaps it was due to lack of use! She was very, very wet however – a clear indication of her excitement – and I slid into her easily. She was wearing 2 inch heels and that made her arse stick out a bit and easier entry for my upward thrusting cock. It didn't take long and I was buried inside her: 8 inches lodged in her cunt. I began to fuck her, fuck her quite strongly, hard and deep. She lost it completely then.

"Oh god, fuck, fuck, fuck!!! Oh that cock!! I didn't . . . . realise!" Then a long 'aaaagggghhh' as she came. It was a powerful orgasm that left her limp over the back of the sofa. I felt her body shudder, convulse almost, and her cunt grip my cock as she came. I slowed, wanted to bring her on again, to show her just how good it could be. I must admit she was good, bloody good. Her tight vaginal muscles were milking my cock as her orgasm passed and I had to hold on to prevent filling her with cum before I wanted to.

"Oh god," she said suddenly, "you're still there. Oh my word!" That sounded so incongruous as she was bent over the settee with my cock buried in her cunt that I had to laugh.

"Oh Claire, Claire, you're wonderful," I said as I began to fuck her again. She turned her head and looked back at me.

"I never knew . . . ooooooohhhhhhh god! What are you doing?"

"Fucking you!" I said with a smile, "fucking you and making you cum. Do you want me to?" I was pretty sure of the answer because she was moving back and forth in time with my fucking movements.

"Oh god yes! YES. YES. YES. I want it. Oh god I didn't know . . .!" I quickened my pace now, long and deep. Grasping her hips I controlled the depth of stroke, the time I spent deep inside her pussy, and how far I pulled out. She was moaning again, low guttural sounds that came from deep inside her. Then her pussy clamped again, gripping my cock as another orgasm hit her. I thrust, my time now, and felt my balls tighten as cum began it's journey into her. She must have felt my cock swell with each pulse because a groan escaped her lips in time with my pulse of cum. It's always good to cum for the first time in a new woman, especially one that promised such a pleasant journey of exploration but I didn't want to waste all my cum so stopped short of a complete expulsion of my present load, saving some for her mouth – my next port of call!

Four pulses filled her then as she came for the second time. I was finished, not completely soft – I never did after the first time. Another legacy of my bargain: increased stamina! I pulled away from her tight paradise and, taking her weight in my arms, flicked a switch on the sofa that lowered the back and turned it into a soft bed. The mechanism whirred and the back lowered as I turned her in my arms.

She kissed me and then began to cry. Now this isn't surprising. It's happened on several occasions with the married women I have brought here. It comes from the final realisation, after the passion of the moment, that they have finally crossed their Rubicon, been unfaithful, screwed a lover, whatever you want to call it. Most married women aren't like Sandy and Hannah. Both their marriages were really a sham. Sandra's husband played away from home most of the time and only fucked her in a sense of duty. Hannah's marriage was non-existent as her husband was gay and had his own lover in town.

There was only one way to deal with it really – to talk it out. There was another way. I could just block the guilt out of their minds but that comes at a cost to them that I wasn't prepared, despite my bond, for them to pay so talking it through was the best way.

I eased her limp body down onto the sofa bed and lay beside her. She had buried her head in my shoulder and her sobs were really quite heavy. I worried then that she wouldn't recover herself so I just let her cry it out as I stroked her hair. I suppose it was a bit strange, both of us half undressed but really it is better to get this dealt with early or it can mar the ongoing relationship. Don't get me wrong, I'm no altruist. I wanted to fuck her, to fuck her long and hard and to introduce her to 'porn star' level fucking. But I wanted her to be happy on that route. Happy to explore her sexuality.

It took a while but she finally quieted. "OK now?" I whispered.

"I . . . I . . . I shouldn't have done this!" she said quietly. "I shouldn't have come here today!"

"Why?"

"This is wrong. So, so wrong. I've been unfaithful – betrayed him. Betrayed Bob, my kids, myself!" Oh dear!

"Why did you come today Claire? You knew what would happen didn't you?

She took a deep breath and there was a long pause before she answered. "Yes! Yes I did. I knew that you'd . . . you know . . . because Sandy said you were . . . persuasive but . . . Oh god I wanted it so much!" she sobbed and began to cry again. Despite my lecherous outlook I did feel sorry for her. She was caught between desire and duty and now she had crossed the line.

Time to try and build her back up! "Claire. Claire darling . . . look at me!" She stopped crying and looked into my eyes. "Was it good?" She nodded. "Did you enjoy it?" She nodded again shyly. "How do you feel about your husband?"

She turned away and began to cry again so I turned her face back to mine. "Do you still love him?"

A great snatch of air into her lungs, "Oh god yes!! Yes I love him. I did before but . . . Oh god why can't he be like you?"

I smiled inwardly. I didn't want her to think I was mocking her. "He's your husband Claire. You've been married to him for years and, sad to say familiarity, whilst it doesn't breed contempt in this case, it can breed monotony and tedium. You've only been with one man haven't you?" I asked softly knowing the answer. 

"Yes," she whispered. "Oh Mike it was so good, so wonderful at first. Where did that go?"

"I don't know Claire love, really I don't," and, to be truthful, I didn't. I suspected that life encroaches upon people and, perhaps, in our culture, things slip.

"I shouldn't stay," she said suddenly and began to move away. Now is the moment that I could tweak her mind, persuade her that a better option was to stay and enjoy herself. For some reason I didn't want to do that with Claire so I didn't stop her as she sat up but I could sense that she was still uncertain. She looked at me as if she wanted me to persuade her otherwise.

I smiled at her sitting there half undressed. She looked so bloody shaggable it was untrue and, do you know, she didn't realise and that made her even more attractive. "Claire," I said softly, "you are a beautiful woman, a very beautiful woman, who has needs and desires that aren't being met." She took a deep breath and a look of resignation crossed her features because she knew it was true. "They can be met here," I said holding her hand. "Everything you ever wanted, ever desired," I smiled, "and much that you have never even imagined, can be had here Claire and at what cost?"

She shook her head and raised her eyebrows questioningly. "I don't understand?"

I had to be a trifle blunt now. One fear she almost certainly had was that of emotional involvement. Well, from my perspective, that wasn't going to happen. I remained fond of all of the women I fucked in this apartment but I never, never, became 'involved'. I tried to make that clear early on and I was going to do so now. The only thing I wanted was sex, sex, and more sex!

I decided to be frank. It always seemed the best way. "Claire love," how to say this without hurting her? "Claire, look I'll be honest, very honest. It's the best way! You know, because I'm sure they've told you, that I do this with Sandy and Hannah. Lots." She nodded. "Claire, there is no emotional attachment in what we do. It's sex, just sex. That's the way I want it to be. I won't fall in love with you," I smiled, "difficult though that may be and I don't want you to fall in love with me." Her eyes didn't leave my face then as she took in what I was saying. "I don't want to break up your marriage. I told you that before. What I want is to have sex with you, lots of," I smiled, "very enjoyable sex in lots of different ways. I want you to enjoy. To enjoy everything possible but not to lose what you already have. Your marriage and your life. Claire love, see this as an adventure and take the results back home with you."

"I couldn't!" she said quietly.

"Couldn't what?"

"Take it back home with me. I could never explain it."

I smiled again and kissed her cheek, "No, not just now I know but the future is, as Shakespeare said, the 'undiscovered country'. Who knows what will happen in the future?"

She raised her eyebrows now and her face took on a new look of calmness and control. "You make it sound so easy. Is it really? Sandy said you could persuade her to do almost anything. Is it the same with me?"

Well it was really but I wasn't about to tell her that. "I'm not sure it is 'easy' Claire love. That bit is up to you. I do know that when you leave here, if you stay all weekend, you will be different." She raised her eyebrows questioningly. "Look around," I said taking in the room with my arm, "and tell me what you think?"

Her eyes fixed on the large picture over the fireplace then swivelled around the room at others. She didn't seem shocked at what she saw so I suspected that she had been well briefed by Sandy and Hannah. She turned back to fix me with her eyes, "Yes, I will be – if we, you know, do all that."

"But the change is for you to control Claire. It doesn't have to effect your marriage if you don't want it to. Perhaps it will later, who knows, but now it is your choice. I want you to stay. I want to teach you how to enjoy your body and how to enjoy mine just the way you just have," she blushed, "and in many different ways. Don't feel guilty love, just enjoy. All will end well, I promise." I was sure his nibs would be very unhappy at how this was going but I knew that I was going to land Claire back into her marriage – bumpily but back.

"How can you say that now?"

I smiled, "Trust me Claire. Remember, Sandy and Hannah both do."

She finally smiled seeming to make her decision, "Yes, and they have a lot of fun!"

"Mmm," I laughed, "so they told you did they?"

"Mmm, yes," she laughed back, "lots of sex, especially . . ." she nodded at the big picture, " . . . that!"

Time! "You like that?"

She blushed and looked away. I gently held her chin and turned her head back and looked into her eyes. "You haven't have you?" Her eyes widened and she shook her head. "Thought about it?" Eyes even wider still – she was so lovely, she nodded. "When?"

"After . . . after, errrmm, after Sandy told me about you."

"Never done anything there?" I couldn't believe that they hadn't experimented in their all girl liaisons because I knew that Sandy, in particular, loved arse play.

She blushed and I could see now that it certainly spread to her gorgeous breasts and shoulders. "Errrm, yes . . . well – a little." She was unable to meet my eyes. 

I decided to spare her any more blushes. After all, we had the whole weekend together. I was sure she would stay now; now that she had got hold of herself and I had managed to convince her that it wouldn't harm her marriage – and, to be honest, I didn't believe it would. If all things worked out as planned, quite the reverse would apply.

I kissed her cheek, "Do you want to freshen up?" I asked. I didn't know how she felt about my spunk inside her. Some women don't mind, others like to 'dispose' of it. Anyway, time on her own would provide the opportunity for her to take stock.

She nodded, "Mmm, yes please. God, I must look a mess!" 

I laughed, "Far from it Claire darling, you look very fetching indeed!" She seemed pleased at the compliment as she sat up and retrieved her skirt. "I put your case in the second bedroom," I said leading the way to 'her' room. "The other door leads to the bathroom. That connects to my bedroom, our bedroom if you want?" It was a question and a statement and her look answered. She smiled shyly and nodded. "I'll see you in the shower!" I said as I left her there. I caught the look of surprise on her face as the door closed.

As I crossed into the main bedroom I wondered whether she would actually use the shower now she knew I would join her there. Time to find out! I quickly slipped of my rather creased clothing and donned a silk bathrobe then sat for a while to allow Claire time to decide how to proceed. I was pleased to hear, after a few minutes, the shower begin. I waited a few more minutes then opened the door from my bedroom into the bathroom. I had to stop for a moment as I stepped into the room and took in the sight before me. The bathroom, large and very well appointed, contains both a spa bath and a grand, walk-in, shower big enough for four people. Claire was in the shower and she took my breath away. 

I caught her washing her hair, her arms up and standing half away from me. Steam from the hot water filled the shower unit and she seemed like some immortal dryad rising from the water. For the first time I could see her naked body in all it's glory. Her breasts, full and firm and shown off by her raised arms above the slight rise of her tummy. Her hips, fulsome, broad, luscious and the globes of her bottom. The soft, sweeping curves of her body mesmerised me for a moment as I stood there feasting my eyes on her.

She must have heard me as I began to move towards her and she turned to face me. There was a look of surprise on her face and then a soft smile. I slipped off my dressing gown and joined her in the shower. She seemed embarrassed at first but that disappeared as I held her and kissed her lips softly.

"Let's wash," I said smiling.

"I've . . . errm, I've never, you know, done this before."

"You'll enjoy it," I said. I had no intention of making the mutual washing sexual. Just the joy of sliding hands over soft curves and of her stroking me. It's a great precursor to sex and I wanted her to experience it in full. So, for the next 20 minutes or so we washed each other using the natural sponges I kept for this purpose. I enjoyed running my hands over her glorious body, caressing her curves – particularly her hips and bottom cheeks. Her breasts were firm, quite firm for a woman of her age who had had two children, and fitted my hands perfectly.

Claire also seemed to get the idea and she was soon running her hands over my body. I'm not in bad shape. I exercise regularly, eat well and, of course, have the guarantee from the 'boss' that I won't have any problems until he claims payment. At 38 my athletic build is in good shape. She liked my arse, spending a considerable amount of time soaping hips, buttocks, and thighs. My shoulders and chest seemed to please her as well. When it came to pussy and cock I led the way by simple stroking. She followed with some embarrassment.

Leaving the shower we dried off using the warm soft towels. Soon dry I looked into her eyes. "My room?" I asked. She nodded shyly, unable to meet my eyes. I lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. "Sure?

"Yes," she said softly, "I want you!" She took a deep breath. "I've never felt like this before!" I took her hand and led her into my bedroom. This is also an impressive room. Centre stage is an 8ft wide bed with satin sheets. A 60 inch flat screen TV is fixed to the wall at the end so it can be watched easily. Sandy is particularly fond of adult movies!

The decor is less hedonistic than the lounge, the pictures less overt but still interesting. It also contains my collection of art nouveau female figurines.

I led Claire to the bed and, standing at the side, embraced her. I revelled in the soft curves of her mature body as I softly kissed her lips. No hesitation now, she returned my kiss and, as my tongue probed, met it with her own. "OK now?" I whispered softly. She murmured agreement as I turned her and laid her gently onto the bed. She looked lovely lying there, legs slightly apart. I knelt beside her then bent my head to continue kissing her full lips. 

My hand wandered over her breasts, caressing, stroking, and gently squeezing her nipples. She moaned softly into my mouth, enjoying the attention. Moving now, my lips followed the line of her chin, neck and shoulder before closing on one nipple. I licked, sucked then teased with my teeth, running them along the length of her, now swollen, teats. First one then the other; all the time caressing both with hands and fingers. Claire was moaning softly and wriggling her bottom into the bed. I bit harder, drawing a shudder and a long, drawn out sigh as her hands came up and held my head at her breasts.




Claire



Time to move on. One hand left her breasts and wandered across the petulant dome of her tummy to explore the heaven of her pussy. I felt her trimmed pussy hair then the soft wetness of her nether lips. She shuddered again as my fingers fluttered across those lips, not pushing inside just caressing tenderly. I looked up from her tits. Her eyes were closed and her face covered in the glow of perspiration. Her tongue, now and then, licked her lips. She looked so gloriously fuckable then but I wanted to lick her pussy. I assumed she had experienced that but I didn't know how much – or how good!

With one last kiss to each erect nipple I ran my tongue across her tummy, dipping into her button as I passed, and met the softness of her trimmed hair. I love this, tickling the tongue as it passes, then nipping the hairs with my teeth. Wonderful! Claire's moans increased in intensity then and even more so as I smoothly opened her legs and moved inside. Claire has a lovely pussy. Nice smooth lines with the lips swelling now as she became more and more aroused. The tiny button of her clit just visible. I teased a little, beginning to lave the inside of her thighs with my tongue before moving right up to lick both sides of her pussy. Then the lips. I probed gently, first up and down a few times, before pushing between. I didn't want to drive inside with my tongue, that was for my cock later, just to pleasure her, make her cum, so I was gently.

After several passes which were causing even louder noises from Claire, I concentrated on her clit – much prouder now- circling it with my tongue. This brought a soft yelp from Claire followed by a low, almost animal, groan. She pushed her sex up into my face and her body shuddered as I nipped her clit with my lips before sucking tenderly.

"Oh dear god! Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!" She continued in that vein as I sucked and nibbled her clit right through her orgasm. It seemed to last quite a while – mind you that was probably because I didn't let her clit go. I wanted her to remember the first time I utilised my oral skills on her. I enjoy doing this. I'd practised on many women and always welcomed feedback!

I lifted my head from her pussy as her orgasm finally retreated and looked down at her. She 'glowed giving her an even sexier look and now, as she opened her eyes and licked her lips, I felt an intense need for her. "I didn't know!" she murmured with a smile, "I didn't know it could be like that."

I smiled back, "You must have . . . before?"

"Yes but not, you know, like that." She smiled in satisfaction, "Sandy said you were good. She was right!"

I laughed, "I'm not too sure I like being discussed by you hellions," I said, "but I suppose I'll have to put up with it." I bent and kissed her lips, "What now?"

"Can I . . .? I want to do the same to you." I raised my eyebrows. "I've not done it much," that surprised me, "but Hannah has been giving me lessons!" Well Hannah is one of the best cocksuckers I have ever experienced – came from all her practice – and if she had been coaching Claire this could be pretty good! My answer was to move sideways and lay on my back, cock sticking up proudly. 

Claire moved to kneel at my side. "I like your body," she said as she ran her hands across my chest and stomach, "it's nice and firm." She laughed, "Just like this," she added as her hand closed around my erection and began to stroke gently. "It's big," she murmured softly as she continued to stroke, "bigger than . . . I'm sorry," she said with sadness creeping over her features. Looking down into my eyes she continued, "I shouldn't . . . about . . ." Time to console, to ease her mind.

I reached up and pulled her down, kissing her soft lips. She seemed sad again and I knew that guilt had reappeared and caused her doubt. I held her and stroked her hair, "It's all right Claire, love. You don't have to worry about me."

"I want to, I want to so much!"

"I know," I laughed, "I want to too! You are a very beautiful woman, beautiful; sexy; exciting."

She took a deep breath, pulled away slightly, and said, "I never thought of myself like that," she seemed sad but then brightened, "you make me feel like that though. Sandy said you would. Said you would make it so good." She took another deep breath and made up her mind. "I want to and I will," she said firmly as she knelt back up, her hand returning to my cock. She smiled then and nodded towards my erection, "It's bigger than the one I practiced on!"

I laughed, "You'll have to tell me more later," I said then took a deep breath as her tongue flicked across and around my cockhead. "Ohhh, shit," I managed as her mouth closed and sucked half my cock inside. I could feel her tongue wrapping itself around and washing the end of my cock with saliva. Then she began to bob her head up and down, sliding my cock over her lips. One hand continued to wank the base of my cock, the other was cradling and caressing my balls, stroking the hardening sacs as they prepared to discharge.

Now, mouth removed from my cock, she began to lick up and down as if it was a lollipop or ice cream but, every now and then, she would gently, very gently, nibble and run her teeth along the length. Hannah had been busy!

"Christ Claire, that's bloody good!" I managed to say as I felt myself closing on orgasm. Crucial time here! I didn't know what she would do with the spunk. The very best is when a woman actually sucks the spunk from your cock as you spurt. It's electric, increasing the pleasure considerably, but not many women like to do it. Most will accept a mouthful of cum but it's prudent to make sure before the first time!

"I'm going to cum Claire, if you keep on. Do you want me to cum?"

She raised her head but continued her soft stroking of my cock with her hand. "Yes. You did it for me. I want to do it for you. You taste nice! You can do it in my mouth if you like," she said casually, "Hannah said you would like that."

I laughed, "She's right," I said, "she likes that. Mind you," I added, "so does Sandy. They have to share!" Claire's eyes widened at that. Something they hadn't discussed. Mind you, I doubt Claire had considered sharing a man.

"I want to," she said softly. "I haven't . . . you know . . . before."

I reached up and stroked her cheek, "It's up to you Claire, love. I'll enjoy it whatever you do."

She smiled and went back to gently nibbling, licking, and finally sucking my erection. Getting me close again she teased a little, leaving my cock with her mouth and moving to my balls. I supposed Hannah had suggested that was well for I knew she enjoyed trying to get them in her mouth. Claire didn't do that, just nipped, licked, and kissed before returning to concentrate on my cock. Now she worked in earnest, taking over half into her mouth, sucking and bobbing her head. Her tongue worked overtime, probing the tiny hole and laving the head as she bobbed. It was enough!

"Coming Claire love! Oh fuck!" I thrust upwards and spurted. Her eyes widened and the second and third pulse filled her mouth. I could see her struggling to contain the spunk but she had to pull away. The fourth and fifth pulses hit her face, one on forehead, one on cheek. She looked startled but she didn't stop wanking my cock and was rewarded with another weak pulse. My balls ached just then. She was good, very good. Hannah was a good teacher.

"Show me?" I said guessing that she would have been taught that as well. She lifted her head and looked into my eyes then opened her mouth. I always supply a good dose of cum – part of my agreement – and it was so this time. The gooey white mass sat on her tongue then she closed her mouth and swallowed. I was surprised.

She smiled, a small dribble of cum dripped from her cheek to her breast – so, so sexy. "That tastes nice," she said, "I didn't realise!" Then she blushed, "I've . . . errm . . . I've never done that before." Her eyes were wide, almost in astonishment at herself I think. Astonishment that she had actually swallowed cum. I pulled her close and kissed her lips then used my finger to gather up the strings of cum on her forehead and cheek.

"Some more?" I asked as I offered my cum covered finger to her. She nodded and took my finger into her mouth, sucking the remains of my cum then swallowing. I kissed her again, tasting my own cum on her lips then probed with my tongue. She kissed back, pressing herself to me. It was clear she wanted more but, despite enhancements, I did need a little while to recover full potential. Time to examine her delightful bottom!

I eased her down on to her back then whispered in her ear, "Turn over." Her eyes widened in both apprehension and anticipation then she slowly turned face down on the bed. I took another deep breath as I gazed down at her. Claire has a marvellous bottom. Full, round cheeks fall from flowing hips. The valley between is open and her anus fully visible above the swollen redness of her pussy lips. She would be a glorious arse fuck when able to take my cock in this position – but that would be a while yet for an anal virgin. My cock was already beginning to harden again at the thought of breaching that tight little muscle but, again, that was for another day. It was too soon to introduce her to anal sex. I would wait until tomorrow or Sunday for that pleasure. Just now I would tease her bottomhole with tongue and, possible finger, to see whether she enjoyed being played with there.

I bent my head and ran my tongue down her backbone stopping at the valley between her cheeks. Then I caressed and stroked those glorious gloves, running my hands over her hips and thighs as well. Claire seemed to be enjoying this. She turned her head to face me with a gentle smile. "That's nice," she said, "I like that." Then, rather innocently, "Are you going to do that now?"

Of course I knew what she meant but I thought I'd tease just a little, get her thinking about it even more. "Do what?" I responded with a smile.

"Oh you know," she said smiling indulgently, "the picture. Oh you know! You do!"

I laughed, "If you mean am I going to introduce you to anal sex," she raised her eyebrows and blushed – almost all over, "then not just now." Was that disappointment I saw on her face? "We've got all weekend haven't we?" she nodded, "well then, plenty of time."

"It will hurt won't it?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," I replied, "yes it will. Always does the first few times but it gets better." I laughed, "At least that's what Sandy and Hannah say."

"Hannah said you were the first there!"

I laughed, "Yes, she said that and, after all, she should know!" This made her laugh and broke the tension. "I won't force you Claire love. Try it a few times. If you don't like it – well there are lots of other things to do. Now back to the grindstone," I laughed as I returned to caressing and kneading her bottom. She closed her eyes and just enjoyed my playing. Finally I eased her legs apart and climbed between. This brought another apprehensive look back at me but I just smiled and it seemed to settle her.

Now I ran my tongue over her globes and along the back of her legs, tasting the essence of her, before returning to the base of her spine where a tiny dimple formed now her legs were apart. I could sense her tension, wondering just what I was going to do so I lifted my head and continued to gently caress her bottom cheeks. She seemed to relax so now I bent back down and used my tongue from the base of her spine right down to the back of her pussy. As I passed her tiny star I flicked my tongue around then passed over. She shuddered and I heard a surprised, "Oh dear!"

Enjoying teasing her I ran my tongue back and forth a few times over her anus, each pass spending more time at the tiny entrance to heaven. Finally I stayed, rimming her anus, flicking my tongue round and round. I sensed a slight movement back towards me, as if she was enjoying the felling of a tongue on her arsehole, so I probed some more. I rolled my tongue and pushed against the muscle. My cock, by now, was back to full hardness and I knew that, shortly, she was going to kneel and I was going to take her 'doggy'.

As the tip of my tongue pushed against the tiny star I heard what seemed like sob from Claire and then her bottom pushed back. The muscle relaxed and my tongue slipped inside – just a tiny bit but past the tight muscle.

"Oh, oh, oh. God I never knew! Please!"

I lifted my head and moved to cover her, cock resting in the valley between her cheeks. "Please what?" I whispered in her ear.

"Oh god, I didn't know! Please. Do that – please!"

"Do what Claire. What do you want me to do?"

"You know," she whispered. "Your tongue . . . it's so nice there. Please!"

I took pity on her, not wanting to tease any more, so I moved back and, rolling my tongue, probed her anus more firmly, pushing past the muscle and stretching it slightly. Then I tongue fucked her arsehole firmly. Difficult to get too much inside but it was enough as her body shuddered and her anus tightened on my tongue. I quickly pulled out and lifted her bottom so she was kneeling then, cock at pussy, filled her in one thrust.

"Aaaagggghhh, oh god! Yes, oh please do that. FUCK ME!" That was strange coming from her and very exciting so I did! Holding her hips tightly I controlled my movements and fucked her hard and deep. She was thrusting back into me and, at that moment, I knew that Claire was a much more intensely sexual woman than would first appear. The flood gates had been opened. Her language was amazing. She moaned, she screamed (I was glad for the top floor flat!), she ordered me to fuck her hard, long and deep. My third meant longer so I was able to keep her at peak for a fair while as I leaned forward and grasped her tits, squeezing the nipples. My mouth found her neck and I bit her fairly hard. All this only seemed to increase her intensity as she thrust her arse back into me. 

It was too much! "Take it Claire. Here it comes," I moaned as my balls tightened and I pulsed spunk into her. She shuddered then and I could see the muscles on her back ripple in time with my pulses. Her vagina gripped my cock as I thrust deep and hard to fill her as much as I could. It was over far too soon – as always – and I slipped out of her and lay on the bed. She flopped face down and turned her head to face me. 

"That was . . . Oh I don't know how to say it. Wonderful." She looked sad for a moment.

"What is it Claire?"

"Oh . . . it's just that . . . well that was how it used to be with . . . I shouldn't. I'm sorry."

I smiled and caressed her cheek. "Don't be love. You'll get that back – promise!"

"I will?"

"Yes, you will. Just wait and see. Now just enjoy yourself. I am Claire. You are lovely you know." She blushed.

"I don't get told that very often."

"No, I suspect not. Well we'll sort that out as well. Now I am hot and sweaty, how about we return to the shower and get ready for dinner?"

"Mmm. Where?"

"We'll go to a quiet little restaurant I know. Sort of French/Spanish. Nice food." She smiled. I think she was beginning to enjoy being treated as someone a bit special. Well, tomorrow would improve that for I had some ideas.

So we showered and dressed for dinner. A quiet affair in a secluded corner of the restaurant. We chatted and I found out even more about her. After dinner back to the flat where I made coffee and we went to bed. I made love to her again, four times a day is a bit of a strain even for me but she is very, very lovely, but it was good for me and, after three major orgasms, it was good for her too.

Over breakfast in the morning I outlined my plans for the day. "Claire love, I want to take you to a very special place tonight," she raised her eyebrows. "It's a gaming club but slightly different from the one in Brighton. This one is for the real 'high rollers'. Most of the players are millionaires."

She looked at me through lidded eyes. "Are you one?" she asked with a smile.

I smiled back, "As a matter of fact I am," I said. "My investments have done very, very well. Anyway, the special thing about this club is that it provides other services." Again she raised her eyebrows. "It is a hotel as well and there are lots of beautiful women on hand should the punters require some, shall we say, diversion from the tables."

She looked shocked, "You mean . . . The women . . . Are they . . . You know?"

"Well, if you mean are they prostitutes. Well, not quite. I suppose the woman haters would call them whores for they do sell their bodies – mind you for a lot of money. I rather think of them as courtesans. It's a much nicer word and these women do not ply the streets and have all chosen to do what they do. Several of them are married and, in some cases, their husbands actually know what they do."

"Surely not. How could . . .?"

"Claire love, they are all women who love sex. For the married ones they just can't get enough from hubby. The club is a good way for them to get plenty of safe sex and make some money, good money, as well."

"How is it 'safe'," she asked softly then, "we, you, didn't use anything!"

"No, I didn't. I know I'm OK Claire. I get checked regularly." A little white lie that; I didn't need to. My deal means I can't catch or pass on anything. I smiled, "I reckoned you'd be safe!"

She blushed and smiled, "Thanks."

"Anyway," I continued, "all the men have to wear condoms and the women get checked regularly. Look Claire honestly – it's a big, bad world out there and people take risks," I laughed, "I sometimes think that that is part of the enjoyment for some people."

"Why do you want to take me there?" she asked apprehensively.

I laughed, "Don't worry Claire." She blushed. "I want to 'show you off' and let you know just how attractive you are." 

She smiled coyly – a perfectly natural coyness for she wasn't really aware of how lovely she was. "But I haven't got anything to wear. Well I have but not to something that sounds so grand."

I laughed again, "Of course you haven't! Never met a woman yet who had enough clothes. Seriously; if you come back Claire, you will need clothes here. That means you won't have to bring too much with you. Today we'll spend shopping. We'll get you a few outfits, some accessories, and some jewellery."

"I haven't got . . . I can't really afford it Mike. I haven't any money of my own."

I smiled, "I can afford it! Don't worry, just enjoy shopping." So we left for Knightsbridge. We hit Harrod's, Harvey Nicholls, and the rest. In the morning we concentrated on outfits, complete sets including accessories. Underwear Claire chose on her own but the rest she 'paraded' for me. She got lovelier by the minute as she saw herself in these modern designer gowns, suits and shoes. Strange, you might think, that I would do this but beautiful women deserve beautiful things and Claire was beautiful – she just didn't 'feel' beautiful. Now she began to.

After lunch I concentrated on jewellery. As with clothing, I love to see good, and understated, jewellery on attractive women. I bought Claire two necklaces. One, a choker in diamonds and emeralds, and the other a pendent in diamonds and rubies. Both had matching earrings and one, the choker, a matching bracelet. I also bought her a ring for her right hand. She wanted to display her wedding and engagement ring when I told her that most of the married women at the club did theirs. Truth to say, she sparkled!

The afternoon ended with her in the hairdressers and beauty salon; her suggestion not mine! I just waited for the result with interest – it was worth the wait!

"You look fabulous," I said as she joined me in the café, "absolutely fabulous!"

She smiled shyly, "I haven't got any of my new things on yet."

"And I can't wait to see you in some of them. Come on, home to change and dress for dinner." So a taxi was filled with the stuff and we returned to the flat.




Claire



Claire seemed to have put her doubts behind her now and, back at the flat, revelled in her new things. I don't think she had ever shopped like today, buying things that were pure luxury and just for herself. It seemed to give her confidence in herself. She chose a lovely flared dress in a soft, pastel blue. Very simple, it showed off her gorgeous figure to perfection - especially with 3 inch heels.

"You look lovely Claire," I said as she came into the lounge. She smiled coyly and blushed. "Now," I continued with a smile, "about this club. Believe me Claire, you will stand out there." She shook her head. "Oh yes, love, you will. Anyway, the men there will want you and, because you are there with me will assume you are available and they will proposition you."

"No! Surely not!" Then she added, thoughtfully, "I've never been propositioned before." She looked puzzled, "I don't really know what to do?"

"Just smile and say that I have paid an awful lot of money and you're very flattered."

"Paid . . ." she said, puzzled.

"Yes," I said then added quietly, "because I would and so would they! Now, let's be off."

A taxi quickly got us to the club where we were immediately shown to our dining table. The restaurant at the club was set on balconies overlooking the gaming tables. This meant that diners could watch the action - both on and off the tables! We ate a lovely meal whilst chatting and taking in the view. Claire seemed to find the interaction more interesting than the gambling.

"Those women? Are they . . .?"

I smiled, "Yes love, they are." It was early in the evening and the clientele were playing the tables. The women were circulating, chatting provocatively with both each other and the few men who weren't at the tables.

"They are all very pretty," she said quietly.

"Mmmmm. Not as pretty as you though!" 

She blushed and gave me a coquettish glance. "You're being silly," she laughed.

"No," I said, "truthful. You just wait." I couldn't have planned it better for, just at that moment, a good business friend came up to our table. 

He smiled at me. "Hello Rafiq," I smiled back, "how are you?"

"I am very well Mike," and he gave Claire a fulsome smile, "even better when you introduce me to this remarkably lovely young lady." Claire blushed right down to her bosom as Rafiq's eyes expressed his interest. 

I laughed, "Rafiq you reprobate, you've no chance with this lovely lady, has he Claire?" She shook her head quickly. "Allow me to introduce you to Claire, a very good friend."

Rafiq smiled at her, took her hand, and raised his hand to his lips. After planting a soft kiss he whispered, "Enchantee dear lady." A big smile then, "Surely such a lovely lady as you will not want to spend the WHOLE evening with this boring fellow?" 

Panic crossed her features as she glanced at me. I smiled at her reassuringly then turned to Rafiq, "Rafiq, old friend," I laughed, "this lady you could not afford!" 

He raised his eyebrows the smiled, "Ah well! I could but try. Goodbye dear lady - perhaps another day?" and he turned and left.

"You see," I said.

"What did he want?" she asked naively.

I laughed, "Oh Claire love, he wanted you. Primarily he wanted your bottom." She blushed again. I leant forward and whispered, "If he'd known you were a virgin there I doubt we would ever have got rid of him!" That caused her to redden even more and to smile shyly – so becoming in a woman of her age. Then she surprised me.

"Won't be after tonight?!" It was both a statement and a question.

"No," I whispered softly, "most definitely not!" Then I smiled, "Come, let's hit the tables. And you be careful out there." She raised her eyebrows. "Don't want you upsetting all these working girls."

"Upset them? How will I do that?"

I laughed and took her arm, "By making all the men want you! Come on," and with that I took her down into the gaming area. After getting her some chips we ambled around the tables. Claire drifted off on her own and, not so lucky as in Brighton, quickly lost all her chips – mind you she gained a veritable train of admirers. She was propositioned at least three times; each time turning to me with a helpless look. The problem was that most of the men were quite used to touching the women intimately. Often a hand or two would find it's way to bottom or breast and it happened to Claire.

"They keep touching me," she said plaintively after the fourth guy had asked for a couple of hours of her time.

"That's because they want you and they're used to doing it. Take it as a compliment," I laughed, "I told you, didn't I, how desirable you are. Now you know." She seemed to preen just a little and stand straighter which, to be frank, added to her appeal. "Off you go," I laughed handing her some more chips, "and disappoint a few more men!" She gave a nervous laugh but did, wandering to a nearby roulette table. 

As she left I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned, "Well," said the red head standing there, "where did you find her Mike?"

I smiled, "Vikki! Nice to see you. Busy?"

She laughed, "I hoped to be but she," Vikki nodded at Claire, "seems to be taking all the attention."

"Mmm," I said laughing, "she is isn't she. Mind you she is a looker!"

"Mmm, she is," laughed Vikki. "I suppose it means that I won't be entertaining you tonight?"

"'Fraid not Vikki love. Rafiq looks as if he needs calming down though," I added with a laugh.

She laughed back, "Not sure my arse could deal with him. Anyway, you didn't answer my question."

"She's a friend of a friend Vikki love and," this was important for the women were always trying to find out about new members of the club, "she will NOT be working here. She's mine!"

"Good," laughed Vikki, "competition I can stand but a new girl as pretty as her would be hard work! When are you leaving – give us girls a chance? "

I laughed again, "Vikki, I suspect that you'll be on your back soon or, knowing you, your front," she dug me playfully in the ribs, "but anyway, we're going soon."

She leant forward and pecked my cheek, "Good job," she laughed as she flounced away towards Rafiq.

I noticed that Claire was watching and wasn't surprised when she said, "Who was she?" Did I detect a note of jealousy?

I laughed, "Her name's Vikki. Nice lady."

"You know her?"

I nodded, "I have a few times. Come on Claire love let's make tracks." She nodded and smiled shyly. I cashed in our chips and we caught a cab back to the flat. I took her straight to the bedroom and held her in my arms. She seemed excited as she crushed tightly against me. We kissed. A long passionate kiss with tongues entwined; surprisingly initiated by Claire.

She finally pulled away and met my eyes with hers. "I have to . . . Oh you know!" I raised my eyebrows. "You know," she laughed shyly. "Sandy . . . Sandy told me . . . Showed me. She said you had everything in there." She nodded towards the bathroom. She was flushed red in embarrassment, so becoming.

I smiled and kissed her cheek. "Mmm, everything you need. Sure Claire love?" She blushed even more and was now unable to meet my eyes. I pressed. "You want to?"

"Yes!" she said breathlessly. "Yes I do!" and with that she turned and entered the bathroom. I watched her bottom sway – more than before – as she left. I undressed and lay on the bed waiting for her to get ready. I supposed that both Sandy and Hannah had told her all about anal sex and she had admitted to some play there amongst the three of them so she knew what to do. My cock was fairly hard at the thought of what was to come.

She was gone about 25 minutes. As she returned I sat up on the side of the bed and watched her. She took my breath away! Naked, except for thigh length self-supporting stockings and three inch bedroom slippers, she was a vision of loveliness. She seemed somewhat tentative as she crossed to the side of the bed but must have noticed the look on my face. She smiled, "Sorry I was so long," she said, "but . . . oh, you know!"

I laughed, "Claire darling – it was worth the wait!" and I stood and held her close – although my cock, hard almost instantly, did seem to get in the way! She reached down and bent it between her legs.

"It's big," she said breathlessly. "I don't . . . Will you be able . . .?

I smiled and kissed her cheek, "Yes, Claire love, I, we will. It's up to you really love."

"I want to," she whispered softly. "Sandy says it's so good. Well," she smiled coyly, "after the first time anyway." Then, "Will it hurt?"

I nodded, "Yes love, it will but it should get better." I didn't want to tell her about the women for whom it didn't. Some women I'd known had never got used to it. In the early days of my power I had tried to shut off any pain or discomfort and make them enjoy it but the mind is a funny thing. I might be able to wipe out the bad feelings at that time but they were still left not enjoying it or feeling that it was wrong or distasteful. It seemed, after a while, that there was no pleasure for me either. I suppose it was really like a rape, both physical and mental, and I finally decided that it wasn't fair. His nibs wouldn't be pleased but, as I've said before, he'll win in the end!

"I hope so," she whispered as her hands ranged over my back. We kissed and touched then fell back on the bed, Claire on her back and me laying beside head propped on one elbow. My other hand caressed her breasts, tweaking nipples as I kissed her lips. Moving my mouth to replace fingers, my hand strayed across her tummy to her pussy. She murmured softly as I stroked her sex gently and kissed her breasts. I used my middle finger to press gently on her clit as I stroked her nether lips.

Needing to move on, easing her legs apart I knelt between. Her eyes never left my face as I bent my head to her sex. My tongue washed her inner thighs before moving to lick back and forth over her pussy. I eased her lips apart and enjoyed the taste of her juices. Then her clit, licking first and biting with lips rather than teeth.

Claire let out a long, low moan and pushed her sex into my face. I felt a shudder as her orgasm washed over her body. I gave her no time to recover, lifting my body I presented my cock to her pussy, driving deep inside her body. She screamed softly and her eyes opened wide in surprise. Cock out just a tiny bit then deep inside.

I fucked her now: long, hard and deep. Her legs came up and gripped my thighs but not enough to still me. Her second orgasm wasn't long in coming and resulted, this time, in a softly muttered, "Oh yes Mike - harder! Yes, yes, yesssssssssssss!" It was difficult not to join her as her cunt clenched around my cock but I didn't. My cum tonight was destined for her arse!

As she came down I rolled sideways and lay on my back. Claire lay on her side covering me with her leg, her hand stroking my chest before moving down to my cock. "It's still hard!"

"For you." 

She blushed then smiled archly and said, "Can I . . . you know. Like last night!"

I laughed, "Come on then, ride me!" A great big smile graced her features as she moved to cover my loins. One hand grasped my cock and held it upright as she positioned her cunt over the tip. Another smile, this quickly replaced by a look of surprise and a long, drawn out sigh as she settled down on my cock.

"Oh you devil," she whispered as her head bent to mine. "That's wonderful. I never knew!"

I smiled, "Well Claire darling, you know now. Enjoy!" Sitting back up, she did! Her first real experience of being on top had been last night and she had already worked out how to 'bounce' her way to pleasure! Now she tried something else, rolling her bottom back and forth and side to side. Time to test!

"Turn round love," I said. She raised her eyebrows. "Face the other way." She smiled and made to lift herself off my cock. "No love," I laughed, "just swivel - it'll feel good!" So she did: somewhat awkwardly it must be said but very sexy she looked doing so.

"Mmm, this nice," she smiled looking back over her shoulder. I was quiet because I was focussed on one of the loveliest sights in the bedroom. The broad reach of Clair's arse was spread before my eyes. The soft curves of her bottom cheeks framed the valley between and the tiny star of her anus - her virgin anus below which my cock speared her wet pussy.

Claire was leaning forward towards my feet and that pushed her arse back at me. I could see the slight flexing of the muscle as she moved up and down. I wetted the end of my middle finger and gently pressed the tip against the tiny star.

"Oh god!" gasped Claire as I pushed a bit harder, "what are you doing?"

I laughed. "I think you know!" As I said this I circled the tiny star, lifting liquid from the rear of her pussy to coat both finger and arsehole. Claire looked back at me over shoulder. Her eyes were hooded and a soft sexy smile gave an impression of wantonness.

I pushed the tip of my finger against the tight muscle as she settled down on my cock and it opened taking just a tiny bit inside.

"Oh fuck!" she cried as I pushed more past the constricting tightness, "oh fuck!" That was the first time I had heard her swear so my finger was having some effect. She had just an inch of my middle, and thickest, finger in her arse. She was tight: incredibly tight but I was able to finger fuck her in time with her movements on my cock.

It wasn't long before a long low groan followed by, "Oh fucking hell! Yes! Oh god! Yessss!" I felt her cunt grip my cock and her anus grip my finger. A crisis for me as I imagined that tight grip of her arse around my cock. I managed however. Control was one of the enhancements I had bargained for.

Claire fell forward then eased herself up to lay face down with her head turned in my direction.. "Oh Mike. What did you do to me? It felt funny!"

"And good?" She blushed and nodded. "You liked my finger in your arse?" She coloured even deeper red and nodded again. "Time then?"

She took a deep breath, "It felt so big and . . . " she looked down at my rampant erection. An erection that was not going to lessen before I took that last virginity: quite the reverse!

"It is, will be, your decision Claire love," and it would be. I'd given up 'forcing' my partner to accept being buggered. It was great at the start as I flexed my mental powers but it became deeply unsatisfying in the end and it wasn't good for them either in the long run. Claire would make up her own mind, although I was pretty certain she would try at least.

"If you say yes, we will. If you say stop, I will."

Her eyes were wide and surprisingly innocent as she stared into my eyes. "Sandy said I could trust you," she said softly. She smiled, "I think she's right." A deep breath, "I want to. That was so nice and," she added rather coquettishly, "I did get ready!" I laughed and kissed her lips.

Now my hand strayed down her back and over the wonderful globes of her bottom. I stroked, caressed, and gently kneaded those soft and malleable pillows of pleasure.

She smiled, "That's nice. Keep doing that!" I did for a while and she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling. She opened them in surprise, however, when my middle finger ran across the tight star of her anus! "Ooohhh!" she moaned, "That's nice too!"

I ran my finger right down to the back of her pussy, drawing her nectar back into the forbidden valley, lubricating her ring. Then I circled the muscle with the tip before pressing gently.

"What are you doing?" she asked, somewhat naively I thought.

"Getting you ready," I smiled, "ready to take my cock up your arse!" Her eyes widened in surprise at my language I think but it was time to cut to the chase! "Shall I stop?"

"No," she mouthed softly, "no. Don't stop." I moved to kneel at her side and ran my hands along her back. She shivered and groaned in pleasure as I kneaded her cheeks, caressed, and stroked then, gently opening her legs, moved between. I was quiet and still for a moment as my eyes drank in the glorious sight before me. Claire has a wonderful bottom. Fulsome, fleshy without fat. Cheek taut and tight, the valley between open showing the delicate star of her tiny, and virgin, anus.

Hands back to stroking the soft flesh, globes down to thighs, down to knees. My cock was as hard as a rock but I wanted to ensure her maximum pleasure - which would also ensure mine! So I continued for a while stroking and caressing. Claire cooed softly then gasped as my tongue licked from the base of her spine to the back of her pussy.

"Oh god, yes. Oh yes! Do that please!" I was running my tongue up and down, lingering for just a moment on her anus. "Don't stop - please!" she moaned with a soft sob. I slowed then and spent more time around her anus, probing gently with my tongue. I tasted her and the gentle flavour of the lube she had used in readying herself for the loss of her final virginity.

Claire pushed her hips into the bed then back into me. Tongue rolled now I pushed at the muscle which, surprisingly I suppose, opened. Claire shuddered and moaned, "Oh yes, yes!" I pushed harder and my tongue entered even further. I could feel the tightness of her sphincter trying to push me out - or trying to hold me in? I think it was the latter for she pushed her arse back onto my tongue as I began to fuck her virgin bottom with my tongue.

Groans and moans erupted from Claire and it was not long before her anus tightened and her body shook in orgasm. She screamed softly as her hands gripped the bedclothes. I took her through it then moved back to allow her time to recover. Taking my weight on my arms I leant forward, my cock nestling between the cheeks of her arse, and whispered, "OK Claire?"

"Oh god, yes. Oh yes Mike. It was so wonderful. I want it Mike. Please!"

"Kneel then Claire for your arse to be fucked!" I wanted her to fully realise what was coming. There was no hesitation as I moved back and she drew her knees up underneath and pushed her arse out and dipped her back. It was clear then that Sandy had been coaching Claire for this was not the sort of position that a novice would take. Her cheeks were stretched apart and her anus freely available. I reached for the lube and squeezed some onto her anus then began to ease it into her arse with my forefinger. She took a deep breath as my finger pushed into her gently. More lube, more gentle probing as my finger entered deeper. Still more lube, more probing. Claire was quiet and still at first then began to move her bottom onto my finger and sigh softly. So, time for another finger! Important to make sure she was completely relaxed and open. I'm not small and it would be a trial for her. More lube, more probing, then middle finger added to fore.

A gasp. "Oooohhhh! Big! Oh yes," finally as both pushed deeper and worked back and forth fucking her arse gently. I turned my fingers then opening her more and causing a loud groaned, "OH FUCK!" I couldn't last much longer so fingers out, I gripped my cock and aimed the head at her pussy. I filled her with one thrust holding myself in tight control. Cock in pussy certainly surprised Claire for she turned and looked back quizzically although she did continue to push her arse into me as my hands on her hips moved her back and forth.

I smiled, "Enjoy Claire," I said the fucked her harder. It didn't take long before her body shuddered again, her pussy gripped hard, and she moaned in orgasm. Time now! Withdrawing from her pussy, I held my cockhead in the depression of her anus and pushed.

"Oh god! Now? Yes, yes. Do it! Do it!" She was completely still now and holding her breath. I could feel the tension in her body through my hand on her hips then a low moan as my cockhead breached the sphincter. Her anus gripped tightly but not tightly enough to prevent my continued pressure lodging half of my 8 inches inside her hot rectum.




Claire



(authors note: This story was inspired by the sensuous voice of Claire 2010)

*

I walked up to the door of this pleasant looking ranch house, in a nice neighborhood. I pushed the button, and , as I heard the chime from inside, my mind drifted back nineteen years, to when I was in high school. 

After a lackluster, uneventful (and sexless) career as a public school student, my parents, in their infinite wisdom, packed me off to a year of post-graduate study at a private school in rural Connecticut. 

The class sizes were small, with eight or nine students to a class, so it was virtually impossible to goof off, sleep, or ignore the instructors. And so I found myself in an Elementary Algebra class with seven other eighteen year old males and a somewhat severe looking instructor by the name of Claire Eastwood. Ms Eastwood always arrived for class wearing her hair tied up in a bun, and a blouse buttoned up to her neck. In spite of the conservative nature of her dress, it was hard not to notice her top-heavy figure. The buttons on her blouse, at times strained to keep closed, and when I was up at the board trying to make sense of the alphabet soup of algebraic equations, I could sneak a peak at the hint of breast that showed through the puckered plackets of her blouses. She was not a native of the United States and had an accent that made me hard just listening to it.

Within two weeks, it was obvious to everyone that I was drowning, but I kept trying my luck at the board, and straining my eyes, hoping for a wardrobe malfunction. It was then that she caught me staring down her blouse. Glaring at me, she had me sit down, and at the end of class she suggested that I stop by her apartment for some badly needed tutoring.

Eighteen, naïve, and inexperienced, it never occurred to me to think of this opportunity in any way other than a career educator trying to help a lost student. Boy was I wrong!

Arriving at her campus apartment after diner, I was greeted by my unsmiling math teacher, still in her uniform of the day, a narrow mid-calf length skirt, topped by a high necked blouse. Only, it was not buttoned to her neck, but opened generously down the front, showing off ample cleavage I couldn't help but think how different she looked, just by unbuttoning her blouse and letting her hair down. Much softer, more feminine! Rather pretty, actually. I tried not to stare. In spite of my efforts, I was developing a raging hard-on, which I tried to hide with my math book.

"Come in Mr. O'Dell, and have a seat at my kitchen table." she said, indicating where she wanted me to sit. Sitting across from me, she leaned over, showing off even more of her large creamy breasts. "Like what you see?" she asked.

Blushing mightily at being caught, I was speechless. "Never seen tits before?" she added, reaching for my hands, clasped together and laying out on the table. "Well?"

"I...uh...I....haven't Maam. At least, not the real thing ..just some pictures" I stuttered. "I'm, I'm sorry."

Taking my hands and pressing them against her breasts, she softened her tone, "It's O.K. In fact, I'm flattered that you noticed"

I could feel her nipples stiffening under my palms and I stared directly at the thin line separating her breasts as it disappeared behind her blouse. "Your hands feel nice. Would you like to see more?"

Still unable to speak, I lifted my gaze to her face, and nodded slowly.

"Good!. Come with me, young man, we have a lot to teach you tonight. And we'll get to the Algebra later."

Taking my hand we got up from the table. Awkwardly, still attempting to conceal the lump in my pants as she led me to her bedroom. Turning to face me by her bedside, she dropped her gaze to my crotch. "There are some things you just weren't meant to hide." she said as she unbuckled my belt, unzipped my pants and slid them and my boxers, off my hips. Cupping my balls with one hand and caressing my stiffened prick with the other, she invited me to help her take off her top as she slid out of her skirt..

I fumbled with the buttons, but managed to free her breasts from the confines of her blouse. To my surprise, she was not wearing a bra. Her large breasts stood out, her nipples large and hard. "Oh, my God! They're...they're...beautiful!" I stammered, my eyes riveted. 

"Why don't you kiss them?" she said softly, shrugging the cotton blouse off her shoulders. I leaned in, shyly, and kissed the upper slope of her left breast. I felt her hand on my head, pressing downward as she added, "The nipple, silly, kiss the nipple." As my lips came in contact with the dusty rose colored flesh, she hissed, "Yesssss! That's it! Suck on it!"

I began feasting on the ample flesh, gently chewing, swirling my tongue all around the stiff marble sized bud that topped her magnificent chest. Taking a deep breath, I plunged my face into the crevasse between her bountiful tits, kissing my way to the other side. "Its Shalimar!" she said, "My favorite perfume. You like?"

With my face nuzzled between her breasts, I couldn't talk, so I just moaned, "MmmmHmmm!" as I continued to explore her chest. Her encouraging murmurs spurred me on to take her whole nipple in my mouth and tease it with my tongue. "Ohhh! God! You're making me sooo wet!"

I froze! Without letting go of her stiff nub, I looked up at her, fear in my eyes. Smiling, she softly said, "That's a good thing! Let me show you" She took my hand and slid it inside her panties, past her bush and pushed a finger inside her pussy. "There!, push it in! Deep" My finger slide effortlessly inside her warm, wet pussy. She let out a moan as she felt my finger invade her. "Oh, God! That feels so good! I can't wait to feel you inside me!" she said, pressing against my hand, forcing my finger in and out of her wetness. "Keep that up and I'm going to cum!"

Still sucking on her nipple, I sawed my finger in and out, in and out, feeling her cunt clasping on the slippery digit. "Ohh fuck! Ohh yesss! Don't stop! Don't ...stop!" she groaned as I felt copious amounts of warm sticky liquid coat my hand. "Damn! That was good! Are you sure you've never done this before?"

I pulled my hand from her now soaked panties and let go of the nipple I had been chewing on. Sliding to the floor, her face was directly in front of my stiff cock. "Now, it's my turn to get you off." she said as her smiling mouth ovalled and she leaned in to my manhood. "Watch!" she said. "Watch and learn!"

I let out a loud moan as her lips surrounded the head of my cock. I wanted to close my eyes and enjoy the moment, but I kept focus on my dick as it slid deeper and deeper into her throat. My cock, now thoroughly lubricated with her spit momentarily slid from her lips. "I want you to fuck my face!" she said, as her hands caressed my shaft and balls. "I want you to cum in my mouth!"

Thrusting my hips forward, my helmet brushed against her half-opened lips, before disappearing into her oral cavity. She moaned and hummed as my hips jerked forward. My hands fell, naturally to her head, gently holding it in place as I sawed in and out of her face. Being young and inexperienced, it didn't take but a minute of this heavenly motion before I felt the beginnings of an orgasm. She sensed it, too, and began sucking harder, and humming, while scraping my nut sac with her fingers.

I grunted as my cock twitched, spitting its warm, creamy contents into her mouth, coating her tongue, filling her cheeks, emptying my balls.

My grip on her head softened and she rose from her knees, smiling, licking her lips. "Thank you! I needed that!" she said as she leaned in and kissed me on the mouth. Her tongue forced its way in between my lips and I tasted myself. Not my favorite flavor, I thought, but she was so enthusiastic, that I let her continue. 

Breaking the kiss, she said, "Now that that's over we can concentrate on extended pleasures." She sat down on her bed with me standing directly in front of her. Slowly opening her legs, she showed me her panty clad pussy. They were quite wet! To the point where I could see the outline of her lips against the almost invisible fabric. "Take them off." she said. Still staring , I moved my hands up to her hips and slid the garment off. Her mound was covered by wiry brown hairs that outlined the entry into her womb. "You like?" she purred. Unable to speak, I just stared. "If you like it, why don't you kiss it?"

Tentatively, I leaned over, my face getting closer and closer. "Go ahead!" she said, "It won't bite!" Her hands went to my head and guided me into the damp cleft. The scent was overpowering, making my cock come back to life. I pursed my lips. I gently kissed the wet slit before me. "Tongue!" she said, "Use your tongue! Taste me! Like I tasted you!" I slid my tongue out, tracing her lips, tasting pussy for the first time. It was like nothing I ever tasted before. It was sweet. It was tangy! It was salty! And when she moaned and pulled my face tighter to her, letting me know that she liked it, I plunged my tongue deeper. She rucked her hips up to meet my tongue thrusts, smearing her essence all over my face, her bush tickling my nose. 

"Ahhhh! Yesss! Eat me! Eat my pussy!" she said, holding my head in place as she rocked back and forth. Eager to please, I swiped my tongue along the crevice of her pussy, licking up the residue that leaked from it. The taste was new, strange, but not unpleasant. In fact, the more I tasted, the more I wanted! Knowing that she wanted it made me more eager to eat her. I thrust my tongue deeper inside her as her moans grew louder. Lifting my head and looking me in the eyes, she said, "Suck my clit!"

A look if consternation crossed my face. She could see that I had no idea what she wanted, so she pulled open her weeping pussy, exposing the little nubbin just below her bush. "Suck on this! That's my clit!"

Her free hand, guiding me forward, I wrapped my lips around the hooded button, and gently rasped it with my tongue. "Ohh! God! Yess!" she moaned as she placed her other hand on my head, holding it in place while I sucked and licked the wet, pink flesh of her sex. "Your fingers!.... Put them in me!" she panted. I slipped one in as far as it would go. "No! ...Two...two fingers!" I pulled out enough to slip my ring finger inside next to my middle finger. "Yess! Oh fuck! Yes!" she encouraged me, rolling her hips to get me in deeper. "Palm up!" she said. And moaned as my fingers twisted inside her cloying pussy. "Now scratch! ... Scratch my cunt!" I flexed my fingers, feeling the soft pebbly surface of her g-spot. "Ohhh! God! Yessss!" she cried I continued to rub her clit with my tongue, coming up for breath every few seconds, taking in the heavy musky scent of her womanhood. "Don't stop!...Make me cum!" 

Her hold on my head was vise-like. Not that she needed to hold me there, I wanted to be there, making her moan and flail, proud of my ability to bring her this close. I brought my free hand up to her left breast, and kneaded the ample flesh, rubbing her nipple against my palm as I continued to finger fuck her and suck on her clit.

Unable to hold out any longer, she wailed and bucked against my face, her cunt muscles clasping around my invading fingers, while issuing a fresh supply of warm juices. "Fuck me!....Fuck me now!...Please?" she begged as her hands let go of my head. It was a request! It was an order! I had to comply! My cock was rigid to the point of painful. I wanted, ...no. ... I needed to be inside her!

I crawled up her body, kissing and licking the beads of sweat that formed on her belly and between her breasts. By the time my lips reached her neck, my cock was poised at the lust swollen entrance to her vagina. She wrapped her thighs around me, locking her ankles behind my back. Grabbing my face in her hands and pulling me up to her waiting lips, she whispered, "Make love to me!" and kissed me as my cock slid effortlessly inside her tight, wet sheath.

Establishing a slow, deep rhythm, she offered me her breast. Accepting the invitation, I surrounded her areola with my lips and massaged the captured nipple with my tongue. The sensation of her cunt caressing my cock, the heavenly heat surrounding my member, the warm comfort of her breast, her heels urging me deeper and deeper, her hands on my back, lightly scratching, drove me to increase the pace. Our bodies slapped together, my balls teasing her cunt lips as they met briefly, parted and met again, and again. Soon, she was moaning about how good it felt to have a man inside her. My mind was blank. All I wanted was for us to cum. I wanted her to cum. I needed to cum, as well. "So hard!... So big!.... Oh my fucking God!" she moaned I felt her tense up, her cloying wetness, like a velvet glove urging me to let go, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing. Her fingers raked across my back, leaving a chevron of welts as she came again, triggering my orgasm.

I felt the rush of sperm course up my shaft, my cock expanding and contracting as it pushed my essence deep into her still pulsating pussy. My helmet exploded, splashing great gobs of warm white cum deep in her demanding birth canal. I kept thrusting, still sucking on her nipple, groaning into the soft mound of flesh, washing the walls of her cunt with every ounce of sperm in me. As suddenly as it came, the rush was over. I lay spent on top of her, letting her breast go and rolling off, my cock still leaking as it pulled free. Both of us were panting from the exertion, as I looked toward her, a peaceful smile on her face. She rolled toward me to kiss me, her tongue delving into my mouth, and mine into hers. Breaking the kiss, she whispered, "Thank you" and smiled. I returned the smile until I saw the great bruise on her breast. Seeing my expression of horror, she looked down. "It's OK", she said stroking my face. "The pleasure-pain of you suckling me uncontrollably was a major turn on! It helped me get off!" 

"Let me clean you up" she said after a couple of minutes cuddling together. Kissing her way down my body, she lapped up all the evidence of our tryst, smacking her lips as she went from one testicle to the other and sucking up the small pool of cum on my stomach. Then she kissed me again. I could taste the combined juices of our mating, as I kissed her back.

Later, she told me to return the following week for more tutoring, joking that we just might get in some algebra before the end of the semester.

My reverie was interrupted, by a young lady opening the door. "Yes. Can I help you? " she asked. Standing in front of me was a young clone of Claire. Trying not to stare, I stuttered, "Is this the home of Claire Eastwood?"

Turning her head, she called to no one in particular, "Mom! There's a gentleman here to see you!"

"You must be her daughter! You look a lot like her!" I said, still trying not to stare.

"You know my mom?" she said, her stare unwavering.

"You could say that!" was all I was able to stumble out of my mouth.

At that moment an elegant woman in her mid fifties came to the door. When she saw me, she smiled, saying "Come in Mr. O'Dell. We have a lot to talk about."

Letting me by, the younger woman followed us into the kitchen. "Can I get you some coffee?" she asked, being the perfect hostess.

"Yes, thanks! Two creams, three sugars, if you would." I answered. To Claire, I said, "You haven't changed much!"

"Flatterer! My hairs going gray, and I've put on some weight."

"I hadn't noticed!" I replied, still staring into the pretty face that I remembered from all those years ago.

Changing the subject, she asked why, after all these years, I looked her up.

"Well, when I saw you got the state award for teacher of the year, I just had to see you. After that semester at Prep, you disappeared and no one could tell me why you left, or where you went."

Sipping on her coffee and looking at me over the rim of her cup, she said, "I took a leave of absence. I gave birth to a beautiful daughter. Michael, this is my daughter, Clarissa. Clarissa, this is Michael O'Dell, your father!"



Claire



My wife's face is a luminescent oval surrounded by shining dark brown hair and set with large brown eyes that glisten, as if she is ever on the verge of a cry. It is a face both sad and compassionate. And when she smiles, the expression lifts my heart, melts my will. It is a magic she has worked since we met. And so when Claire suggested that she might be ready to start a family -- her eyes bright, her smile just a little wicked -- I was readily enthusiastic for reasons that I could feel more than understand.

We approached our effort to have children with the passion that colored other aspects of our life together. Our lovemaking in those first few months was more intense and focused than ever. Claire took to murmuring erotically throughout, expressing thoughts and images as they played in her mind -- her love for me, her desire to be made pregnant and feel the subsequent changes to her body, her mental image of her womb, my cock, and the "seed" in my balls. Her low, gentle voice seemed to coax us both into a trancelike state that prolonged our lovemaking to dreamlike reverie.

But we were unsuccessful in making the images a reality. After a year or so using various therapies, and with no small amount of strain on our magic, we ventured into experimental territory. I had read on the web about a few chemical approaches to fertility that had not yet been approved for use legally. I shared my research with Claire, and after an exhausting near-tears discussion, we agreed to try one.

The bottle of little blue pills arrived a few weeks later. It was enclosed with a single sheet of paper that must have been a third or fourth generation photocopy. The blurred text only briefly described the pills themselves as a drug that acted on several levels, including influencing sex- and reproduction-related hormones. Side effects were described as possibly enough to impair judgement, with the usual admonition about driving, and so on. The instructions stated that we were each to take one prior to having intercourse.

That evening without fanfare, Claire and I undressed and each took one of the tiny pills, washing it down with a shared glass of wine. Excitement at trying something so new had already stiffened my cock. Claire took my hand and pulled me to the bed, where we knelt facing one another. As I reached out to caress Claire's sweet face, I felt my own face become warm with an unexpected blush. The sensation moved downward through my body, a creeping warmth. I watched my fingers play over Claire's soft cheek, watched her take my thumb into her mouth. I felt a strange detachment, as if I were examining her from a distance. I noticed with renewed intensity how lovely and full her mouth was around my thumb, the grace in her long neck and slender shoulders. But as I scanned downward over her breasts, over her waist, her hips, I felt my heart begin to race. The sight of Claire's body commanded my attention as it never had before, provoking a kind of fever that had my cock aching.

Through a growing haze of desire, I heard Claire's voice groan. I felt it resonate through her lips, tenderly gripping my thumb. Looking back at her face, I saw her eyes shut tightly in what looked like a wince. My gaze drifted again to her body as my head filled with a warm fog that started to make coherent thought elusive. I wondered briefly if I should be concerned about what appeared to be dramatic side effects. Was it the wine? But before I could act on the thought my caution vanished, chased away by a vivid, visceral awareness of the nearness of Claire's body. I moved closer to her.

I wanted to take her and pull her body against mine. But at that moment she cried out in a muffled groan. Her hands flew up to sieze my extended arm. Her lips pulled at my thumb, her teeth suddenly bearing down. Another groan rose more loudly, low in her throat.

She shuddered in a way that shook her entire body. My earlier vague concern about side effects returned as I worried that Claire might be in pain. My hazy sensibilities were barely able, and barely willing, to sort it out.

As her body quieted, she released my thumb and opened her eyes to look into mine. She parted her lips, panting, and nodded almost imperceptibly, an affirmation, her eyes fluttering. Then she opened her mouth for yet another scream-like groan. She found each of my hands with hers, gripped them tightly, then suddenly bent at the waist and lurched forward to slam her head into my chest. With her dark hair against my chin, I could feel her gasping open-mouthed against my left nipple. Then I felt her tongue brush it softly.

"It's okay... I'm okay," she said against my nipple. She seemed to struggle for breath.

But I barely heard her: the sensation of our bodies finally so close had quickened my own breathing. My heart pounded. I felt as if in a fever. My cock and balls were enormous in my mind's eye.

Claire slipped slowly downward, shaking, her face and hair sliding over my chest to my flat belly, then down to my crotch. I felt her nose push into the hair at the base of my cock, her hands still squeezing mine. Looking down over her curves, I fought a growing desire to shake my hands free of hers and reach out for her ass. I knew one thing: she would not suck my cock to orgasm; I would not allow it. I knew that when I came my cock would be thrust deep inside her, completely inside her, my cum flooding her womb.

Claire seemed to be snuffling at my crotch, whimpering and nuzzling in a way that caused my shaft to bounce about against her neck and shoulder. Then she began to shake again, at first softly, but then in convulsions that had her hips undulating beneath my fixed gaze. I felt her mouth open wide against my cock's base, her lips wet against me, and she began to cry in a pulsing, guttural groan.

"Aagghhhh... it's okay..." she panted. "It's... oh... dear god... it feels good..."

I bent over her body, held her hands as she shook. I didn't know what was happening to Claire, and what was left of my intellect seemed unable to pursue the question. I was pushed completely into the moment. My brain filled with desires sent to it by my body. And my body screamed a desire to fuck Claire.

So I barely blinked when I thought I saw, amid Claire's convulsions, that the muscles of her ass had begun to ripple beneath her skin. They seemed to be flexing in undulations that swept up from the backs of her thighs over her hips, crashing like tiny waves against her waist.

"Oh god!" I heard her cry against my cock. "It's happening! I can feel it!"

Claire's hands tightened on mine painfully. Her gasps had become grunts punctuating her moans. And as I watched, Claire's hips began to slowly widen. She jerked her ass back and upward, arching her back. Her hips stretched slowly outward, her ass growing fuller and rounder. The image of the change seemed to send bolts of arousal straight to my own hips, my cock, my balls. I found myself involuntarily thrusting, sliding my cock subtly against Claire's face. Claire's nearness prompted my body to seek more of her. But she did not take my cock in her mouth, instead allowing it to slide against her hair.

Finally, her shaking seemed to subside. After a few moments she became quiet, panting softly. She lifted her head. Her eyes were wet and dazed, but there was a curious half-smile on her lips. She sat up on her heels and we both looked down at her body. Her 24-inch waist now flared downward and out to deliciously curved hips that were inches broader than her shoulders. Her smile widened. She pulled my hand toward her until my fingertips rested on her right hip. I rubbed gently, enjoying her fullness, and she watched my smile grow.

Then her breathing began to quicken again. She freed her other hand from mine and placed her fingers gently over one of her small breasts. She gasped softly, then leaned in to whisper to me.

"I... I don't think I'm quite finished yet," she said, her eyes fluttering closed.

I looked down at where her hand rested on her breast. I saw her fingers spread slowly, and I watched as her nipple swelled and lengthened between them. Both of her nipples grew and hardened until they appeared to be about an inch long. Claire looked down at herself, caressed one swollen nipple. Her smile told me that she enjoyed what was happening. But there was something else. She seemed to understand it in a way I did not. For myself, I could only dimly sense an internal struggle between my remaining shreds of concern for her well-being and a primal, unreasoning desire to get my cock into her. And the desire to fuck her was winning.

Then she lowered her hand and cupped her breast from the bottom. I lifted my hand from her hip with and moved it up to her other breast. I closed my hand over her, my thumb stroking her enlarged nipple. She made a little cry. Then I heard her gasp as both of her breasts began to get heavier. They grew larger, filling outward and downward, pushing into our hands.

Claire moaned and whispered to me as her breasts slowly got bigger. "Ohhh... it feels so nice, David. Feel them. I can feel them filling inside."

My hand filled with Claire's swelling breast. I felt my cock ache. I felt my balls burn in their sac. Claire shuddered softly, whimpering in low tones. In my ears her voice was like an animal's, blurred to a kind of growl. Animal cries in my animal ears, increasing my animal cock's need to sheath itself in her animal cunt. My hips bucked gently, bobbing my bone-stiff cock in the air between us.

Claire's breasts filled and grew until they were massive compared with their original size. They were like two big, soft, teardrop-shaped bags of skin that had been held too long at a tap. They swayed and bobbled heavily as she shook from her transformation. Her eyes fluttered, seeing me and then losing me, then seeing me again. Her breasts hung nearly to her belly button. Full, fat, bloated, beautiful.

She grunted suddenly and dropped to her hands and knees on the bed before me. She positioned herself with her ass pointing upward and her teat-like nipples hanging to the sheet. My dick throbbed in her face like a finger whacked with a hammer.

Claire's eyes were wide, fixed on my cock. She brought her face near to my shaft, snuffling along its length, then pressing her nose into the hair at its base. I watched her face disappear as her own dark hair fell forward. I felt her nose and lips nuzzle my groin, rooting into my curls, the base of my shaft, my balls. I leaned over her to slide my hands along the curve of her waist, then out around her wide hips to her butt. I felt Claire's tongue begin to lap at my shaft. I started to knead her enlarged ass, pushing my hands to the backs of her thighs. I found the lips of her pussy, swollen and wet, even as I felt her mouth engulf me hungrily.

My senses swam, dazed. My fingers found Claire's clit, or what I guessed was her clit, a slick knob the size of my thumb's end jutting from her folds. At my cock I felt Claire attempt a long low wail, her cry stifled by my shaft. But the vibration of her voice took me to the edge. A delirium overtook me more quickly than I could react. My thoughts of pulling away were washed to oblivion by the warmth of her mouth. I tried to keep a gentle stroking motion at Claire's bulbous clit even as my hips began thrusting involuntarily, shoving my cock into her throat. Claire whimpered, gasping through her nose. But I barely heard her. Instead, I heard myself grunting as I thrust again. Then I felt a burning sensation begin at the base of my cock. I groaned as the burning grew, filling my cock and balls. As the pain became more intense, a part of me panicked, needing to see the cause. I straightened and pulled my cock from Claire's mouth.

As my cock slid out of Claire's mouth, my body was wracked by an intense orgasm. I looked down at my cock hovering over Claire's upturned, reddened face. Her lips were open and swollen and wet, panting. My cock started to pulse and I aimed it so that my cum wouldn't land in her eyes. But the cum never appeared. Instead we watched as my cock swelled larger with each pulse. Claire chortled in a kind of wicked laugh. Her mouth gaped and then she closed her eyes and extended her tongue. My chest was heaving as waves of pleasure and agony shook me. Groaning in pain and desire, I watched my cock grow thicker and longer against Claire's sweet face, the head pushing up and over her nose, past her eyes, her forehead.

Claire's eyes shone as she looked up past the cock elongating against her face.

"Yess," she whispered hoarsely. "Just look at it. Feel your cock getting so big and heavy, like my tits."

I could only nod, wincing. My voice bubbled through my throat in grunts amid my gasps. She knelt there, her face expectant, her mammoth tits swaying beneath her as she moved.

"Yess. Look what you're becoming, sweetheart," she said, her voice husky, pleased. "You're going to be my bull, David. You're going to mount me and fuck me and fill me with all of your of seed."

Her tender hand slid up and down along my shaft. As my orgasm and growth subsided, Claire licked the underside of my now enormous cock. Her eyes were closed, her tongue methodical, like one animal bathing, preparing another. She moved her mouth down and under to my balls, which now hung in a sac the size of a cantaloupe.

"Come on, David," she said, her lips pressed against my bloated sac. "Fuck me. Breed your bitch. God... I'm so in heat for you."

On her hands and knees, she shuffled completely around so that her ass was before me. She dropped her torso to the bed, and I saw her mammoth breasts spread from her sides. Her pussy lips were swollen, dripping, her clit jutting out red and wet like the end of a pointed tongue. I bent and lapped at her pussy, flicking her clit with my tongue.

"Ahhh... no no no no... mount me, David!" she whimpered. "Fuck me! God, I need you to fuck me. I need to be bred with your seed!"

What we were about to do wasn't about love, or even pleasure. It was about biology. As I moved quickly in behind her, looking down at her prone body -- her dark hair scattered across her shoulders, her lovely wide ass thust up at me, supporting my enormous shaft, her fingers splayed out against the sheets, preparing for my assault -- I knew and she knew that this was about my pushing my cock in as far as it would go and stabbing her with it until my body reacted by pumping the contents of my seed-laden balls into her. Her belly full of me, the rest would be beyond our control as sperm invaded egg with another penetration, and together they grew inside her. This was, at the moment, the sole purpose of our lives.

I mounted her. In my mind's eye, I was one animal atop another. My cock parted the swollen lips of her pussy and I watched her folds stretch and drip as I pushed the head into her. Claire grunted, cried out.

"Unnhhh! Yes, push it!"

She shuddered, stiffened as I gripped her tightly, one hand at her shoulder and the other at her waist: I didn't want the female going anywhere until I had emptied myself inside her. Claire gasped, her mouth wide, panting. Inch after inch of me slid impossibly, thickly into her. My hips bucked against her tightness, pushing my thickness through her stretched lips. She was impaled so very far... my cock must have stretched nearly to her lungs.

"Feel it," I hissed through clenched teeth, leaning over her body. "I'm going to breed you now. Just like a bitch in heat!"

She grunted loudly and pushed back into me, sheathing herself over me.

Her groans filled the air. I gripped her ass roughly and struggled to get myself in all the way with urgent thrusts. Her bleating urged me onward. She raised her ass higher. Her engorged breasts spread fatly against the sheets. I started to fuck her faster. My balls swung forward with each thrust to fly through her spread thighs. I pulled her back onto me. And then my groin was slapping her ass, rippling her muscled cheeks.

As I fucked her, I was dimly aware of Claire's arms stretching out before her. Her hands gripped the sheets. She pulled the material into deep pleats with her fingers. She shrieked in pulsing cries muffled by the bed. Her pussy gushed, drenching my cock with hot liquid. She was cumming.

My body seemed beyond my control. I started to shake. My thrust-grunts were loud now, as if to tell the bitch I had found what I was about to do, that she was about to be bred. My chest heaved and I shoved my cock in all the way and held it there. My humanity fled as my cock pulsed and thickened even larger inside her. Then it erupted.

Long, surging jets of my cum shot into my bitch's body. The pulsing blasts were steady, unrelenting. I held her ass tightly to me as my cock pumped like the extension of some machine, injecting her with a torrent of seed. My cum's warmth filled my bitch's belly and I felt it swirl inside her and around my cock until finally it began to seep past the seal my shaft made against her lips.

I seemed to empty into her for over a minute, and after the pulsing had subsided, I pulled out of her and watched her pussy close tightly to hold in my seed. The bed at her knees was a wet mess, viscous with my cum and hers. She dropped to her side and I fell to lay facing her.

We lay there for a while, dozing. Claire lay on her side facing me, her massive breasts spilling out between her arms. Waking, I looked over at her legs, long and lovely, bent together at the knees, then allowed my eyes to scan up to her hips. Although her legs were still slim, the curve from her knees over her hips created a slope that dove with a steep descent into the valley of her waist. The expanse of skin across her hips was punctuated by a modest triangle of hair that pointed toward a small gap where dim light passed between her thighs.

My gaze traveled to Claire's breasts, which hung nearly obscuring her navel, as if they had been filling continuously since they'd begun to grow. They were set with swollen areolas whose nipples were larger than the last two digits on my little finger, thicker than thimbles. Her nipples and areolas were much darker than before, and I found myself staring.

"They ache, David," Claire's voice whispered hoarsely.

I started, feeling as though she had caught me.

"Look what you've done to me," she whispered, smiling softly. She took one of my hands in hers and brought it to one of her breasts. I caressed her fullness, tugging gently at her nipple.

"Ohhhhh," she groaned. "They're so full. Can you feel it?"

I massaged her nipple, pressing my fingers into her flesh. I told her yes, I could feel it, feel the milk in her. And as I pulled, I could feel Claire's nipples swell into my fingers. Her nipples grew larger and thicker as I massaged them. Claire watched my hands working and I heard her gasp as she noticed what as happening.

"My god," she said. "Oh my god."

She slowly lifted her body up so that she was on all fours again. Her immense breasts hung beneath her, swinging into my hands. I kept massaging and pulling, my mouth open and dry. Claire repreated "Oh god" again, then again, half in a whisper. Then she merely whimpered, watching her nipples lengthen. And then her voice became a curiously guttural moan.

"Ummm," she groaned, her head lowered to watch me play with her teats.

Again I squeezed and listened to her groan. I took one nipple in each hand. I tugged downward on one, then the other.

"Mm-hmmm," came her groan, a bit louder, then a small gasp.

I began to massage her bloated nipples slowly, pulling one and then the other, then the first again. Her humming and moaning continued, lowered, and became louder. At last I heard Claire sigh loudly, and I saw droplets appear at the end of each nipple. Claire raised her face to look back at me, grinning.




Claire



"Mmooo," she said, then giggled.

I laughed softly with her and pulled at her teat more firmly, watching her smile grow. Her milk flowed more freely, coming out in streams that wetted the sheets. She lowered her head again.

"Mmmmooooooo," Claire bellowed from deep in her throat.

Giggling, she swayed her big round ass as I milked her.



Claire and Ava Blur the Line



Claire was so focused on her microbiology book the unexpected vibration of her phone caused her to jump, her chair to tipping precariously before righting itself. "Someone better be dead," she cursed while unlocking her phone. Finals were less than a week away and she still had four chapters of notes to take.

Despite herself the text from Ava brought a smile to her face. "School has so burned me out, wanna see hunger games @9 tonight at the village?" At least if she suffered a complete mental breakdown in the next week she'd be in good company. 

Ava and Claire had been friends for years but between relationships, kids, and now school they hadn't seen each other much in the last semester. "omg yes, need to study now though." She'd have to buckle down but her entire being was now aching a night away from the joy of higher education. 

Far too soon she was driving down the highway like a mad woman, applying her makeup at red lights, wondering how she'd allowed herself to be convinced taking two science classes and two labs at the same time was a good idea. 

By the time she arrived the frazzled student identity had been banished, the old t-shirt and sweats replaced with her favorite grey sweater, her new boots and leggings that at the moment were making her painfully aware spring had not yet sprung. 

She searched the crowd, worrying for a moment she'd been stood up. "Wow you look gorgeous," her friend's voice called, "you do know we are going to be sitting in the dark for two hours though?" 

"I haven't put makeup on for a week, I needed to feel like a woman again" Claire pouted. "And you have no room to say anything!" The black dress Ava wore left little to Claire or anyone else's imagination. 

"Hey Paul paid good money for these" she laughed, cupping her newly augmented breasts. "The least I can do is enjoy them!" 

The greeter took a far longer than necessary amount of time printing their tickets and Claire got his gaze lingering on her body several times while he directed them to the balcony. 

"That boy thought you were hot." Ava teased, knowing how uncomfortable Claire became with unwanted attention. "Too bad for him we are way out of his league."

"And I'm taken," Claire reminded her. She knew she wasn't ugly, most places she went she caught at least one guy paying her far too much attention but she didn't enjoy it as much as Ava seemed to. "Besides, you are the gorgeous one, I'd fuck you."

"You always say that, but you never do." Ava said, taking Claire's hand and guiding her through the crowd to their theater. "You're going to give me a complex!" 

Claire had hoped the movie would be a good distraction but as they often do the director had taken too many liberties with the story. The only redeeming factor was the seat side drinks the theater brought to them. 

"One of the few benefits of being nearly thirty" Ava boasted a little too loudly, earning an annoyed look from the couple in front of them as she finished the fourth drink of the movie. 

It wasn't as though Claire hadn't enjoyed her rum and coke but her mind was already thinking of school. She cherished seeing her friend but her thoughts were starting to turn to how much study time she was giving up to watch a bad movie. 

"Claire," her friend whispered, breaking her from her thoughts, finger half way curling in a drunken come hither movement. Ava's hand rested on her upper thigh, the unexpected touch sending a bolt of electricity from her clit. "So you know, you are the gorgeous one ... oh ... and someday I WILL fuck you." 

Claire didn't reply, but she also didn't remove her friend's hand that was now cupping her mound. Despite Ava's confidence they had never much gone beyond an occasional make out session. The sessions always left her dripping wet and aching for sex but she'd never allowed it to go that far. She always told Ava she loved cock which was true, but truth be told she was also terrified she wouldn't know what to do, that she'd disappoint her friend and she wasn't sure she wanted to anyway.

Sensing Claire would not immediately stop her at least, Ava's hand alternating between cupping and rubbing her mound, sending shock waves through her body. Claire never wore panties with leggings, something Ava was now using to her unfair advantage her finger discovering and circling the rapidly hardening clit. 

"Ava ..." She managed to whisper, her hand now gripping her friend's thigh tightly as her hips rose to meet her hand each time she cupped her pussy, her clit begging for more attention. She could only hope others in the theater were more interested in the unfolding scene of kids butchering each other than her oddly rhythmic movements.

Claire's hips pressed upward as though with a mind of their own, her pussy was on fire. "Stop?" Ava asked sweetly, letting her palm come to a rest against her friend's clit, a smile crossing her face as she felt fingernails dig a little deeper into her thigh.

"fuck ddon't stop" she gasped, how could the bitch do this to her? Her other hand pressed Ava's hand against her mound, begging her hand to move again.

Satisfied, Ava let spread her fingers, now rubbing two sides of Claire's clit through her leggings. Claire shifted to give her better access, she could feel the heat radiating from her friend's pussy, she pressed the tip of her finger against her opening, blocked from entering her only by the thin fabric of her leggings a moan of her own escaped her lips. 

Claire's thoughts of school were long gone, thankfully the sounds of battle on the screen both captivated the crowd's attention and masked the soft moans now escaping her mouth. Her pussy was sopping now, part of her wondered how she would manage to walk to her car with her leggings soaked but it was only a small part. Her body was in control now even though she was only raised a few inches out of her seat in her mind she was bucking wildly under her friend's touch.

"What are you doing?" a small, in fact a very small voice asked Claire. In that moment she didn't care, her legs trembled as Ava increased the pressure on her clit. She didn't know how she would feel tomorrow or what she would tell Cole but she knew if Ava stopped touching her now she would come undone but more than that in her heart she didn't want Ava to stop touching her. 

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this to you," Ava whispered in her ear, timing her fingers pressing against Claire's opening with her thumb circling what had to be a clit aching for release. "Now be a girl and cum for me." 

At that moment each moment of affection between them flashed in Claire's mind, the friendship, groping and kissing each other at the bar, her hips bucked harder. "I'm going -" the words were forever lost as Ava pressed her lips to Claire's and their tongues met, gently at first and then more desperate e as Claire's body surrendered to a soul bending climax, surrounded by a hundred oblivious people. Ava waited patiently for Claire to "cum" down from her orgasm. 

At last the credits appeared on the screen, they had spent the rest of the movie silently lost in thought, Claire's hand cupped in Ava's. Claire couldn't wait to get out of the theater, she needed to think and to figure out what and how much to tell her husband. 

Somehow "It was OK but the best part of the whole thing was when Ava rubbed my pussy until I came for her" just didn't seem like an appropriate response to the inevitable "How was your movie?" It wasn't that he would mind, in fact she was fairly certain he would encourage her, what guy wouldn't? But she had never allowed things to go this far. What she did know was she needed time to figure out how she felt before she brought it up with Cole. 

Claire was so lost in thought she didn't notice the two men approaching them from behind as they walked toward the exit. "Hey girls, nice kiss, can we provide any assistance?" She turned to young men, the word lust practically written on their forehead, the smiles on their faces made her want to take a shower. 

Before she could formulate a response Ava was ad dropped her hand and was inches from the larger man's face. "She's MINE, you need to back the fuck off asshole." 

Confusion, then anger crossed the man's face. "Come on Mike, let's go" his friend begged, attempting to pull him in the opposite direction. The man apparently known as Mike paused, considering his options, before concluding getting in a fight with a gorgeous woman half his size in a room full of men would not end well for him and allowed his friend to pull him away. "They couldn't handle us anyway."

"Idiot," Ava cursed, not yet ready to let it go. "Are you OK?"

"Yes, are you?" 

Ava confused at first, finally realizing everyone in the lobby was watching them. She forced down the urge to scream at and hit them. "I want to go home."

"You had four drinks in half an hour, you're not driving. " Claire said. "You can use the guest bed and we'll get your car in the morning. 

Ava wanted to argue that she was fine but the look on Claire's face made it clear the matter had been settled and it would be unwise for her to argue. "Let's go then."

The drinks gave Ava an excuse not to talk on the way to Claire's house. She genuinely loved her friend, she wanted good things for her. She could not stand to lose their friendship but another part wanted to pin her against wall, kiss her neck, and slowly undress her, to cup her breasts in her hands to whisper how beautiful she was in her ear. 

She ached to touch, to see Claire's pussy spread before her, to know what she tasted like, to hear her beg her not to stop pleasuring her and scream her name while she made her cum but it was obvious her friend was conflicted about what had already happened. She pushed the desire down, her stupid impulses had done enough already tonight. 

By the time they pulled into the driveway it was nearly midnight, the house was dark and quiet. Claire brought some extra blankets into the room and the moonlight from the open window washed over, lighting her profile. Her stomach flipped and she forced down the urge to kiss her. "God she's beautiful" she thought followed by "Shit, am I really this depraved?" 

In her heart she knew she wasn't depraved, Claire was one of her best friends and it was an understatement to say she was beautiful, though she didn't know it. 

Claire wasn't tall, dark skinned or overly busty but her face was perfectly proportioned, nearly angelic, it made her want to ravage her and protect her at the same time. The curves of her hips, waist called to her, she hated girls that could looked like boys with boobs, and she ached to have her hands on her hips. 

"It's going to kill me if I don't ask," Ava started, her stomach was in a knot. It wasn't like her to be either timid or unsure and she hated that she felt this way. "Are you OK with what happened?"

Claire paused, she had expected the question but not tonight and to be honest she wasn't sure yet how she felt. But the desperate look on Ava's face was clear, even without words it said: "Please say we are OK, please say I didn't fuck up our friendship." 

Too many questions, was she a lesbian, bi, just extra horny tonight? Did she want to do it again, did Ava? What would she say to Cole, would he be OK with what happened, would he be OK with it happening again, would he want to demand to have Ava too. Nausea washed over her thinking of him touching her, was that fair?

She chose her words carefully. "A lot is going on in my head but I am not angry with you." It was the best she could do to reassure her friend. She had spent the ride home trying very hard NOT to think of what had happened. Not because she hadn't enjoyed it, no, because she had enjoyed it more than she thought she would have. 

Like water rushing from broken dam relief flooded Ava's face. "I could not live with myself if I ruined our friendship by doing something stupid." 

"That would never happen." Claire sat next to one of her best friend's on the bed, putting an arm around her. From this angle Ava's breasts were on fully display and she couldn't help but thinking Paul was a lucky man.

Ava was the type of girl she had to think guys fantasized about while jacking off. She was taller than her own 5'3, full DD breasts that she envied and unlike Claire's, Ava's face was not innocent. The mischief in her eyes constantly hinted at the naughty things she knew Ava preferred in bed. Sometimes she acted before she thought things through but she had a good, if not guarded heart and Claire loved her for it.

Before she could stop herself Claire leaned in and kissed Ava gently, her tongue probing her lips. "God the tastes good" she thought to herself in the moment before Ava's lips parted, letting her tongue into her mouth. 

Ava's head swam, a moment ago she feared losing her friend and now Claire's tongue was forcing its way into her mouth, a hand groping her breast. Their tongues met and danced across each other, her head swimming desire overwhelming sane thought. Finally she broke the kiss crying out "I want you!" 

"You're always saying that, quit talking about it then and take me then." Claire taunted, she still hadn't decided how she felt but she knew she wanted this experience, at least one time. 

With a ferocity she wouldn't have thought possible Ava exploded, pushing her onto the bed, lavishing her neck and face with kisses while her hands roamed down the side of her body, finally cupping her mound in her hand.

"These off, now!" Ava commanded, tugging at her leggings. In a flash they were but a jumbled mess on the floor, and Claire's pussy was fully exposed to her friend. 

Her spot bulged to the point of aching and her own juices were already starting to flow down her slit and onto the bed. "You have a fucking hot pussy" Ava whispered, a look of what could be described only as hunger possessing the features of her face. 

"I don't eat pussy" she purred, "but for this one I'm willing to make an exception" She lowered herself between Claire's legs, kissing each inch of thigh, stopping just before her lips and working her way down her stomach to her mound

"No teasing!" Claire protested, the warm mouth on her thighs, and mound caused her already aching clit to scream in protest. "I need your mouth on me now, PLEASE."

Ava wrapped her lips around Claire's growing clit, letting her tongue circle it twice and then dart across it before gently sucking it into her mouth. Claire's body tensed beneath her, her hips shooting up into the air, begging for more. 

The taste of Claire's pussy washed into Ava's mouth, she was sweet, so sweet and warm, her own clit was aching for relief now but she ignored it. Tonight was about Claire. "You taste amazing," she gasped. "I've wanted this little pussy forever."

Claire's head spun as Ava settled into a pattern of circling and sucking and then darting across her clit. Her hands found their way down, holding Ava's hair back so she could watch her mouth taking her clit inside it. 

"Just like that, keep doing that" she begged, pulling Ava's head down harder against her mound. "Fuckkkkkkkk Ava!" the cry escaped on its own. She wasn't ready to cum, she beat the fledgling orgasm into submission. 

"Not yet" Ava thought to herself, letting her tongue trace Claire's clit to her perfect little hole, pressing the head of her tongue inside her friend's opening. "I'm not ready for her to cum yet." 

Ava was fucking the mattress, grinding her pussy against the bed. Her hand roamed the bed, searching for something more satisfying to grind against than the mattress, at last landing on a pillow. "Better than nothing" her mind screamed as she shoved it between her and the bed.

More of Claire's juice flowed into mouth, the scent of it, the taste caused her head to spin far more than the drinks she had that night. Claire's hands clawed at her head, begging her mouth to return to her clit. 

"Please Ava, please." Claire whined, pushing her hips down, nearly forcing her clit into Ava's mouth. 

"Please what?" Ava teased, looking into her friends eyes. "What would you like me to do?" An evil grin forming on her face.

"Brat!"

"Tell me and I'll do it" 

Claire was squirming, this morning she never would have thought she'd be begging one of her best friends to eat her pussy but she was well past that consideration, she needed to cum or she was going to fall apart."

"Lick my clit, suck my clit, she pleaded. "Don't stop until I cum, I NEED to cum Ava, please."

"Was that sooo hard?" 

If Claire intended a response it was lost forever in the unintelligible jumble of sounds that escaped her mouth as Ava buried two fingers in her pussy, her fingers tips finding and rubbing her g-spot as she sucked her clit into her mouth, resuming her pattern of circles, sucking and licking. 

Claire's juice suddenly shot down Ava's fingers, dripping onto the sheets as her hips erupted in the air, her pussy grinding almost painfully against Ava's face. "I'm cumming ... AVA!" Ava froze, letting Claire ride her orgasm until she collapsed on the sheets.

"Feel good?" Ava asked after a moment.

"You have no idea. All I could think was your face was between my legs, eating my pussy." Claire's eyes met Ava's. "Do you want me to make you cum?"

Ava did, she ached to feel Claire's mouth on her pussy. She wanted to flood her mouth with her own cum not wanting to push her too far in one night she shook her head. "I'm almost there, just kiss me. 

Claire slid down the bed until her lips met Ava's. "I want you to touch yourself thinking of my pussy Ava" she whispered in her ear. "I want you to remember the taste of my pussy, how I felt squeezing your fingers."

Ava's fingers were flying across her clit now, circling, darting. She hadn't lied when she had said she was close, she had fucked the pillow nearly to orgasm. 

"Cum for me Ava, cum" Claire said, "show me how bad you wanted my pussy." 

Ava's fingers danced across her own clit, circling, her hips coming off the bed, the room spun as she opened her mouth. "I'm gonna cu -" Claire's tongue parted her lips further and filled her mouth and danced across her tongue as her orgasm shook her body. Finally they both collapsed, a tangle of arms and legs. 

They spent what seemed an eternity, looking at each other, knowing their friendship wouldn't ever be quite the same again. 

"You should go to bed," Ava murmured in her ear at least. "Cole's going to wonder where you are at some point." 

"Are you jealous of him?" 

Now it was Ava's turn to be silent, searching for the right words. Finally she found them: "Who wouldn't be a little jealous of the person that gets you Claire?" 

"There you are!" a groggy husband greeted Claire as she crawled into bed. "How was your movie?"

"We can talk about it tomorrow," Clair said, taking his hand and pressing it against her pussy so he could feel how her still dripping pussy. "Right now I need you to fuck me, can you do that?"

"You know I can" Cole said, laughing and rolling her onto her back while spreading her legs. "Now show me my pussy, you dirty girl."