Fred Jones
Member
Posts: 202
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"Dave, I'm so glad you called. I was afraid I wouldn't hear
from you again," was the greeting I got. What a nice
welcome to my call. I loved it!
We agreed on a real date. "A Vida sounds
wonderful," she agreed. "Do you want to meet me there, or
. . .?"
Of course I opted to pick her up at home!
The directions she offered were exact, to the point of her
saying "Dave, when you come, don't park in front. Pull into
the drive way, then walk around to the front door, all
right? We don't like on street parking here."
Her driveway bent around a bit, so my car was hidden by a
solid fence. I walked along the path that went between the
fence and the house on the way to the front door. Nice
house, one level, big. If she got the house as part of the
divorce, it means they've been doing well. I can't help it, I
do think about such things. After all, at the end of the day,
I wanted to be involved in a long term relationship again.
I walked around what was probably a bedroom wing (I
wondered if I'll see that from the inside anytime soon - I
hoped so) to the main door, also well screened with
foliage.
The bell pealed Westminster, and a moment later Donna
opened the door. She was so beautiful I found it hard to
breathe!
I was greeted with a quick kiss - but it was a kiss! "Can we
go now?" she asked, "before I lose my nerve? You're the
first date I've had in this era of my life."
I reminded her of our first meeting: "But I don't count it as
a date unless I get picked up at home," she countered.
I didn't care how this lovely image was keeping score. She
had opened the door ready to go. She already had on a
small jacket over a green dress with a high neckline,
medium heels. She held up her purse "Mad money - in
case I have to come home alone." I was being put on
notice, and I didn't understand why!
A Vida dinners are uniformly excellent. We were both
nervous, though. Cocktails and a bottle of wine were
excessive. Good, yes, helpful, yes, but excessive. The
restaurant was crowded, and Donna somehow seemed to
spend time looking over my shoulder towards the door.
That was the only dissidence. "Are you expecting to see
someone?" I finally asked, only to have her nervously
laugh, and deny she was looking anywhere special. For
the rest of the dinner she mostly kept her gaze focused on
me. Where, I thought, it belonged.
The two hours at table flew by. "A liqueur?" I offered,
wanting to extend the evening.
"That sounds nice," she said, "but not here. Take me
home, we'll have it there."
That was an invitation I was NOT about to refuse.
I drove back carefully - DWI was not on my agenda, not
ever, and not on that night especially.
We got to Laurel Oaks safely, and into her driveway. We
walked along the path inside her solid fence, around the
side of the house. It was dark. "I'll guide you," she said,
holding my hand. We passed the wing protected by the
fence and a window behind high shrubs, with the shade
partly up. "Bedroom" she confirmed without prompting.
She got the door open, and us inside without an exterior
light going on. My own house has motion detector lamps
all around it - it can't be approached without lamps going
on.
I told her about that - "Oh, we have them too, they're just
off tonight."
When I remember all of the clues, and my inability to form
them into a consistent set, I get - well, that's why I'm
writing this.
We went into her great room, and she waved toward the
sofa.
"Sit down, Dave. I'll get us a liqueur. Will Grand Marnier
work for you? I like it on the rocks, or we have. . ."
I interrupted - "That sounds wonderful."
She went toward what I thought might be the kitchen, while
I looked around the nicely done room. Shades were drawn
- nice art on the walls, a piano with music open. That was
not a prop, I decided. The books that were visible were
ones I've read, or wanted to. It was a very comfortable
room.
It took a little longer than I'd have thought for her to
reappear.
She handed me a glass, and raised her own. "To a
wonderful evening, and to the only man, other than my
husband, to be here with me," she offered as the toast. I
could, and did, take to that.
"Do you know why people break glasses after a toast?" I
asked her.
"I understand it's so that the glasses can't ever be used for
a lesser purpose," she told me. "I'll break these later," she
continued with a smile, "when we're done with them."
We sipped the liqueur for a moment, enjoying the orange
tang, then she purposely put her glass down. - it was,
retrospectively, a seminal moment.
She stood, and turned her back to me.
"Dave, will you help me with this jacket?"
Ever the gentleman, I stood, and slid it off her shoulders,
and down her arms.
Oh!
Her dress, so conservative in front, was not, in back. It was
fastened behind her neck, then the sides curved open in a
beautiful catenary, inches wide above the small of her
back, joining again just above her buttocks, where the
dress was gathered, defining her waist, with a sash. The
mathematician in me struggled to describe the shape of the
exposed skin - not a crescent, what is that shape? - while
the man in me looked at skin, unencumbered with bra
straps, meaning that wonderful shape I'd been admiring all
evening was natural, with no artificial sweetening. . .
Physiology, even with all of the serum holy water, began
working. Damn it, I hoped the rest of my body wouldn't be
needing the red being diverted, and I surely hoped the
diversion wasn't being caused by a false positive.
Donna turned again, facing me, her face wearing an
uncertain smile. "Dave, don't think badly of me. . ." but by
then she was in my arms.
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Fred Jones
Member
Posts: 202
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Hmmmmm. No responses. Oh, well, let's wrap this up then.
I was hardly touching her, being mostly beside her, my
mouth moving down, over the swoop of her breast.
"That's nice," she said, "do me, do more. . ."
She had a hand behind my head, another on my cheek, as
I moved lower, touching her ever so softly, until my lips
brushed her nipple. Her hand left my cheek, and went
under her breast, lifting it toward my mouth, and her other
hand pushed me toward her.
But I'm strong, I didn't let her push me into her breast, I
stayed away, letting my tongue do circles, and tease that
nipple, then the other one, until finally, I took some of it
into my mouth, my teeth closing on it, nibbling at it, feeling
her excitement. . .
I love pleasing a woman, and Donna was so responsive, it
made it easier for me, made me want to do more, to drive
her to ecstasy, if I could.
I was sure she wouldn't object, as I abandoned her
breasts, my tongue tracing down lower, teasing her navel,
ever so softly.
I was kneeling, now, beside her, my knees at her waist,
leaning over her, torso twisted.
"Are you going to do that. . ." she started to ask, when my
mouth was at the first fringes of her pubic hair.
It was easy to put my fingers over her lips, silencing her,
feeling her lips purse to kiss my fingers, understanding it
was time for her to be quiet. . .
I did answer her question, though.
"Why, yes, yes I am," I assured her, as I moved down a
little more, bending over her pelvis..
"I'm going to do everything," I told her, and breathed
through my mouth, my breath blowing at her, at her lips.
I love it when a woman is so responsive! Her legs were
apart enough, I could see hair moving under the influence
of my breath, such soft hair. . .
Now I moved again, both my hands meeting between her
legs, covering her, and in turn, my hands were covered
with hers!
Was she going to stop me?
I made a gentle touch, a brush, a spreading motion,
inspired her to rotate her hips, splaying her legs wider.
No, she wasn't stopping me, not at all.
I repeated it, not allowing my fingers to penetrate, just to
open her wider. Her hands, on my wrists, followed along,
not resisting, not powering, enjoying the sensation. . .
There it was, her clit, her own small erection, exposed!
I exhaled on it.
She moaned.
Holding her open, I blew again, moving closer, now.
I realized she had pulled her arms back, and reached
across her body, and put her hand behind my knee.
I blew again, and lowered my head, so I was just above
that lovely place.
Her hips were almost quivering, now.
So, I went a little lower. She felt me move and was
suddenly still - quiet.
"Are you. . .?" she started to ask, before my tongue
touched her there, so softly, a butterfly's weight only.
Oh, but she felt it. I can't describe the sound she made, or
the shudder her body made, but she felt it!.Her legs parted
more, offering all the access I could ever want.
Another touch, still soft, but a little more pressure, and my
tongue made caressing motions on it, over it, around it,
and she wasn't still anymore, her hips were thrusting
against my face, but she couldn't make me go harder, or
faster. I thought, I knew, I was sure, all of my experience
told me, that most women, and I hoped this woman, would
be pleased, be pleasured.
She had lifted her head, I could feel her bite at my hip!
Then, she pulled at my knee, trying to have me move it to
the other side of her head, to be over her.
"You don't have to do that, you can just enjoy what I'm
doing. . ."
"I want to, give it to me," she insisted, pulling at my knee
again.
I did what she wanted, after all, I wanted it too.
Now I was positioned with a knee on either side of her
head, and she reached around me, around my ass, and
pulled at me, bringing me closer, and lifting up her head,
too, until I felt her lips on my inner thigh, kissing me,
licking at me, I could feel her tongue on scrotum, on penis,
nibbling, biting a little, exciting a lot, my cock's head now
warm and wet, captured by lips, caressed by tongue. . .
I reached for one of her wrists, and drew that hand down
toward her crotch.
I bit at those fingers, then pushed them between her lips,
guiding her to touch herself, making her fingers stroke her
own clitoris, while my own tongue served as a surrogate
penis, pushing into her, fucking her.
Her fingers, that hand, became busy, sometimes with a
finger in my mouth, other times touching herself, her finger
touching my tongue while it in turn caressed her clit, other
times covered with my mouth while she touched her own
most sensitive parts.
Oh, it was wonderful, that lovemaking, that sex, and she
responded so well, having, or faking, I'm never sure, an
orgasm, and another.
and another.
Finally, she pushed at my hips, turning me, so we were
face to face. My face, wet with my own saliva and her
juices, hers, also wet, both of us feeling the cooling
evaporation from our faces and pelvises, but not cooling
enough to cool our passion.
"On your back, kind sir," she commanded.
I complied, and the evidence of my unconsummated
excitement stood erect.
"I'm glad you were able to wait," she said, pushing me a
little, so that now, somehow, I was across the bed, my
head toward the partly open window.
She knelt over me.
"I hope you don't mind me doing this, this way. . ." she
continued, and her kneeling turned to a kind of squat.
I didn't mind at all. I held my cock erect, as she positioned
herself, then lowered herself onto me.
I watched between us, as she supported herself with her
hands on my shoulders. And I used one hand to guide
me, so that my cock's head was at her lips, then between
them, then encompassed by them!
I was in her, in this woman, feeling that exquisite warmth,
and moisture, and pressure, deep in her, my passion more
intense than I had known in years. She could be the one,
the ideal woman, for me. Everything about her was right -
her physical beauty, the overlapping interests, that
wonderful mind, and the sensation of her moving up and
down on me - overwhelming!
She moved so that I could see my cock, then watched as it
disappeared, time and again. She would move, too, a little
higher on my body, so my cock head touched her in some
spots, then lower, so its shaft could put pressure in other
places, and add other excitement, too, for both of us.
I'm not superman, though. The inevitable finally happened.
"Give it all to me," she demanded, when she felt that small
increase in size, that increase in heat. She felt me erupt,
pulsed in her, feeling myself emptying into her, for longer
than I thought possible.
What a mess I was then, wet with everything, when she
pulled off me.
I looked down as she did, and saw my penis, still pulsing,
trying to deliver more, but empty, devoid of any seman,
softening.
We were quiet for a few minutes, recovering. I rolled
toward her, thinking I wanted to relax next to her, to
awake with her, tomorrow, and forever.
"Thank you," she said. "You are a wonderful date. Now I
know what it's like to be completely satiated with sex. . ."
I moved to become more comfortable next to her.
"No, no, Dave, don't do that, I don't want you to go to
relax.
"I can't wake up with you, that would complicate my life too
much, please, stay awake.
"You promised, and you have to go home, now." There
were almost tears!
"You won't see me anymore?" I asked. I couldn't believe
this. We were magical together!
"Yes, call me, but go home now, please . . ."
Not my idea of a perfect ending, but what could I do?
I stumred into my clothes, heard a soft "goodnight, Dave",
as I left the bedroom, and went out the front door.
I checked that it locked behind me, and made my way
along the house to the car, and started home. I noticed it
was exactly midnight, when - Opps! My wallet. It was in
the inside pocket of my jacket, and now it was gone. It
must have fallen out of my coat when the coat fell on the
floor.
"I'll go back," I thought, "and if she's still awake, get it.
"Maybe she'll miss having me in the bed.
"Maybe she'll let me stay, after all."
Eight or nine minutes after pulling out of the driveway, I
pulled back in, and started walking along the path to the
front door.
The bedroom light was still on, good - she was still up!
I heard voices as I walked past.
"What the hell?"
The window was still open, and there was quite a lot of
light coming from it.
I stepped off the path, through a gap in the foliage towards
the window, and nearly stumred over a stool, right at the
window, and a tripod, and a video camera. Someone had
been watching! I looked at the camera - the LED
"recording" light was on, partly hidden behind a piece of
electrical tape.
There had been a prowler here, watching us! Filming us!
Was she safe? Where was he?
I moved closer to the window, to look in.
Donna was there, all right.
In exactly the same 69 position we had been in a little
while ago.
"I loved seeing him go down on you like this," her partner
was saying, a bald partner, a bald head I suddenly
remembered that had been close to us when we met at the
museum, and the same head that was eating as a single
at the A Vida while we had dinner there tonight. I
remembered he left a little before we did, as I saw his head
descend between her legs.
"I'm glad you liked it," I heard Donna's voice say. "It's
something I'd never have done unless you wanted to see
me do that it for your birthday present. Happy Birthday,
darling."
I was just a player in their game!
I had a message on my machine when I got to my house. It
was time stamped right at midnight. . "Dave, I found your
wallet right after you left. I'll have it messengered over to
your house first thing in the morning, don't make a special
trip back. And Dave, I don't think we'd better see each
other again. You'd just make my life too complicated.
"Good-bye, Dave, and thank you."
They'll wonder and worry who has their video. Let them.
Let them worry about who's watching her, with me, and
then with her husband.
Well, if they read Cuckoldplace, they'll know.
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