Times in my Life: Part Two
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Introduction: What happened after supper
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ALL CHARACTERS DEPICTED IN SEXUAL ACTS ARE OF LEGAL AGE. THIS STORY IS A FANTASY LOOSELY BASED ON TRUE EVENTS. ALL NAMES AND PLACES ARE FICTIONAL, AND ANY RELATION TO ANY PERSON, PLACE, OR THING IS COMPLETELY COINCIDENTAL. THIS STORY IS COPYRIGHT 2014 BY THE AUTHOR AND UNAUTHORIZED COPYING OR OTHER FORMS OF REPRODUCTION ARE STRICTLY FORBIDDEN WITHOUT THE EXPRESS WRITTEN CONSENT OF THE AUTHOR.
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My second post of erotic fiction. Actually, this is my second post of any kind of fiction on an open site.
To say that I am absolutely flabbergasted with the kind words left in the comment section of my first effort would be an understatement of the highest magnitude. I am worried though that I may not be able to live up to the expectations expressed in those comments. I will however do my best not to disappoint.
I have written these fictions because I enjoy reading similar stories, and want to contribute to the cause. I hope to be able to write stories that are interesting and believable. I spent a lot of time writing the drafts, editing them, crafting them with great care for the enjoyment of you the reader. As I got to the end of the final draft, this ‘little’ story had crossed the 10 thousand work mark and ran to 25 pages in the word processor I use.
To answer the question of one commenter, these events are set in the 70’s. There were no cell phones and colour TV sets were still a rare sight.
As always, constructive criticisms are welcome. If you enjoy what I’m writing, please take a moment to give it a ‘positive’ rating as well as any comments you wish to leave.
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Preamble:
In Part One we met Nick, the new guy in town, as he made his way through his first day of high-school. This story is about what happened to him that evening...
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Part Two
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Chapter Four: Meeting the babysitter
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Mom, dad, my sister and I sat down for supper. Mom had made meatloaf and home-made scalloped potatoes ‘au gratin’; there was also a small bowl of salad on top each of our plates. Mom was a great believer in starting a meal off with a salad. There were an assortment of salad dressings sitting on the middle of the table. We all had our favourites, but it was nice to change it up once in a while. There was also a bag of croutons, a shaker of bacon bits and a small bowl of grated cheese. If you’re going to have a salad, you might as well make once you’re going to enjoy eating. A large bowl of corn niblets with a serving spoon an a plate with celery and carrot sticks finished off the bounty of food on the table.
We finished off the salads and my sister took the bowls over to the kitchen sink and rinsed them off before setting them in the bottom of the sink.
My mom’s meatloaf was one of my favourite main dishes, and her home-made scalloped potatoes were absolutely my favourite way of eating potatoes. Our plates were soon full of food and we happily ate our meal, enjoying the great taste of the food and telling mom how much we appreciated her effort.
My dad asked, “So how was your first day of high-school Nick?”
“Okay I guess... I spent most of my time learning where all the classrooms were and trying to remember the names of the teachers and other students I met.”
My sister piped up, “You can hardly remember where our house is let alone a big school with a lot of rooms!” She was ignored by the rest of us.
“What were the teachers like?” asked mom.
“Like teachers!” I said with a bit of sarcasm in my voice.
“Seriously though, how were they?” she asked again.
“Most of them are older and there are a couple of younger ones. They’re all men except for the English teacher. My history teacher, Mr. Kertz is also my homeroom teacher.”
“What’s homeroom?”, asked my sister who was still in public school, and didn’t have homeroom.
“Homeroom is where you go at the beginning of the school day so they can take attendance and also if there are any announcements, they will be heard on the classroom’s P.A. speaker. As soon as the announcements are finished then you have 5 minutes to get to your first class of the day.”
“How many classes do you have in one day?”, she asked. Being in public school she had the same classes every day.
“Usually 7 classes per day unless you have a spare period; in that case, you have 6 classes that day. Classes are 40 minutes long and you have 5 minutes to get to the next class.
And... there are 4 days in a high school week. On the fifth day, we start over on ‘day 1’; each room has the day number written on the top right-hand corner of the black board. They also tell you the day number during morning announcements.
And just to confuse things even more, lunch period and fourth class switch with each other every other day.”
“Wow... that’s a lot of stuff to remember”, said my sister.
Mom and dad both looked at me and related to me that things were much simpler when they went to high school. Same courses everyday, lunch was always the same time everyday. And of course, they had to ‘walk 5 miles to school and it was uphill both ways’.
We ate in relative silence for a while before dad said, “I hear you have a telephone message and it was left by a female.”
“Wha...”, I looked at my mom, who was smiling like the cat who had eaten the canary. “Why didn’t you tell me it was girl who left the message?!”
“It must have slipped my mind... I’m sorry.”
I could tell just by looking at her that she was in no way, shape or form sorry. In point of fact, she was still smiling, though not as broadly, and she had turned her head towards the kitchen window in an attempt to hide her face. She always did have a bit of the devil in her.
“Why would a girl leave a phone message for you?”, my dad queried.
“I have no idea”, I said hotly.
“Nick has a girlfriend! Nick has a girlfriend”, my sister teased in a sing-song voice.
“I do not! I don’t even know any other girls in this town!”
“Could it be someone from school?”, asked mom after she had given my sister the ‘stop that right now’ look.
“I don’t know... I really don’t know”, I asserted.
“Guess you’ll find out after you call her eh?” dad quipped.
We finished eating and mom and I did the dishes. We traded off with dad and my sister for dish-washing duty on alternating days. Finally we were done; the time was 6:58 pm, nearly time to call the mystery girl.
I waited until it was five minutes past the hour before calling the number; I didn’t want to seen as too keen. The call was answered on the first ring.
“Hello Nick” a pleasant voice answered. I had given up on how everyone seemed to know who I was, but I had no idea who they were.
“Hi”, I replied without any questioning inflection in my voice. I may not have know who was calling, but I didn’t want to appear to be a complete dummy.
“I saw you in English class today and you seemed to be... hmm... struggling with the material.”
Well... she had that right. English was my worst course; made even worse by the teacher who looked as though she could easily pass for a Playboy model. I had been sneaking glances at her all through the class and not really paying much attention to what she was writing on the board or what was in my textbook.
As I was formulating a response she said, “I am very good with English and I thought maybe I could help you out with it.”
“Erm... how?” I really wasn’t sure what she meant by helping me out.
“Well, I’m babysitting tonight and thought that maybe we could get together and go over today’s classroom material. I’m sure I can help you with the parts you’re having trouble with.” Her voice was friendly and inviting.
And so for the second time in a day I was being asked to participate in an activity I had no experience with. I really did need help with English though, and the thought of an English wizard helping me did have a strong appeal.
“Just let me ask my parents if I can.”
“Okay”
As I turned around I nearly collided with my mom... “Oh... sorry; I was just going to check if the clothes are dry.”
A white lie from her... although she did have the laundry basket under her arm, the light in the laundry room was not on. She obviously wanted to hear what was going on over the telephone.
“Can I go and study with... uhm... I didn’t get her name yet, but she says she is really good with English; and I can really, really use the help.” I asked mom.
To my great surprise she said, “All right, but make sure you are home by 11 pm.”
I was certain there would be questions, like, “Where is she? Are her parents home? Has she got permission to ask you over?” and all the other things parents want to know before letting you out of the house in the evening.
“Okay mom, thanks!” I effused. That certainly went a lot easier than expected.
I took my hand off the mouthpiece of the phone and said, “Okay, I can come over, but I have to be home by 11 pm. Where are you?”
“I’m in the apartment above the grocery store. The doorway is between the grocery store and the drug store. When you get there ring the bell 3 times then come up the stairs. There are two doorways at the top of the stairs; knock quietly on the one on the left.”
I quickly closed my eyes and tried to picture where she was talking about. Although it was a really small town, I had only seen short glimpses of the downtown area.
“Is that on the left side of the Cenotaph?” I asked.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Okay then, I’ll be there as soon as I find my books and walk over there.”
Mom smiled as I hung up the phone; she was still lingering near me, the empty laundry basket still under one arm.
“So where will you be?” she asked.
“The apartment over the grocery store.”
“She is babysitting there?” It was more of a statement of fact than a question.
“Yes she is.”
“Okay. Don’t forget, home by 11 pm” she admonished as she turned away from me and headed in the direction of the living room.
“Yes mom.” I assured as she started walking away from me.
I went to my room, got my English notebook and textbook, and put them in my school bag as I mentally plotted out the route from my place to the grocery store downtown.
All the way down to the other end of my street, a left turn on the second left, not the first... that was a dead-end. Keep walking straight after the left turn until I got to the street the arena was on. A right turn and past the arena (and my bus stop), over the bridge (a small bridge to be sure, but a bridge nonetheless) then cross over to the left hand side of the street just after the Cenotaph. The grocery store and the adjoining drug store would be right on the other side of the street.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and left the house, starting the walk down the street. In total it took me about 20 minutes to arrive at the doorway between the stores.
I rang the bell the instructed number of times, opened the door and stepped into a small entryway. The stairs were old and wooden with a high step to them. There was an old but clean carpet tacked to the floor and on up the stairs. The carpet helped muffle any creaking and added a bit of colour to the stairwell. I arrived at the small landing above the top step and saw the two doorways, one on the left and one on the right. They were very plain, and the blue paint on them was faded, giving them an aged look.
I turned to the door on the left and was just about to knock quietly when the door suddenly opened a few inches.
“Nick?” a soft, pleasant voice enquired.
“Yes.” I replied in a whisper.
The door opened just far enough to admit me and she pulled me through the doorway. She quickly latched and locked the door with a dead-bolt and a very old brass key lock. The door didn’t look nearly as old on the inside as it did from the outside.
“Come with me”, she instructed as she gently pulled on my left arm. We were soon in the kitchen of the apartment. It was open on one side to a small round table and two chairs. The other side was open to a small living room, a TV set turned on with the volume down as far as it would go. Down a short hall off the living room were 3 doors; the two opposite ones were closed while the one at the end opened into the bathroom. The kitchen counter faced the street and there was a window there offering a good view of the downtown area.
I took in all this information with a quick glance around before looking at the girl who had led me to where I was now. The light in the kitchen was bright and quite illuminating...
She was very tall looking; not tall actually, but looking that way because of the clothes she was wearing. Her light red hair was coiffed around her head, nicely framing her almost pale face. The coils of it ended on and around her shoulders, curling up nicely where it fell on her shoulders of the blouse she had on.
The button-down blouse was bright white with intricate embroidery starting on the shoulders of each side before running down close to the edges of the buttons. It was not overly done and added a classy look to the short-sleeved blouse. The buttons were quite small with a pearly shine to them; there were quite a few of them giving the blouse a very rich Victorian era appearance .
A dark indigo coloured skirt encircled her waist, flaring out a tiny bit at her waist, then flowing down in a taper until it was a few inches above her knees. That was the part that made her look taller than she was... she was wearing black leather laced shoes and white lace stockings that ended only 6” from the floor. The large area of bare skin from the tops of her socks to the hem of her skirt was what lent itself to the illusion of her being taller than she actually was.
The colour of the skirt was also unusual... dark indigo was not black, it was like a really deep black with an ink overtone. I had only seen the colour once before, and that was at a funeral. I knew that skirt did not come a big brand name store, but rather from the kind of place that had bolts of cloth displayed in the windows. Custom made and very expensive. If you had to ask, "How much?", then you couldn’t afford it. The length of the skirt had been purposely created, there was no doubt of that in my mind.
Having learned my lesson from Terri about staring I made a point not too linger in any one area and tried not to be too obvious about giving her the once over.
Her breasts barely raised the material of the blouse, but those long looking legs were to die for; wonderfully formed from top to bottom with curves in all the right places. They were a just a tiny little bit thin, but that only added to the overall allure created by her clothing and reinforced by the bare skin that was showing.
I had made a point of opening my school bag, putting it on the kitchen counter and then extracting my books. I let the notebook slide over the edge of the counter. It was while I was bent down on one knee to retrieve the notebook that I had a better opportunity to get a good look at her legs above the hem of her skirt. There was little to see as it was very dark up there. My eyes were back on the counter as I stood back up and put my notebook on it.
“So Nick, what do you think of our tiny town so far?” Her voice was very pleasant to listen to.
“Well, from what I’ve seen so far it’s been okay”, I allowed.
“That’s good, I’m glad you are liking what you have been seeing today”, she responded.
Inasmuch as most of what I had seen so far that day been Terri naked and responding to my ministrations, I was quite happy with what I had been seeing as well.
What I was now seeing looked quite nice too. I risked another look at her breast area and could see the faint outline of a bra under the thin material of her blouse. My eyes quickly returned to their previous positions.
I smiled at her for a few seconds before she asked me, “Do you want to study at the table her or on the sofa in the living room? There is more light in the kitchen her, but the sofa is far more comfortable.”
It took me about a thousandth of a second to decide but I let her see me carefully look at the table, then to the couch, “I agree with you, the couch looks far more comfortable.”
“Okay then, let’s get to it!” she said cheerfully.
“Where are the children?” I queried.
She smiled as she said, “In bed sleeping soundly. They’re very young and will sleep right through until morning”.
We grabbed my books and went into the living room. The couch was against one wall, opposite the TV set. There were table lamps, sitting on coffee tables at either end of the couch. She motioned for me to have a seat, her open hand indicating I should sit at the end of the couch.
I sat down on the couch and set my books on my knees. She sat down beside me, twisting a bit so that we could both see the material and each other at the same time. She had one leg on the couch, bent at the knee, her foot tucked under her other leg as it hung down over the side of the couch to the floor.
“All right then, let’s get started.” She plucked my notebook off of my knees and set it on her leg, opening it as she did. She started on the first page and slowly read what I had written on it. She turned the page and continued to scrutinize my work on the following two pages. As she was turning the next page, she could see that it was empty, as were all the rest of the pages in the notebook.
“Okay... I think I can see one problem here”, she ventured.
“What?” I asked, not knowing what she meant.
“You seem to need some help with your note-taking. Hang on a second...”
With that she rose from the couch and disappeared around the corner and down the short hallway. I heard a door open and then close again before she came back around the corner and reseated herself on the couch. She had a notebook in her hand, but I couldn’t see the name on it. She opened it and I could see the pages were filled with text in a beautiful cursive writing style. I usually printed as my writing was a horror to read. Even I sometimes couldn’t make out later what I had written.
She held the notebook open as scooted a bit closer to me so I could get a better look at the text on the pages.
“See... you need to make more notes about what the teacher is writing on the blackboard.”
I moved my head a bit closer to the notebook, and started to read her notes; her detailed and exhaustive notes. My eyes must have widened somewhat when I was looking at the page, as she said kindly, “I take more notes than anyone else in our class, but I can write very quickly.”
“This is amazing”, I enthused. And it was too; the things I could remember seeing on the chalkboard in the English class was copied down in her notebook.
“I wish I had your gifts”, I said in a somewhat subdued voice.
“Gifts?” she asked quietly. “My gift is being able to write quickly, and being able to remember things for exams”
She went on, the question obvious in her voice, “But that is only one gift; and you said ‘gifts’.”
I turned the page of her notebook and continued to read and examine her wonderfully easy to read writing.
I answered slowly, my head still focused on the notebook, “You haven’t told me your name yet. You know my name, I think it’s only fair you tell me yours.”
She closed the notebook and took it from my unresisting hands, holding it so I could read the name on the label of it: ‘Sylvia Marks’.
“Marks... as in ‘Marks Pharmacy’?” I asked.
“Yes, that ‘Marks’ ”, she replied.
Her nice hair and nice clothes made more sense now... Her father owned the town pharmacy and drug stores usually made good money.
“It’s been in the family, here in town, for 5 generations now.”
“You must know a lot about people in town here then?” I speculated.
“Yes... well Daddy does at least. I know most people in town to see them, but I’m not allowed to look through the pharmacy records. They are strictly confidential he says.”
I looked her in the eyes and quietly said, “I agree with him, I wouldn’t want anyone but my pharmacist looking at my records.”
“So... now you know who I am. Let’s get back to work on your English skills. Open your textbook to page 23.”
I did as I was told, and opened the heavy hard-covered book to the page she had indicated. She leaned over a bit so she could hold the left side of the book in her left hand. I did the same, holding the right side in my right hand. I looked closely at her hands... they were the same nearly pale colour as her face with delicate fingers ending it perfectly manicured nails coloured with nail polish exactly the same colour as her hair.
For the next half-hour she tutored me in English. I found a lot of it difficult and more often than not she would have to go over a certain part of it with me. The textbook was heavy and we schooched a bit closer together in order to switch hands holding the book.
We were particularly close when we were both holding the textbook a certain way; my left hand and her right hand. Our arms occasionally brushed against each other and we would quickly pull them apart. After a while we didn’t move as quickly when our arms touched and after a while we stopped moving them at all. It was just plain uncomfortable to try and bend our arms so they wouldn’t come in contact with each other.
“So... what did you mean by ‘gifts’ ” she asked pleasantly.
“You are obviously a gifted tutor, I’m actually learning something and remembering it as well. That’s takes a tremendous amount of talent. Few people are so gifted with that ability.”
Her side of the book sagged as she let go of it. She turned so that she was facing directly at me. Both legs were now over the edge of the couch as she swiveled her hips to face me.
I took the textbook and put it on the coffee table beside me. I tried to swivel as she had done, but my hips were having none of that. I just can’t bend that way like women can.
She leaned forward, taking my hands and softly holding them in hers. Her hands were, to my surprise, very warm. I had never met anyone with hands that warm.
“Are there anymore ‘gifts’ you think I have that you would care to tell me about?”
Her eyes, classic green, moved closer to mine, locking me in their grasp. I refused to flinch, I didn’t want her lose her gaze as I started to speak...
Using my most polite tone of voice I said to her, “You are gifted with beauty, pose and grace. You are an excellent tutor, and I feel that I actually learn things from you. You have the body of a Goddess and eyes to match. I have never laid eyes on such a beautiful woman as you.”
As I spoke the reactions of her face and eyes went from astonished, unbelieving, astounded, disbelief and finally to back to a more neutral look. As I finished talking, I dropped my head and eyes to her hands. They still held mine, and now I could feel that her thumbs were very softly moving in small circles on the backs of my hands.
After what seemed to me to be an eternity, she said, “Nick, look at me... put your head back up”. I tarried until she took her hands off mine and gently lifted my head, cupping it in her hands. Eventually I raised my eyes until I was looking at hers.
“That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. I cannot believe you do so poorly in English when you can say words like those. I wonder, where did you learn to speak with such eloquence?”
“A book”, I replied very quietly.
“A book?” she asked incredulously, her voice raised a bit. “What book teaches you to say things like that?”
I waited a little bit until I could see she was just about to speak and answered, “Can’t tell, it’s a secret.”
“A secret? Why?” she demanded.
“I’m sorry Sylvia, but I just can’t say.” I looked at her with real anguish in my eyes and her visage softened somewhat.
“You will tell me someday.” It was a statement and not a question. I slowly nodded in agreement.
“Good”, she said, more softly now, her eyes losing the flash of anger and returning to their normal state. “I need to stretch my legs, and I need to get something from my place. I’ll only be a minute, there’s some juice in the fridge if you want.” Putting action to words she unlocked the door, opened it, stepped through and closed it behind her.
As I walked into the kitchen and over to the fridge I could hear keys turning in the lock of the door to the Marks’ apartment. I opened the fridge and got the juice, giving it a good shake while looking through the cupboards for a suitable glass. Finding one, I filled the glass and put the juice back in the fridge where I had found it. After a moment’s thought, I got the juice and filled up a cup for Sylvia. I had just finished closing the fridge door when I heard the door open again.
“I got you some juice too, in case you wanted some that is.”
She looked at the juice with a blank look for a moment then looked to me and said, “Thank you, that was nice of you.”
“I always try to be nice to a lady”.
Whereas she had not blushed when I had so extraordinarily complimented her before, she did now. Her face and hair were nearly the same colour.
“A lady? A lady you say?” she asked brightly as she walked over to the counter and took the cup of juice and drank from it. I took the opportunity to drink some juice too. I was actually quite thirsty and starting to feel quite warm. As I finished the juice, I rinsed the glass under warm water then left it standing upside down in the sink.
Sylvia took much longer to drink her juice. She did not put the glass down as she slowly drank her juice. She was still watching my face as she finally emptied the glass, rinsing it and standing upside down next to the cup I had used.
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Chapter 5: Getting to know the babysitter a bit better.
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Not pressing for the moment her question about being a lady she said, “Let’s watch some TV for a while. I’m sure you are probably tired of English by now”. She gently grasped my hand and led me back to the couch.
“Yes... something more interesting than a text-book to look at would really be very nice.”
She turned her head and gave me an odd look, then turned it back around again. There had been nothing but sincerity in the tone of my voice or on the look of my face.
As we got to the couch she sat me down at the end of it and then sat down very, very close to me. She still held one of my hands in hers. She looked at the TV screen for less than a minute before speaking to me.
“Do you want me to turn up the sound?” she asked quietly.
“No. I like listening to you. Even when you’re not speaking you sound good.”
She turned her head away as a blush started up her face. “Let’s just sit nicely like this for a bit, okay?”
“Sure, whatever you like”, I answered, the sincerity in my voice was readily apparent to her as she suddenly scooched even closer to me. She turned so that she was leaning against me and asked me, “Could you rub my shoulders a bit? They are actually quite sore from leaning over and holding that textbook.”
“I would be happy to”, I answered truthfully. I turned as far as I could so I could more easily reach her shoulders. I sat up straighter up as my hands descended to her shoulders. The first order of business was to part her hair and put it on the front of her shoulders.
Her hair was so soft! I was amazed hair could be that soft. It was almost velvety to the touch. I found myself feeling the coils in her hair, gently lifting them and letting them fall down as I caressed the amazing texture in my fingers.
I leaned my head up to hers and whispered in her ear, “Your hair is softer than rabbit’s fur. I could run my fingers through it all day and all night.”
“I’m glad you like it, and having you touch it so appreciatively is a really nice feeling... but... what I really, really want is a shoulder massage.” she whispered back, the desire clear in her voice.
I released my fingers from her hair and gently laid them on her shoulders. She sighed very softly as my hands made contact with her blouse. It was made of very thin silky feeling material and I could easily feel the contours of her shoulders. They felt very pliable under the material of the blouse.
I slowly and gently began to massage her shoulders, taking care not to press anywhere with too much force. After a while, she sighed and leaned back a bit more.
“That feels very nice. Very nice indeed.”
My fingers and thumbs could now feel every bone, every tendon, as well as the cartilage and flesh of her shoulders. It was as if the blouse has ceased to exist as my hands continued to work their way around her shoulders, taking care around her bra straps. She sighed a purely luxurious and contented sigh and leaned back even more on me.
“I’m also feeling a bit tense along the front of my shoulders, and all around my neck. Do you think you could help out there as well?”
Her voice was so quiet as to be almost unintelligible.
“Whatever you ask, I will be happy to oblige you”, I replied in my quietest voice.
“Whatever I ask?” she asked, impossibly quieter than before.
I moved my head until my lips were nearly touching her ear and whispered nearly silently into it, “Yes... whatever you ask”.
“And will you stop whenever I ask you to?”, she asked, her voice still quiet but pitched to make sure there would be no question that I had heard her properly.
I whispered again into her ear, “Of course. I would never do anything that would displease a lady.”
“A lady....”, she breathed out quietly. “I think I’d quite like being treated like a lady.”
I could feel her entire upper torso relax slowly but surely until she was as lax as a person could be without falling over. My hands found easy purchase along the base of her neck as I resumed her desired wishes. The bare flesh of her neck as I slipped my hands under the collar of her blouse was almost hot to the touch. I was also feeling hotter as well. I desperately wished for a cool breeze, but none appeared forthcoming.
As I worked along her neck I could actually feel a couple of knots and worked carefully at relaxing them.
“Hmm... that feels much better. Much, much better” she purred.
This girl had no problem speaking what was on her mind as she spoke again, “down... more...”
I knew that to go any lower was to risk running up against the top her bra. So I massaged everywhere I could while keeping clear of that area. .
“Down... more...please...”
It was readily apparent at that point in time what she was asking for. But her blouse would not provide the freedom of motion needed to accomplish it. I thought furiously about how to do what she wanted without doing something she might not want.
“I can only do that if you make room for my hands”, I said carefully.
“You do it... I am too relaxed for the effort required.” Her voice certainly sounded relaxed (and just a tiny bit seductive?) as she said it.
I’m sure the temperature in the room must have jumped by 10 degrees right then... it certainly felt that way to me... I was being asked by a beautiful woman to massage her breasts and to remove any impeding clothing that may be in the way.
“All right, I’ll do as you ask... but only what you ask.” I wanted to be clear with her that I wasn’t doing anything she didn’t want me too.
“I know. I know you’ll do only as I ask, and that you’ll stop if I ask you too.”
“That’s right, I will.”
“Then please, please continue do to what I have asked of you.” The depth of her desire was clear in her voice.
I was quiet then as my hands moved up to the top of her blouse and carefully unbuttoned it, pausing after each button long enough to detect any change in her demeanor. The only sound I could detect was that she was breathing a tiny bit faster and taking slightly more shallow breaths.
When I reached the last button, I spread the blouse until the sides were laying completely open. As I felt carefully for her bra, my fingers came upon an unexpected blessing... a font closure. I could not believe my luck... I had been unsure how I was going to be able to unclasp it from her back. I carefully undid the single catch of the closure and spread her bra until her completely bare chest and breasts were open to my gaze and more importantly, my reach.
The bra was shiny white and also made of silky material. This bra was intended to look good, as it really didn’t need to provide much support. The fringes of the cups were surrounded with lacy material, as were the straps.
I moved a bit then, getting as comfortable as I could and also moving Sylvia a bit as to provide easier access to her breasts, chest and surrounding areas. She moved easily and purred as I moved her shoulders back to lay her back against my leg.
I waited a moment to be sure she was still happy and then moved my hands to the top of her breasts. They were small and my hand easily covered them.
Her breath caught as my hands fully covered her breasts, and I stopped moving. “No, no, no... it’s good, it’s good. Please, don’t stop again unless I ask you to.”
“As you wish”, I whispered.
My hands lovingly massaged her small breasts, my fingers pulling lightly on her nipples, feeling them harden as I continued to massage her. As much as I wanted to, there was no way for me to get my head close enough to them to envelope them in my mouth. Something I could reach at a later time perhaps.
I continued massaging and gently kneading her whole upper front torso from the tops of her shoulders down to her perfectly formed stomach.
I moved my hands along the side of her body, my fingers splayed to reach her flesh as my palms moved down her sides. I kept massaging every part of her breasts, from the barely defined side slope of them, the areolas, the colour of them starkly contrasting her white skin, the nipples, pink, narrow and very hard; as well as all the other areas I could reach without crossing more than a couple of inches below her belly button.
“Hmmmm... hmm... oh that feels nice, but... uhm...ah... I really need you to go a bit lower.”
I was impossibly hot now... I could feel the beads of sweat running down my face and down my neck. I had to wipe the stinging drops of it from my eyes.
“How-much-low-er do you want me to go?” I asked, putting an unmistakably heavy emphasis on each syllable of the three words every man dreams of hearing.
“Until I ask you to stop. You will stop when I ask you to, won’t you?”
“Yes, I will stop when you ask me to”, I affirmed.
“Please continue then”, she whispered as she closed her eyes. “And stop stopping...”
So my hands traveled further and wider encircling her around her stomach and then sliding my hands down to the top of her waist. Fingers quested for new ground as my hands moved, seemingly of their own accord.
My eyes were closed as my brain drew pictures of what my hands were feeling. Her skin was so soft, not a spot or any other imperfection that would blemish her body. Her skin was also dry and very, very hot... my hands could feel the heat rising from her as they worked to fulfill her desires.
It was not too long that I again ran into another hindrance to my task. My hands couldn’t pass the tight waistband of her skirt. I paused only long enough to see if there was any change in conditions. Not hearing or feeling any I felt along the top of the waistband until my fingers found and undid the buttons at the side of it.
As I slowly opened her skirt, a shiver ran through her. Her glazed eyes opened to look at me then closed again. A moment longer and she relaxed again. I opened her skirt and could see the lace surrounding the top and sides of her very sheer underwear. It looked much the same as the underwear the models in the skin magazines wore, very high cut along the sides of the legs and very low cut at the tops. To call them ‘immodest’ would be missing an opportunity to call them ‘indecent’.
Slower now than before, taking great care not to disturb her, I rubbed the top of her legs slowly moving my palms up and down, up and down, up and down a bit further. My hands moved along the insides of her legs and up to the insides of her thighs. When they got to the juncture of her legs and pubic area she sighed quietly and spread her legs apart, allowing my hands access to previously unreachable areas.
The only problem now was that my hands couldn’t reach any further down her legs, and my arms were starting to feel the strain of stretching them as far as they could go. My hands kept moving everywhere they could reach without crossing over or under the remaining fabric between her legs.
“Take all the clothes off... do not stop.” It was less of a request and more of a slight command.
“You and I must both move in order for me to be able to continue as you have expressed.”
“Then move as you must... please... do not stop.” The desire had returned to her voice.
I carefully moved up from the couch while lowering her pristine body onto the cushions of the couch. Gently I moved her only as much as was required to remove her blouse, bra and skirt.
“All of it... off... now.” I had never heard anyone voice such desire and a note of command at the same time.
I moved until I could reach under her perfectly formed ass and gently tugged down on her panties. She closed her legs a bit and lifted her ass just long enough for me to pull them down her legs, over her knees, and down until her feet slipped through them.
I took the opportunity to remove her shoes and her white lacy socks while I was down by her feet. They were as beautiful as the rest of her. I had no previous experience to measure them against, but they were impossibly soft, perfectly pedicured and beautiful to my eyes. The nails shone with the same polish I had seen on her fingers. I idly wondered if it was custom-made.
As soon as the last item of clothing was off her, her legs spread, one leg pointing up the side of the couch and laying against it while the other one was draped over the edge of the couch, her foot placed on the floor.
She was now completely nude and looked very, very nice. And inviting. God yes, she looked inviting. She was also very, very relaxed looking. I was unable to understand how a woman could lay in such a provocative pose and still look so calm and relaxed.
I could see it all... every part of her from her feet up to her head. I am certain any other boy or man would have killed for a view like this. As I moved towards her upper torso in order to allow my hands and arms room to work with, I saw it... a small puffy growth of thin red pubic hair just above the hood of her clitty.
I had never imagined anything like it. Nothing in the hundreds of Playboy and Penthouse magazines I had gone through had anything even close to this exquisite little bush. I couldn’t stop looking at it, and moved my head until I was mere inches from it.
I could see every little hair of her downy looking bush. I could see, upon closer examination, that the hairs puffed up just a bit from the center of her mound before laying almost flat on each side of it. I will never, ever forget the sight of it until the day I die.
I looked up to see the expression on her face. She was breathing a bit faster, but with a regular rhythm. As I looked up I could see her nipples standing hard and proud on her breasts. Remembering that I hadn’t given them all the attention they deserved I knelt beside her and lightly took her right nipple between my lips.
Sylvia jolted as though someone had just put 500 volts of electricity through her. Her eyes snapped open, a look of utter surprise on her face. I made as to retreat from her, but she pulled my head down to her breast, holding there with a surprising amount of strength. She again relaxed, and before long was sighing contentedly.
I kept my mouth over the nipple again and sucked gently on it. I used my tongue to gently swirl the areola surrounding it. A definite moan escaped her mouth, encouraging me to continue what I was doing. I brought my other hand up to her left nipple and gently tugged on it. It got even harder than it had been, and I gave it a tiny squeeze. A quick catch of breath, then a moan. I swirled and twirled my fingers around the nipple occasionally giving a quick squeeze. Another moan quickly followed the squeezing.
“More... please... more... uhm... harder...”
I didn’t know if she meant my mouth on her nipple or the one currently between my fingers. Not wanting to displease her, I increased my motions on both of them. My sucking, licking and finger motions were perfectly synchronized to give the maximum amount of pleasure interspersed with tiny sparks of pain. A tiny pinch of one nipple with a sudden increase of sucking on the other one. Twirling, tweaking, pulling, sucking, kneading, tonguing all working together to increase the level of her pleasure.
“UHNG... yes... good Gawd... DON’T stop.”
I wouldn’t, couldn’t, and didn’t stop... I kept going; now nibbling and squeezing with even more intensity. I saw motion out of the corner of my eye and could just barely see her hips moving up and down just a tiny bit, in time with the intake of each breath she took.
“God... yessss... more... harder.”
There was a sound of command in her voice that I did not dare disobey.
But... I needed to get that other nipple in my mouth, and it was still out of reach.
“Just a moment please, I just need to adjust you a bit.”
“Yes, please hurry!”
Moving as quickly as I could with as much care as I could muster, I put both legs on the couch as I rolled her completely onto her side. As soon as she was on her side I brought my mouth down and around her left nipple. My other hand was squeezing and swirling her right nipple as it had previously done to her left one.
She murmured, “Yes, that’s very good”. Her legs were apart again, but still both on the cushions. I gave all my attention to her petite little nipples and surrounding areas of her breasts. The longer I pleasured her breasts the faster she began to breath, with an accompanying increase in the motion of her hips. After quite some time she moaned...
“More... suck... more... suck...”
I wasn’t exactly sure where she wanted so I began kissing and sucking her entire upper torso from the sides of her neck (lots of moaning there), down to her little red puffy mound (louder moaning there) and everyplace in between I could reach with my lips, tongue and hands.
“Yes... uh... uh... more... MORE... on... down... more... ungh... on... down...”
I moved down even further, kissing and sucking as I did until my eyes were level with the bottom of her little red patch.
I was sweating fiercely on my forehead and face, the drops still stinging my eyes, my hands were going to be too busy and unable to help... so I gave them a final wipe then closed them. From here on in it was going to be touch only, with no visual clues.
I had a fairly good idea of what she wanted me to do, having read many articles on the subject in Playboy and Penthouse; I silently vowed not to disappoint her. I also racked my memory for information on how to actually do what I was contemplating. I had no experience in this area, and would be completely winging it.
There was also no good way of reaching the area she wanted me to with her laying as she was.
After a few more kisses and gentle nibbles, I got hold of her legs with one hand and put my other hand behind her back. Moving quickly, carefully and gently I got her leaning against the back of the couch with both legs hanging over the front of it. I was kneeling in front of her.
She opened her eyes and looked carefully at my position relative to hers. She looked me in the eyes and verbalized her continuing desire, “Ooooooooooh... yes... PLEASE... do it!” Again that unmistakable tone of command could be heard in her voice. It seemed to come and go based on what she wanted and how badly she wanted it; sometimes more, sometimes less.
I took one shapely leg in each hand and lifted them up and apart until I had both of them supported on each of my shoulders; her knees bent and with her legs hanging loosely around my neck. I put both hands under her ass and gently pulled it towards me, opening my eyes just long enough to see what I was doing, until her pussy was less than two inches from my mouth.
I could feel the fiery heat of her lust as my tongue tip lightly touched the inside of her left thigh, just below her pussy.
I was ready for the jolt this time, and had my arms tightly around her legs. Another light tongue touch on her right thigh elicited the same result. Her hips bucked upwards then down again; she was stronger than she looked, but my arms were like a vice around her open spread legs. I had my arms wrapped across the tops of her legs then around with my hands firmly grasping her ass. She could still move a bit, but her legs were going nowhere, unless I ran out of strength before she did.
My tongue darted forward and back again, in no discernible pattern. Unlike my careful and deliberate pleasuring of her breasts and nipples, I wanted her to be unable to figure out where my tongue would strike next. I rotated my head a few degrees to each side, allowing me to quickly lick her inner thighs, my tongue getting infinitesimally closer to her lust with each pass on one thigh, then the other. I knew I was perpetrating torture of the most sexual kind. I had licked, kissed or tounge-tapped everywhere but where she was dying for me to be.
“Please... please Nick, no more teasing. Please suck it.” The commanding tone was replaced with one that expressed a deep desire for it to be acted on.
I kissed my way up her thighs to her pussy proper, gingerly feeling around the edges with my tongue, closing in slowly to the center, and finally probing with the tip if my tongue until I could taste her nectar. The liquid ambrosia that was waiting for me; hot and sweet as it had gathered, yearning for me to taste it, to taste her; the most intimate taste a woman could offer up.
I gently touched my tongue to the prize. Surprisingly, she did not move a by a fraction on an inch; her whole conscientiousness seemingly focused on what was now happening to her. There was a very quiet humming noise coming from her mouth.
A tiny movement of my tongue nearly cost me my grip on her legs as her ass shot into the air, pushing her hips forward and completely enveloping my head between her thighs, her knees bending until her legs were locked behind my head.
Using my arms and my hands I managed to move my head until I had room to breath again. But the pressure exerted by her leg lock on my head was unrelenting, and my face was slowly being forced closer to her pussy.
I stretched my tongue outwards and touched the tops of her lips. Having oriented myself, I gently licked upwards until I could feel the firmness of her clitty once again. I gently continued the careful lick upwards, until my tongue was passing off her clitty and onto it’s protective hood.
“HmmMmmMmmmMmmMmmmmMmmm”, she hummed continuously now, stopping only long enough to draw a breath. The tone and pitch varied only minutely, and the volume was very low.
I let my tongue descend, keeping the tip of my tongue gently pressed against her. I let it continue downwards until I caught a few drops of her juices, then back up again, keeping the pressure light and the speed low.
For the next few minutes, I felt my way all over her clitty, sliding my tongue up and down and side to side. The humming was starting to increase in volume as my tongue continued to feed her desire.
I let the shape of my tongue flatten out a bit as it traversed around her hard little button. The tug-of-war between my neck and her legs continued as my tongue got a bit more bold, reaching further down to catch the juices now flowing more freely from the center of her lust.
“Jesus Christ... what are you doing to me? Oh God...don’t stop!
DON’T stop!
...
Don’t STOP!
...
DoN’T STop!”
...
Over and over the words repeated, like a sexual mantra.
Easier said than done though... as my tongue made more progress towards her goal, she would jolt and buck her hips. I was seriously starting to wonder if I actually had enough strength to hold her down until she climaxed.
I moved tighter in and began sucking vigorously on her clitty while whipping my tongue from side to side and nodding my head up and down, providing my tongue a way to move up and down and side to side at the same time. As she bucked harder her moans increased in length and volume. I was now starting to worry that her moans were going to wake the children... and that would be a very bad thing for everyone involved.
Throwing caution to the wind I sucked and licked as hard and as fast as I could. She locked her legs even tighter behind my head. I was losing this battle... I needed a way to bring this intense experience to a conclusion.
I used my hands squeeze her ass and slowly spread both cheeks as far apart as I dared... I had no desire to cause her discomfort at this point in time. I let my fingertips run up and down the crack of her ass as I squeezed her cheeks back together again. I repeated this three times, my fingertips questing for the precise spot I needed to find. Finally finding the exact, elusive spot I had read about, centered between both holes, on that tight crease, I pushed on it gently.
“Gaaah!”
I relaxed my fingers and then pushed again... and again... and again. She was in her own world now, everything I was doing was pushing her closer and closer to our ultimate goal: her climax. I put one fingertip on her ass-hole and gently pushed on it. This was a risky move, but it could be what I desperately needed to push her over the edge.
As her moans and the other sounds of a woman right on the edge of an orgasm increased she suddenly put one hand in her mouth and clamped down hard on it.
I increased my efforts, both with my mouth and my hands. I could taste my sweat mixed with her juices as my mouth remained clamped on her pussy.
Suddenly, finally, she was jolting continuously as her orgasm ripped through her. She was whimpering through her hand and bucking like a bronco bull. A flood of juices erupted from her pussy and straight down my throat as she hit the apex of her climax. I was breathing through my nose and didn’t choke as her juices continued to flow down my throat.
Eventually she relaxed, unbinding my head from her locked legs. I gently licked her pussy, avoiding her clitty, until most of the moisture was gone, loving the taste of it as I did. It was intensely sweet, addictive, and tasted of... strawberries?
I gently extracted myself and stood up, looking down on her. Except for her pussy and the area under it, she was perfectly dry... no sweat anywhere. Unbelievable.
“Will you please stop now?” she asked quietly.
“Of course I will. I promised you I would, and I try really hard to keep my promises, especially to a lady”, I replied.
“You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?” she rose from the couch, smiled at me and gave me a long, tight hug. I hugged her back and gently reached for the hand that had been crammed into her mouth... there were tiny red indentations where her teeth had bitten down on it.
“That must have hurt”, I asked.
“It did, yes. But I hardly noticed it when you were...”
And she blushed... again. “When you were kissing my...”
“Pussy”, I finished for her.
“Yes, you were making love to my pussy, and it was good. It was very, very good.”
She looked at me smiling at her and smiled back. Her eyes were still glazed but the fires of lust were dimming. And she was relaxed, not seeming to care that she was standing, beautiful, with her nearly pale skin, in the nude right in front of me.
“Your hair is so soft, so nice to touch, so nice to feel under my fingers.” I spoke softly as we looked into each others eyes.
She grinned outrageously and said, “And your hands should be registered as dangerous weapons. As for your tongue and the rest of your mouth, you should be required to wear a muzzle.”
We both laughed as we tried to picture what I would look like with a muzzle on.
“Nope, I don’t think that would work”, I answered back.
“Then I will have to be content with your promise to stop when I ask you to.”
She smiled and then turned around, bending over to pick up her clothes before walking down the hall to the washroom. I had another glimpse of that perfect pussy before she had stood up straight and had gone down the hall to the bathroom.
I was in love... or at the very least, in lust. She was an ‘11’ on any scale you cared to use. I had never before se
