Banana Creampie

George Williams was nearing his sixty-fourth birthday. Genetic luck of the draw had gifted him with a tall body which easily retained its trim and athletic tone, helped along by moderate exercise. He even had managed to keep a (reasonably) full head of hair, albeit gray now instead of the dark brown of his youth. He had never been considered handsome, but a lifetime's experiences leavened by a dry and quirky sense of humor had left him with a face he had been told was "interesting."

He had made his money, lived his life, raised his children, and retired to a modest home in an old, established neighborhood. He had buried his wife of 30 years three years ago, living alone since then. Although he still thought about sex (a lot!), his outlets consisted of Internet surfing, reading the posts on erotic bulletin boards, and an occasional masturbatory episode. So far, the so-called Golden Years amounted to a seemingly endless progression of nearly identical days -- routine, predictable, and boring.

He wasn't expecting the moving van that stopped next door, and watching the stream of furniture and other belongings being unloaded and carried into the house was a pleasant way to spend the morning. At least, that was the rationale he was rehearsing in case the large and very fit young man directing the process should ask. Actually, he was watching the young man's wife.

She was short and a little plump, with nice, soft tits and chunky thighs -- most of which were blatantly exposed by her Daisy Duke shorts and tube top. Her sunny disposition, high energy, and open manner were mesmerizing as she bantered happily with her husband and the movers. It seemed as if she never stopped moving, bouncing from task to task as she reassembled her household from the truck full of belongings.

As the truck emptied and the summer sun raised the temperature from mild to unpleasant, George abandoned his visual vantage point to prepare some iced tea. Cold drinks in the summer heat ought to be worth an introduction, he figured. Besides, the movers looked like they were getting tired and could use a break (another good rationalization).

His appearance at the fence (or maybe the pitcher and glasses on the tray) was met with appreciative smiles by the males and a happy squeal from the bouncy blond. Introductions followed naturally, and Frank and Cathy Jackson turned out to be intelligent, outgoing and friendly people. Frank was in the Army, a captain newly assigned to the nearby base, and Cathy had been his high school sweetheart. They'd been married for six years, had no children, and loved the nomadic military lifestyle. Cathy's interests seemed to be taking random college classes, voracious reading, sightseeing, and Frank (although not necessarily in that order). She happily stated that she had no interest in getting a diploma or being a career woman, she just wanted to learn as much as she could about whatever caught her fancy.

Over the next few weeks, the Jacksons settled in and their daily routing established itself. Frank would leave home about 5:00 AM to participate in his unit's morning physical training, returning about 7:30 to shower, eat breakfast and return to the base for his duties of the day. He usually returned home about 6:30 PM - to a cold beer, a hot supper and a relaxing evening. Cathy kept busy with her various projects, shopping, cleaning, and sunbathing in the back yard.

Although decidedly uninterested in horticulture, George began spending more time in his own back yard. Not only was the scenery very pleasant, but he and Cathy soon got in the habit of chatting over the fence. They shared an appreciation of puns, innuendo, and double-meaning words and phrases. Since they also shared a lively sense of humor, their chats were usually interspersed with moments of shared hilarity. He was unsure which one of them coined the phrase, but between them they referred to their talks as "mental masturbation."

George really liked these daily chats. The repartee and mental challenge of trying to keep up with Cathy's leaps and twists of conversational focus kept him on his toes (so to speak). He found the whole situation incredibly arousing, although there was no hint of any physical extension of their relationship. He told himself that she looked on him as a sort of father figure and that she couldn't possibly have any interest in an old fart like him. Besides, if she found out what he was really thinking as they talked, she'd probably run in panic, or maybe grab a shotgun!

Things changed a bit when Frank got orders for Iraq. The prospect of a year without her husband obviously did not please her. The possibility that he might not return really worried her. She tried to keep up a happy front, but the strain sometimes showed through. Frank spent as much time as possible with her, but his departure date was fast approaching.

The afternoon before he was scheduled to leave, Frank rang George's doorbell and asked if they could talk. Over cold beers in the den, Frank made his pitch.

"We've become pretty good friends since Cathy and I got here," he said, "and I'd like to ask a serious favor."

"What's on your mind?" asked George.

"While I'm gone, Cathy's going to be pretty stressed out. She doesn't want me to go, even though she's trying hard to hide it. She'll need somebody to go to for support, somebody to talk to when she gets the blues. I'd like you to be that someone. You both get along really well, and she won't feel so alone if she knows you're there for her."

"Well, of course!" George replied. "I thought you were going to ask something difficult. I'd do that anyway, simply because she's my friend."

"Thanks!", Frank said. "It'll be a lot easier for me, too, knowing she has someone to take care of her."

The house next door seemed strangely empty the next morning. About 10:00 AM, Cathy returned from the airport looking drained and tired. Remembering his promise, George asked if she'd like to come over for coffee.

"What I really need is a good cry." she said sadly, as she sat down in his kitchen.

"Well, I've got lots of towels and an available shoulder" George remarked, half in jest.

To his surprise, she considered him seriously for a moment and then softly said "I think I'd like that."

The next thing he knew, she was in his arms sobbing bitterly. He held her carefully while the emotional storm raged, offering comfort and shelter while she released the tightly-held bonds of rage and fear she'd been carrying. After some time, the convulsive heaving and shuddering began to pass, and she became quiet.

"Thank you," she said with a watery smile. "You give good shoulder."

He laughed at her quip, hugged her briefly, and asked "Are you ready to sit in your own chair yet?"

"I'd better, I guess," she replied, "but I really like it where I am. Can I get more hugs when I need them?"

"Sure," George said. "I keep a large supply on hand, ready to be doled out to needy blonds."

They both laughed, and she moved back to the other chair.

The morning chats continued, along with occasional chores that Frank would have taken care of -- a stopped up drain, stuck jar lids, stuff like that. As fall turned to winter, the chats moved from the backyard fence into the kitchens, first alternating and then somehow only Cathy's.

The subjects under discussion seemed to be more sexual, also. Cathy and Frank had been very sexually active, and the lack of a partner was obviously frustrating to her. George could see the changes in their relationship and recognized the dangers, but told himself he could keep everything under control. After all, he was old enough to be her father.

Then one day the subject turned to oral sex. Cathy described how she and her high school girlfriends had practiced fellatio with bananas, giggling as she pantomimed their tentative attempts to figure out the deliciously dirty new activity. They had teased each other about "eating the banana" with their boyfriends, giggling helplessly at the mental pictures this evoked. She then looked archly at George and mentioned that one of the girls (a demure lowering of the eyes) had invented the "banana split."

Naturally, George followed the setup and asked "The what?"

"Banana split!" she said, smiling.

"I'm not sure I know what that means," George said.

"Well, the high school boys in Tennessee weren't naturally keen on cunnilingus, so they needed a little incentive. In the middle of a hot make-out session, I -- um, she would rub some ripe banana on, uh, on her pussy, and ask him to lick it off. It was kind of kinky, and the guys loved it! It didn't take long for the boys to figure out what to do while they were down there, and the girls thought that was fantastic!"

George was VERY glad he was sitting down. Judging by the erection that had just popped up in his pants, it had been far too long since he'd last taken himself in hand. Without really thinking about it, he said "Sounds great, I'd like to try it sometime. Maybe some banana creampie, too."

"Some what?" Cathy asked, looking a little confused.

"Uh, creampie. You know....?" George stammered.

"What's that?" Cathy asked.

George was stumped. Judging by their previous conversations, he'd believed Cathy to be quite knowledgeable about sex practices. He hadn't expected to hit a blind spot, and wasn't sure about how to proceed. "Uh, when a guy ......, uh, it's called a creampie when a man, uh, ejaculates into a woman's vagina and then, uh, licks it back out. Or licks it out after someone else, uh, puts it there."

Cathy's eyes went out of focus, she inhaled in a hard gasp and squirmed in her seat. "WOW! , that's hot!" she said. "I wish I'd thought of that. I think I'm gonna need some new batteries for my vibe tonight."

They both laughed, and the morning session wound down quickly after that. Actually, they both realized that a door had opened, and they needed some time to think about what might or might not come next.

The next day, as George sat down at Cathy's table, he noticed some tension in the atmosphere. "Oh, shit." he thought. "I've really blown it now. Why'd I have to make that stupid remark?"

After coffee had been poured, sugared and creamed, Cathy seemed to be having some difficulty starting a conversation.

"Uh, Cathy, I want you to know...., uh, I apologize for anything I might have said yesterday, uh, I'm sorry if I've offended you ....." George began, somewhat incoherently.

Cathy smiled at him and said "I wasn't offended, I was turned on! After you left I couldn't get the image out of my mind, I must have put a couple of hundred miles on my vibrator. I was in fantasy overdrive, just thinking about it."

"That's great!" George said. "So what's the problem?"

"Well, I'd really like to try that, but Frank isn't here and I've never cheated on him. Besides, I'm not sure he'd go for it. He's kind of reluctant even for normal pussy eating, and I'm not sure that this wouldn't be too much for him." she said sadly. "I, on the other hand, love to have my pussy eaten and have been going crazy these last few months."

George hesitated briefly, then began to speak. "Cathy, you know I've come to love you as terrific friend and a great person. Our friendship, conversations and mornings together are too important to me to jeopardize by proposing something you're not comfortable with, so I'll just say that I'll respect and abide by whatever decision you come to. Frank will be back in about three months, and you'll have to pick up your life together and go on. I don't want to do anything to damage your marriage, and I don't want to see you hurt. Having said all that, I guess I'd better go. Today's conversation got a little more serious than I expected."

"Wait, don't go," Cathy said. "I need to to talk about some things, and I need to figure out what to do. Mostly, I think I need to talk about those things to you. You've been the rock I've leaned on through all these lonely months, can't I lean a little more?"

"Okay, I guess. I just don't want to push you into anything. God knows I'm not a teenager, though I'm kind of acting like one here." George commented wryly.

Cathy took a deep breath, and began; "I was awake all last night thinking about what you said, and I kept getting so horny I couldn't think straight. I finally decided the vibrator wasn't enough to satisfy me, and started to think about how to get some human contact. I was worried about how to break this to you, especially if you decided I was some kind of slut and not worthy of still being your friend. I think that's what worried me most, I don't think I could have made it through this separation without your friendship. What you just said has given me the courage to go ahead."

George opened his mouth to reply, but she held up her hand.

"No, don't say anything, just listen for a moment. I've thought about this a lot, both seriously and in some pretty hot fantasies (GRIN). I think I've come to some conclusions about what I can and can't do while still being able to live with myself and Frank. I want you to think about it and decide if you would like to play while still living within my rules."

"First, no intercourse. Period. I'm not willing to do that to Frank, regardless of how horny I get. That's the biggest hurdle to get by, and if you don't agree I'll understand, and we'll go back to our old relationship if we can. I know that means no creampie, but just imagining what it would be like would be a tremendous turn-on!"

"Second, no full nudity. That's too intimate, and I'm reluctant to go there. We can use our hands and mouths, but no more."

"Third, this is strictly temporary. After Frank gets back, we're back to conversation and an occasional public hug. I couldn't manage to conduct a secret affair with my husband around."

While enunciating her conditions, Cathy had retreated to the kitchen counter, her body language rigid and closed. It was obvious that she thought she was taking a huge chance, with only a slight possibility of a good outcome and great danger of an emotional catastrophe. She finished by stating her last condition. "Don't say anything now. I've learned enough to know that guys sometimes think with their 'little head' in situations like this. Go home and think seriously about what I've said. Either way it goes, we can talk about your decision tomorrow."

George left in a daze. The situation he found himself in, and Cathy's proposal and conditions, had left him dumbfounded. The thought of again participating in sexual activities of any sort with a woman was a HUGE incentive, but he worried about the consequences when Frank returned. In the end, the lure of Cathy's proposition was irresistible. Also, his own sexual preferences were strongly oral, especially since age and experience led to some performance anxiety where insertion was concerned -- his approach had been somewhat "flexible" the last few times he'd tried. The restriction to hands and mouths wasn't in fact a restriction, but a recognition of reality.

When he arrived in Cathy's kitchen the next morning, he found her nervously awaiting his decision. When she heard that he agreed to her proposal, she was ecstatic. She immediately plopped down in his lap and threw her arms around his neck, saying "Now's the time for one of those hugs, 'cause I'm a very needy blond right now! I was hoping you'd say yes, I even bought some bananas, just in case."

George's hands slowly rubbed up and down Cathy's back, enjoying the feel of her young body and discovering that she had somehow neglected to include a bra in her costume of the day. In fact, the satiny blouse she had on had a distinctly sensual feel to it, especially with the warm flesh underneath. Holding to her rules, he made no attempt to unbutton or remove her clothes, but his hands became bolder as she squirmed and sighed on his lap.

Her soft, full breasts felt heavy and warm, the nipples rigidly distended and obvious under their cloth cover. He found they were highly sensitive, drawing moans and shivers from her first with his fingers, then with his mouth. The wet cloth clung tightly to her nipples, causing her to shiver as he first licked and then blew gently on the barely covered nipples.

Encouraged by the erogenous response to his manipulations, he placed his thumb over one hard nub, pressing it into the breast flesh and rubbing in small circles. As he had hoped, Cathy's arousal from the mental stimulation of her imagination and the physical inputs from his hands were enough to trigger her first orgasm. Her body tightened, then shuddered as wave after wave of pleasure flooded her nervous system.

"Oh, Christ," she gasped, "I really needed that! I didn't realize how much I've missed a man's hands! And if you'll move one of those hands down a bit, you may find a nice surprise."

Only too happy to comply, George let his hand fall to her leg, uncovered by stockings and exposed by the short skirt which had ridden up almost to her crotch. The feel of her bare skin was electric, smooth and very soft. He teasingly stroked up and down her thigh, letting his fingertips learn her textures, never quite reaching the darkly shadowed place under the skirt, but never retreating too far either.

When his questing fingertips finally reached their goal, they found neither panties nor pubic hair. She was totally bald and bare, a circumstance that almost made him cum in his pants! She was also, obviously, very much aroused.

"The bananas can wait," George growled, "this needs immediate attention." Picking her up, and realizing that the rather flimsy kitchen table would likely collapse under what he had in mind, he carried her over to the counter and gently laid her down. This position allowed him to rest his upper body weight on his elbows while bending down to her pussy.

While she giggled and squirmed, breathlessly exhorting him to hurry, George licked and kissed his way up to his target. "Pretend this is already full!" he commanded as he bent to suck hard at her vaginal opening.

Cathy squealed in delight as the combination of his oral attack and her imagination sent her into another orgasmic spiral. Her orgasms became continuous as he moved his attentions up to her clit with a combination of suction and tongue massage. George was licking and sucking like a wild man, and she finally had to grab his hair to pull him off. "Enough," she cried, "I can't take anymore!"

George watched in awe as, breasts heaving and body quivering with aftershocks, she finally began to calm down. "WOW!" she exclaimed. "I never got that from a vibrator!"

Glancing down at his obvious arousal, Cathy laughingly said "I can see we're not quite done yet. You'd better sit down before you collapse from lack of blood to the brain! Besides, now you've given me a real challenge. I've got to give back at least as good as I got!"

George collapsed backward into one of the kitchen chairs, praying that his heart would hold out for the next few minutes. Cathy slid slowly off the counter and knelt between his legs, looking up at him with a wicked grin.

"Don't worry, I won't bite" she said as she slowly lowered his zipper. "I'm much more interested in swallowing this thing whole!"

For the next ten or 15 minutes (George couldn't tell, time had ceased to have any meaning for him), he was treated to the oral talents of a VERY proficient fellatrix. Starting with a long, slow warmup with just her tongue, she carefully licked around the head, then a few long licks up the shaft, then back to the head. When she had things lubricated to her satisfaction, she pursed her lips and gently kissed the end of his cock. Holding her lips in a small pucker, she then sucked the head through ring of her lips and then immediately slacked off the pressure. Keeping only a light contact with his skin, she slowly lowered her head until he hit the back of her throat. Backing off slightly she moved her head forward and down, taking his cock into her throat until her nose was buried in his pubic hair. Slowly raising back up, she started all over again.