Fair Play

"Bette, it's been a long time for me too." She held my face in her hands, too far away for a kiss. I got down on my elbows, still keeping my weight off her, and accepted the invitation of her lips. My hips moved in small motions, small steps forward and back. Her slickness, combined with mine, made inward steps easy. Soon, I was in so far our pubic hair merged. She hugged me close, and I let some of my weight onto her. One of my hands reached up to a soft breast, slid to the side, and I cupped it toward the center.

"I had forgotten that full feeling," she crooned into my ear. "I thought I remembered, but real life is always so much more." I knew exactly what she meant. My hips rocked against hers in slow strokes. The feeling inside was almost like the first time, instead of just the first time in a long time.

I do OK for a greybeard. I soon had to restrain myself, so I wouldn't come to soon. Bette felt me slow down, and said "It's OK. You can come inside me. I don't think I'm going to come this time."

I liked the way she said that, 'this time.' I started to object but she stopped me.

"It's been a long time, Dan. For now, I just want the feeling of fullness again, like this." Her hand on my bottom pulled me into her.

"But ..." She stopped my mouth with finger, then a kiss.

"You really are a gentleman. It's been almost forty years since I had someone new inside me, though, and it takes my body a while to learn. At least, it always did. I like having you inside. I like what you're doing. That's enough for me, really." I leaned down and kissed again, and my hips bucked against her. "Now come inside me, before these old bones get too sore."

I took the hint. Leaving her raw wouldn't do her any favors. Maybe she wasn't going to come, but I still wanted her happy. (It surprised me how much her happiness meant to me, so soon, but sex has always done that to me.) I let myself go. A few minutes later, I held her hip from underneath and pulled it to me, hard. Up on one arm, I looked down at my midnight angel, and released myself into her. With each new spasm, I pulled against that lovely soft body again. Bette smiled up at me and stroked my face.

To say that her body accepted me is much too weak. I'm looking for some word I don't know, something that describes receptive feminine strength as a massive, quiet power. It seemed as if, no matter how strong I was, no matter how tight I held, her soft skin and delicate frame could absorb it all.

I stopped, frozen at the end of my orgasm. My panting mixed with laughter - I was so happy just then, I couldn't contain it. I leaned down, almost collapsing on her, and peppered her face with kisses, still laughing.

My erection subsided and I slid out. Only then did I roll off.

"Do you have some kleenex?" Of course - the things you forget when a few years go by.

I couldn't think where they were, so I picked up my T shirt and offered it. (The white cloth was the only thing I could see on the floor.) "Here, you can use this. It's going in the laundry anyway." There's no graceful way for a lady to wipe up after sex, but I enjoyed that awkward intimacy anyway. I remembered a box of tissue near the front of the van, felt around for it, and brought it back. I took a couple for myself, and offered her the box.

"Oh, I didn't have to mess up your shirt."

"It was going in the wash anyway. Now come over here, you sweet lady." She lay in my arms, cuddled close. I pulled the blanket over us. It warmed after a while, and added to the warmth of this lovely silver fox in my arms. I stoked the back of her head, and waited for sleep to complete our night.

Always before, I had been a 'roll over and go to sleep' guy, no matter how I tried to stay awake for my wife's afterglow. Tonight, I was too wound up, in a happy way. Bette was awake, too, her hand gently taking possession of my penis. Even though we had just made love, it started to fill again.

"Let's take a shower." Bette made me feel like I was twenty again. I guess that included a bit of twentyish impulsiveness.

"Where? Not here?" My van doesn't have water - that's why I camp at parks that have it.

"Over in the restroom building. They have showers - with walls and doors that close."

"You're serious. You want me to sneak into the men's room with you."

I groped for my cell phone, hit the button on it's side, and read the time. "It's 3:00 in the morning. No sneaking, we'll just walk in. No one will see us. And, if they do - so what? We're consenting adults."

"You're a nut, you know that? Look what you talk me into. Turn on the lights so I can get into some clothes."

We both slipped on jeans and a shirt. I put my dirties from last night in my laundry bag, found some towels, and led my barefoot lady into the night.

She had added her black T shirt from last night to a pair of dark jeans, so only her arms and head showed in the dim moonlight. Her hair almost glowed, though. We got to the restroom building. Out of habit, I went to the men's side, and Bette followed.

"You go first," she pushed me ahead of her.

I looked around, and said, "It's empty. C'mon in."

She peered in cautiously, then followed me to the farthest shower stall. This had the wheelchair on the door, so it was bigger than the others. I closed and latched the door behind us, then turned to Bette. Even though we had made love, I had still never seen her naked. She hesitated with a vulnerable look on her face. I started to undress. It seemed to jump-start her, so she did too.

My god, that woman was gorgeous. Her face had some lines on it, and the skin behind her arms was soft. The rest of her, though, would have looked good on a forty year old. With her back to me, I saw a smooth, round hip, with muscles nicely defined in her thighs. Her head turned to look toward me before her shoulders did, and I saw her arms crossed to cover her breasts. "I wish I didn't look like an old lady - I wish I could be beautiful for your." Then she turned, almost as if expecting me to be angry.

I finally got to see those incredible breasts. "Bette, you're beautiful." Because of their softness, they lay low on her chest. I pulled her to me and we hugged, under the room's fluorescent lights. I leaned down and lifted one heavy breast. "Your breasts are gorgeous. You nursed?" She nodded. "That's why they feel so lovely." I didn't even know if I was making sense, but I really did love this strong, soft figure. I traced a pattern of kisses across the top, following delicate blue veins down as far as the nipple. I set the breast down, then lifted and kissed the other.

"That's nice," her voice echoed on the cinderblock walls, "but weren't we taking a shower?"

I kissed her again, grabbed the soap and shampoo, and moved to the back of the stall, where the shower was. I turned on the water and started to adjust the temperature. "Do you like warmer or cooler showers?" I really hoped she didn't like cold ones. If it was just me, the water would be lobster-hot.

"Nice and warm." Somehow, everything about this silver fox seemed to work for me.

When the water was steaming nicely, she stepped into it with me. "Is it OK if we turn this up a little more?"

"As much as you want." I worked up a lather in my hands. "May I?"

She turned and offered her back. I started on her shoulders, sliding over the muscles with soapy pressure.

"Oh, that feels so good." She put her arms out and leaned against the wall. I worked down each arm as far as the elbow, then started on her back. I as got lower, where it curves inward, and she shifted to wider stance. Cautiously, I started across the back of her hip, across the round part of her bottom. She purred happily as I worked the muscles there. I did the other side, too and her purring went on. I grabbed the soap again, knelt, and started on her thigh. She shifted her feet again, more than shoulder-width apart. Clearly, she wanted me to do every part. I massaged the muscles deeply, including the parts between the legs. I worked upward until the first tuft of pubic hair touched my thumb, then downward. Then I switched to the other leg and worked my way up. This time, I soaped under the crease at the top of the thigh (the part that makes her bottom look like it's smiling) and the crease where her legs came together.

"Front now." She turned around closed her eyes, and stood with a trusting smile. I started on her shoulders and started on my top to bottom route. This included long, loving attention to her breasts. That mature softness made them hard to let go, but her quiet smile said I could take my time. Eventually, I rinsed them, taking care to lift each one and get the soap out from underneath.

Then I lathered again, and soaped her lovely stomach. It still had that womanly roundness, down low - flat abs just never looked right to me, not on a woman. Her quietness and smile never changed, so I took that as an invitation. I cautiously started to soap her pubic hair, and the purring started again. It continued as I caressed her labia, and when a finger slid in to touch the inner folds. Her clitoris thickened a little, as I toyed with it, but never got to the fullness I felt last night. My probing touch worked downward again, until it found that deep softness between her legs.

"Ohh, no. I'm a little sore there."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's not your fault. I'm just out of practice. Nothing's been in there since Mark died, except during pelvic exams, and even those leave me sore. Don't worry, it's a good sore." I stood and kissed her, then turned her under the water to rinse. She squatted and splashed up under her legs to get the soap out, then felt around with a distant look.

"Are you OK?"

"Yes," she answered, straightening back up. "I just wanted to figure out whether you were going to be dripping out of me all day. I don't think so, and that's good. I almost never use panty liners any more, and don't have any with me." She took the soap. "Your turn now."

I leaned against the wall, as she had done, and felt those small, strong hands lean into me. She lingered over my buttocks. I'm not real athletic, but still ride a bicycle for most of my chores around town, and she seemed to like the result. I did, too, and my half-erection turned whole.

I stood with my legs apart, also as she had done. The shower was hot, so my balls hung very low. She avoided them mostly. When her fingers bumped them, my erection nodded, out front where she couldn't see it.

In a little while, she had me turn around. Her eyes widened at the erection, and she cooed, "Well, look at you. Again? So soon?" She soaped her hands and started directly on it. One hand held the shaft, the other reached under to cup my balls. I flinched but ignored the defensive instinct. Maybe she was out of practice, but I sure couldn't tell. After years of solo sex, once or twice a week, two in one day surprised me too - but her inspiration gave plenty of reason. Soon, white blobs fell into her hand, then onto the shower floor. I kicked them to the drain and made sure they went down.

She hugged me again when the orgasm passed, still cupping my balls in one hand. "Did you get a transplant from a sixteen year old, or what?" The hug lasted longer than I expected, and she whispered, "Mark liked that, too."

We lathered each others' hair, making foam sculptures, and played in the water for a while longer. At the end, we toweled each other, dressed, and left. Back in the van, we undressed each other and went back under the covers. This time, we did sleep.

The alarm went off much too soon. I hadn't set it with morning playtime in mind (the last time I made that mistake), and we both had to get back to the fairgrounds. We did have time for a quick cuddle, though. Then we had a rushed breakfast at Denny's, a trip back to the fairground, and just enough time to set up for the day.

Some time during the morning, her cell phone rang again. Half way through, she covered the microphone with her hand and called me. I looked up, saw her come-here motion, and said, "What's up?"

"It's the hotel. They're back open, and my room is ready. If I want it. Do I?"

She almost dropped the phone when I grabbed her in a bear hug. "Tell them to get lost."

That became a ladylike "other arrangements." I grinned, and couldn't stop grinning for the rest of the day. Maybe that helped explain one of my best sales days ever.

Her body didn't learn during the next two nights, but we gave it plenty of chances. It didn't learn at the next fair, either. But, shortly after she set up her painting studio in the back room of my house (our house now), it did. It hasn't forgotten in all the years since.

And, if anyone asks, I don't mind a bit that she wears two wedding bands. In fact, it was my idea. I could never replace her experience of Mark, and wouldn't want to if I could. I'm very happy that Bette adds me to her experiences. I was so honored when I slipped the new band on next to the old one that I practically cried. She did cry.