For The Fun Of It

"Hard? No. Often? Yes. And you had the tense right. I was a workaholic, past tense. I'm not going to be any more."

I handed her her glass and took mine, "Let's drink to it," I said, "more play, less work — the magic formula."

She laughed and we drank, then she twirled the glass in her hands, "I'm happy with you here, John. Really, really happy."

She seemed to be waiting for me to say something, "I am too, but I'm a little scared, too."

"Scared?" She looked at me intently, the word seemed to surprise her. "Why?"

"Because you may want more out of me then I have to give, and because I can see a little desperation in you, which I find a little ... unsettling."

"Relax," she waved at me dismissively, "you can't do any wrong with me, and I'll only take from you what you're prepared to give."

I put my glass down and pulled her legs to me, "I can't do any wrong?" I asked, then I buried my face in her stomach. She was still for a moment then I could feel her hands on my head and they began to tug gently at my hair, something I loved, maybe something she remembered I loved.

"As I said, you can't do anything wrong."

I moved down and pressed my lips against her elegant panty-clad pussy and when I looked up at her she opened her legs a little more and smiled at me. She didn't try to conceal her excitement.

I loved this intimacy and I loved that she was OK with it but I wanted to make a bit of a statement, too, so I chewed gently on her lips for a few minutes then without taking my face away, I took the glass from her hand, put it on the coffee table and insistently twisted her over, pulling her bottom up so she was kneeling on the couch, and when I buried my face in her ass she went rigid. I figured this had never happened to her before; she didn't know how to react, which was fine by mean; I wanted to see what she would do with it, I wanted to see how libertine she could be; I wanted to test my theory that it was her lack of experience, not her lack of interest that made our sex so lousy.

After a minute or two of pressing my tongue at her anus, I pulled her panties aside and tickled her with my tongue. I was really pleased to feel her relaxing and when I put my finger into her cunt, I was thrilled to find it soaking. I gently caressed her clitoris.

She had her head on her arms now and she was moving with me and moaning, then her finger were on mine, pressing me into her and after a total elapsed time of maybe three minutes she shuddered frantically, let out a deeply guttural groan, became perfectly still, then collapsed on the couch entirely spent.

I put her panties back in place, kissed her ass and I was reaching for my glass of wine when she said, "What was that?" Then she struggled to sit up, reached for her own glass and downed the contents.

"I was testing you." I was tremendously relieved that she didn't appear disgusted.

She laughed, "Do you want to test me again." Then she grew serious, "Testing me? What do you mean?" It took just a moment to tell her about my theory and when I finished her response was, "Was I that bad?"

"Well, not bad, but we have a lot of room for improvement. I just wanted to get a sense of whether or not you were up for it."

"And?"

"Well, as long as I have my tongue up your ass, you seem to be."

She hit me, harder then she meant to, and then she sprang on me and wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me hard. "That was fantastic. Thank you." She kissed me again, lightly this time, then she pulled away and looked at me, "What do you want me to do to you?"

I was going to protest, going to say that there didn't have to be a quid pro quo, but I quickly changed my mind. Why blow an opportunity, so I sprawled half on, half off the couch and asked her to do to me what she would.

She was on her knees on the couch looking down at me, her face pinched in concentration. "Well, at least give me some options."

"Nope," I said, trying to get comfortable, "do what you will."

She leaned down and kissed me gently on the lips and as she did, she muttered, "At least give me some hints."

"I'll give you a hint. Hurry, I'm not exactly comfortable here."

She got on the floor, pushed me onto the couch and then undid the buttons of my shirt and when she pulled my shirt open she did as I had done to her, she buried her face in my stomach and she kissed me all around the navel, and when she finally kissed stuck her tongue inside my navel she seemed to have made up her mind, because her fingers found my belt and in a minute she had pulled my pants and underwear off.

While she was doing this I was kind of holding my breath. I had gone out with this girl for about 18 months, 20 years ago and never once had she given me oral sex. What was she going to do? I snuck a peak and almost laughed as I could see her trying to summon courage. But she did and when her teeth raking my member I almost awakened the neighbourhood.

"What?????" She sat back on her heel, staring at me, shocked.

"You don't have to do this."

"No, I know I don't. I want to but, obviously," she laughed, "I don't know how to do it. What do I do?"

I laughed and squeezed her hand, "I don't know, I've never done it either but I'm pretty sure the best way is to completely avoid any use of teeth."

She pulled her fingers from mine, retook my cock and placed it carefully in her mouth, her eyes now locked on mine, trying to anticipate, I guessed, any approaching pain.

But there wasn't any. She coated the head in spit and very gently sucked on it like she was sucking on the top inch of a popsicle. I'd say I wasn't getting anything from it, but that wouldn't be true, I was: love for a woman who was doing her very best at something she had never done before. I bent forward took her head in my hands and pulled her up on me and kissed her, feeling the spit on her tongue seep into my mouth. "Thanks."

She pulled back and looked at me, "For what?"

"I know you don't want to do this, so don't." I made to pull her into me, but she pushed me away.

"You're wrong," she said, sliding back down to kneel on the floor, "I do and I will." She took my prick in her hand and kissed it. "It just may take me awhile to get it right — but you have to tell me what you like."

She was about to take me again, but I stopped her. "What I'd like? I'd like this off," I was fingering her teddy.

She didn't hesitate, it was off in a flash and so went her panties and when I reached for a breast she scooted over to make it easier for me and as I felt the heft of her tit and brushed her nipple with my thumb, we went to school together.

She was a good student. As she gently sucked, I gently thumbed her nipple and told her what to do, that the sensitive part of the prick was not in the head but just below it and caressing the long member itself brought its own rewards. She cupped my balls when I asked her to and gently squeezed them. And she poked a finger down towards my anus when I suggested it. I'd hoped she'd press her finger on it but she didn't and I decided to leave that for another time.

When I shifted my weight she looked up at me, "I'm just about there," I said, knowing that I had already fallen in love with her again. "When I tell you, pull away and just stroke it until I cum." With my words she became more determined and I squeezed harder on her tit, careful not to hurt her and when I felt her stiffened nipple I felt the charge in me begin to build. "Now!" I said, but all she did was look up at me and suck harder and in a moment I was squirming in ecstasy, emptying myself into her throat.

Even when I was fully spent she didn't let go of me. She continued to suck, she continued to squeeze my balls and then she pushed at my hip, pushing me down and when I went as directed, she sucked hard on me and climbed onto the couch, nestling her pussy into my face.

We both turned sideways on the narrow couch and it took us awhile to get comfortable. I had my head on her inner thigh, she, I guessed, was resting on her arm. Her voice had a dreamy quality to it, "For the last 20 years, I've held you, your head was always on my breasts. I just held you and smelled your hair. I went to sleep like that. A lot."

I kind of lost it then. I pulled her to me and pushed my face into her, shocked at how wet she was and I roughly sucked at her and only sobered up when I felt her pulling away.

When she sat up, so did I and she scooted over onto my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing her cheek into mine. "God," she whispered into my ear, "you absolutely reek of sex."

I chuckled. "Great isn't it?"

"Do you want me to get a face cloth?"

"Are you kidding? Hell no, I'm loving this."

She pulled away and looked intently at me, this was becoming a bit of a habit of hers, "This?"

"This and you. I didn't think you had any mink in you."

"Mink?"

"As in fucks like a ..."

She leaned in, kissed me lightly on the lips and pulled away again. "Do you think you can love me, John?" She hesitated for a moment then added, "Honestly."

"I want to. I think I can."

Sorrow clouded her eyes, "Then you don't now?"

"Oh, I absolutely do now, I've never been more excited to be with someone. Ever. Never. But you mean love you over the long haul, don't you? And how do you know unless you take the journey?"

"And do you want to take it?"

"I'm on it, Sue and I couldn't be happier."

She was going to phone her shopping buddies and opt out but I convinced her otherwise. I knew she enjoyed her Saturday forays into the stores and the last thing I wanted to do was to get between her and her friends, between her and her traditions.

I was thinking about her, her child-like excitement while making coffee when I heard the knock on the door. Sue was having a bath so I answered it. The woman was about maybe 55, very attractive, a little overweight and really stern looking, a little scary. She was obviously surprised to find me filling the doorway and it took her a moment to express her thoughts. "You are?"

I nodded and said playfully, "I am, indeed, yes I am."

"Who are you?" It was a demand, there was no mistaking it.

"A friend of Sues. Are you one of the shoppers?" I didn't wait for an answer but stood aside and with a dramatic gestured waved her in. "I'm just making coffee, please join me."

She marched in, that's the only word for it. "So you aren't a shopping friend?"

"No, I am."

"Coffee?"

"Yes. Black." and when she belatedly added a "thanks," I took it as a small victory.

When I returned with the coffees she was sitting on the couch, a pair of yellow panties were dangling on her finger. "I found these on the floor." She flicked them onto the couch.

"Haven't had a chance to do the housekeeping yet. If you find anything else, just leave it there and I'll get it later." I was trying to be a little cutting. I could tell she got the message.

I studied her as she drank from her mug. It was hard not to get the vibe that she wasn't happy to see me here, either that or she didn't much like men. Hard to say. "Do you often experience dislike at first sight?"

She was inspecting Sue's desk and addressed her response to it, "Not often, but sometimes, yes."

"Would it be any different now if the coffee was any better?"

She looked at her mug and nodded, "I hate drinking coffee from a mug."

I put my mug down, "I was thinking it tasted more of the filter than the coffee."

She put her mug down, too. "That, too, yes."

I wasn't going to let this woman get to me, "What are you fishing for today?"

"Fishing?" She cast a glance at the limp yellow panties on the couch.

"An angling metaphor for shopping. Maybe a man thing."

She shrugged indifferently and mumbled, "Whatever lures us in."

Sue came into the room and was surprised at the visitor, "Oh, Laura, I'm sorry, I must be late."

Laura got up, "No, it's fine, I'm probably just a bit early."

"You've met John?"

"And shared a coffee with him."

Sue walked over and kissed me on the cheek. "We'll see you at 2:30?" When she turned around to leave she spotted her panties on the couch and she quickly positioned herself between the offending knickers and Laura and ushered her from the room. Neither of us volunteered a 'goodbye.'

I shouldn't have done it. I knew better but I did it anyway. I picked up the yellow panties, took a single sniff, walked to the bathroom, dropped my pants and settled back to entertain myself. I had a lot of images floating around in my brain that I wanted to revisit: Sue in her teddy and panties; Sue with her legs open; Sue with her bum hovering for my tongue; Sue's magnificent tits flopping around as her mouth closed around my prick; Sue's smile, her happiness, her laughter. I needed some quiet time to review the past 12 hours; I needed some time to be alone with her ... images.

Every house has it's quirks. This place was no different. Here, it was the lock, it worked with one of those credit-card like cards you find with hotel rooms. It opened soundlessly and so did the door. And she didn't make any noise, either. So I saw her before I heard her. And she saw me, sitting on the toilet with her panties at my nose and my fingers gripping my cock. When she stopped, shock registered on her face. But just for a moment. When she moved to lean against the door jam she had a smile growing on her lips and eyes.

This had never happened to me before. Never. My immediate reaction was to feel ... busted! That flashed through my consciousness, but dissipated in an instant to be followed by a flutter of embarrassment. But that passed just as quickly. She had barely settled against the door jam when I said, "Do you have any idea how exciting and sexy you are?"

Her face positively glowed with pleasure, "Really."

"I was just remembering you. You've just walked into the kitchen with that teddy and these yellow panties so, if you don't mind, I have a lot of memories I want to relive."

She quickly came in, kissed me on the lips, whispered almost soundlessly, "And I've got to go shopping." Then she turned and left, heading for the bedroom. I settled back at it, more excited then ever but conscious now of her foot steps, which didn't slow as she passed by the open door. She threw her teddy at me.

I'm a walker. At home I'd spend hours each day walking through the bush, lost in thought, never encountering anyone. This was different. Stop lights, pedestrian congestion, noise, everything but the solitude I was used to. It was irritating, something I knew I had to get used to, so I wasn't in a very good mood when I showed up at my planned meeting with Sue at the food court of her shopping mall. She wasn't there but I recognized Laura with three others, so I bit the bullet and approached her and I didn't risk her being polite. Instead, I sat down and introduced myself to the others as a Sue's friend.

I felt like an antique at an auction. Not because of any disparity in ages, we all had about the same milage on us, except for Laura, of course, whose additional decade seemed to have embitter her. No, I had the feeling that the four pairs of eyes were critically appraising me, not to find favour, but to search out my fault, and judging by the looks, all had succeeded. "Sue?"

"She's coming," volunteered Laura, reluctantly. The table fell silent.

As I said, I didn't show up in a very good mood so I didn't feel like trying to ingratiate myself to my less than loving critics so when I heard a voice at the next table, barely two feet away, speculate about an author I knew I abruptly changed seats, much to the surprise of the women at both tables. "It is his second marriage," I told the three startled women. "His first wife died five years ago in a car accident."

What a contrast between two tables. As I explained that I had met the author at a few writers' festivals, the three woman seemed genuinely pleased to meet me. And at the other table? The four were deathly silent, the better to hear what was going on at ours.

So, I was having fun but when Sue arrived, or rather, when the bags arrived with Sue I scooted back, feeling a little like a coward for having escaped their enmity. "What'd you get," I asked her, with phony enthusiasm.

She had a wide smile on her face. "Things," she said coyly.

I was about to leave it at that but something in Laura's aura made me press on, as if I was somehow making her a little uncomfortable. "Things? Like what?" I asked, with a lot more eagerness than I felt.

Sue moved the coffee cups to the side of the table then hoisted up a bag. "Like pants," then she hoisted another, "and shirts," she hoisted another, "and unmentionables." She had a triumphant glow on her face, in stark contrast to the wooden pusses that looked on, mine included. I peeked in one bag and confirmed that she had shopped for me.

I hate new clothes but I quickly hid my irritation, I didn't want to add any gloom to the glow on Sue's face, but I didn't want the clothes, either, so I chose my approach adroitly, "Ah, Jeez," I said, with deliberate exaggeration, "I hate new clothes, I always feel like such a wuzz in them. What's wrong with what I've got on, and anyway, when am I going to wear them? To the library? I doubt it. At my computer? I don't think so. And oh by the way, I get all my clothes from outdoors stores. I like stuff that's made to go up Everest, not to a frigging symphony. Some people like this kind of stuff, but I'm not one of them, I'm ..."

"Living in a city," Sue interrupted, "not in the forest you came from. This is what men wear here."

She didn't appear particularly troubled by my out burst so I took another task. "And anyway, you shouldn't be buying me clothes, you shouldn't be spending money on me, not yet, you hardly know me. This stuff is expensive, you should ..." While I was talking she put another bag on the pile, this one with the open end facing me so I couldn't help but see what was inside, "On the other hand, I think men who won't let their women buy gifts for them are insensitive and unfeeling. A present now and again reinforces the relationship, it lets one show how much she cares, and it allows the other to express his admiration on her perspicacity, to accept the gift with the same love and understanding as it is given. Like now."

"What is it," Laura said, dryly, "a power drill?"

The others laughed but not me, I was too busy pulling the package out of the bag, the Boise speakers for my iPod, I didn't even know there was such a thing. I couldn't wait to get home.

I said goodbye to the women next door, who had clearly enjoyed my rant more than Sue's friends, and I followed the quintet from the food court, me with my prized Boise speakers, Sue with her pants and shirts, the others, pathetically, with next to nothing.

I don't know why, it was probably my excitement over the speakers, but I felt a little giddy so when we were passing Victoria's Secret, I caught up to Laura and took her by the arm and stopped her in front of the store window. I didn't say anything, not for the longest time, then I said, nodding to a section of the display, "Personally, I think green is your colour. Is it called a camisole? Is that it? A green one, that'd be the ticket." She was trying to get away, but I held her by the arm for a moment, just to make my point and when I let her go she stormed passed her friends, who, I was relieved, were snickering.

"Laura is an old friend," Sue explained to me as we walked home. "She started with the company about the same time I did. We both started as secretaries. She had three kids and unappreciative husband; I had ambition."

"The unappreciative husband ..."

"... she left him about six or seven years ago and the kids have long since flown the coop. They're all out west."

"So she's all alone and bitter."