Susan: A Story

She slowly unfastening her belt and then undid the top button of her pants and slowly pulled down the zipper. She wasn't looking at me; she seemed to be concentrating on what she was doing. I could tell she was nervous, particularly when she slowly pushed her pants down but as she did she slowly turned around and her ass, her spectacular ass was just three feet away. When her pants hit the floor she wiggled it seductively and as she did she must have tugged at the waist band because the left side of her panties slowly disappeared between her magnificent butt-cheeks — and then she looked over her shoulder, "What do you think?"

"Too far away to tell," I said, absolutely mesmerized by the first female ass I have every been this close to.

She stepped out of her pants and inched her way towards me.

"Didn't bring my reading glasses, a little closer."

Her white nylon panties, or half of them, were only about a foot from me and it was all I could do to keep my hands from mauling her. "My God, Susan, your ass alone should be able to drag you from any pit of depression." When she laughed, I added, "Did you deliberately wedgie yourself?"

When she turned around, she had a wide, excited smile on her face. "Of course I did, got to show it off as best I can," then she got down on her knees in front of me and leaned into me kissing me on the lips, long and noisily, like she was having fun. And I was, too. The depression seemed to have lifted, she really seemed to be trying to come out — so I went for it, I pulled my lips from hers, "Now, the breasts."

She sat back on her heels and looked at me with near shock on her face, "Ah, come on, Sam."

"You promised!"

She furrowed her brow as if trying to recollect, "I did not."

"You did so," I lied.

"When?"

"Before."

She knew I was kidding but I knew she was taking this as a kind of test, too. Did she want to deal with her one physical flaw? She didn't know, not for a long time but then, with a look of utter resolution, she pulled her sweater over her head and threw it aside, then stood up and reached behind her back, "I'll know if you're turned off. You won't be able to hide it."

I didn't say anything. I watched her face, admiring her determination; this was really, really hard for her. Her white bra went loose on her shoulders and she seemed to slump as she reached for the loose straps at her shoulders and then it was gone and her breasts flopped against her stomach.

She flicked at one, "They're dugs," she said, with disgust, "the withered tits of an old woman."

They were long, narrow and deeply sagging, ending in bulbous jugs that had enormously round aureolas punctuated by impossibly prominent nipples that pointed insistently to her feet. Had they not been so healthy and so pleasingly freckled, her tits could have been 20 years older then the rest of her which was absolutely exquisite — lythe and lean and toned and stunningly attractive, particularly her legs which ended in that perfect ass. Maybe it was BECAUSE her tits were her one obvious flaw that I was drawn to them. I don't know. But their imperfection somehow made her seem more real to me. I've got to admit they really turned me on.

She was leaning forward trying to quickly re-wrap them in her bra when I stopped her. "I like them Susan, I really like them."

"You do?" She seemed as surprised as she was doubtful.

I took the bra from her and and leaned in and kissed the right nipple. "Stand straight up, will you?"

"Why?"

"Please."

She did, but reluctantly, looking down on me with troubled doubt.

"Now, take your breasts in your hands." She wasn't going to but finally she relented. "Now, the next time you look in a mirror, I want you to remember this: a guy named Sam really, really, really, really likes your tits."

She looked down on me, doubt still frozen on her face, "Really?"

"I really do. There're yours and I think they're beautiful. OK? For me, at least, the issue's over. Now come on down here and let me spend a little time with them."

The transformation seemed instantaneous. Up til now everything about her seemed a combination of reserved sophistication and self-hate. Not now. Dressed only in white nylon panties when she stepped over me and lowered her body gently onto mine, wrapping her arms around me and pushing her face into my neck, she had an exuberance that was really exhilarating, as if she was a young woman again filled with hope ... and lust. I was enthralled by the metamorphosis. "Hard to get at them when you're pressing them into my chest."

"Sam?" There was undisguised hunger in her eyes.

"Ya?"

"I want this ... more than you can possibly believe. I don't want to disappoint you ..."

"Don't, Susan. There's no scorecard here."

"I know, but if ..."

"Is this about the lousy lay thing again?"

"I don't want to be a lousy lay."

"You said you were unhappy in your marriage right from the beginning."

"I was."

"Did it ever occur to you that it's difficult to be a good lay if you don't love the guy you're with? Think about it. If you were unhappy in your marriage you SHOULD have been a lousy lay, whatever that is. Don't worry about it: you'll be a great lay, if that's what you aspire to, when you find the right guy."

I could tell that got her thinking. She was absolutely still for a moment then she pushed off my chest and when she looked down on me her eyes were bright with excitement, "That's true isn't? How can you have great sex with someone you don't love? You can't. It's never going to happen." Then she thumped me on the chest, "Jesus, Sam, you're a piece of work. Where were you eight years ago when I first needed you?" She fell back onto me and squeezed me with all her strength.

When I got my breath back I said, "Do you really want to know where I was?"

She pushed off and looked down at me, interested, "Yes, of course I do."

"I was making money, that's all I've done with my life so far: try to make money."

"Have you succeeded?"

"In that, yes, but only in that. I may be good with cheap advice but it sure doesn't come from any worthwhile experience."

She kissed me quickly on the lips then fell on me again mumbling into my neck, "Are you saying you're as fragile as I am?"

"I'm not sufficiently alive to be fragile." I laughed when I realized I was becoming as maudlin as she had been, so I added good-naturally, "I've become an autotom and it's time for a change."

"Great," she said, squeezing me, "then that's the theme for the weekend, right? 'Change!'" She shimmied up on me and took her right breast and held it to my lips. When I took the nipple in my mouth she turned and lay sideways on me with her back against the couch and she began stroking my hair. "I haven't been this happy in a thousand years, Sam."

I pulled my lips from her now wet nipple, "Nor have I," I said, "But I could be happier."

She looked iat me with curiosity, "How?"

"While I'm sucking on this magnificent nipple, I could be stroking that equally magnificent ass."

She bent down and playfully kissed me on the lips, "You can stroke me anywhere you want."

I have long suspected that I have a bit of a panty fetish. I was now proving it. Rather than grabbing her naked cheek, I trailed my fingertips across the soft delicate pantied surface, following the rounded contours along the cabled elastic that pinched into her thighs, never for a moment leaving the soft nylon, never once trying to reach under it while all the time sucking softly on the nipple she held to my mouth.

"Do you want me to take them off." Her voice was soft and sensual.

I didn't. I wanted to feel the heat from her panties radiate up my fingers; I wanted to press my face against the soft white nylon; I wanted to softly nibble into the exquisitely firm flesh beneath the fabric; I wanted to press my face between her legs, to smell and taste the juices soaking the flimsy barrier between my lips and her reality. It shocked me that I felt this way and I thought it would shock her, too, so I said, "Would you?"

With her right hand holding her breast to my mouth she struggled with her left hand to push down her panties but it was too awkward so she pulled away from me and got to her feet. "I've got a better idea," she said, with a smile. "Let me take a quick bath and we'll take this into the bedroom."

When she turned to leave I stared at the panties covering the magnificently rounded right cheek. The sexual jolt that hit me shocked me: a lousy cheek for crissake! Where did this come from? Since when have I been so turned on by a brief glimpse of a pantied buttock! A lousy haunch for crissake!

I'm a pragmatist. The moment I saw her ass disappear into the hallway I tried to understand my emotions, not just about my newly-discovered (and troubling) ass fetish but my emotions towards the entire woman. But I only concentrated for a moment. 'Fuck it,' I said to myself, 'try to make sense of it after it's over,' and I got up, adjusted the hard-on in my pants and went to the fridge for a beer but before I opened the fridge, I bent down and looked into the side of the toaster: I wanted to see the glowing smile on my face.

I walked halfway down the hall and called to her the moment the water stopped, "Do you want a glass of wine?"

She hesitated a moment, "No thanks."

I knocked before entering.

"I hoped you'd come in," she said, as she threw a handful of bubbles into the air. She nodded to the toilet. "Sit down." If anything, her smile was wider than mine had been.

The silence lasted so long it became awkward. I didn't know what to say and it seemed she didn't either. Finally, I took the initiative with a rather pathetic, "This is pretty good, isn't it?"

She had been inspecting a handful of bubbles, but a quick cuff at the water sent a small tidal wave onto my lap, "Pretty good? This is fucking unbelievable for me."

I laughed, stood up, turned to the sink and poured a glass half full of cold water and as I sat back down on the toilet seat I threw the cold water at her shoulder — but it was so sudden and so violent that for a moment she was stunned with shock, but then she read the smile on my face and with a yelp of joy she scooped with both hands about a gallon of water into my lap.

I recoiled from the water, brushing it off while I searched the room for a likely weapon. But she could see I was looking to get even so she raised her hands as if arrested, "OK. OK, I surrender," she laughed, "I quit."

I was concentrating on toweling off my pants, "If you surrender, I want restitution."

She laughed, "No problem. I'll happily dry your pants."

I searched the cupboard beneath the sink and found a can of shaving cream which I aimed at her, "I want more than that."

She continued laughing, she was really having fun, but now she was a little more unsure of herself, "What?"

I didn't have anything in mind, at least consciously, so I said the first thing that came into my head: "I want you to tell me what you're thinking ... about us."

The smile left her face and she sank into the water up to her chin, then she slowly sat up again and when she looked at me, her face was a blank. "Do you want me to tell you that I think you're an absolutely wonderful guy? That the luckiest moment of my life was when I yelled at you on the street, calling you a pervert?"

I could see the mischievous smile begin to develop on her face and I didn't like it, "No, I wasn't ..."

But she kept on going. "Do you want me to tell you that the single most erotic moment of my life was lying on you while you sucked on my breast and fondled my fanny?" She was now looking into space as if dreamily, "Do you want me to tell you that I can't wait to lie in my bed with you, to feel you naked against me, to feel you inside me?" Now she looked over at me, without the smile, "Do you want me to tell you those thing?" She hesitated and shrugged, "Sure, I'll tell you that, because they're true ..."

"Come on Susan ..."

"And it's true that I want to explore every inch of your body; it's true that I want to wake up in your arms tomorrow morning; it's true that I want to walk in the park with you, holding your hand, and I want to sit on a park bench beside you with my head on your shoulder. It's true that I want to tell you every one of my inner most thoughts ..."

"OK, OK ..."

"It's true I want ..."

It took me awhile to figure it out but it became increasingly clear that she was just teasing me — and I deserved to be teased, it was a particularly dumb thing to say to her but she was now starting to piss me off a little. But I HAD asked for it. I got up to leave, but she grabbed me by the wrist. "Sam, it's all true, every last bit of it."

I looked down at her. She wasn't laughing any more, wasn't even smiling — she had a look of utter seriousness on her face. "I wasn't fishing for that," I said, injured.

She let go of my hand and sank back into the water up to her chin again, "I know you weren't, but I wanted you to know how I feel about you."

I persisted, "That wasn't fair."

The mischievous smile was returning, "Now who's the self-absorbed baby?" Then she added, "Hand me that towel."

I did and turned away saying, "Leave the water, I'll take a quick bath, too."

"Jeez, you can have your own water," I heard her say as I entered the hallway.

"Yours is fine," I called back, still a little pissed, "I just need to get wet."

I reached for beer I had left on the counter. I don't generally drink this much but the woman had me so flustered I didn't seem to be getting much of a buzz from it. Emotionally, she had been all over the map, and I had followed her every step of the way ... it's just that I was always a few steps behind, or, rather, she was a few steps ahead of me and I found that really discombobulating; I seemed to be always off balance. I rolled the cold beer can across my forehead before opening it and padding back to the bathroom where I took a long leak before stripping and getting into the bath. I leaned back, taking the can in my hand. My nerves were going nuts: I was going to have sex with this woman.

"Sam?" I turned to her voice. She was standing in the doorway dressed in a baggy t-shirt that stopped about two inches from her light blue panties. She looked absolutely stunning. "Another fetish?" She was smiking at me.

I didn't understand her and I guess it showed.

"Bathing in used water?"

"Only your used water," I mumbled. She was getting the better of me and, childish though I knew it was, it was bothering me a little.

She was beside the bathtub now, on her knees, "Can I wash your back?"

"No," I said, a little too petulantly, "I think around you I'd better watch that."

She exploded in laughter then stood up and sat on the toilet seat.

I was hearing a lot more of her laugh now and I really liked it. It was deep and a little gutteral, as if it had been tempered on slightly bawdy jokes. "I wasn't fishing for complements."

"I know you weren't," she said, in a deliberatly soothing voice. "I was just searching for an opportunity to tell you I like you."

"Can you hand me a towel?"

"Sure," she said, cheerfully, getting to her feet. "Do you want a used one?"

"Sure," I said, without thinking. When she exploded in laughter again I felt like an idiot.

And I guess it showed because she held up the towel and said in that same deliberately soothing voice she had used earlier, "Oh, come on, Sammy, let mummy dry you."

I know I was acting like a bit of a baby, but Jeez, she was getting the better of me at every turn, "I can do it myself," I said, pathetically.

"Well, ya, I know you can do it yourself," she snickered, "but I'd LIKE to do it."

I gave up and stepped into the towel and she went after me with frantic vigour and I was fully dry within a minute and, au natural, I followed her into the bedroom, with my eyes on her ass, conscious that it was giving me a growing hard-on. And when she turned around, she became conscious of it, too.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and I stopped in front of her. She bent forward, took me by the hips and pulled me forward so I was standing just inches from her, "I see you're feeling exactly how I'm feeling."

"I can't hide it."

"I don't want to hide it either, Sam, that's why I said what I did. Can I touch it?"

I laughed, "You can, but watched out, it's cocked and loaded."

"God, Sam, so am I. Maybe we should just fire each other off and start afresh."

Good idea. When I gently pushed her, she fell back on the bed and scrambled to the centre and I followed to lay beside her, making sure to press my prick into the mattress where she couldn't get at it. "You first," I said, kissing her lightly on the lips before moving down, pulling up her shirt, letting her place her breast to my lips while my hand found the heat of her panties.

While I sucked hard on as much of her breast as she could feed me, my fingers caressed her pantied mound and I lay like that until I could hear her moans, "Go inside, Sam, I'm ready."

I did. I put my hand inside her light blue underwear and slide my fingers through a thick course patch of hair before the back of my fingers slide long the cool slime on her panties and my fingers found the deep wet heat of her sex. It was then that her moans really began, it was then that she started sucking on my lips and my tongue, and it was then that she turned into me, slowly, rhythmically riding on my fingers.

The explosive gush against my fingers so shocked me that I quickly pulled my hand away but she grabbed it, squeezed it and pushed it back beneath her panties and when my fingers found her opening, it was as if I was dipping them into a narrow cup of warm water and I gently stroked her clit while she caressed her soaking panties into the back of my hand. "I should have told you about that," she was rubbing her facce in my hair.

"About what?"

She quickly leaned forward, peeled off her soaking panties and threw them on the floor. "I can be a bit of a gusher, or I was a long time ago," she kissed me on the lips and laughed. "Thanks, I thought I had lost that forever."

What 'that' was I wasn't sure, and at the moment, I was in no mood to find out — I've never ever been so horny, so when she poked me in the side I took the hint and turned over and as I did she turned around and gently kissed my erection before looking back at me. "Ass or tits?"

'Ass or tits?' I didn't know what she meant, but it didn't matter. When I looked over, her ass was lying just inches from my face. And that's when it started. I became involuntarily drawn to it, then I lost control with an animal lust. It wasn't me; I had never done anything like this before: I attacked her ass like a beast on a bone; I pressed my face into her ass and massaged it with my nose and mouth like they were a scouring pad — I travelled all around it, pushing my face hard into it, into her wet pubic hair and the gullies beneath her cheeks. Then I absolutely shocked myself: I pulled her cheeks apart and pushed my face hard between her cheeks and when I did I could feel her opening her legs, and I could feel her whole body relax — she was giving me permission for my shocking act and I couldn't have loved her more.

And then she did something that took my breath away. She slowly rose up on her knees, then slowly pushed them apart, opening herself wide for me.

I have masturbated regularly since I was a kid but never once did I ever envision this sight. Her pussy was full and rounded and gaping and hairy and wet, but it was her bud, deep in the crevasse of her beautifully firm buttocks, now spread wide as she leaned back towards her heels, that sent an insatiable lust that astonished me. I couldn't help myself. I pressed my lips to it, then I drove my tongue into it and then I entirely lost it: I held her by the thighs and sucked and probed, furiously trying to breach her sphincter, barely conscious that my moans were impossibly loud, barely aware that my right hand was now gripping my cock and then it came, a long wave of ecstasy washed over me and I shot my pent up load in exquisite spasms into the bedspread — and then I was so depleted, so weak, that I went limp. But even then, spent and exhausted, I couldn't leave it. Even then I kissed at her, at her bud, all along her crevasse, down into her wet and open pussy, smelling her, tasting her, feeling her wet heat against my nose and mouth before I fell head first onto the bed, exhausted.