tagMatureThanks Delia

Thanks Delia

byMoondrift©

I hardly recognised him when I saw him. I had been idly sitting on a bench along the river path about halfway through my daily walk when a guy came strolling along dressed in a business suit, which is unusual along the path where casual clothing is the norm.

It is customary for people to greet each other, even strangers, along the river path so I glanced up and said, “Hi.”

It was he who recognised me first. He returned my greeting and then stopped in his tracks. “Tony?” he asked uncertainly. I looked up at him puzzled that he knew my name, and then I recognised him. “Adrian!” I exclaimed.

It had been twenty years since I had last seen him. Back in those days he had been a bright eyed mischievous looking fellow, friendly and full of fun. Now he was plumper and balding, but he still had that impish look about him.

We shook hands and went into those effusive lines people adopt when they haven’t met for a long time; “After all these years,” “You haven’t changed all that much,” “What have you been doing?” “I’m over here on a business trip,” and so on.

I said, “This calls for a bit of a celebration, let’s go to the Star and Bear and have a drink if you’ve got the time.”

“Sure,” he said, “I’ve finished what I came here to do and I’m just filling in time until my flight.”

We left the river path and went into the town and entered the Star and Bear. After ordering a couple of beers we found a quiet corner table and began our reminiscing; “Do you remember when…?” “What about that time we…” “Do you ever see anything of the old gang…?”

At one stage he mentioned his mother and in that instant memories came flooding back. Delia! The memory of her grown dim over the years but never quite forgotten now returned vividly to me.

She was a widow; her husband had died about ten years before I got to know her. He’d been killed in the North African desert fighting back in 1942 and despite the fact she wasn’t a bad looking woman, she had never remarried. I believe that there were quite a few women like that. They were either married or engaged to guys who got killed during the Second World War, and somehow they could never fit in with anyone else.

Adrian went babbling on but I hardly heard what he was saying as the vision of Delia stood out sharply in my mind.

Back in those days she had been buxom with large breasts and strong looking legs. She had a mass of the blackest hair I had ever seen and it cascaded down to her shoulders in unruly waves; and there were her dark glittering eyes that always seemed full of impishness and gave the impression of looking right into you. Then there was her hearty laugh that when given full voice must have been heard a mile away. She was what people might call, “Larger than life,” and so overwhelming in her manner that I think I was a bit scared of her.

I met her through Adrian. We both belonged to a church “Young People’s Club”, as it was called. It was a follow on from the youth club and was for guys and girls in their late teens and early twenties. People tended to get married a lot younger in those days, so the club was really a sort of marriage mart.

Adrian and I had been particular friends in those days and one evening around nine thirty when the club activities seemed a bit dull, we decided to head for home. We went off together because I had to go past Adrian’s place to get to mine. We got to his gate and as it was early he said, “Like to come in for a coke or something?”

I had never been inside his house so I decided that as it was still reasonably early I’d take the opportunity to have a look.

We went in and through to the lounge, or “parlour” as he called it. We entered a largish untidy room, the central item of furniture being a capacious sofa with cushions scattered haphazardly over it, and seated on it, or more accurately, in it, was Adrian’s mum.

Adrian introduced me and his mum rose and said, “Nice to meet you Tony; heard a lot about you from Adrian.” Her physical presence was quite overpowering. She was not overly tall, say about five feet five or six, but she gave the impression of being much taller. I was six foot something at the time with another half inch of growth still left in me, and although it was impossible, I felt as if she loomed over me.

Those glittering naughty eyes seemed to bore right into me as I said, “Good evening Mrs. Lane.”

She gave her hearty laugh and said, “Not Mrs. Lane, Tony, just call me Delia.”

I was somewhat at sea in this environment. My own mother, who was, I must admit, a trifle starchy and formal, would never have permitted such familiarity from my friends. In addition she was the houseproud type so I was used to an orderly and polished environment.

Delia had a habit of closing in on your personal space and as she stood close to me I detected a heady sensual odour that seemed to have nothing to do with perfume from a bottle, but seemed to emanate from her body. I found it to be both disturbing and exciting, but didn’t know why.

Adrian brought the drinks and finishing mine rather quickly I excused myself on the grounds that it was getting late and I had to get up early for work. Delia laid a hand on my arm and said, “Hope to see you again soon, Tony.”

My immediate thought on the subject was that Delia would not “see me again soon.” As I have said, I found her overwhelming and a bit scary. On second thoughts the next day however, I began to feel that perhaps she wasn’t all that bad, and both she and her house certainly presented a more fascinating aspect than our rather prosaic household.

I did not particularly expect that I would be invited into Adrian’s house all that often. We seemed to avoid bringing our parents into our relationship, but after that first visit the invitations came along frequently. From dropping in for a coke they extended to invitations to share a meal with them.

From that point I became a frequent visitor to the house, dropping in any time I was passing, or even making a special point of visiting. Gradually Delia became less awe-inspiring and more intriguing. Familiarity began to reveal a warm, soft maternal side to her which from embracing Adrian started to take me in as well. Where my own mother tended to be non-tactile in her relationship with me, Delia was for ever touching and hugging.

As we sat in the pub, Adrian still rattling on, there came to mind what for a long time I had thought of as, “That Day.”

I had dropped in one Saturday afternoon to see Adrian but was told he had gone out and would not be back until late evening. I was never the less invited in by Delia to “keep her company” for a while and have a cup of tea. Having nothing else in particular to do, I accepted the invitation and was, as usual, taken into the parlour.

Delia bustled off to prepare the tea and I flopped down in an armchair and contemplated the surrounding disorder. It seemed strange to me, because the place was not dirty or smelly, it was just very untidy and yet cosy. As a consequence, and since Delia had ceased to be frightening, I always felt very relaxed in their home.

Delia returned bearing a tray with the tea and some cakes on it. She put it on a small table, and after giving me my cup and offering the cakes, she plonked herself down on the sofa being embraced as it were by the heap of colourful cushions.

She began to speak about what sort of week she’d had and ask about mine. As the talk progressed she raised her feet off the floor and placed them on the front edge of the sofa. The skirt she was wearing fell back to about her mid-thighs. I found this rather disturbing but that was nothing to the shock I got when she parted her legs a trifle and I was confronted by a patch of dark hair at the top of her thighs.

For you who are of the present generation perhaps some explanation is needed. In those days sexual contact between young people was far less frequent than it is now. Contraception had nothing like the sophistication it has now and any sexual coupling was likely to end in pregnancy, so everyone, especially the girls, were very cautious in this regard.

Like many young guys at that time, I was still a virgin. Another thing was that females covered up a lot more than they do now. Thus I had never seen a female sex organ. I had seen posed pictures of nude women in magazines some of the guys got hold of, but even these never showed a vagina.

Now, seated before Delia in the parlour, I was getting my first vision of female pubic hair.

“My God,” I thought, “she’s got no knickers on.” I tried to look away, but Delia, who must have been fully aware of her knickerless condition, seemed completely at ease. She smiled at me over her slightly parted knees, her eyes more glittering and mischievous than ever, her voice a husky contralto.

“Don’t sit over there Tony,” she said in what I suppose was an alluring voice. “Come and be friendly; sit with me.” She patted the seat of the sofa beside her. At the same time she opened her legs still further and I got my first look at a female sex organ as it seemed to glisten beneath its thin covering of hair.

Part of me wanted to drop my tea and cake and run, the other part was mesmerized by what was before me.

Seeing my hesitation Delia went on, “You’re not scared to sit with me, are you? Come on, I’m lonely over here.”

On shaking legs I rose, and placing my cake and rattling cup and saucer on the tray, I almost collapsed beside her.

“That’s better,” she said softly, “We can be comfortable now.”

We were very close, in fact her body was touching mine, and I became intensely aware of that female aroma I have mentioned before. It seemed more intoxicating than ever, and it was later that I discovered that this was one sign of a sexually aroused female.

Despite my feeling of panic I started to get an erection, and when her hand began to stroke my thigh I was nearly out of my mind with a mixture of confusion and lust.

As she continued to caress me she went on speaking very soft and low. “It’s nice to be friendly, isn’t it? Friends like to do nice things for each other, and we are friends, aren’t we, Tony? Very good friends; and I know what nice things we can do for each other. I know what young men like you need, so I want to do something nice for you.”

Her hand had begun to stroke my penis through the cloth of my trousers and she followed this by starting to undo the buttons of my flies.

“There’s something you’d like me to do for you, isn’t there, Tony? That’s what I’m going to do, make you feel good.”

She had my penis out and was stroking it gently.

“We know where this belongs, Tony, so why don’t we put it there.”

With that she lay right back on the cushions her legs wide open and extending her plump arms to me she said, “Come on darling, I’ll show you how.”

She drew me over her. I knew in theory what to do but it was her tender guidance that brought the tip of my penis to her vaginal opening.

“Just push in, darling,” she said.

When I did push in I thought I had entered paradise. In my sexual naivety I had had no idea what it would feel like inside a vagina, but those of you who have been fortunate enough to have their first sexual experience with an older and caring woman, will understand my feelings of ecstasy.

The warm moist tunnel clinging to your penis, the flexing of a vaginal muscle seeming to pull you in to her depths, her gentle coaxing and crooning as she encourages you; “That’s right darling, all the way in then out and in again. When your ready just let it all go.”

Delia seemed utterly relaxed. She lay back just letting me experience her like a mother guiding her toddler as it learns to walk, but without any stress. There was none of the crying out and struggling that I experienced later, just her gentle encouraging words as if this was satisfaction enough for her.

I felt the first pulsating of sperm up my shaft and then came that experience that none seem to be able to describe in words. The triumphant pumping of one’s semen into a woman; the tremendous desire to plant your seed deep inside her, the primitive urge to impregnate, and then the peace of fulfilment that follows.”

As I relaxed over her Delia was still speaking; “That feels better, doesn’t it, darling. All that lovely sperm right were it belongs.”

I clung to her feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude. She had given me her body in this act of friendship, or was it love?

She let me lay over her my penis still not withdrawn from her, stroking my face and hair and murmuring lovingly. I don’t think I had felt so at peace in my whole young life.

Delia stirred. “We’ve got plenty of time,” she said, “Let’s enjoy ourselves, shall we?”

I wasn’t sure what this meant so I asked, “What do we do.”

She gave another of her wicked looks and said, “How would you like to have a bath with me?”

In those days most of our houses didn’t have showers and I was doubtful about the bath anyway. I had coupled with Delia with my trousers still on and I felt a bit shy about Delia seeing me naked. Never the less, with her gentle encouragement we headed for the bathroom.

Before actually getting to the bathroom Delia looked at my trousers and said, “My goodness, Tony, your flies are a bit of a mess.” I looked down to see that some of my sperm had overflowed, and in addition there was some fluid that had come from Delia. I was to learn that this fluid was a lubricant that women produce when sexually aroused.

“We’ll give those flies a bit of a scrub,” Delia said, “and hope they’re dry by the time you leave.”

We went to the kitchen and Delia, getting me to take off my trousers, began the process of removing the mess. The trousers were put in front of a small electric fire to dry, and I noticed a pair of idly discarded knickers lying in one corner of the kitchen.

“But I can’t hang around with no trousers on,” I protested.

She gave her hearty laugh and said, “You won’t need trousers where you’re going, my boy.”

In the bathroom we stripped off and for the first time in my life saw a naked woman in the flesh. In the pictures I had seen the women all had firm up pointed breasts, or at least that’s how they had been posed. Delia’s breasts were huge and hung down with large brown nipples. I suppose I might have been disappointed except that they looked so soft and cuddly, as if inviting you to bury your head between them.

The bath proved difficult in that neither of us were small and the bath not large. But somehow we managed, and after Delia had paid particular attention to washing my penis, she instructed me in the art of washing her vagina, which was a far harder task.


The main objective was to try and remove my sperm from her, and this meant getting my fingers up inside her. As I relaxed with her we began to laugh and joke, she saying, “Don’t want all that in me when you put the next lot in, do we?”

Despite the fact that her washing my penis had produced another erection, it had not occurred to me we would be having another intercourse. As if she understood my doubts on this score she said, “We’ll go to bed after the bath and make each other happy.”

“Happy” was the word to describe the next three hours. When I think of all the young people who get their sexual initiation in some uncomfortable environment like the back seat of a car, I feel very grateful to Delia for making my first experience such a relaxed and fun time.

Bed time meant more learning experiences. Delia began by nearly eating me when she began kissing. I thought her tongue would go halfway down my throat. When she held my head against her breasts she put her hand under one of them and brought a nipple to my lips.

“Suck me, sweet heart,” she crooned, “and nibble a bit if you feel like it, but not too hard.”

As I sucked her nipple she drew my hand to the other breast to press it, my fingers kneading into her soft warm flesh. For the first time Delia started to get noisy, sighing and giving little moans. Then I was shoved onto my back and her mouth took in the crown of my penis. Hell, I nearly shot my load I was so overcome.

Then very carefully she said to me, “There is something nice you can do for ladies, Tony, would you like to try?”

I was at the point where I would have agreed to almost anything she wanted, so not knowing what was about to happen I said, “Yes, if you want me to.”

Delia seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then said, “All right darling we’ll do it this way.” With that she moved to sit on the edge of the bed and lifted her feet up to place them on top of the bed, much as she had on the sofa.

She asked me to kneel in front of her so I was looking straight at her sex organ. She then proceeded to instruct me.

She placed her fingers on the lips of her vagina while I stared fascinated at my first vision of a female organ close up. She then proceeded to open the lips to reveal two pink petal like lips and also an opening.

She stayed like that for a few moments then asked, “All right, darling, do you like looking at me like this?”

I have to admit it was not how I expected the female sex organ to look. Quite what I had expected I don’t know, but it was not something that appeared so complex.

I tried to tell her how I felt and said something like, “It’s amazing.” She laughed and said, “Some men wouldn’t agree with you.”

Then she lifted up a little hood of flesh at the top of her vagina and I saw a nub of flesh. It had no significance for me until she said, “That’s where a woman can get tremendous pleasure if it’s touched properly.”

She placed her own finger on the little mound and began to circle it. After a moment or two of this she said, “Would you like to do that for me.”

I complied and soon she was making little whimpering sounds and then suddenly she gasped out, “Lick it for me darling.”

I had not bargained for this, but was about ready to do anything she asked of me, so I leaned forward and licked. There was a sort of musky taste and smell that nearly drove me berserk. I ended up licking and sucking all over her sex organ, my face getting soaked with the fluid she started to discharge.

I was almost beside myself when I was startled by Delia beginning to shake and cry out. Her hands came behind my head and held me to her. “Don’t stop, darling,” she gasped, then her cries rose to a scream and she was writhing on the bed.

It seemed a long time before she calmed down. It was certainly a learning day for me. Not only had I experienced a woman for the first time, but I had also been introduced to the female orgasm, of which I had never even heard until then, much less experienced.

When she had recovered she said, “That was wonderful darling, wonderful, you learn fast. Now suppose I do something for you.”

I was pushed onto my back again and she sat astride me. Enthralled I watched her lower herself onto my penis then drop down to take my full length. Then she stopped, just letting me rest inside her as she tormented me by flexing her vagina with a pulsating grip and release.

“Like that, sweetheart?” she asked.

“Oh God yes,” I moaned “I think I’m going to shoot again.”

With that she began to move up and down on me and that first agonising warning of my approaching ejaculation began and then I was pumping into her, gasping with every new thrust of semen until the last few drops dribbled from me.

Still holding me inside her Delia drooped low over me, her breasts swinging against my chest. She smiled at me. “Beautiful, isn’t it, my love?”

I could barely gasp out my response, “Oh yes.”

If I thought that was the end of our love making, I was wrong. Over a couple of hours I was to discover the delights of being held to a woman’s breasts, and the exquisite pleasure of exploring each other’s bodies.

In the end I came into her again, but this time it was a long and relaxed coupling, both of us simply enjoying the delights of sexual union.

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