Ann crept up behind me and encircled my waist with her arms, pressing her face against my back. She was at least eight inches shorter than me, so her forehead rested well below my shoulder blades. I felt the heat of her breath through my shirt.
"What do you want to do?" she said, softly. She came around to the front of me so I could see her. She was barefoot and I could see her bare legs under the robe.
"Everything," I said, suddenly feeling confident and aware of what I wanted. "I want to do everything with you."
Now our faces collided with the fury of a first kiss, gasping and pressing, tasting, exhaling, lips enmeshed, exploring each other's tongues, surfacing and then plunging back. Ann held herself away from me for a moment as if to gauge how far she was willing to go, catching her breath, placing her hand over her chest as if to say, "ahem," and then reached for my hand.
She led me back into her apartment to the bedroom, where her Queen bed had been made especially for the occasion. All children's toys had been banished from the bedroom. Candles lined the walls and headboard.
Ann pressed her face against my chest, kissing me through the fabric of my shirt, and then stepped back two paces, standing alone in the space at the foot of the bed. With a deft motion, she undid the knot around her waist, and her robe slipped down to the floor.
Ann stood before me wearing nothing but a bra and panties. The fabric was sheer and blue, and I could see her nipples protruding through, and the faint outline of her pubic triangle. I gazed over her body, appreciating every line of her feminine form, her shoulders, her clavicle, the rise of her breasts, the soft belly that showed she's a mother. Now that I'm a father myself, I find that I am most attracted not to flat-stomached models, but to women who have had children, and I love the marks that children leave upon women's bodies -- I love that maternal softness, that sign of having borne a great burden for a purpose larger than one's self, the battle scars of bringing new life into the world.
Now I'm lunging at Ann and we're kissing again, tumbling onto the bed. She grasps at me between my legs, feeling my erection through the fabric of my jeans, pressing my firmness between her thighs, wrapping her legs around my waist as if to trap me.
I run my tongue along the length of her neck, licking her ear lobe, eliciting sighs and moans as she reacts to the exploration of these erogenous zones. I delicately pinch her nipples between my thumb and forefinger, feeling how erect they are, straining to be touched, fighting to escape the thin fabric of her bra. My hands reach around to her back and I'm unfastening her bra. She raises her arms up and shrugs her shoulders to help free her breasts as I eagerly take her nipples in my mouth, squeezing her breasts together, making her nipples slick with my saliva, running my thumbs over each nipple in a circle, kissing her on the mouth. Even at the age of 34 I still feel a rush of excitement unfastening a woman's bra and bringing her naked breasts into view.
Ann is fighting with my shirt buttons, reaching her hands inside and running her fingers over my chest. Suddenly my pants are gone and I'm naked, she slides her hand over the length of my erection as if to take a measure of me. I slide two fingers between her legs and under the elastic tightness of her panties, feeling the delicate folds of her labia, seeing how swollen she is. She lifts her hips off the mattress and I help her out of her panties, already soaked. She moans and writhes as I press my face between her legs, breathing her in, inhaling her sweet scent, getting ready to taste her.
Every woman looks so different between the legs, with such infinite variety in the size, shape, color and texture. I remember my endless fascination with my wife's pussy in the early days of our relationship, and I still tell her that she has the prettiest pussy I've ever seen. Ann's clitoris is larger than my wife's, and she has compact, symmetrical labia. I can see how swollen and eager she is, I can see white milky fluid against her pink vaginal walls.
Inserting a finger into Ann's pussy, I lean in for my first taste of her. She gasps and seems to shudder, as if this sensation is almost too much. I lap up as much of her sweet nectar as she can bear, fingering her with greater speed and intensity, varying the pressure and depth, and running my tongue up to her clitoris. I focus my attentions on her clitoral hood, feeling the soft-but-persistent firmness under my tongue, lapping back and forth. Ann is already close to orgasm.
I explore further inside of her with my fingers, two fingers now, reaching for her G-spot, stroking that spongy textured region while gesturing back toward myself, easing as much pressure and pleasure into that confined zone. Finally, slowly, after what seems like minutes or hours or days, Ann starts to come, writhing and moaning, eyes shut tight, she is naked and sweating, soaking the bedsheets. She gasps and shudders and twitches, feeling the full cresting wave of her orgasm, forcing my hand away from her. She rolls onto her side and draws her knees up to her chest, eyes tight shut, breathing deeply. After a moment of recovery, she finally lets out a quiet laugh.
"Your wife is right," Ann said. "You have very talented fingers. And a talented tongue."
"Those aren't the only parts of me that are talented," I said. Ann sits up and places her hand on my swollen cock, aching to get inside of her.
"I can't believe we're doing this," she said. "It seems so...wrong, and yet, so natural."
"We have my wife to thank," I said.
"First I'm going to thank someone else," Ann said, and she slid her face down and took me in her mouth.
It's been some time since Ann has gone down on a man, and it's clear that she's been saving up a few tricks. Eyes shut, she slides her mouth down the length of my cock, taking me deep into her throat. I feel the motions she's making with her mouth and jaw, driving me against the back of her throat so I can feel the textures of her soft palate. Even this is almost enough to make me come, but I manage to hold back.
Her mouth is wet and hungry, and soon I am covered with her saliva as she tugs at me with her hands, tightening her grip as she reaches the head of my cock. "I want your cock inside of me," she says, with a low whimper and a sense of startling clarity. "Fuck me. I want you to fuck me."
We unwrap a condom and she slides it onto me. My erection is rock hard and steady, throbbing with an energy all its own. Ann turns over and leans away from me on the bed on her hands and knees, wanting me to take her from behind. She is showing all of herself to me. I can see her tight ass and the tiny orb of her anus above her swollen pussy. I love this view of a woman most of all, because of the vulnerability -- she is presenting the most intimate parts of her body to me. She is surrendering herself to the force of my need.
I slide my cock into Ann's pussy and even though she is already wet and swollen from receiving my mouth and fingers, the feeling of this hardness is even more intense than she had remembered. She gasps and moans.
"I'll go slow," I say, exhaling a bit as I feel how tight she is.
"No," she says, "go hard. Fuck me."
In an instant, we're thrusting, wildly -- we've gone from gentle motions to hard fucking. Ann is writhing and hunching her shoulders, jerking her head back and forth while I try to steady myself, trying to control my breathing, trying to control my body's response.
We are sweaty and wild. This is our first time together as lovers but already we seem to fit each other's motions and patterns very naturally, each anticipating each other's rhythms. I can see the wetness of her pussy creaming the base of the condom, and this sight alone might be enough to put me over the edge into orgasm.
Ann is gasping in a high pitched tone, her left hand reaching back to caress me as I thrust into her, harder, deeper, angling each thrust to touch the most sensitive places inside of her, feeling her tightening and reaching orgasm again. She writhes and jerks and collapses forward onto the bed, her back and shoulders glistening with sweat.
Finally I cannot hold back any longer and I come, in a pulsating expulsion of energy. Time stands still. Somehow I find myself falling forward onto the bed, lying limply at Ann's side, as I shudder with lingering spasms of pleasure and release.
After a long moment, she rolls over next to me and cuddles close, kissing my neck and chest. After the full intensity of feeling subsides, she slips the condom off of me and cleans me with a tissue. We are sweaty and smiling and spent. We cuddle and kiss and giggle, still hardly believing what we have just done.
"You're the best loan I've ever taken out," says Ann.
I hold Ann's hand and kiss it, tasting the salt on her skin. "I've got the best wife in the world," I say.