A Modern Harem Pt. 02

Joyce's second date with Gerald was as delightful as she'd expected. They'd gone to a quiet Japanese restaurant, and she was impressed with Gerald's skillful manipulation of chopsticks and his easy familiarity with the cuisine. She herself couldn't help fixing her eyes on Gerald's lips--those lips that had pressed against hers on that heavenly first date, and which she hoped (blushing inwardly at the thought) would touch other parts of her body before the night was through. She was determined to get this man into bed even at the risk of being perceived as "easy."

When the meal wound down (ending with a succulent dessert of green tea ice cream) and they were preparing to leave the restaurant, Gerald--who had once again picked up Joyce at her house in his car--seemed startled when she said, "I wouldn't mind getting a glimpse at your place."

After an awkward moment he said, "It's no great shakes."

Joyce wondered: Is the place a mess? Did he not even envision the possibility that he might take me there tonight? She said aloud: "Oh, I don't care. It's your place: I'm sure it will tell me a lot about you."

Somewhat reluctantly, Gerald bundled Joyce into his car and drove off to his apartment.

It was a smallish building of only three stories, and the very slow elevator seemed to take forever to get to the top floor, where his apartment was. They silently walked down the corridor and stopped at a door, which Gerald opened. He ushered Joyce into the place.

It was not a large apartment, but it was impeccably--if austerely--furnished. Joyce's heart sank just a wee bit: she'd been envisioning a starkly masculine abode with little in the way of decorations or knickknacks--something, in other words, that would need "a woman's touch" to make it habitable. She should have realized that Gerald, along with all his other good qualities, was skilled at interior decoration.

He offered her a liqueur, which she gladly accepted. He had scarcely said a word since they'd left the restaurant, and she wondered what the problem was. Did he really think she was being too "forward" in pressuring him to come here? Was he simply not comfortable in being alone with a woman who was not his wife?

I'll make him comfortable if it's the last thing I do.

They exchanged a few quiet confidences while sipping their drinks. Then Joyce noticed a stereo and a small but choice selection of LPs on a nearby bookshelf. She leaped up from the couch she'd been sitting on and said, "Oh, you're a music lover!"

The LP collection was an eclectic mix of classical, jazz, and classic rock. She selected a recording of some piano music by Chopin--one of her favorites, going back to childhood when she'd taken piano lessons--and, after getting approval from Gerald, put it on the turntable.

The music was soft and dreamy, evoking the romance of nineteenth-century Europe. She began swaying to the music, all but inviting Gerald to dance with her. After a few moments he got up and walked stiffly in her direction; then he wrapped his arms around her waist. She flung her arms around his neck and cradled her head just under his chin.

This went on for fifteen or twenty minutes. The record was almost over, and Gerald had still made no further move, even though Joyce had (brazenly, to her mind) pressed her body so close to his that she could swear she'd felt a bulge emerging in his groin. She almost exploded with frustration. Oh, this infuriating man! Do I have to strip in front of him so that he gets the message?

She realized that she'd have to take the lead. So she slipped a hand behind her back, took hold of one of Gerald's hands, and moved it down to her bottom. She held it there for a moment, as if to make absolutely clear what she wanted.

And yet, even now Gerald did nothing but keep that hand on one of her butt cheeks. He didn't even give it a squeeze! Now Joyce was kissing the side of his neck, even flicking it with her tongue. And she reached down to the front of Gerald's pants and confirmed what she'd felt there: a definite bulge, no question about it.

At last Gerald took action. With almost agonizing slowness, he undid the zipper of Joyce's dress (not entirely unlike what her daughter had done before that first date) and pulled it off of her shoulders, so that it fell to the floor. Then he unclasped her bra and let her wiggle out of it. For her part, Joyce peeled off Gerald's suit jacket, and it joined the dress on the floor. But before she could undress him any further, he unexpectedly scooped her up and carried her to the one bedroom in the apartment.

He placed her tenderly on the bed, then removed her panties. She was now naked, sitting down on the bed and staring up at him. He seemed unable to tear his eyes away from her. Yes, of course he focused on her breasts and her delta, but it seemed he appreciated every part of what she was revealing.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered.

In under a minute he had removed the rest of his clothes. When, with only the slightest hesitation, he whipped off the seriously distorted briefs he'd been wearing, Joyce gasped.

His erect cock was something close to eight inches, perhaps a bit more.

She flushed as she instinctively compared his member to that of her husband. One of the few points of criticism she had about her beloved spouse (one, of course, that she could never articulate to him) was that his cock was a bit on the short side. She'd chided herself many times for being so superficial and uncharitable; but she sensed that she'd have nothing to complain about with the organ Gerald was displaying--the first cock she'd seen in two years.

He climbed onto the bed, urging her to lie flat on her back. And then he proceeded to make love to every inch of her, in a way that hadn't happened in years--maybe never. He began with her face, pressing hot kisses all over her cheeks and nose and chin and forehead, then moved down and paid serious homage to those large breasts of hers, licking and sucking on the hard and erect nipples. Then, while his tongue left a trail of wetness down her stomach, he took in the heady scent of her sex, where her juices were already flowing. He seemed to admire her luxuriant bush, actually rubbing his face back and forth against it in a way that made her giggle.

Then, parting her legs, he situated his face in front of her pussy and began licking.

Joyce threw her head back as she gloried in the sensation, although at times she looked down to make sure this was actually happening and wasn't some crazy fantasy--the sort she'd indulged in when she'd played with herself after that incredible first date. Gerald had taken her bottom in both hands while he fastened his lips to her labia, licking them inside and out and making them even wetter than before. Joyce became aware that this wasn't just foreplay: he was determined to give her the supreme pleasure even before he'd gotten his own. And when he began nuzzling her clitoris, she sensed that the culmination wasn't far off.

When that orgasm did emerge, radiating up from her pussy all the way up to her brain, she let out a squeal that was close to a scream. But this time she had no inclination to restrain herself, gazing down fixedly at Gerald as he continued to lick and stroke her, while her legs twitched spasmodically as wave after wave of her climax washed over her.

Gerald moved up her body and lay quietly on top of her, watching her as the remnants of her paroxysm shuddered through her frame. His expression was strangely blank, with just a hint of a self-satisfied smile. But in fact that smile was directed toward her, as if he'd said: I hope I've made you happy.

Then he spoke some words aloud. "May I go into you?"

What a ridiculous question! Joyce was tempted to cry out, Of course you can, you silly man! But all she said was, "Yes."

And so he entered her.

Joyce's eyes bulged as she felt that long, thick cock forging slowly but inexorably into her. Both she and Gerald seemed surprised that he had trouble making his way into her--it was almost as if she'd lapsed into a virgin state all over again. But her wetness made the process easier, and pretty soon Gerald was in up to the hilt. Joyce couldn't remember when she'd felt more filled: even with her few bouts with college boys before she'd met Gerald, she'd rarely accommodated a cock of this size into herself.

She sensed that the only thing to do was to lapse into a kind of languid passivity while Gerald did his business. Her orgasm had, in any case, exhausted her more than she expected, so she lay motionless as Gerald plowed into her. She did manage to throw her arms around his neck and wrap her legs around his thighs, but that was the extent of her involvement. Gerald, meanwhile, again kissed her all over her face while grabbing her breasts and bottom with questing hands. After a time his thrusts became almost mechanical, and Joyce had the curious sensation that that cock was forging a tunnel all the way up her body.

Gerald's year-long absence from intimacy had made him desperate to pour his seed into a woman, and he felt mortified that he wouldn't be able to last as long as he'd hoped. After about ten minutes a low groan emerged from deep in his throat, and he felt the need to whisper into Joyce's ear, "I'm gonna come!"

And he did, pouring what seemed like an ocean of his most precious fluid into Joyce's vagina. She gratefully accepted every drop as he grunted and moaned on top of her. She didn't always feel a man's come in her pussy, but this one she felt--she could hardly have failed to do so, as it was so copious that it began leaking out of her even as Gerald's thick member remained firmly ensconced in her.

Then he all but collapsed onto her, a dead weight that she found curiously pleasing. In some strange way she now felt completely in charge of the situation--for wasn't it her lovely body that had engendered this overwhelming response in this gorgeously appealing man?

But at last she found it a bit difficult to breathe, and she said, "Gerald, could you please get off me now?"

He heaved himself off of her, his cock slipping wetly out of her sex as more of his come oozed out of her and onto the bedsheet. He flopped onto the other side of the bed, breathing hard and staring sightlessly at the ceiling. He did reach over and give one breast a final squeeze, but then closed his eyes to take a rest.

Joyce took the opportunity to get up, go to the small bathroom, and give herself a bit of a wash. Much as she enjoyed the sweat that covered her and the mixture of his and her fluids that was trickling out of her vagina and down the insides of her thighs, she felt the need to tidy up--perhaps in anticipation of another round.

Before she returned to bed, she went into the living room, fished through her purse for her smartphone, and gave her daughter a call.

Hilary said, "What's up, Mom?"

"Um, I'm here at Gerald's place . . ."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes . . . and I expect to spend the night."

"Really? Wow! That was fast!"

"Fast? What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, Mom. It's all good. Does that mean you two are going to--you know . . ."

"We already have."

"You have? Fabulous! How was it?"

"Heavenly. But I'm hoping there might be more."

"You think he can revive for another go? A lot of men can't do that."

"I'm cautiously optimistic."

"Did Dad ever do that?"

Joyce was peeved. "Dear, we don't need to talk about Dad right now." As a matter of fact, Richard was almost never able to "get it up" a second time, and the best the couple could do was cuddle.

"Okay, sorry, Mom. I'd better let you get back to it. See ya tomorrow!"

When she came back to Gerald's bed, she found him awake.

"Everything okay?" he said, somehow worried.

"Sure. I just wanted to let my daughter know I wouldn't be coming home tonight." Then a little worry of her own came over her. "You do want me to stay the night, don't you?"

"You bet!" Gerald said, finally showing some enthusiasm that belied his usually soft-spoken manner.

She slipped under the covers beside him, but he flung the sheet and blanket away, as if he couldn't get enough of her nudity. As they snuggled, she noticed that he was paying quite a bit of attention to her bottom, almost kneading it as if it were some uncooked dough. She was getting the feeling that he had a serious butt fetish. Well, that's okay by me. I have a damn good butt, if I do say so myself.

Her impression was confirmed by the conversation that followed.

It began when she noticed that, to her delight, he was indeed getting hard again. Of course, it hadn't hurt that she'd been playing with his member all the while, stroking and tugging at it and also cupping his balls. When he was fully erect, she looked up at him and said, "You want some more?"

"Yes," he said--but his tone of voice was a little peculiar.

"You want a different position?" Like, maybe, me on top?

"Yes, but . . ."

"But what? Out with it!"

"I was just wondering . . . if you wanted it back here." And he all but inserted a finger delicately into her anus.

She gasped. It took her a moment to say, "You want it that way?"

"Yes--but only if you do." Ever the gentleman!

"Did you do that to your wife?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes."

"And she liked it?"

"She seemed to."

When she didn't respond immediately, he said, "You don't like it?"

"Oh, it's not that. It's just--I haven't done it in a while."

"You mean you and your husband . . ."

"No, we didn't. I guess he thought it was distasteful."

"I understand that. So you'd rather not?"

"I didn't say that. I'm a little out of practice, that's all."

"Well, maybe it's something you never forget. Kind of like riding a bicycle."

She didn't appreciate his flippancy. But she said, "I suppose we could do it."

He sprang into action almost at once. He leaped out of bed and headed to the bathroom. Returning in seconds, he showed her a jar of cold cream as if it was some sort of prize.

She looked at it with a puzzled frown. "What's that?"

"It's the lube my wife and I used."

"You saved it after all this time?"

"Yeah."

Joyce didn't know what to think. In a way it was romantic (he preserved the lube that he used when he shoved his cock up his wife's ass!), but in other ways it was a little odd.

But she allowed him to apply to the stuff to her derrière. He preferred to have her lie flat on her stomach, which relieved her: she didn't care for the doggie-style position. But as he draped his body on top of hers, she felt a momentary panic. I'm pretty much helpless, with this big, strong man whom I've gone out with exactly twice dominating me body and soul. But she reassured herself: Gerald had so far shown himself to be a sweet and decent man. What harm could it be to subject herself to him?

Sure enough, he did his best to make the procedure as painless for her as possible--but even so, she did suffer some pain (or perhaps it was just a bit of discomfort) as he gently inserted his member into her anus. There was a strange choking sensation that she couldn't account for, and her mouth fell open as if she was gasping for air. But pretty soon Gerald got into a soft, gentle rhythm while also wrapping his arms around her chest and taking hold of her breasts. Her breasts were very sensitive, and she did like a man to touch them. His head was cradled in the crook of her neck, and he rained little kisses on her cheek and neck--and once he impulsively stuck his tongue into her ear. That made her squeal--and she even thought she might have had a mini-climax.

In fact, Gerald was intent on making sure she got some reward for her endurance: as he pounded her more forcefully, he slipped a hand down her front and covered her sex. Then he parted her labia and began stroking her clitoris--gently at first, but more and more vigorously as time went on. Joyce lapsed into a kind of dreamy passivity as Gerald not only derived pleasure from pummeling her but also gave her pleasure with his fondling.

And so they achieved that rarest of feats--a simultaneous climax. As she felt the initial streams of his emission oozing thickly into her rectum, she also felt her own juices flowing out of her pussy as waves of ecstasy coursed through her, making her shudder all over and almost ejecting Gerald from her bottom. But he clung fast, keeping his cock buried in her long after their mutual shudders had subsided. There was a heavenly feeling of unity in this unusual act of coitus, but eventually Joyce asked Gerald to withdraw, and he did.

He at once stumbled out of bed and headed to the bathroom, apparently to clean up.

Coming back, he scooped her up and, as he lay on his back, dumped her on top of himself. He sure is one for snuggling! Joyce noted with approval.

She figured they were done for the night--but after about fifteen minutes she sensed something poking into her abdomen.

Her eyes widened as she said, "Omigod, you really want some more?"

He looked sheepish as he said, "Well, yes."

"Hey, I'm not complaining. It's just that I've never met a man who has such--potency. Not even in my wild college days."

"Did you have wild college days?"

"Actually no. I was a good girl--I've always been a good girl."

"I'm sure you have."

"So what would you like to do now?"

"Um . . ." He seemed reluctant to speak. "How about sixty-nine?"

She smiled. "All right." Then, after a pause: "You did wash thoroughly down there, didn't you?"

"Yes--with soap."

"Glad to hear it. Do you want me to wash?"

"That won't be necessary."

Shrugging, she flipped around so that her face was right in front of the suddenly huge-seeming obelisk that was his cock. As Gerald seized both cheeks of her bottom and began licking her pussy (and drinking up the come that was leaking out of her), she held his cock upright and plunged as much of it into her mouth as possible. That wasn't very much, as she was also out of practice in cocksucking--and she'd never been very good at deep throat. But she hoped she passed muster. It was a little distracting to have Gerald be so diligent at what he was doing: it made it hard for her to focus on the task at hand. But she found not only his cock but his large sac of balls ineffably fascinating, and did her best to stimulate him at least as much as he was stimulating her. That proved impossible: he actually made her come twice in the half-hour they were engaged in this act; and when she felt the bolts of his discharge shoot into her mouth, she was so surprised that she let most of it dribble out. It landed thickly on his abdomen, although viscous ropes of it trickled down her lips and chin. What a mess!

She leaped off of him, snatched up some Kleenex, and mopped up both herself and Gerald. Looking at him regretfully, she said, "I'm sorry about that. I'll swallow it next time." Next time! That means that I'm hoping there will actually be a next time. Well, there better be!

"That's okay," he said, although she could tell he was disappointed. Men are so absurdly sensitive about such things!

They cuddled some more, then decided by mutual agreement that they'd better get as much sleep as they could in what remained of the night.

The next morning, both of them were strangely subdued as they prepared a substantial breakfast in Gerald's tiny kitchen. They ate it while exchanging hardly a word. Both of them felt the embarrassment that comes after a bout of intimacy--especially a bout of the sort they'd had.

Joyce, who had been wearing a thin robe of Gerald's over breakfast, tossed it away after the meal was over and got dressed. She didn't trouble to take a shower, since she didn't have a change of clothing. She hated wearing the same underwear twice, so she simply didn't bother to put it on.