Andrew's Number

Andrew laughed and kissed her again, and rolled off her to let her finish undressing. She stood up and pulled his pants and boxers the rest of the way down while her skirt slipped off and floated to the floor. She had but a moment to admire his hard cock before he resumed caressing her reverently all over her breasts, shoulders, belly and back. He showed no sign of shyness about her now; but once she slipped off her panties and lay back on the pillow wearing only a smile, he only gazed at her triangle with the mixture of lust and intimidation that Nancy knew all too well. Maybe all men really were like Michel in that frustrating regard! But expressing her own desires for a change had served her so very well up to that point, and Andy had given every indication that he was different, after all. And so Nancy resisted the temptation to bite her lip, and grinned at him as he drank in the sight of her body. She spread her legs and guided his hand into her bush, and at long last she uttered out loud the request she had longed to make of every man she'd been with but had always been too embarrassed to make before.

"Tickle my vulva."

The request was as firm as his cock but as gentle as his manner, and it inspired a wonderful tingling in her pussy that was part anticipation of the lovely torture, part fear that he would decline, and a touch of sweet embarrassment at just hearing herself say it after all those years of imagining it. That fear was fleeting, for with a shy grin of his own Andy curled his fingers over her pussy and obeyed her order.

"Aie!" Nancy grabbed his arm and yelped in pleasure, holding on for dear life as she lost control at his wonderful fleeting touch, which sent a thrilling loss of control throughout her body. She had always anticipated just a momentary tickle and imagined herself writhing away from the man's fingers in feverish sensation, but Andrew wasn't to be deterred. Only now, as he continued to play mercilessly in her bush, did she realize this was always the point where she had orgasmed in her many fantasies about being tickled. Now, she hadn't come yet, and the teasing was so intensely pleasurable it was nearly unbearable -- nearly.

Through the intense sensation, she did find the control to grab at his cock and tease the underside lightly with one finger. Michel had always loved that. Andrew did, too, and Nancy found her caresses producing noises she'd never imagined a man could make, never mind would. "So good, Nancy!" he said, fighting a losing battle to keep his voice down.

"If you think that's good..." she teased, squeezing him a bit harder. "Lie down!" she directed, and as soon as he had, she straddled and enveloped him. "Isn't that better?" she quipped, dragging her fingernails up and down his belly once. Without waiting for an answer, she began rocking back and forth on him.

All of Nancy's usual hangups about her body -- she was too heavy, her breasts were too big and they bounced around too much without a bra, she made too much noise during sex -- all vanished into thin air in the afterglow of Andrew's reverent foreplay. Where she had sometimes had trouble coming with Michel without using her fingers for help, Andrew's tickling had worked her into such a marvelous tizzy that she had no trouble this time, and she put on a beautiful show for Andrew as she rode his dick into first one, then two orgasms. Catching her breath after the second, she declared, "Now you!"

"Yes please!" he grunted.

Nancy stopped rocking and instead pushed up and down as fast as she dared go, hoping the friction would do the trick for Andrew. The change in sensation proved effective for her as well, and she was once again all squeals of delight as Andrew came. She joined in the chorus of pleasure and collapsed atop him in a sweaty moment of shared triumph.

"Would you like another glass, ma'am?"

"Huh!" Nancy snapped to attention as the bar came back into focus, and she was excruciatingly aware of her damp panties and her scandalously tightly-crossed legs. With a flood of relief at the realization that no one else appeared to have noticed, she said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I was a million miles away there!"

"It's a good night for that, isn't it?" the barmaid asked. "Would you like another?"

"Oh, that's tempting...no thanks." She uncrossed her legs and stood up. "I'd better get home before he starts wondering where I am, if he hasn't already!"

"I know that feeling! Good night."

Nancy realized, a moment too late, that she should have stepped into the bathroom and removed her wet panties. But there was nothing to be done about it once she stepped outside into the February wind, except hope the bus wasn't long in coming. Fortunately, it wasn't, but even the mercifully short wait before she settled in for the ride home had Nancy entertaining an amusing image of getting home to find icicles in her bush. Perhaps she could entice Michel to help her melt them!

To his credit, Michel was able to tear himself away from the hockey game on television and be on his feet when he heard her key in the door. "Hi, babe," he said with a hug and a peck on the cheek that eased Nancy's guilty conscience a bit. "How was work?"

"The usual," Nancy said. Shrugging off her coat, she worked up one last hope that he would join the chorus of praise for her clothes, but he had already returned his attention to the game. "It's absolutely frigid out there! Think I need a shower to warm up."

"Great idea," Michel agreed.

Nancy fingered the neckline of her sweater. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. "Care to join me?"

"I already showered when I got back from the gym."

She felt all sorts of comebacks rise up in her throat. But she concluded it was better to show him what he was missing. Still just inside the door, she pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it playfully onto the couch beside Michel. He looked at it but not at her. She tried the same trick with her bra; that inspired a quick playful look at her as she rubbed her bare breasts playfully, but then he turned back to the TV.

Nancy shuffled up behind the couch and tousled his hair. "I felt like such a little schoolmarm all day long in this skirt," she said, raising one leg up onto the couch to put it on display. "But it got a lot of compliments. Maybe I ought to dress up more often."

"If the look works for you, of course you should, babe." He did not look up to see Nancy unzipping the skirt and sliding it off, though he did add, "It's nice to see you dressing in style more."

"Is it really?" she grumbled, pulling her tights and panties off at last. No icicles, anyway.

"Yes, of course! You do look cute in your work clothes. I always said so."

He had never said so that Nancy could recall. Tamping down the temptation to barge in between him and the TV and force him to take notice of her body, Nancy stood naked and crosslegged behind him, and forced herself to keep an even tone. "It does feel so grown up for a change, you know? Some days I actually feel like an adult out there, and not a scared grad student. I really like that!"

"Yes, I love that feeling, too," Michel replied.

She was nearly certain he hadn't heard a word she'd said, and that he had no idea she was standing nude behind him. Enough was enough. Nancy tossed all her clothes in the hamper, and barely resisted the temptation to demand he give her an appreciative look before she was off to the shower. What was the point if she had to ask?!

There was, miraculously, enough hot water to get Nancy through the longest shower she'd had in some time. Making good use of the shower head, she gave up any pretense of forgetting about Andrew or thinking of Michel at all. When she'd finally finished and dried herself off, Nancy wrapped her hair in her towel and walked otherwise naked from the bathroom to their bedroom. Once again Michel took no notice.

In the bedroom, Nancy put on her bathrobe, brushed her hair, and recalled her purse was still out in the kitchen. After retrieving it without another word to Michel, she sat down to study. Her books were all where she'd left them that afternoon, and she tried to pick up where she'd left off. But the evening's frustration hadn't quite let go yet, and she once again got her phone out and clicked it on. Andrew's name and number glowed up at her, a bright contrast to the vague noise from the hockey game that she could hear through the wall.

Nancy took a long look at the bedroom door and envisioned Michel glued to the TV on the other side, and her thumb lingered on the "Call" button.